The club was dark- darker than she remembered, and smoky. Jen wrinkled her nose in distaste and turned to Pacey, grabbing his arm. He looked down at her, and suddenly seemed distracted, eyes hesitant, caught somewhere where she wasn’t.

The bastard was probably thinking of some other girl.

Jen tilted her head to the side, struggling hard to keep the fake smile on her lips. The hallway suddenly seemed like the safer option.

The colder, darker, damper, but generally less depressing option.

And she would probably have gone out there again if the woman sitting at the bar wasn’t staring at her in complete and utter jealousy.

“Brunette, seven o clock.” She poked her finger at his chest. “Turn around.”

Pacey’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What?”

“Tall, dark and leggy.” She grimaced. “Just your type; and it looks like you’re hers.” Raising an eyebrow, Jen gave him a look. “I’ll bet you the D minus on my history paper you’re waiting to get me out of here so you can dance with her.” Seeing the look of surprise on his face, Jen laughed shakily, taking it as truth. “Go, go on. Go!”

“D minus?” he asked her quietly. “You’d sacrifice your D minus. Well that’s gotta be a gift worth losing,” he returned, voice full of sarcasm.

“Don’t be facetious. It all goes downhill from here.”

Pacey looked over his shoulder, gaze flitting to the girl at the bar, long legs crossed, eyes fixed on him. He swallowed hard. She wasn’t what he wanted, but she was a start. She was a hot, warm body, a body who wanted him, not some body who…

Gritting his teeth, he turned back to Jen, searching for eyes in the dark light of the bar. Not some body who’d rather sit in dark corridors alone.

Pacey looked quickly away. If this was what was happening, if Jen’s face, and breasts, and laugh were going to erode his mind for the next half hour he was going to do something to prevent it. He was going to try. Hard. Because this couldn’t happen. This couldn’t, f*cking, happen.

He couldn’t, didn’t, would not, want her. Wouldn’t allow himself to.

Jen looked up, her soft lips slightly apart, the dim light only emphasising the curve of her

body against the soft grey dress she was wearing. Pacey let his mind and eyes wander downwards for a second, taking in the line of shadow between her breasts before he struggled to raise his eyes again.

“Really?” He could feel the heated gaze of the unknown brunette on his back. Besides, maybe she was trying to get rid of him.

“Yeah.” Jen reached up, pulling at a strand of his hair affectionately. “I’ve been promised a dance already.”

“You have?” Pacey’s eyes narrowed in surprise. “Anyone I know?”

“Maybe.” Jen’s grin was twisted, her eyes bright as she backed away from him, walked towards the table they had been sitting at. “Go,” she called over the music. Her voice was hoarse, and she wondered if he could hear her. “Go dance, Pacey.”

Just one dance. Just one f*ucking dance, he wasn’t about to chuck her out and swap her for a newbie.

Forget that the apartment was in his name. Screw that…

Jen took a single, shuddering breath, and headed towards the dark figure at their table. Nearing it, she smiled down at him, holding out a hand.

“Mike. Care for a dance?”

Jen rested her hands on his upper arms, leaving a comfortable and yet not unsafe distance between them. Smiling warmly, she let him guide her, hands around her waist, face looking down at her.

“So tell me,” he asked her softly, gaze fixed on someone behind her head. “Have you re-examined your response to my earlier question?”

Jen grimaced. “What question was that?”

“The one involving polar icecaps,” Mike shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. Leaning back, he shot her a look. “My question involving your roommate, Jen. A friend of mine. And your attraction, or the lack there-of to that certain friend.”

Without thinking, Jen gripped his arms tighter, swallowing hard as she looked down at the floor. “What makes you think I’ve reconsidered anything?”

“Nothing. Just the daggers you’ve been sending the brunette on his arms, and your longing gazes you shoot him every time you’re facing that way.” Almost lifting her, Mike swung them around 180 degrees, turning so that over his shoulder Jen could just make out Pacey and his new partner a few couples away.

As much as she struggled to keep the bland, disinterested look on her face, she wasn’t sure how much it was working.

“Take a good look, Jennifer,” he whispered, close to her ear. Jen hugged him tighter, feeling a knot in her stomach at the sight, before letting him swing her back around again. “Still so sure?” he asked, voice soft, compassion, maybe even understanding, in his eyes.

“Maybe not,” Jen whispered, her cheek pressed hard against his shoulder, almost comfort against the quick, shooting pain through her chest.

There. It was gone. She took a long, deep breath, but kept her face against him.

“Hmm.” Tucking a finger under her chin, Mike lifted her face to meet his gaze. “I thought so.”

Jen laughed shakily, eyes wide as they studied him. “I think you think far too much about me, Mike. You’ve…” She shrugged. “Been living with Pacey and I for a week. A week, and already I feel like an examination in one of your criminal studies.”

Mike laughed. “Criminal studies, huh? Well unless you’ve recently decided to kill your husband for his money, engage in a little fraudulent behaviour or sell yourself on a street corner, I think it’s safe to say no, you’re not the one I’m looking for.”

“Well…” Jen’s mouth curved into a soft grin. “I’ve considered all three, but…maybe you’re right.”

Mike gave her a quick squeeze. “Street corner, Jen?”

She grinned. “In the good old days.”

“No, I just…You remind me a little of myself.”

Jen raised an eyebrow. “Storm in a D cup?”

Mike laughed softly. “Oh, absolutely. Queen Delilah on my nights off.”

“Don’t I know it…”

He drummed his fingers lightly against the small of her back. “I meant…well.” He smiled weakly. “An old girlfriend of mine was a roommate. A roommate long before I realised I was thinking about her in her underwear far too much.”

“Underwear? That’s nothing…”

“See?” Mike laughed, shaking his head. “I know how you feel.” “My wife?” he finished for her.

Jen looked down. He’d said it, not her. But guilt coursed through her body, aching at the back of her chest. He was separated. He had loved someone enough to marry her, and now they were no longer together. Now he was living with a retarded blonde and her sexy roommate. She couldn’t possibly, ever, understand how that might feel.

If it hurt this much already…Jen shuddered.

“Yeah,” she murmured, raising her face. “Your wife.”

“She was.” Mike attempted a smile. “Was, is…Could be.”

“You think you’ll get back together?”

“I don’t know.” Mike looked away For a moment, eyes distant. “If we do, it’ll be a long time coming. In the meantime, she has a company to work for, I have…”

“To save New York from its history of crime,” she offered with a tiny smile, squeezing his ams lightly.

“Yeah.” Mike gave her a slow grin. “And in the meantime I get to look at beautiful, attractive young women.”

“You’re right. Cindy in cell block H is a real catch.”

Jen raised a single eyebrow and shot him a look. Mile laughed. “I was thinking more about a certain blonde.”

“Taloolah keeps up her roots inside? Or is she on parole?” Jen leaned in close, a glint in her eyes as her face neared his. “You know, I know far too many guys with a hero complex.”

“Yeah?” Mike tilted his head to the side, watching her as they turned to the music.

“I do. Something about rescuing a woman in trouble turn you on, Michael?”

“That depends if you’re in trouble, Jennifer.”

Jen stopped short, almost freezing in his hold as her eyes stilled on his, mouth slightly open.
“How do you do that?” she asked softly once she’d regained her control.

“What?”

“That. Talk about your wife one moment, actually appear distraught, and then come onto me the next?”

Mike leaned in, so close his nose almost brushed hers. “A distraught guy never came onto you before?”

“Not a 35 year old, married law enforcement official.”

Mike’s smile grew tight, but his arms were still light around her body. “I’m 33,” he murmured. “Still this side of thirty. “And I’m separated.”

“So I gather.”

Mike watched her, eyes seeming for a moment to see everything, in a way nobody had looked at her in a long time. Nobody that she could remember, anyway. Jen blushed, feeling the heat crawl over her skin, heart beating a little too fast, chest rising and falling a little too much…

“You’re beautiful, Jen Lindley.”

“Thankyou,” she whispered. “I don’t…”

“Shush.” Mike smiled gently, bringing a single finger to her lips and silencing her. “Stop. No explanations, no false modesty. Just…take it as it was meant?”

Jen’s eyes widened, studying him carefully. “And how was it meant?”

“As a promise,” he told her, eyes dark and shining.

A lump caught in Jen’s throat. “A promise of what?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Mike grinned. “You,” he whispered playfully, touching a finger to her nose, “take me far too seriously.”

He pulled back as the music ended, hand remaining on her hip for a second before he removed it.

“Then…” Jen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not promising me anything?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Jen opened her mouth to speak, but throwing her one last casual grin, Mike disappeared into the crowd, leaving her standing there alone, hands clutched tight at her waist.

Suddenly, she wondered where Pacey was. She wanted him here, now. She wanted him to give her a hug, reassure her, drum his fingers against her waist in that way he had.

She took a long, deep breath, not turning around. Not turning around because if she did, and Pacey was still dancing with that girl, she was likely to commit some heinous crime in the name of lust and love, and Mike would have to arrest her after all.