"Detective Valens…coffee?"

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Sweetheart??

"Ain’t surprised he bought your act," she griped, her eyes on the floor. "You’re pretty damn good at feedin’ people crap."

"Don’t think I don’t know you want me, too," he called after her, and that turned her blood to ice and stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You don’t think I know how it got started?" he asked her, his voice low with want and warning, yet still with a barely-concealed edge of anger, and she shivered involuntarily as his breath tickled her skin. "You don’t think I know what that cowboy did to you?" he pressed, moving closer and closer until his lips were mere millimeters away, and then he delivered the final blow.

"You don’t think I know how he made you scream?" he whispered, through clenched teeth.

…but she couldn’t move a muscle. Scotty’s lips were slowly, but deliberately blazing a trail up the side of her neck, his rapid breaths tickling her skin and making her shiver despite the fact that the room was suddenly, unbearably warm, and she could feel sweat starting to gather in the scant space between her back and his torso.

…but as his lips reached her earlobe and his arms wrapped even more tightly around her, she found that word completely driven from her mind. Her hand slipped from the doorknob and she found herself leaning her forehead against the metal frame, relishing its coolness against her burning skin as his tongue gently toyed with her tender flesh.

"You can’t say it, can you?" he murmured knowingly.

"So?" she retorted smugly, slowly raking her gaze upward to meet his eyes. "You want me."

"Never said I didn’t," Scotty replied cockily.

"Does it matter?" he demanded breathlessly, pulling away momentarily to search her eyes. She started to answer, to say something, to tell him that yes, it damn well did matter whether he wanted her or whether this was just some game…but before she had a chance, his mouth was on hers again, his hands were in her hair, and she was drowning.

With a gasp, Kat sat bolt upright in bed, looking around the room wildly as she tried to catch her breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead, replaying the last few seconds of her dream over and over in her mind, and wondering idly where her cigarettes were. A dream like that definitely called for a smoke, she decided. However, when she remembered that she didn’t have any cigarettes anywhere in the house, and hadn’t had so much as a puff since the night of her blind date, the night that had started this whole mess…the night that was also the last time she’d had real, actual, three-dimensional sex…she fell back onto the pillows with a frustrated groan.

Not this. Not again. Not another dream. Not now.

She’d thought she was fine. There was no reason for her not to be. True, she and Scotty had had a...a moment…or whatever the hell it was…on the couch, they’d almost kissed, but, thank God, he’d run upstairs to check on Bella before they’d had a chance to make yet another lethal mistake. After his sudden departure, she’d sat there on the sofa in stunned silence, trying to process what had just happened, but forced her mind away from the myriad possibilities of what it could have meant as she put the ice cream back in the freezer and folded the blanket they’d been sharing. It didn’t matter. They were reminiscing, and had been all day, and they just got caught up in a moment. Yes, it was true, they’d kissed after Bella was born, but…how the hell could they not have? Kissing was how it started when they’d made her, so it seemed only right to complete the circle. They were ecstatic and exhausted and overwhelmed with love for their new baby girl, and kissing was just…well, it was the right thing to do. It hadn’t happened since, and it had meant nothing that night other than a pure, friendly affection, a bond between them that was forever cemented by their dark-eyed, curly-haired, beautiful newborn daughter.

But this dream…there was nothing pure about it, nor about the feelings it was stirring up within her, the same feelings that that near-kiss on the couch had brought to the surface. She’d tried to fight them, tried to fight the fact that, to her horror, she’d actually wanted Scotty to kiss her, more than anything in the world, and now, now that she’d had yet another provocative dream about him, she forced herself not to reach for him in the darkness, roll him over, kiss him senseless, and make that damn dream come true.

She couldn’t even blame hormones this time, she realized with chagrin. She wasn’t pregnant, no chance in hell of that. Yet this dream was every bit as racy as that one she’d had about the cowboy, back in her second trimester, when she was the victim of merciless hormones…only this time, it wasn’t some mystery guy…it was Scotty from the beginning. And it had started with an argument…an argument about what? She searched her foggy, lust-addled brain, trying desperately to remember.

Oh, right…an argument about that interview. The interview that, she realized, had actually happened, only a couple of days ago. They really had interviewed a chauvinist-pig former airline pilot, and Scotty, his eyes twinkling with inspired mischief, really had suggested that she bring him coffee and pretend to be subservient for a few moments, just to get the jackass to talk. He really had called her "sweetheart," she remembered, and the flirtatious gleam in his eyes had thrilled her momentarily…and then she’d flirted back. Hell, they’d been flirting ever since, she realized with horror. Even Lilly had picked up on it. Not that Kat was surprised; Rush didn’t miss anything when it came to her co-workers, though she was remarkably dense when it came to her own stuff. No, what surprised her was that she’d been openly flirting with Scotty, and he with her, right there in the office that afternoon, in front of Lilly and God and everybody, and what the hell were they doing? And why would that interview trigger an argument, anyway? It was all fun and games, it was…

…it was about games.

And whether or not he was playing them with her.

That really was what she was afraid of, Kat realized. That kiss on the couch…well, almost-kiss…what had that been about, anyway? Was it just a kiss like they’d shared in the delivery room, one that spoke of friendship and nothing else…or did he mean something by it? Did he want to stop at kissing her, or did he want to do more? Did he want her, or did he merely realize that it had been quite a while since he’d had sex with anyone, and she was there and willing and convenient? Did he…did he have feelings for her?

Son of a bitch…did she have feelings for him?

No. Not possible. She couldn’t. She didn’t do feelings. Not anymore. She’d let herself feel things for Jarrod, things she shouldn’t have felt, not in a million years, not for a banger thug that knocked her up and never called, not for the man who’d dragged her lower than she ever thought she could go, not for the man who’d poisoned her, body and soul, and ultimately broken her heart. One night. One stupid, reckless night. That was all it had taken for her to fall… and now she was left with a constant reminder of how badly she’d screwed up, how she’d risked her heart, her career, her very life for a guy who’d fed her all those pretty lines, who’d made her think he’d always be there for her, who’d made her think she’d never be alone…

A chill ran down her spine as she realized how close history was to repeating itself. She’d let yet another cocky, good-looking guy sweet-talk his way into her pants, she’d carried and borne and was raising his child, and now she was falling for him. Risking her career. And her heart. And the hearts of her two daughters…for what? For an arrogant jackass with a lopsided grin and way too much aftershave?

Is that really all there is to Scotty Valens? Kat wondered. She’d thought so, at least at first. She’d heard that the reason there’d been an opening in Homicide in the first place was that her predecessor, Sutton or something, had only lasted a few weeks. There were rumors that there had been something between her and Scotty, that he was the reason she’d disappeared so suddenly, but Kat had never pressed, because she didn’t want to know. It was none of her business, anyway. She’d dealt with enough rumors in her life, she knew how out of control they could get. Besides, even if they were true, even if there had been something inappropriate going on between the two, who cared? People screwed up, and she was the last person to judge. She’d screwed up worse than all of them, worse than any of them could even imagine, and if the guys in Homicide ever found out how bad…she shuddered at the very thought. She was lucky, damn lucky to even still be a cop, much less a murder cop, with her checkered past, and the less everyone else knew about that past, the better.

So it was with a sense of carefully-concealed trepidation that she’d gone out on that first interview with Scotty, but after their first ten minutes together, she knew she had nothing to worry about. Whether her cocky Latino colleague was a womanizer or not, he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate with her, and she’d breathed a sigh of relief upon their return to the squad room that night. His actions toward her were nothing but professional, and after that first day or so, she’d never thought of him as anything other than a co-worker. Well, okay, somewhere along the line, he’d become her friend, someone she felt more comfortable with than anyone else on the team, with the possible exception of Vera. Nick reminded her of one of her brothers, and the snark and the food fights were exactly the way she and Kevin had communicated through the years…but Kat had never let her guard down around Vera the way she’d been able to around Scotty. She knew he could see through her smokescreen, and yet somehow that wasn’t threatening, like it would be with the others. For some reason she couldn’t begin to explain, she felt safe around Scotty in a way she didn’t feel around anyone else. So he was the one she confided in about that damn blind date her mother had insisted on setting up for her, and he was the one she’d called that night when things went horribly wrong.

Despite how comfortable she was with him, though, despite how safe he made her feel, she’d been sure, when she told Scotty she was pregnant, that he’d run off, and when he’d done exactly that, she’d been furious, but not surprised. That’s just what men did, she told herself. But it turned out that Scotty had just needed a few hours to get over the shock, to beat himself up for a while, and then he’d come around and far exceeded her expectations, and the life they’d built together with the girls was just so damn happy and comfortable and…perfect…that she didn’t want her stupid feelings to jeopardize it.

But as quickly as she dismissed them, as soon as she tried to ignore them and shove them under the rug and convince herself that they weren’t there, she realized that she couldn’t. As she thought back over the last couple of years, ever since Bella’s birth, she discovered that they’d stolen into her heart. Quietly. Almost undetected. She’d thought it was just affection for the man because he was her friend, he was Bella’s father, he’d stepped up to the plate when she’d needed him…

…and she did need him, she realized reluctantly. She’d needed him since that stupid blind date, if not before. How the hell did that happen? She never let herself need people. Needing people always ended in disappointment and pain. She’d learned to be self-reliant, to solve her own problems and clean up her own messes. How in the hell had she become the woman who called the guy in to kill the spider?

Kat didn’t know, but it scared her to death. She didn’t feel as though she was betraying herself, becoming something she wasn’t…no, not this time. In fact, it was just the opposite. She was more herself with Scotty than she’d ever been with anyone. He was the only person in the world she could truly let her guard down around, the only person she allowed to see even a fraction of the pain she carried with her, the only person she allowed to know that she had her weak moments, that beneath her bravado and her badassery, that she was just as lonely and scared as the next person, if not more so.

She’d have thought, with Scotty’s save-the-world tendencies, that it would have been an explosive combination. She’d seen how he was with Lilly, especially after the shooting. She’d seen how close to tears he was while they were waiting for the paramedics; she’d seen him pacing the hospital hallway, his partner’s blood staining his tie…and she’d seen how his worried eyes followed Rush’s every move for weeks after she came back to work. Kat wasn’t blind. She knew what he was doing. He was all but begging Lilly to let him in, to let him help her through the aftermath of the shooting, of her mother’s death…but she wouldn’t. She was more walled-off than ever. And finally, Kat supposed, Scotty had gotten the hint that Lilly wasn’t going to let him save her. Kat didn’t blame Rush, really; Scotty did come on strong, almost forcing his way in sometimes…but Lilly's problems were bigger than he could solve, and Kat knew, deep down, that Scotty knew that.

But, surprisingly, it wasn’t. He didn’t force his way in with her, at least, not for the most part. Instead, he was content to be invited, and, as a result, she invited him in more than she ever thought she would with anyone. Besides, her problems weren’t too big for one person. Hell, they were barely even problems. She’d just wanted Bella to have a father, to have someone who, in whatever capacity he saw fit, to love her and care for her so Kat wouldn’t have to do it all alone. She’d done it by herself before, and was willing to do it again, but she’d realized, over the years, that she’d really come to depend on Scotty, as had Bella. Even Veronica had bonded with him. They’d become a family.

Which was why she wasn’t going to let her stupid feelings get in the way. Feelings came, and feelings went, and besides, she had no idea whether Scotty had the same feelings toward her. What the hell had that almost-kiss been about, anyway? He’d wanted to kiss her, she knew it. She could feel how badly he wanted to, she could feel him trembling slightly as he’d drawn closer to her lips…but the fact remained that he hadn’t actually kissed her. He’d physically fled from the situation, and she’d decided, after a few moments’ contemplation on the sofa, that she was simply too damn tired to deal with it at the time, and she’d think better after a good night’s sleep, so she’d crept upstairs, relieved that he was nowhere to be seen, and crawled into bed.

But now, it was the next day, technically anyway, and regardless of what was going on in her heart, they needed to talk about what had gone on downstairs. She needed to know exactly what was going on with Scotty so she’d know whether or not to allow herself to feel what she was currently feeling, what she desperately wanted not to feel, but what she was beginning to realize, to her horror, that it didn’t matter if she wanted to have feelings for him or not…she did anyway.

Dammit.

Turning toward Scotty’s side of the bed, she tentatively prepared to wake him up, to talk about things…

…and he wasn’t there.

The covers were still tucked neatly up at the head of the bed, and his cell phone and keys and everything else that always decorated the nightstand were nowhere to be seen. Holy crap, he hadn’t even been to bed yet, she realized, and she stole a glance at the clock. Good Lord, it was four in the morning. What the hell was he doing? Where the hell was he?

Alarmed, she searched the room, thinking maybe he’d nodded off in the recliner or something, but there was no sign of him. His pillow was missing, though, which, she realized, meant that he was probably sleeping somewhere else in the house. She hoped. Unless he’d taken it with him on his quest to the bar to find some floozy to sleep with, she mused bitterly.

Quietly, she crept downstairs and searched the living room, and, finding no sign of him, she peeked inside the spare bedroom they used as an office, as well as storage for an ugly-ass futon that Toni had refused to allow Vera to bring with him when the two moved in together, and which Kat had been less than thrilled about taking in, but she’d decided it wasn’t a hill worth dying on.

It was there that she found Scotty, sacked out on the futon, sound asleep.

For a moment, she was relieved that he was still home, that he hadn’t fled the premises completely. No, he’d just fled their bedroom. Fled from her.

Son of a bitch.

He didn’t even want to sleep in the same bed with her, she realized. Maybe he’d wanted to kiss her, but it was becoming alarmingly clear to Kat, as she watched him sleeping soundly, that it wasn’t her he’d wanted to kiss. Not really. He’d just wanted to kiss someone. Mercifully, he’d stopped himself before he let himself go there, before he used her just to take the edge off his physical frustrations…before she let him.

She was half-surprised that Scotty hadn’t just left immediately and gone to the bar, but she supposed that was the next step. And she knew him well enough to know that, come the next night, he wouldn’t be in their house, he wouldn’t be on the couch in that ratty old Phillies T-shirt he loved so much watching movies with the girls…he’d be at Jones’ or McGinty’s or some other place, flirting and telling war stories and drinking himself into oblivion, then fleeing out the back door with some slut. She’d be surprised if he even managed to make it back to the her place. He’d probably fuck that girl right there in the damn back alley.

And eventually, he’d tire of always having to go to the floozy’s place, he’d grow weary of always having to hurry home so he could be there early enough to wake Bella up and get her dressed for daycare…he’d get sick of ballet lessons and Dora videos and quiet nights at home…he’d decide that he was too young to be tied down with kids, only one of whom was biologically his, and he’d split. Get a bachelor pad again. Go back to being Scotty Valens.

Or, even worse, Kat thought, as a chill ran down her spine, he’d…God forbid…fall in love with one of those damn bar whores. And then, not only would she lose him, but she’d lose Bella, too. She’d lose her beautiful daughter to Scotty and a new woman with even newer boobs. Oh, maybe he wouldn’t sue for full custody…but if he did, no way would he not win. A nearly-broke single mom forced to move back into the hood because, without Scotty’s income, she couldn’t afford anything better? What court would choose that over a happily married couple?

Even if he didn’t sue for custody, even if he did, by some incredible stretch of the imagination, keep sending her money so the girls could stay in their home, so Veronica could stay in the school she loved, Bella would no doubt visit him regularly. Weekends, holidays, school vacations…all of those were suddenly up in the air. Christmas the year before had been wonderful, just the four of them on Christmas morning, Bella and V tearing into their gifts while she and Scotty had blearily sipped coffee and complained good-naturedly about how dark it still was outside…and then they’d spent Christmas afternoon with the Valens clan, the girls fitting in seamlessly with the swarms of other children that had descended on Scotty’s parents’ place, while her mom spent most of her time in the kitchen with Scotty’s mother, resulting in a Christmas dinner that featured everything from traditional Cuban and Puerto Rican fare to soul food. It was as close to perfect as Christmas had ever been for her…and now, that bastard who was snoring on Nick Vera's futon was going to take all that away from her, just because he was getting tired of being a responsible dad.

Well, she realized as she turned around and stormed up the stairs, if this was how it was going to be…better she find out now. Better he leave before they got any more comfortable, before they got any more attached, before she fell any harder than she’d already fallen…before she forgot how to do this on her own.

She was Kat Miller, dammit. She could do this.

If only she had a goddamn cigarette.