Response to the Between the Lines challenge "Don't be gentle, be good." Line from Tribunal.

"Um... excuse me but who made you first chair?" I ask.

"The admiral mentioned my name first," Harm replies giving me that flyboy grin of his. Thinks all his has to do is smile and I'll melt at his feet.

"So?" I'm going to make him work for this.

"Alright! Alright! I tell you what... We'll flip for it."

"Okay."

"You call it."

"Heads!" I'm going to make him suffer. Second chair equals peon in my book. Serfs have more free time and better working conditions. He's going to beg for relief by the time I'm done.

Harm flips a coin and it lands on the floor under the table. We both dive for it and bang our heads.

"Oh!" Figures he'd have a hard head.

"Ah, sorry. You okay?" he examines me with those sea blue eyes of his... damn I'm a goner.

"Yeah. But I'm second chair."

"I'll be gentle." Does he know what I was thinking? I'm toast. He'll have me trying to find precedents dating back to the Magna Carta.

"Don't be gentle. Be good." I'm going to get out of this with my skin intact. Actually this is no joking matter. We need to nail this bastard to the wall even if the admiral is defending.

"I can be both." He leans forward and just brushes my lips with his. It's a barely there kiss and I feel like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

"Let's eat." Just like that. He's calm, cool, and collected. Nothing earth shattering just happened.

How can he just turn it on and off? He has a bilge switch for a heart, that's how. One of these days I'm going to find it and turn it on. Then I'm going to kill him!

I keep playing that night over and over in my head.

We nail Mustafa Atef but it's a hollow victory. The SOB kills himself before Clay can wring any information out of him. Then Harm has to go be a hero and play tag with a dirty nuke. We won't even mention what happened to Bud.

And I keep remembering that damn kiss.

It's not like I've never been kissed before. It's not like Harm hasn't kissed me before. But that kiss. Kisses like that should be illegal in all fifty states, the district, and every place there's a Marine installation. Damn squid. Do they give them kissing lessons in flight school? Yeah Kissing 101 but they have to take Smiling 100 as a prerequisite.

He's been playing with me. We were heading stateside, before we found out about Bud. I'm packing and Harm shows up at my stateroom offering to help. Impatient as usual, he wants in. I tell him I'm getting dressed. "I can help with that too." He thinks he's so cute. Yeah he is, but does he have to rub my nose in it.

Today was the final straw. He gets lunch for us. Chinese take-out. Lo mien for me, some sort of house special for him. Turns out the special isn't so special. So I offer to share. We end up doing this "Lady and the Tramp" thing. Could it be "Tom Jones"? No! I get G-rated Disney. That and we keep finishing each other's sentences. This is just too much.

It ends tonight. Some dinner. A little candlelight. Soft jazz on the stereo. Satin and lace... Victoria's Secret. I'm going to twist him up in knots and then hang him from the highest yardarm. I'm going to make it so that he's as haunted by me as I am by him. We'll see how much he flashes that 1000-megawatt smile when he's all hot and bothered.

***********************************************************

Something is bugging Mac. I thought she forgave me for tearing her books in half. Maybe I'm wrong. I can't think of anything else that I've done to tick her off. And it's definitely me. She's nice to Sturgis.

I just can't figure it out. We've finally got our rhythm back. We're working well together. We're not fighting. We tease a little. Okay we tease a lot. And we've started finishing each other's sentences. That is a little weird...

Anyway, we had lunch together today. No big deal. We've been having lunch together whenever we can. I went and got take out for us. Buddha's delight looked good on the menu... yuck. Mac was sweet and offered to share her lo mien. We ended up going for the same bunch of noodles. It was kind of cute. Something right out of "Lady and the Tramp".

Mac has been giving me looks all afternoon. These aren't good-to-see-you looks either. I'm not sure what these looks are but they're making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She's up to something...

"Harm, you have any plans for tonight?" Mac is almost purring. What ever it is, I'm up to my eyebrows in it.

"Nothing really."

"How about dinner at my place? 1800?"

"We'll work on the defense strategy right?"

"Yeah," but then she says real softly so I almost don't hear it, "You're going to need all the defense strategies you can find."

I really don't know what I did wrong this time...

***********************************************************

I finally figured it out. My biggest problem dealing with Harm is that I've been over thinking the situation. I can't make Harm do anything... but I can probably lead him exactly where I want him to go. He's a man. I just have to get him thinking with the head that's not on his shoulders.

I've set the mood. Jazz station on the stereo. Candlelight. Oysters on the half shell and asparagus for dinner. Strawberries with chocolate dipping sauce for dessert. Sparkling cider to drink. And not just because I'm an alcoholic. I want him stone cold sober for this. He's going to look back on this night and know he went down. Eyes wide open. To a Marine no less. Revenge is sweet...

I'm wearing a sweater and jeans and no shoes. The sweater is not very tight or clingy. It's an angora/cashmere blend as soft as a kitten and in the palest pink you can imagine. It has a wide scoop neck and when I bend over, he'll get a glimpse of that Victoria's Secret. I found this lacy bra and panty set that is just a couple of shades darker than my sweater. The jeans are old and soft and fit me like a glove. They show off every dip and curve. No lipstick, just moisturizer and a lot of it. I want kissable lips, not makeup mouth. And for perfume, I found this stuff that smells like a cross between an alpine meadow and a kitchen where someone is making cookies... you know strawberries and vanilla and new mown grass. I know his favorite scent is jet fuel, but a girl has got to draw the line somewhere.

Nothing blatant here. I could have worn a tight red satin number, fishnet stockings, high heels, blood red lipstick and "Do It to Me Baby" perfume, but I want subtle. I want this to sneak up on him.

It's 1805. If I know my squid, and I do, he won't be here for another five minutes. Someday I'll have to ask his mom if he was born late. I have just enough time to go through the apartment one more time. Living room is set for seduction. Dining area lights are dimmed and the candles ready to be lit. Food is waiting to be served. Fresh sheets on the bed and candles are on the nightstands. Condoms in the drawer.

I'm not saying I'm going to take him to bed tonight... or on the couch... or the kitchen counter top... or under the dinning room table... but a Marine has to be prepared. I'd better take some of those condoms and distribute them around the apartment. Hate to be distracted at an inopportune moment.

***********************************************************

I'm late. I swore to myself that I was not going to be late. But I'm late.

It's because of the flowers.

I knew I had to get her roses. What else do you get a woman you met in a rose garden, especially The Rose Garden, but roses? I've bought roses before. No big deal I think. Pick a color. Ask for a dozen. The florist puts them in a box with green stuff. I give the florist sixty bucks and I'm good to go.

Not this time. I meet the florist from hell. This woman is truly the Devil's disciple. She looks like someone's grandmother, sweet, kind, and not a mean bone in her body. She asks me who the roses are for. I say "Mac." She gives me that look. You know the one that says I-won't-ask-because-I-know-so-you-don't-have-to-tell-me look. So then I have to explain who or rather what Mac is. All of a sudden this fallen angel is playing twenty questions with me about Mac. When I ask her why she explains that different color roses mean different things. Red roses mean love. Pink indicate romance. White signify innocence. Yellow stand for friendship. Peach is for desire.

Great! I've done enough stupid things where Mac is concerned to last two, maybe three, lifetimes. I don't want to blow it now because I accidentally send a "Let's just be friends" message with a bunch of flowers. The yellow ones are definitely out.

White? There is absolutely nothing innocent about what I want with Mac. White is what you give your best friend's little sister for her sweet sixteen birthday. Next please...

Pink? Romance? I'm not a total blockhead. All girls want a little romance in their lives. Even marine ninja girls. So pink is good.

Desire? How about this hallucination I had of Mac coming out of my shower in nothing but a towel? Or the vision of her telling me that rainy afternoons are good weather for making love? Maybe the mirage of her in an evening gown crooking her finger and giving me a come hither smile? Definitely peach. Lots and lots of peach.

Red say, "I love you." Now we're down to the crux of the matter. I gave Renee red roses. We all know how well that turned out. But it's more than that. Like I don't choke up and turn into a blithering idiot whenever the question comes up. Does she really need the words? Can't she let me of the hook? I've actually cried on her shoulder for heaven's sake. Get real. This is Mac. I owe her. Big time. She doesn't just need the words. At this point she probably wants witnesses, Sturgis taking eight by ten glossies and collecting affidavits.

What the hell. I know I love her. She knows I love her. It's just a matter of time before I stick my foot in my mouth at the wrong time and end up saying it out loud. Probably in the middle of Monday morning staff call when the admiral is in a bad mood. Or in bullpen while ZNN is filming a slice of military life special.

I take a dozen.

Ms Flower-Lady adds the red ones to the peach and pink ones I've already picked out. They're actually very pretty all together. She adds the green stuff and puts everything in a crystal vase. I drop a hundred and twenty bucks. Then I have to figure out how I'm going to get these to Mac without squishing them. I finally buckle them into the passenger seat of my Vette.

So here I am at Mac's door. Ten minutes late. Hiding behind two dozen roses.

***********************************************************

Someone is knocking on the door. Actually it sounds more like kicking. Like I don't know who it is. I look out the peephole and all I see are roses. Lots and lots of roses. Okay, he can be ten minutes late.

I open the door and there he is dressed in jeans and a short sleeve polo shirt. Standing behind this huge bouquet of roses. "Come on in."

"These are for you," he says as he hands me the vase. He looks at me like he's not sure if I'll like them.

Red, pink, and peach roses. It's not like I get roses every day and when I do they're all one colour. There are more than a dozen here. Even Mic, who tended to go overboard with the displays of affection, only gave me a dozen at a time. "They're beautiful." I set them down on the coffee table. I'm a little awed by them. This isn't from any old window display. "Some one put real thought into this," I smile up at Harm.

He's blushing! "Different colours mean different things," he says softly. His eyes haven't left mine. If he was pink before he's definitely turning red now.

I know the lore behind roses. But I have this squid on the line. One good yank and the hook will be set. "What do these mean then?" I just look up at him through my eyelashes. I bite my bottom lip, just a little. Yep, he's close to cracking. Just a little bit more...

He's so red now I'm starting to wonder if I've pushed too far. After all he's pushing forty. All this stress can't be good for his heart. His attack can wait till after I'm done with him. "Um... the pink are for romance... the peach are for desire..."

"And the red ones?" I'm playing this for all it's worth. "What do they mean?"

"Love," he's whispering. And he's looking into my eyes as if I'm the only other being on the planet. My knees are starting to get weak. I can feel the blood coursing through my veins. "The red ones mean love."

I can't believe he said that - the L word. He's not getting off this easy. And then he leans forward his lips almost touching mine, "Yeah the red ones mean love." We may not get to the food if things keep going like this.

Suddenly he backs away. Typical Rabb move. Things get a little too warm he turns into a rabbit and hops away. His call name should have been "Rabbit". Rabb the rabbit. Rabbit Rabb. Now there's an image that's going to stay in my mind for the rest of the evening. Six foot four Harmon Rabb Junior in bunny suit pjs complete with attached feet.

Here I was starting to think about going easy on him. He just upped the ante. I lean into him my breasts pushing against his bare arm. My nipples graze him and his eyes practically pop out of his head. This is more fun than I could have imagined. "Why don't you sit down and I'll get us something to drink."

"You want me to order the pizza?" he asks while looking around the living room. He doesn't go anywhere near the couch.

"Who said anything about pizza?" I ask from the kitchen

"I thought... "

I interrupt him, "That's your problem Harm. You think too much." I come back in with two glasses of cider. I hand Harm one and brush my fingers against his. There is electricity in the air. I can almost hear it crackle. I haven't had this much fun since... I can't remember ever having this much fun...

***********************************************************

I think too much! She just said I think too much! I offer to order the pizza and I'm thinking too much. I'm not sure I've had a coherent thought since I walked through the door. Thinking by definition requires coherent thought. I'm going on pure instinct here.

It's her fault my brain isn't working. It's her lips... No lipstick on those lips... Just soft luscious lips... Naked lips... They're singing a siren's song. Calling me to kiss those lips... I was going to kiss her... Honest I was... I don't know why I stopped. I really don't...

"Harm if you don't want to sit down why don't you light the candles on the table." Something to do. Maybe if I move my brain will kick back into gear. But her lips are still asking to be kissed...

"Ah, Mac, where are the matches?"

"Oh, they're in here."

I go into the kitchen. Mac is fussing with something on the counter. "Up here," she says pointing in front of her. "Top shelf." I stretch around her to open the cabinet and she bends toward me so she won't be hit by the door. As I reach for the box Mac backs up into me. My crotch and her rear end make contact. I swear I feel sparks. Blood begins to flow from my extremities.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"For what?" Mac asks as her hip scrapes against the growing hardness between my legs.

Her eyes just look in mine. And then she smiles. I know that look. I bet Eve looked at Adam like that just before he took a chunk out of that apple. Adam was too busy staring into her eyes and getting lost in that smile to pay any attention to what he was doing. So he bit. Then look what happened.

"Umm... I'll go light the candles." I grab the matches and beat a retreat to the dining room. It takes me three tries to get the match lit. Then I almost drop the damn thing. I've got to get a grip on myself. Bad analogy. This is not helping me calm down.

Mac comes into the dining room with two plates of asparagus with little bowls of drawn butter. "Harm, you're going to burn yourself." She leans over and blows out the match as she sets the plates on the table. Her breasts brush against my arm. I can feel her nipples through her sweater... I don't think it's cold in here because I'm definitely not cold... But her nipples are hard. They feel like the erasers on the ends of brand new pencils. I'm never going to be able to look at a pencil the same way again.

"Harm, give me the matches." I hand her the box. "Sit," she says as she lights the candles. "What's wrong with you tonight?"

I don't say anything. I can't. Words are beyond me. That would require functioning brain cells. My grey matter has turned to mush. Oatmeal has more substance. First it's her lips. Then it's her ass. Now it's her breasts.

Mac sashays back to the kitchen and returns with this huge platter of oysters on shaved ice. Terrific. Just what I need. My self control is almost nonexistent and she's serving the aphrodisiac special for dinner. I'm afraid to find out what's for dessert.

I'm never going to survive the evening...

***********************************************************

Harm hasn't taken his eyes off me. Even as I go back and forth to the kitchen I can feel his eyes on me. And when I brought out the oysters... I wish I had a camera. The look on his face would have won me a Pulitzer.

This is more fun than I expected. A little bump, a little grind. That man is exactly where I want him. He's totally at my mercy... And I haven't any. After everything that's happened between us he'll be lucky to get out of here with his skin intact. He's a little flushed and his eyes are slightly glazed... And his breathing. Someone would think he just ran a marathon. It's good to know I'm finally getting to him. I can actually see that iron-will control of his cracking.

I may have to back off a little. If I don't Harm will be catatonic before we get to dessert.

"Harm, eat."

"Huh?"

Great! He's gone to single syllable babble. Not a good sign. It's amazing. Fighter pilot. Lawyer. Not jobs for the mentally challenged. But right now Harm could make the village idiot look like a Rhodes scholar.

"Eat."

Without taking my eyes from his I impale an asparagus spear on my fork and dip it in butter. Harm is still staring at me. I let the butter run the length of the spear then I lick a drop from the tip. Harm moans. It's barely audible but it's definitely a moan.

I let my eyes flutter closed and I imagine that this green shaft of vegetable is Harm. I slide my tongue along its length and let it swirl around the bud where the texture changes from smooth to bumpy. My tongue explores in the hills and valleys capturing beads of butter as I go. I look up at Harm through my lashes and he's frozen. His eyes are open so wide I can see white all around his sea-blue irises. His mouth is agog. And he's gasping for breath. I take the head between my teeth and bite. It's hard to describe the sound that comes from Harm. It's a cross between a moan, a groan, and a gasp. And he still hasn't eaten anything.

"Harm, aren't you hungry?"

"Uh huh."

"Then eat something. You need to keep your strength up." I pick up a lemon wedge and squeeze the juice over a few oysters which I put on his plate. Harm still hasn't moved. I get up and unfold his napkin and drape it across his lap. I'm having a rather visible effect on him. There's no hiding something that obvious. "Don't you like oysters?"

***********************************************************

I thought it was going to be the oysters... Boy was I wrong... The way that woman can eat asparagus... I watch her... Imagining that the butter drenched spear is part of me. Imagining her tongue is doing to me the things she's doing to that vegetable... And when she took the tip between her teeth... I'm just sitting here trying to remember how to breathe.

"Harm? You okay?"

"Ah huh." The thing is I know I'm babbling, even as the sounds are coming out of my mouth. And then, splendid conversationalist that I am, I repeat myself... "Ah huh..." I'm so brilliant tonight I couldn't light up the inside of a paper bag. I know she asked me a question. I know I heard her voice. But for the life of me I don't know what she said. I'm too busy watching her lick the butter from her fingertips.

Look I'm not a complete moron. I know this is payback. But still... The most intimate relationship I've had in more than a year has been with my right hand... I'm not complaining. I'm calling the ball. I'm going to snag the number three wire and it won't matter how much the deck is pitching. I know how to be patient. Mac on the other hand...

Tonight Mac has decided it's a good night to play "Tease the Sailor". There's this undercurrent of raw unfiltered sex permeating the whole apartment. In her sweater and jeans and bare feet and no lipstick she's more exciting than any other woman who has ever walked face of the earth. She could make a saint commit all seven of the deadly sins just by crooking her little finger. And I'm no saint...

Next thing I know Mac is putting my napkin in my lap asking me if I like oysters... I think she's trying to kill me... A man can't want a woman this much and do nothing about it and not die...

***********************************************************

His eyes are full of panic. "Hmm?" He's mutely begging me to put him out of his misery. Poor baby hasn't a clue. Well he's going to have to eat something first. I don't want him fainting from exhaustion later on tonight. I pick up a shell and hold it to his lips. He opens his mouth slightly and I tip the shell and the oyster slides in. I wonder if he's operating on auto-pilot. He chews and swallows and then his tongue darts out and licks the juice from my finger tips. Better, much better. I feed him another oyster and then a piece of asparagus.

When he reaches for an oyster himself I start to move back to my seat. Harm grabs my hand and gently tugs me back toward him. "Stay," he whispers. It's a plea. He spreads his legs and pulls me onto his knee. He brings the oyster to my lips in a silent offering. I let it slide into my mouth. The taste makes me think of Harm, the sharp piquant of the lemon mixed with the salt of the ocean and the sweet flesh of the oyster. I wonder if this is how Harm will taste.

We feed each other, alternating oysters with asparagus. In between we lick butter and lemon juice from the other's fingers. A dollop of butter escapes my mouth and before my tongue can dart out and capture it his mouth is there. Supposedly he's trying get the butter but it becomes the kiss that he aborted earlier tonight. It's the barest touch of lips. It's the flap of a butterfly's wings. I reach out for another oyster and my hand only finds ice. I glance at the platter and find all the oysters are gone. The empty shells piled on Harm's plate.

I stand up while brushing a kiss onto Harm's lips. "Stay here," I whisper as I move toward the kitchen. Dessert can wait but I have damp hand towels warming in the oven. I grab the basket and go back to Harm. The towels are moist and warm... Almost hot but not quite. I shake one out and wipe off his face and then his hands. He takes the other towel and does the same for me. Then his thumb traces my bottom lip. It's just a simple touch, not even a caress really, and my whole body lights up like a Christmas tree. If he can do that with his thumb what's the rest of him capable of doing to me?

***********************************************************

Somehow Mac is on my lap and we're feeding each other oysters and asparagus and licking each other's fingers. When we've eaten everything she disappears into the kitchen and returns with this little wicker basket of rolled up towels. She takes one out and delicately wipes my face and hands. The towel is warm and moist. It feels like heaven against my overly sensitive skin. It is without a doubt the most amazing incredibly loving act that anyone has ever done for me.

I look into her chocolate coloured eyes and... I want to say I'm lost but it's more like I'm found. I've never felt anything more erotic in my life. It's as if she has managed to stroke every single nerve in my body. My senses are in overdrive. I can't move. I can't think. But I'm more alive than I have ever been. I can taste the adrenaline pouring through me. I feel like I'm pulling seven Gs preparing for a firefight.

I try to do the same for her. I'm awkward and clumsy but she doesn't seem to mind. I'm astonished that I haven't poked her eye out or scratched up her face. I feel like my fingers are getting in the way of my hands... Or is it the other way around. When I'm through she simply takes my hand and leads me to the couch. She pushes me down and finds her way onto my lap.

Hey I know I'm an ignoramus where women are concerned. I have had lovers. Not as many as most people assume, but still more than my fair share. One I loved deeply, most I have been fond of, a few I'm ashamed to admit I desired but didn't really like.
I've never had a relationship where my significant other didn't leave me. To most of them I was nothing more than an accessory. Something to make them look good at what ever social function we were attending. I did the best I could, at the very least to give them pleasure. I have played using my body and my partner's as toys to both our delights. I've made love. I've had sex. I've just plain screwed around. I have taken, given, and have been given as much pleasure as can be found...

Nothing in my thirty-nine years of life has prepared me for Sarah MacKenzie.

Sarah is about as uncomplicated as a Chinese puzzle box. Part of her is sweet and gentle, the other is a lethal killing machine. She has an amazing intellect, endless courage, and great beauty... But, at the same time, she has allowed herself to be used and manipulated by men just because they say they love her.

As my hands skim up and down her arms I can feel her strength. Her sweater is soft as a baby rabbit. Her skin is smooth as satin. Beneath both is solid muscle. She's the embodiment of the iron fist in the velvet glove. Yet there's something beneath it all, something I can't yet identify. It will be there when she's old and grey and holding great-grandbabies on her knee. In the back of my mind I know I must solve this riddle. My life depends on it.

She smells of coffee and cinnamon and my grandmother's farm. Her lips meet mine again. Her kiss tastes like lemonade and the ocean, reminding me of my boyhood summers. My entire life is wrapped up in this woman. Part of me wants to bury myself in her and never come out. The rest is terrified. Without her in my life... I'm walking a tightrope. One wrong move and I plunge into the abyss, but this time I could destroy her too. A shiver runs through me. If I screw this up...

"It's alright Harm. It's all going to be okay." Her voice is a whisper. Her words are a mantra that tranquilize my soul. Her lips find mine again. Or mine find hers. I'm not sure anymore who's doing what to whom, not that it matters. Nothing matters but her and me and now...

I want nothing more than to lose myself in her kisses. I feel like Columbus or Magellan exploring her mouth... Discovering the shape and texture of her tongue and lips... I can do this till the end of time... "Sarah..."

***********************************************************

All we're doing is kissing. Not that I'm complaining... some men never get it right: too hard, too soft, too wet, too dry... but Harm is an artist. He alternates between soft and gentle, hard and passionate. Sometimes he nibbles. Sometimes he licks. At the same time he's running his hands up and down my arms. I've never felt more treasured. Wouldn't you know he'd figure out a way to make something as simple as kissing a life altering experience.

Then he says my name. "Sarah" becomes a caress. Never before has a word had this kind of power over me. I think I'm melting. My very core is turning into warm liquid. He could just drink me up. I'm turning into a puddle of primordial soup. And we haven't even got to the good stuff yet.

I need to touch him. To feel his skin beneath my hands. Could he wear a shirt with buttons down the front? No... I have to pick at his shirt tails to get them out of his pants. Finally I can snake my hands up his chest. My fingers dance across his muscles. I can feel them contract as I go by, releasing as I pass. He's so alive, responding to my every move. Every gasp and twitch he makes has a corresponding reaction in me. My body crackles with the pulses that my brain is sending to my nerves.

We shift positions so we are laying on the couch, me on top of him. I feel the solid mass of blood and flesh between Harm's legs pushing hard against me. I have to know its shape, its size. I must feel its texture, its taste, its scent. It is the final secret of Harmon Rabb Junior.

I slide my hand between our bodies searching blindly for his belt. Harm's lips have moved to my ear and his murmuring is another touch. I locate his buckle and begin to unfasten it when Harm pulls my hand away from him. "No," he mumbles softly in my ear. I don't care if he loses control now. We have all night. There will be plenty of time for him to recover.

My hand finds its way to the buckle again, this time detouring against his shaft. The groan he utters is pulled from far back in his throat. The puddle of primordial soup that I have become begins to bubble. "Sarah, stop," and he pulls my hand away again.

"Harm it will be alright," I whisper in his ear. I can feel how aroused he is. I'm sure he has more than one round in him. I go for the buckle one more time.

"Sarah, what are you doing?" Harm asks as he sits up bringing me to my knees.

I know he's been celibate since Renee left, but he can't have forgotten how things work. After six years of foreplay this is ridiculous. I decide the direct approach is best. This is Harm after all. "I'm trying to make love to you."

***********************************************************

I grab her arms. "Enough Mac! I don't want you to make love to me..." She looks like I just hit her. Damn it! Why is it so hard to get the thoughts in my head out of my mouth. Her eyes begin to tear up and she's a second away from bolting.

Something inside of me just snaps. "Don't you dare." I'm almost yelling. I can't believe how angry I am. When in the hell is she going to give me the benefit of the doubt. This is Sydney Harbour all over again. "For once you're going to shut up and listen, really listen, to what I have to say. I'm going to take the time to put the words together so they actually say what I mean. And you're going to stop running off because of what you think you heard, which wasn't what I meant in the first place."

I stop a second and gather my thoughts. I have to get this right. "If we don't put some forethought into this we'll crash and burn. One ramp strike was enough for me. I don't want to experience another one... Especially with you."

I look into her eyes. I wish there was a way that I could just connect our brains... That I could make her understand without words. It's ironic. For a lawyer the spoken word is a tool, a means to an end. But with Sarah, words are the enemy. I take a breath. One more time... One more chance... One more try...

"For the record," I slow down and enunciate each word. "I don't want you to make love TO me. I don't want to make love TO you. I want to make love WITH you. I want you to make love WITH me. Together. Both of us participating in what is going to be the most incredible experience in our lives. But that won't happen if one of us is thinking with his penis and the other is thinking with her..."

***********************************************************

Suddenly he stops talking. He's back to blushing. Leave it to Harm to turn red over the words that describe a woman's anatomy.

I've never seen him like this. At first I thought he was just playing with me. I was going to lash out, to hurt him like he was hurting me. Then I realized he wasn't really holding my arms. He was just pushing me far enough away to put a little space between us. So I could see his face and he could see mine. I could have escaped from his grasp with no effort at all. I know he's angry. But there's something else. I can sense the frustration. And finally hits me... There's a hint of fear in his voice.

It's so sad. Put him in danger and he's Vic Virile on steroids. Give him a chance to save the world and he'll strap on his tomcat like a six-shooter ready for a show-down on Main Street. I think he actually enjoyed playing tag with that missile. But confront him with a woman who loves him, who has loved him for years, and he turns into Jell-O.

I can't help but smile. Maybe saying the L-word is the bravest thing he'll ever do. After all the bad guys can only kill him. A woman could break his heart. It's time, past time, for me to take that heart into my keeping. I finally understand how fragile it is. Maybe I needed all this time to learn how to care for it.

I relax into his embrace and really listen to what he is saying. If this isn't a declaration of love I have no idea what is. Maybe I should just shut him up with a kiss right now. But I don't. I'm selfish and greedy. He's waxing poetic and I want more... Then almost to himself he says, "Anyway we still have a year and a half to go."

"What?" Now he's totally lost me. "What happens a year and a half from now." A.J. will be five... Then it hits me... The baby deal... I'm going to kill him. I've said it before, but this time I really mean it. Of all the arrogant selfish egomaniacal things he has ever said or done...

He's smiling again. Not his flyboy grin. This one I've never seen before. It's a good thing I'm sitting down. My legs wouldn't support me. It's not fair what this man can do to me with a smile. This one is shy and sweet and... "You just have to tell me one thing... Are we shooting to have the baby already born on A.J.'s birthday or are we looking for you to be pregnant then or is that when we start trying? I know there are a few other things we need to figure out... Like how many months of practice we'll need. You know not everyone gets pregnant right out of the gate. The average is three to six months..."

"How the hell would you know how long it takes?" I'm back to wanting to kill him. Slowly this time. I have interrogation skills learned for special ops. I'll get Clay to help. He owes me a few favours. We can make this last for decades...

"I've got this book..."

"You bought a book?"

"Yeah..."

"On getting me pregnant?" my voice reaching notes I didn't think possible. He's going to lose the wherewithal to make anyone pregnant!

"Not exactly. It's more about pregnancy and a baby's first couple of years"

"You bought a baby book?" I'm incredulous.

Something else clicks in my brain. Unless we're apart on out of town assignments, we've been spending all our free time together. At the very least Harm tells me what he's doing, where he's going. Somehow he cons the same information out of me.

It's more than that though. I say I want to see a movie and before I've got the title out of my mouth he's got a list of theatres and show times. A new restaurant interests me, we're there for dinner. On the weekends, if the weather is nice, we take "Sarah" and end up picnicking in a field somewhere. Rainy Saturday afternoons? He brings movies (chick flicks no less) and pizza to my place and parks on the couch. He takes me to the mall... And that man hates to shop. We're running in the mornings again. Sometimes Sturgis even joins us. If I spend an afternoon shopping with Harriet, Harm goes and keeps Bud company and helps out with little A.J.

There are no new blonde bimbos in his life. And I don't have the time or energy to meet anyone new. Not that I want to, I like spending time with Harm...

That sneaky squid...

"That deal is only good if we're not in a relationship." Okay this is the cruelest thing I've ever done... But he deserves it... He looks like I felt a few minutes ago. "What if we're involved?" There are tears in his eyes. He still doesn't get it. Okay maybe this isn't the brightest thing I've ever done. I keep forgetting that my flyboy is a halfwit where I'm concerned. I smile at him. "What if we want to push up the schedule?" Slowly... Very slowly... It begins to dawn on him what I'm saying.

***********************************************************

"Do you?" The brain isn't working again. What is it about this woman that causes every thought in my head to take a vacation.

"Do I what?" Mac asks. Good question. Too bad I can't remember what the answer is.

"Are we?"

"Are we what?" she's shaking her head ever so slightly. God have I blown it already?

"Us."

"Harm! Try and get with the program," she pauses and takes a deep breath. "What is it you want?"

This one is easy. I know the answer to this one. "You."

"We've covered this ground before, Harm." She's starting to get frustrated. I wonder if I'm not the only one whose brain has gone UA.

Time to bit the bullet Rabb. You've gone this far. Time to jump off the cliff. No parachute. No budgie cord. Welcome to real life. I take a deep breath.

"I want you. Any way I can have you. For as long as you'll let me." The words come out in a rush... But it's done. I've said it. It's out in the open. Never to be hidden again.

"You can't say the words, can you?" I stare at her. Funny I thought I just did.

"Oh Harm," she reaches up and pulls my lips down to hers. I try to pour my soul into this kiss... To make her understand with my body what I can't seem to express in words.

Mac stands up, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet. "Anything you need to tell me?" she asks, the humour back in her voice.

"Like what?" I'm back to being confused again. This woman can twist me, turn me, and tie me into knots.

"Anything that I might need to know that will have an impact on our soon-to-be-conceived child?"

"We're going to make a baby?" My voice goes up an octave. My knees just started to wobble again. I don't have a bone in my body. Excuse me... I have one bone, right between my legs.

She just shakes her head. Not a no shake, it's the all-men-are-idiots shake. "That's what you want isn't it? Me to have your baby?"

"Our baby," I correct her. I close my eyes and remember standing on the HQ steps the day Little A.J. was born. "Perfect."

"Why?" My eyes pop open. She wants me to talk. I'm not sure what she's asking. "You love me, don't you?" she asks.

"Yes," I nod in a whisper. I can do this.

"And you want us to make a baby together?"

"Uh huh." Words Rabb. Words would be good here.

"And you want us to share in the care and raising of this baby? Yes?" She trembles a little on this one. She really has to ask?

"Absolutely!" See I can find a word. She smiles and relaxes. Good... I said the right thing for once.

"So why the games?"

She's going to make me tell her. I was hoping, really hoping, she'd let it slide. All the pieces are there. She's an investigator. She could figure it out.

"Because if we have a child together you'll always allow me to be part of your life."

***********************************************************

"Do you think that being the father of my child is the only reason to be in my life?" My voice goes flat. I don't know whether to get angry or cry. Just when I think he loves me...

"It's the only thing I can think of that will make you let me stay," he whispers. He sounds as if he's slowly breaking into a million pieces.

Of all the things in the world he could have said... I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach. For years I've thought that maybe I wasn't good enough for him. That he thought I wasn't good enough. It never occurred to me that a man with an aviator's ego would doubt himself. Yet here he is...

I can't drag him off to bed until we get this out in the open. Harriet was right. It's easier if you're sure. We can work out all the rest of the problems if we're sure about each other. I know I love him. I know he loves me. I think he knows that he loves me. I just better make sure that he knows that I love him... When did my life become a soap opera? A really bad soap opera?

"Why wouldn't I want you in my life?"

He looks down at me with all the sadness in the world in his eyes. "No body else has."

Okay, maybe there's more than one imbecile in the room. I start to run down the list of women in his life. All things considered it's really not that long a list.

"Maria Elena..."

"How'd you know about her?" he interrupts.

"Keeter."

"Hurrumf" Harm mumbles something about "Deal with him later."

"Back to the important stuff... Maria Elena Carmelita..." I stumble over the rest of her name.

"Moreno Gutierrez," Harm finishes for me. "Thought life with a lawyer would be boring."

"She thought your life was boring?"

"Uh huh."

"Stupid woman." That gets Harm to laugh. He sits back down on the couch and pulls me on to his lap. Guess he figures this is going to take a while. He's back to stroking my arms. "Harm stop distracting me. This is important."

"Yeah, but this is more fun," he whispers while nibbling on my neck.

"Kate Pike?"

"Weekend fling. Gold wings were a novelty. We're friends. Wasn't ever going to be more than that. Kate has her own issues..."

I wasn't going to go there with him. "Meg Austin?"

"Friend. Too smart to get involved with the likes of me."

"Allison Krennick?"

"Not on a cold day in Hell." I knew that... But I'm a lawyer... No loop holes.

"I know about Annie."

"She hated the Navy. Next."

"Bobby Latham?"

"One kiss. You walked in on it remember?"

"Jordan?"

"Hated the gold wings. Mac do we really have to do this?"

"We're going somewhere. Trust me."

"With my life." He gives me another of those almost but not quite there kisses. Then he runs his hand up my side barely touching my breast.

"Renee?"

"Hated the wings. Hated the Navy." Now his thumb is tracing figure eights on the side of my breast. "Finished. Right?"

"Not quite. You realize that your saying these woman left you because of what you do, not who you are?"

"But what I do is who I am."

Typical male... Why am I surprised? "We'll come back to that later. One more..."

"There's no one else Mac," he says as he pulls away to look me straight in the eyes.

"Yes there is."

He just shakes is head. Suddenly he becomes very still. "Diane?" his voice cracks with pain as he pulls her name from the past where she is safely buried. I have nothing to fear from the ghost of my doppelganger.

"No," I have to take the sting from this fast. "I've read the letters. Diane loved you."

He relaxes back into the couch. His thumbs move to graze across my nipples. I gasp and he chuckles just a little. He's very good at this. "Then who?" he asks while kissing my neck right over my jugular vein...

"Me."

***********************************************************

"Why would I leave you?"

Look, I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm a moron where women are concerned. Getting them into my bed it one thing. Keeping them in my life is another. That's the real reason behind all the fun and games. It's not that I don't want Mac in my life, it's that I'm not sure I'll survive when she goes. Notice I said when.

I have no illusions about myself. I'm strictly eye candy. Women want something more from the men they choose to spend their lives with. What ever that more is, I haven't got it. I have had women want part of me... The lawyer part, the aviator part, the dress whites part. No one has wanted all of it. Mac has come close. Now she wants me to tell her why she'll want to leave.

I can't look at her and do this. I'll answer, but I don't want to. My head sinks down into my chest. Maybe she won't see the tears. "The gold wings?"

"Nope."

"No?" my head snaps back up.

"I felt like you were deserting me... That you didn't care about me."

"That's not true Mac. I've always cared... Even if I didn't admit to myself how much."

"I know that now. I was too frightened to know that then. Next?"

"JAG?" I really don't want to open this can of worms.

"You want to stay at JAG. I want to stay at JAG. Once I get pregnant I'll be limited on what investigations I can take..."

"I know... That's why I thought..."

Mac cuts in smiling, "I thought I told you, you think too much..." She pauses a second. Suddenly she bursts out laughing. "You low down sneaky squid... You thought you'd wait till I got pregnant and then..."

"And then you wouldn't mind so much if one of us..."

"Meaning me..."

"IF ONE OF US has to leave JAG." I give her my best flyboy grin but I'm not sure she's buying.

She stands up and pulls me back on my feet. "Move it, Flyboy."

"Where?"

"Bedroom."

"Bedroom? Are we done?"

"No, we're just starting." She's giggling. I didn't know Marines could giggle.

"What about JAG?" Good going Rabb. Can't shut up while you're ahead can you?

"The admiral wants to keep both of us. We'll let him figure it out. That's why they pay him the big bucks. Move it sailor," she says as she guides me around the couch. I'm having trouble not tripping over my own feet.

"Aye aye, Ma'am." She turns me around and gives me a little push toward the bedroom. "Uh, Mac. It can't be this easy... Can it?" I really need to learn to shut up. Life would be so much easier if I just talked in court. At least there I know what I'm doing.

"Harm!" I think, no I know, I should have shut up. "We've been at this for six years... Nothing about this has been easy."

***********************************************************

It's less than thirty feet from the couch to my bed. You'd think I was trying to storm the beaches at Tripoli single handedly for all the problems I'm having. Harm keeps turning around. Every time he tries to walk backwards he trips. He's nearly toppled onto me twice.

What keep me going are his eyes. When we were on the couch they were nearly black... The passion and desire in them stoking the heat at my core. There have been flashes of green when his sense of humour has gotten the best of him. He's not totally unaware of what an ass he is being. He can and does laugh at himself. But right now they're a clear dark blue... Guileless as a child's... A sense of awe in them because of what we are about to do... And of course my biggest enemy of all - stark raving fear. He has half a foot and seventy pounds on me... And he's afraid!

If I give him a chance to think I'm cooked. He'll start second guessing himself... Thinking of every reason why we've waited for six damn years to get to this point. Rabbit Rabb will reappear and he'll be out the door and around the block before I can get a pair of shoes on so I can chase after him... And I'm done running. He's going to make good on all those looks and innuendoes... All those teasing little caresses... Even if I have to nail him to the floor.

I have to get him back to where "little" Harm is in charge of "big" Harm... "Harm?" He's bordering on catatonia again. Well the best defense is a good offense, I'll just get the ball rolling myself. "Harm?" I call again in a singsong voice getting him to concentrate on me. Grasping the bottom of my sweater I start to remove it.

Harm stops me with a whisper, "Please. Let me?"

Hallelujah and praise the Lord. Houston, I think we have lift off.

At my nod he moves in very slowly and eases my sweater up and off. It's his first voluntary movement since dinner. He folds it and sets it on the chair near the vanity as if it is the most valuable item in the world. As if it will be damaged if it isn't handled just right. His eyes never leave me as his fingers slowly trail down my neck, across my shoulders, down my arms, finally finding their way to my waist where they just wait. "You're so beautiful." He sounds awed.

Men have been telling me I'm beautiful since I was twelve and my breasts popped. I wasn't stupid. I could see the lust in their eyes. Scary stuff when you're twelve... It doesn't get much better as you get older. Regardless of my home life, or maybe because of it, I've always known the difference between lust and love. Lust has a lot to do with want and need and possession. Love is about giving and receiving with out taking. For the first time being thought of as beautiful isn't frightening. It feels... wonderful.

A groan works its way free from deep in Harm's throat as his hands skim across my body, purposefully avoiding my breasts and the aching mound between my thighs. The looks and sounds he's making... It's as if I've just given him the most wonderful gift imaginable and he's not really sure if it's his to open. I know he wants me. But he'll only take what I'm willing to give and not one thing more. It's a heady power to have. To know I can stop him anytime... That he will stop... That he's that kind of man.

I stretch up and move closer to meet his lips again. "Are you going to anything other than look, Sailor?" I've never had this much trouble getting a man into bed before. But then nothing where Harmon Rabb, Junior is concerned is effortless. If it was we'd have three kids by now. I move his hands to the buttons of my jeans. Hopefully he'll take the hint...

"Um, Mac? Do you have something? I mean... Do I need to run to the drug store?"

He's got to be kidding, right? Like I'm going to let him out of this apartment anytime in the near future. Does he really think I'm that gullible? He wants to play dirty... I'm a marine. We live for dirty. "Harm, if we're going to make a baby that's counterproductive."

"Huh?"

Oh goody, we're back to mono-syllable Rabb... And I, Sarah MacKenzie, get to explain the birds and the bees to a decorated Naval Aviator. I wonder if the Sesame Street version is too advanced for him?

"You only need condoms if you DON'T want babies.".

He gives me that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look that men are so good at, scrunching his face up. I can tell he's trying to think of something important but his brain just isn't working. "Disease. You need them to protect against disease." He nods like he has just figured out the secret of the universe. I'm not really worried though. His hands are caressing me. One is stroking my back from the base of my neck to the bottom curve of my rump. The other is buried in my hair, his thumb exploring my jaw line.

"Harm, we both had physicals before we left for Afghanistan. Right?"

"Uh huh."

"And they checked us for everything including toe fungus. Right?"

"Uh huh."

"And when was the last time you had intimate relations?" Now I sound like one of the doctors at Bethesda. Couldn't I just say, "When was the last time you bopped some blonde bimbo?" No, Boy Scout Rabb is rubbing off on me. And do I really want to know when his last blonde de jour was? Yeah, I guess I do. I'm just a glutton for punishment.

He gets really quiet when he answers, "Before my swim in the Atlantic." He still can't call it a crash. "With Renee."

The surprise must show in my face because he hurries on. "Honest, there hasn't been anyone else," he assures me.

"I believe you." Then I just have to ask, "Why not?" Okay, we're officially in uncharted waters here...

"Because the only woman I'm interested in ran away from me." It's not an accusation, just a fact. Still it hurts, a lot. And it hurts to know I hurt him too.

It's time to change the mood. The only way this is going to work is if I keep him a little off balance for the next fifty or so years. And I have just the weapon... I go to my nightstand and pull a strip of six condoms from the drawer. "Here. Do you think this is enough?" Harm starts to choke and his eyes grow to the size of Frisbees. That look... Where in the hell is a camera when I need one? Somehow I manage to keep a straight face. "There's more in the living room and the kitchen if you think we'll need them."

His mouth is working like a fish out of water, opening and closing and gasping for air. At least he's not thinking about nighttime swims in the Atlantic. Or Renee.

"More?" he blurts out. His mouth is going but there's no sound.

Time for the heavy artillery. "Okay, I left some in the dining room too," I counter smoothly.

That finally sets him off. He's sputtering. "Planned a busy night for us. Didn't you?" I have to listen very closely because I can barely make out what he's saying.

"Of course. Marines have to be ready any where, any time, for any thing."

I think he has something else to say but his tongue keeps getting in the way of his mouth. Actually having Harm tongue tied but happy is fun. And he is happy. I can tell because now he has this big dumb grin of his face. He keeps glancing from me to the bed and back to me again and his smile keeps getting bigger. And so does the bulge in his pants.

A flicker of doubt flashes in his eyes. He's thinking again. Thinking is too dangerous an occupation for this man. I better give him something to do. If I keep him distracted maybe he won't panic...

"Harm, come here," I order gently, pointing to the spot right in front of me.

"Aye aye, Ma'am"

When he reaches me I pull his head down so our lips can meet. We've been making out like teenagers for the last half hour and now all of a sudden he can't seem to remember how to kiss. My tongue glides along his lips and, ever so slowly, his mouth opens to give me entrance. But now his mouth and tongue are the only parts of him moving. If he was standing up straight he'd be at attention.

"Take off your shirt, Harm."

Harm doesn't make a sound. He just grabs his shirt tails and tries to yank it over his head. Unfortunately he forgot about the buttons. "Agrumf."

That's it. I lose it. I start laughing and I can't stop. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gently slap at his hands. "Very attractive sound. Mating call of the Bull Moose right?" He stops struggling with his shirt. Chortling he tries to wipe the tears away only succeeding in smearing them across my face. "Here, let me do it," I say as I undo the buttons at his throat. When I finish I nod, smiling at him. "Now take it off." In a flash the shirt is off Harm and on the floor. And he's back at attention.

At this rate A.J. Roberts will have grandchildren before I do. Enough already! "Harm, you do remember how to do this? Right?"

***********************************************************

Of course I remember how to do this. That's not the problem. If this was only about sex we'd have "done it" long ago and gotten on with our lives.

The vision in front of me will be etched in my soul for eternity. Mac... Sarah... Standing there... Her beautiful breasts are heaving in that piece of nothing she calls a bra, her cinnamon nipples playing hide-and-seek with the lace. Her golden skin is flushed and glistening, her cheeks tinted pink with scarcely controlled frustration.

I could bury myself within her forever... Possess the sweetness her body is offering... In other words be like every other bastard that has lusted after her... Who took her... Who used her... Who abused her...

That's the problem. I want to be more than that. I want to be different than all the other men who have come before me. More than anything I don't want to hurt her. I've done that enough. I want her never to regret this. And that is what I don't know how to do. "I remember how, Mac. I'm just not very good... "

"That's not what I've heard," Mac cuts me off and laughs seductively. It's one of those laughs that tickle your spine. I want to hear that sound everyday for the rest of my life... Talk about scary...

"Mac! Not that. That is not the problem" I point to the bed. "This is!" my finger swinging between her and me.

"Harm," Mac is shaking her head again. I know... I should shut up. I should just lay her down on the bed and do what I'm good at. I can make her happy in bed... I know I can do that much. But then she'll never know that is so much more than sex.

"No, really Mac. I can't maintain a relationship. Think about it. The longest relationship I've ever had is with you and I keep screwing it up. Any woman with half a brain runs in the other direction." Jeez Rabb... Why don't you scare her off? You're both only half naked and a foot away from her bed...

"I have more than half a brain and I haven't run." Well at least she's still smiling. That's a good sign, right?

"You haven't gone to bed with me yet either." In case no one's noticed before, I really have this problem with my mouth. I can't seem to stop words from coming out of it.

"You can't be that bad," she teases me. God I love the deep husky sound of her voice. I reach out to touch her. Just to make sure that she's really here, that I'm really here. I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up and find that this is just another dream...

"I'm not. Sex... that part is easy." Her hands start dancing on my chest, trying to distract me. It's working, damn it. I wonder if she can feel my heart pounding.

"Only you would say that," she chuckles.

"It's true. All you have to do is pay attention." I lean down and kiss that little spot on her neck I found earlier. See I do pay attention. My reward is the soft purr that floats up from the back of her throat. Does she even know she made it?

She pushes away from me so she can look directly in my eyes. "Most men don't care enough to pay attention," there's a hint of bitterness in her voice. How could a man not pay attention to this woman? I may not have acted on my feelings, but there hasn't been time when I haven't been aware of her. I know her every nuance, every gesture that she makes.

Mac moves away from me and lights the candles on the dresser and turns off the overhead light. The flames reflect in the wall mirror and the one over her vanity table bathing the room in a soft golden glow.

"Then you've been going to bed with the wrong men." The words pop out before I can stop them.

Okay my foot is back in my mouth. Maybe I should just leave it there before I say anything else stupid. Mac just stands there looking at me... Shocked? Angry maybe? I've managed to insult her... Again. I've always suspected that foot in mouth disease can be fatal. I think I'm about to find out. Then I understand... She's throwing down the gauntlet. She hasn't said a word but her body and her eyes are telling me the same thing... Put up or shut up. She's right. Time to do something else with my mouth. Words are definitely overrated.

I pull her tight against me and return to that spot on her neck. I'm done thinking. The time has come for feeling. I want to memorize her as she is now, what she feels like right at this moment. This is my last "first time". All our other times will blend together and homogenize. But this time... I want to be able to remember this when I'm old and grey. When she is old and grey and holding our great-grandchild on her lap.

It's scary, being this much in love with someone, but then I always knew it would be. Maybe that is what has held me back... Knowing that if I screw this up there will never be anyone else for me. I might share my bed but my soul will always be alone.

***********************************************************

I know the exact moment the legendary Harmon Rabb, Junior control snapped. The earth shattering cataclysmic event I have waited six long years for happens and when it does... Nothing. Not a damn thing. I expected something.

I've fantasized about this night. A girl has to do something on cold winter nights, even if she is living like a nun. I've dreamed of fire and passion, of uncontrollable need, of hot sweating naked bodies writhing together in tangled sheets... Of the violently surging actions of a man pushed beyond endurance. The culmination of six years of agonizing foreplay exploding should rival fireworks on the Forth of July.

Instead Harm has to be completely different. He becomes totally relaxed. He slows down. He's become excruciatingly gentle... and then he kisses me. It's just a simple kiss. Of course that's like saying the Mona Lisa is just a painting. It is the most deliberate, decisive, exquisite kiss imaginable.

I feel his body against mine, I can feel the hard long length of it poised for action. His muscles are trembling, like a cat prepared to pounce when, for the first time, his hands move up and cup my breasts. He doesn't maul them. He simply holds them, taking their weight in his hands as if he's relieving me of the burden of carrying them around. My nerves tingle in anticipation. Finally his thumbs just graze my nipples and I jump at the jolt of desire he sends through my body.

I feel his laughter rumble through his body rather than hear it. "Forever, Sarah," he mumbles a split second before his mouth is exploring mine. His hands move to the valley between my breasts and release the clasp on my bra, brushing the lacy garment from me as he pulls back to look. He gazes at me as if he is looking at a priceless work of art. Then he stares into my eyes, before speaking. "For eternity, Mac." And then he waits. His hands come to rest on my hips... And then he still waits. He smiles into my eyes... And then he is still waiting.

It takes me a while to realize he is waiting for me. Not to consent to having sex, but to accept an eternity with him... To comprehend that he loves all of me: the soft, insecure Sarah side, and the kick-ass Marine, take-no-prisoners "Mac" side. That he's taking me as I am, flaws and all, not just for this moment, but forever.

As we stand here the anxiety begins to mount and I can feel the tension start to engulf him. "Sarah?" a mere whisper of agony is forced from his lips. "Mac?"

And the last piece of the puzzle falls into place. This man, who can dazzle a courtroom into believing the sky is green, the grass is blue, and there are real cats and dogs raining from the sky, will never say the words. This is as much a declaration of love as I will ever get. He will never put on the dress whites, take me to the Rose Garden, bend down on one knee, and pledge his undying devotion. But he will be there. Whenever and wherever I need him, he'll be there. No strings. No conditions. He'll just be there. All I have to do is accept.

It nearly takes me too long to figure this all out because he releases me and begins to turn away. I grab his hands and pull him back to me looking up to him. "I can't play, Mac." He sounds as if he has been swallowing ground glass, his voice is so ragged. There are tears in his eyes that he refuses to shed. I'm seeing a man's soul shatter into a million pieces. And it's my fault. The time it has taken me to think this through has ravaged him. He is one raw, exposed wound. To love, to admit that love, to give of himself unreservedly takes every bit of courage he has.

Has anyone ever loved him the way he loves me? Where does he turn when he's empty inside? Who can he turn to when he needs to lean on some one? Then the answer hits me... and my heart breaks for him. Harm is always alone. There is no one for him to turn to. He has always been in control because there is no one there to pick up the pieces if he falls apart. Until now...

"I am so sorry, Harm," I whisper. He must have misunderstood me because he doesn't let me finish, he just starts looking around again. For his clothes I think. For his clothes? Oh God! He's leaving! "Harm!" I yank on his arm to turn him back to me again.

"I can't do this, Mac," his voice flat, defeated, filled with exhaustion. "Not with you."

"Harm! I love you!" I scream loud enough that I'm sure the neighbours can hear, let alone the incredibly dense man beside me. I must have gotten through because my less than eloquent declaration stops him dead in his tracks. He looks at me questioning the veracity of my words. I do the only thing I can think of. I nod to him and say, "Yes. For all eternity."

It takes him a second to switch gears. When he finally wraps his mind around my statement his smile could light up the entire eastern seaboard. That's when my oh so glib partner finally says, "Okay," before he again pulls me into the circle of his arms. That's all he says, "Okay." Just like that, "Okay." I want to just give up and laugh as I realize this is how it's always going to be. I can accept it or fight it, but he's not going to change. That's Harm. Fifty years from now he'll say something equally cryptic and expect me to instantly figure it out.

I'm trying to figure out a witty retort but I never get the chance. I feel his body against mine... and the ability to think vanishes when we kiss once more. That's it, he just kisses me, and like all the others this evening it is soft and gentle and barely there. And I will never be the same again. He pulls away from me a little and just stares, studying me as if he's never seen me before. The air crackles with electricity; I can actually smell the ozone. The anticipation is almost as arousing as a caress.

I reach for his belt buckle just as he reaches for the button on my jeans. Enough talk. Talking always gets us into trouble. Actions speak loader than words anyway.

Our jeans become puddles on the floor. My lacy pink panties join Harm's navy issue white cotton boxers in the pile, and finally we are naked. The only thing between us now is our own inadequacies and insecurities. For the very first time I can see Harm in all his glory. He is beautiful. Michelangelo could have sculpted him. His runner's body is classically proportioned. The long lean muscles are powerful and defined. His skin is like marble. The imperfections of veins and fine wrinkles add interest not found in plastic hard bodies. His scars remind me that he is all too human. As I look, I watch his erection lengthen and thicken, convincing me once and for all that he isn't a statue.

I run my hands across his shoulders then begin to follow the trail of hair that leads down chest so I can caress him. Just before I reach my goal he grasps my hand and drags it to his mouth, nibbling on the flesh just below my thumb. Whatever I was planning is lost in a wave of sensation. I didn't know that my thumb was an erogenous zone...

"Not now. Not yet," he murmurs as he sweeps me up into his arms before walking across the room and centering me on my bed. "Just let me... " he whispers as he follows me down.

Harm's touch is insistent, discovering things about my body that I never knew, warming me as he goes. Each stroke of his large, strong hands prepare me for the next sensation. Slowly, so very slowly, he explores me with his fingers and lips. His mouth captures each breast, laving the tender skin on the underside before sipping at the tips. My mind fills with images of liquid heat: bubbling pools of sulfur springs, rivers of molten lava. Heat, exquisite heat, spreads from my breasts to my very core, igniting a fire that only he can extinguish.

He kisses, nibbles, and licks his way to my belly button, stopping there to fully investigate my tiny cavern. I'm gasping for breath. Who would have thought that kissing this dimple in the middle of my stomach would be so erotic? And just when I think I can't take anymore, when the tension of anticipation becomes too much, those long strong fingers reach up to encircle my waist... and he tickles me! As we melt into laughter he gives me a raspberry on my belly just like he would baby A.J.

"Harm!" I manage to sputter as his laughter bubbles up like champagne.

Unrepentant, he just scoots up the bed a little, supports his head on one arm and smiles down at me. His hand strokes me from my breasts to my hips, back and forth, never repeating the same path. Each caress sends me floating on a wave of desire. Only the weight of his hand keeps me grounded. He comes closer and closer to my nexus, barely skirting my curls. I writhe beneath his hands, nearly begging for his touch to cool me. As I reach for him to move his hand to where I want them, he lowers his lips to mine, his free hand capturing mine.

"Harm!"

He responds with a "Mm uh," as he encircles my aureole with his mouth. His teeth grasp my nipple and he flutters it with his tongue. I feel muscles contract deep within me. My skin vibrates with desire. Liquid fire, scorching as that first shot of vodka, floods my lower lips. The bundle of nerves within my folds crave his touch.

I'm not going to beg. I'm a Marine. Marines don't beg. Marines take action. I free my hands and grab his head trying pull him up for a searing kiss. I can't budge him. He switches to my other breast and commences his next salvo on my senses.

My breath slows, my body making measured throbs causing a shiver to run down my spine. There is an aching emptiness deep with in me crying out to be filled, and only this man can fill it. He is plucking the strings deep within me, playing a song on my body that I have never heard before. With every caress Harm seems to be tuning me as a virtuoso will tune his instrument to blend perfectly with the orchestra. I'm stretched taunt like the skin on a drum, his fingers gently thumping the rhythm of desire on my flesh. This amazing music we're making together... The pulse of the cosmos is setting the tempo for this concert. We are the entire universe tonight. I am his instrument and he is the maestro playing me.

I have changed my mind. I'm a woman. I can beg. I can plead. I open my mouth to capitulate and Harm is there, his tongue caressing mine, his fingers parting my curls. I love him all the more for not requiring my submission.

He does what he has always done best. He investigates. This time the subject of his inquiry is the steaming recess of my core and the tiny nub hidden there. He is as thorough now as he is on any other mission. Each surface is examined. Every inch of flesh is scrutinized. His touch is exquisite... pressure... friction... coolness against my raging heat. His long fingers strumming me as he does his guitar. As my body tenses to a point beyond endurance, he reaches the crescendo of this symphony and I explode in a whirl of sensation like I have never known before. I can do nothing but scream his name. And feel...

***********************************************************

Is there anything more beautiful than a woman at the pinnacle of climax? If there is I've never seen it. I watch as the pleasure that I have created washes over her in waves. I have never been more proud or more humble. Right now my dearest wish is to spend the rest of my life creating the ecstasy that now consumes her. My hands gentle her as she finds her way back to earth. Nothing fancy here, I simply stroke her enjoying the satin of her skin. I can't stop touching her, not that I want to.

But that is the least of my problems. I can't decide what to call her. She's Mac. She's Sarah. Most of all she is mine. And I'm hers.

I can't use the standard endearments with her. Honey, Sweetie, and Sugar were for all the anonymous, interchangeable women that have flittered through my life. You can't get into trouble groaning "Darling" at a critical moment. But with Mac it's different; everything is different.

I want her to know that I love/want/need all of her. Not just bits and pieces, or the easy to cope with parts, but anything and everything she wants to give me. I can take it. I want it. I know that the other men in her life (what a time to be thinking of them) have called her Sarah and tried to exorcise the marine in her, to make her deny who she is. I won't do that to her. I can't do that to her. I need her to know she is the one who occupies my mind, my heart, my soul.

Mac opens her eyes and looks at me, her hand reaching out to caress my face. The wonderment in her eyes startles me. I don't want to think about what that look implies. And she is so serious, as if having an orgasm is a monumental event. Well it is, but she's going to have more before the night is over. Maybe later I'll mull all this over but now is the time for joy and laughter.

If there is one thing I would change about Mac, aside from her addiction to Beltway Burgers, it's her sense of humour. She hasn't one. Mac seems to think that being a Marine requires stoic discipline and constant vigilance. Yeah we're warriors, but we're human beings first. More than anyone else we've earned the right to be happy. Your mission Harmon Rabb, should you choose to accept it, is to teach your marine how to enjoy life. Lessons begin now.

I start at her toes. I nibble and check between each one. It's not there. The arch of each foot? Ticklish, but no. Ankles? Nice, strong, well shaped, but not a mark on them. On to her legs, great legs, go on forever legs. I've seen those legs to just above the knee almost everyday for the last six years. I know it's not on her legs. Her thighs maybe? Where the heck is it?

"Harm what do you think you're doing?" Mac asks trying not to giggle. Who would have thought that a kick-ass marine could giggle?

"Looking," I reply gravely. She's not buying it for one second.

"Enjoying the view?"

I look up at her and give her my best rake look. Times like this I wish I had a moustache I could twirl. "Great view. Spectacular view. Extraordinary view." My hands skip up to her shoulders and flicker down her chest. "Excellent topography. Terrific hills," I mumble as I reach her breasts. The raging desire that has been singing in my veins becomes too loud to ignore. I have to touch her , taste her. I decide to finish my investigation later as I devour her nipples. "Fantastic plains," as I trail my lips down her stomach. Mac gasps as I reach her curls. "Enchanting forests."

"Writing a travel log?" she asks with a sigh as a shudder of desire ripples through her.

"No mapping you for National Geographic. Eighth wonder of the world," I murmur as I part her lower lips. "Incredible valleys," I hum as my tongue gets lost among her folds. This is so much better than talking.

I am surrounded by the unique essence that is Sarah MacKenzie. I slide her legs over my shoulders and settle in to sup on this glorious feast. Mac's fingers are threaded through my hair as she draws a breath so deep that it almost lifts her off the bed. Each lick or nibble I make causes her to pull me closer. And the sounds she makes -- I've heard that siren's song in my dreams for years.

As she comes closer to the apex of her climax her nectar changes texture and taste becoming muskier, more earthy. She becomes all those primal women: Eve, Gaia, the Earth Goddess incarnate. I feel her body begin to tremble, then she stiffens. As she reaches completion she calls my name, not a scream or a whimper, but a throaty whisper that tempers my iron erection into steel. I want to join with her, become one with her... But the anticipation... I'm not ready to finish this pilgrimage.

Sarah is languorous when she returns to me. I move up and find her lips. Just kissing her is phenomenal. She has lips that were designed for kissing. I figure it will take me the next fifty years to learn all the ways to kiss her. I'll just worry about the basics now. Don't want to overwhelm the girl with the possibilities. I know when she finds out I think of her as "a girl" she's going to kick my six to Tierra del Fuego, but hey I like to live dangerously.

I'm too aroused to sit still while I wait for her to recover. I return to exploring the mysterious land of Sarah. I reconnoiter her hands and arms. The only places I'm not really familiar with are her arm pits. I find these shallow depressions are very sensitive to my touch.

"Harm," Mac squeals. "That tickles. What are you doing?"

"Looking for your tattoo," I answer as I skim down her sides, detouring to inspect beneath her luxurious breasts. While I'm here I tease her nipples with my thumbs and watch as the aureoles pebble and their tips harden.

"Is that how you're suppose to look for tattoos?"

"Don't know. Never looked for a tattoo on a naked marine before," as I blow gently across the cinnamon peaks and watch her shiver before I continue my explorations. I'm guessing that the elusive brand is somewhere on her back, below her waist and above her knees.

As I try to turn her over Mac protests, "You know that location is classified."

"I have clearance," I laugh as I attack with fingers and lips. I drop raspberries upon her like tiny grenades sending her into a fit of giggles.

Still, her strong lithe body resists all my efforts to turn her over. As we tangle together, I end up facing her feet. It's the perfect position to nibble behind her knees. From there I can work my way up to her derrière. Mac, while taking this lying down, is no shrinking violet. She reaches up and begins to tickle my feet. My big feet give Mac a large theatre of operations. I squirm in earnest trying to escape my beautiful marine, who is determined to win this skirmish, while not surrendering my quest to glimpse her upper thighs and ass.

Without warning the rules of engagement change. A hand grasps me. Strong firm strokes rekindle the fire that I had banked. But when her warm wet mouth envelops me that warm fire becomes a searing flame. Whatever control I've had, whatever patience I've possessed, is gone...

***********************************************************

Laughter fills my bedroom. My skin tingles with more than desire. It takes me a while to identify this feeling because I've never really known it before. It is joy, pure unadulterated joy.

Whatever doubts or fears Harm has had have disappeared. He gives himself to me fully and simply assumes I'll accept what is offered. I've had two of the finest, most exquisite, earth moving, soul shattering orgasms of my life. He demands nothing in return. I'm not expected to be anything other than what I am, or do anything other than what I want. And for the first time in my life, sex is truly making love. It is unlike anything I have ever known.

We play. Harm is determined to locate my tattoo. In his quest he has played "Little Piggies go to Market" with my toes, covered my body with raspberries and strawberries, and tickled my belly button and ears with his tongue. Right now he is attempting to play "Pin the Tail on the Marine".

We've knocked the blankets completely off the bed. Harm has announced that the decorative pillows will have to go, that no self-respecting sailor shares his bed with ruffled pillows. That warm bubbly sensation that is happiness explodes in my stomach when my squid refers to my bed as his. He starts tossing the pillows around the room and, in the interest of safety, I blow out all the candles before he starts a fire. The street light leaves the room in shadows adding "Hide and Seek" to our games.

We twist and turn and end up a tangle of arms and legs with each head at the other's feet. It's then that Harm decides my toes need to be sucked on. And his feet? They are just begging to be tickled. With the determination that every Marine learns at Parris Island, I attack, forgetting for a moment how big a six foot four inch man really is. Harm squirms away, still attempting to turn me on my stomach, when another option presents itself.

Directly in front of me, in easy access to my hands and mouth, is Harmon Rabb Junior's pride and joy. It is the perfect opportunity for me to gain the upper hand, so to speak, in this endeavor. As my hands go to encircle him, I marvel at his length and breadth, studying him intently. Soft velvety skin encases the steely hardness of his shaft. I caress and kiss and begin to lick, and Harm's hoarse grunts begin to echo around the room. I can almost feel the vibrations of the sounds he's making against my skin.

As I take his mushroom shaped head into my mouth, I am reminded of dinner. I remember the look he gave me as I ate my asparagus. I mimic the actions that entranced him earlier this evening. I slide my tongue along his length and let it swirl around the tip, examining the dips and ridges. I can taste the musky salt of his arousal and feel myself respond with deep contractions. At the V, where head and shaft meet, I find the heavy vein that runs his length and, as I gently bite, the throbbing of my own desire joins the rhythm of his pulse.

"Please... Mac... oh... Sarah... yes..." he mumbles like it's some kind of chant. Earlier when he called me "Sarah" it was like a caress. But now, especially when he cries out "Mac..." it's everything I ever wanted to know: his wants, his needs, his desires, his love. It's all are there in his utterance of my name. I wonder if it's always been there and I've just been too preoccupied to notice. But now I know the simple truth, for all his playfulness, his need for me is as great as mine for him.

He trembles almost violently beneath my hands and mouth. I can feel him straining against me, struggling not to plunge into my mouth. "Mac... Sarah. If you don't stop now... please..."

***********************************************************

Mac releases me with a little sigh. We right ourselves as I tear off a packet from the strip of condoms. For all our joking earlier tonight, now is not the time to bring a baby into the mix. It won't be long now, but we need to work out a few details first. Sarah takes the foil envelope from me and rolls the latex sheath down me with an intimate caress. A shadow of sadness flickers across her face. "Soon?" I ask, my hand closing over hers. I'm desperate to remove any doubts she may still have. I can feel her relax at my question. For once I've done the right thing where my Sarah is concerned. She nods, nudging my hand aside as she guides me into her depths.

It's been a long time for both of us. She is so wet and warm and tight. I'm afraid that my lust will get out of control and I'll hurt her. With another woman, at this point, I would distract myself: think about Supreme Court precedents, baseball stats, or the names of every flat top in the fleet since the USS Langley was commissioned in 1922. But just looking in Mac's eyes, knowing what I do about her past, and still finding the trust and love in her gaze calms me. Resting my weight on my forearms, I settle into her, giving us both time to adjust. I'm in no hurry. We have all the rest of our lives.

"How many? Two? Three?" I ask. It's distracting thinking about children, yet I'm completely focussed on Sarah, on our life together. It feels so wonderfully right.

I feel Sarah's laughter come gushing up. "You want to talk about children now?"

"Can't think of a better time," I answer as I kiss her nose and move slightly within her.

"Two," she responds as she loops her arms around my neck. A leg winds it's way around my hip and a hand glides down my back. "A boy and a girl."

"One with my brains and your looks, the other with your brains and my looks," I murmur as I nuzzle her neck and she rocks against me.

"Hmm... uh. House or apartment?"

"Where ever you want. You're my home, Mac." It's the truth. And it hits me that I've known this particular truth for a very long time. Whenever I am with her, wherever we are, regardless of mood or location, I'm home. "Always have been."

Sarah pulls me closer and our lips meet. I move. I don't want to move. If I don't begin this won't end. I try and stop, to hold back, to make this moment in time last forever, but Sarah quivers beneath me. She's like a flower opening up to let the sunshine in, only she is letting me in. And I sink further into her depths.

"Mac...my sweet Sarah." We're touching, moving at a dream's pace, neither fast nor slow. Reality has no place here with us. But this is no dream, this is more real than anything I've ever done, more real than anything I've ever known. She is everything... past, present, future... a home and children... comfort and warmth... all wrapped up in one amazing woman. Finally, after six years, I can say the words. "I love you, Mac."

***********************************************************

Other men have declared their love for me. They've uttered flowery words and overwrought phrases that have left me feeling more inadequate than cherished. Their proclamations have felt like demands, requiring more from me. Whatever that more was I could never figure out. I just always sensed the pull of their need.

I don't think Harm has ever said the words before. They come out raw and rough, as if they had been pulled from the bottom of his soul. He fills me up, not just my body, but the lifelong bitter hollowness deep within me. I finally understand the words from the 23rd Psalm, "my cup runneth over." It may have taken him an eternity to say the words, but he has said them. He means them and he always will.

I almost whimper as Harm begins to pull out of me, only to sigh as he fills me yet again. And so it begins. Our first real joining is not a wild, grasping, desperate mating. It's a joining, the confirmation of a love that has been built one stone at a time. Together we become a fortress, our love safe within its walls. Our strokes are slow and sweet and gentle, our caresses soft and warm. Tension coils through muscle and flesh. Sighs become gasps. The speed of Harm's thrusts increase and I writhe harder against him. And whispered words of love are shared.

"I love you."

"Forever."

"You are home."

"For eternity."

"Mine."

"Yours. And you are mine."

"Sweet, so very sweet."

"Yes... Oh yes... Please..."

"Like that?"

"Oh yes!"

We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Lips against lips. Flesh against flesh. Velvet covered steel plunging into silky softness. Entwined together. As close as two beings can ever be. The very essence of who we are integrating with the other. We are both exposed. Vulnerable. Love. Passion. Lust. Need. Hope. Desire. It's all there. But no fear. This is how it should be, how it will be. And we begin to soar. We let go.

The Japanese call it "going" not "coming" and for the first time I understand why. I feel myself reaching out to him as I explode. I'm going beyond myself and becoming more than I could ever be alone. Harm is with me, every step of the way. This is love. This is making love. This is what I've been searching for my entire life. This connection... this incredible man...

***********************************************************

The sun floods through the window, bathing the woman in my arms in a golden glow. I glance over to the nightstand. There's only one condom left from that strip of six. I bet she didn't think I had it in me. Hell, I didn't think I had it in me. Shows what a little inspiration will do.

I can't quite believe we've crossed the Rubicon. Every time I awoke last night I had to convince myself that it wasn't a dream. Of course, once I was awake I found a few other things to do. I never did find her tattoo. Oh well, I have the rest of my life to look for it. I really need to let her sleep. I want to wake her, to repeat last night's pleasures, to watch her as I love her in the light of day. But she looks so peaceful, almost childlike. I can't bear to disturb her.

I ease myself from bed and begin to search for my shorts. It's been years since my clothes have been scattered around a bedroom. No woman has ever made me loose control like that. I rummage through the clothes, making a mental list of things we'll need to do. Folding them, then stacking them on the chair as I go, I do some quick calculations. We can probably do something about getting Mac's Uncle Matt out of Leavenworth early. He's due for parole soon anyway. Coming across Mac's underwear leaves me with a dumb grin plastered back on my face. I think pink lace is going to have that effect on me for the rest of my life. Turns out playing "Tease the Sailor" isn't such a bad game after all.

After I slip on my boxers I finally locate my phone on the dresser. Mac must have moved it there last night so we wouldn't step on it. I look for a clock and find the radio on Mac's side of the bed. Ten hundred hours, good it's not too early. Mac burrows deeper under the blankets as I leave the bedroom, hitting number five on the speed dial. Mac's cell is one. The office is two. The admiral's cell is three. Bud's cell is four.

While the phone is ringing I realize we are going to have a few basic problems right form the start. My leather, glass, and chrome high tech style isn't going to mesh real well with Mac's country flowers. I guess I'll have to get use to a few ruffles. But not on the bed. Speaking of beds, we'll need a new mattress set. I'm not starting out married life in a bed that Mac has shared with... whomever... and I won't submit Mac to my past either...

"Hello"

"Hi, Mom."

"Harm! This is a surprise."

"It's not like I never call you," I can't help but smile.

"No. But it is unusual for you to call so early on a Saturday morning," she retorts.

"I wanted to catch you and Frank before you left to play golf."

I hear foot steps behind me and turn to see Mac standing in the bedroom doorway. She looks adorable wiping the sleep from her eyes, wearing one of my USNA tee-shirts. I wondered what happened to that shirt. I bet some more of my UA items are stashed around here. I open my free arm and hold it out to her.

"Who you talking to?" Mac asks as she snuggles into my embrace.

"Mom," I answer.

"You're with Mac?" Mom asks, a hint of excitement in her voice.

I've never been good at holding two conversations at once. Especially with these two women. My mouth gets me into trouble with these two like it does with no one else.

"Yeah, Mac's right here," I say as I kiss the top of Mac's head, marveling at how well she fits against me. "Hey, Mom. You and Frank have time to come out here?" Mac is looking at me like I've grown a second head.

"Is anything wrong, Harm?"

"No, Mom, everything is fine. Mac just needs some help planning... Oof..." A certain marine's elbow makes contact with my ribs.

"Harm, that's no way to tell your mother..."

"FRANK! FRANK! Harm and Mac are getting married! Frank get in here now!"

Well that was easy. I hand Mac the phone so she and Mom can work out the details. As I head for the kitchen to see what I can scrounge for breakfast, I hear Mac, "Yes, Ma'am... Okay, Mrs. Burnett... Trish... Mom..."

***********************************************************

"That was a rotten thing to do, Squid!" I say as I enter the kitchen smiling.

Harm looks up from mixing something, I assume pancakes. "Maybe, but you'll forgive me."

I stick my finger in the bowl and taste, then boost myself up on the counter. "I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you." The dishwasher is running. Harm has cleaned up last night's mess. "You're going to make a very good wife," I say taking in the spotless kitchen. How anyone can be neat making pancakes is beyond me.

Harm just smirks, "You think so huh?"

"Yep."

"So what's that make you? My future husband?"

"Whatever floats your boat."

Harm puts the bowl of batter down on the counter and wraps me in his arms. "I'll take you however I can get you," he squeezes me tight, planting a blistering kiss on my mouth, then goes to get the frying pan. "When are Mom and Frank coming?"

"Sometime tomorrow. Your Mom... Trish..." I stumble over what to call my future mother-in-law.

"Call her Mom. It'll make her happy," Harm interjects.

"Okay, MOM asked me what sort of wedding you wanted."

"The kind where you say, 'I do,'" he smiles.

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Yeah, well I want you happy. If you still want a hillside that's fine with me. But no goats. I draw the line at goats."

"You remember!"

"Of course I remember." He gives me one of those don't-be-stupid looks.

"I remember some things too."

"Yeah, but you forget to return my shirts," he smirks as flips the first batch of pancakes.

"No bacon?"

"Mac do you know what..."

"Yaddy yaddy yah..."

"I didn't find any in the fridge," he replies almost sheepishly.

I lean over and kiss him on the nose. That he'd even think to feed me meat fills me with warm fuzzies. I hop off the counter and rifle through the fridge, looking for bacon or sausage or something. He's right, no bacon. I cleaned out the fridge day before yesterday and must have pitched what I had. Didn't want to chance green hairy mold near the oysters. Oh well.

"What do you remember?" Harm asks almost wincing. He really is brave, but nothing can ruin my mood today.

"Remember dinner at your place before the tribunal?"

"Yeah, so?" he asks, confused.

"You said you would be gentle. Then I said 'Don't be gentle. Be good.'"

"And?"

"You flirted with me."

"I've always flirted with you, Mac."

"I know. But that time I think you meant it. You told me you could be both."

"Huh?"

"Gentle and good. And you are," I purr seductively.

Harm puts the last of the pancakes on the plate and turns off the stove. Shoving the plate in the oven, he grabs me around my waist and kisses me hard. "Where are they?" he asks with his megawatt flyboy smile firmly in place.

"Where are what?" I ask breathlessly, my heart rate accelerating from the gleam in his eyes.

"The condoms. You said there were more in the kitchen.."