Later on in the evening, the blonde across the way stood up, pulling on Spinelli's arm with a pout. After a few more tugs, he allowed himself to be dragged up to dance. The band was playing a rendition of a Rod Stewart love song. In the way of a gentleman, Spinelli put his hand up to receive the woman's, but she ignored it, choosing instead to snake her arms up and around his neck while fitting her body against his with a seductive smile.

Virginia saw red and it had nothing to do with the color of his dance partner's dress. 

For the next two and a half minutes, she tried to concentrate on something else, but failed. When the song finally ended, Spinelli had to reach up and pull on the woman's wrists to free himself from her hold. As he retreated back to his table, she rushed to keep up with him, baby-stepping her way along on stilettos she needed much more practice with.

Virginia leaned over and asked Walt if he wanted to dance. It was a childish move, one she shouldn't be using, especially on Walt, but good sense could not triumph over the memory of Ms. Big Boobs pressing into Spinelli's chest. And Walt didn't seem to mind. In fact, judging from the smile, he was thinking his night had just taken a turn in the right direction. Unlike Paul, Walt had spent most of his time at the table with her and Cap. True to his word, he was keeping her company, even though he had to be finding the two of them boring.

The smile was still there when they started moving to the music. "Are you having a good time?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm glad you talked me into coming. How about you? Are you having a good time?"

"I am now."

She tried to block it, but that uncomfortable feeling rushed forward, bringing both guilt and confusion with it. On the one hand, Walt was a good friend, and she wanted to keep it that way, afraid that his recent behavior was indicative of him looking for more than she was willing to give. Yet on the other hand, yes, Walt was a good friend—that should be a positive, not a negative—and a handsome man. Why wasn't that enough for her?

"Good," she said, feigning ignorance. At least he was keeping a respectable distance between them and not pushing his luck in that regard. She changed the subject, talking about work as the song played out its story and came to an end.

Bringing their chests together for a quick hug, she felt him stiffen in her arms.

"Get lost," he hissed.

Confused, she stepped back . . . and saw the reason why. Spinelli was standing next to them.

"May I cut in?" he asked, looking calm, cool and collected as he waited for one of them to answer.

Walt took a step toward him, hackles raised. "What do you think?"

"It's okay," Virginia said, touching Walt's arm, wanting to avoid a confrontation.

Walt frowned so deep, he had to squint. Giving the man beside him a filthy look, he backed away. On the way to his seat, he tossed one angry glare over his shoulder.

"Come." Spinelli offered her his hand and she took it, letting him lead her to the center of the dance floor where he could use other couples to try to block the scrutiny coming from both sides. Once he was duly satisfied, he pulled her hand up between them as his other arm moved around her waist, the warm glide of his palm making her skin tingle. He tugged her closer, his half smile close to cocky.

"What are you doing, Spinelli?"

"I'm dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room."

Every inch of her warmed and softened.

Do not fall for it. Her body may have been a traitor, but her good conscience wouldn't be won over quite so easily. "What about your date? Don't you think she's beautiful?"

Not so much as a blink as he continued to eat her up with his stare. "She isn't my date. I barely know her. She's Augustus's niece . . . and if she cackles one more time in my ear, I swear I'll go insane."

Virginia could see glimpses of the woman over his shoulder. She was chatting up one of the younger men at his table, her body angled to give her newfound interest a perfect view of ample cleavage. The man looked like he was about to burst, making no effort to hide his leering as he leaned over the vacant seat between them to answer her. As if on cue, she threw her head back with a shrill laugh that made it all the way over to where they stood. And then some.

"See?"

Virginia shifted her gaze back to his, marveling at the pull of those blue eyes.

He brought his mouth close to her ear, unaware of the shivers he was causing down her neck. "I'm sure Gus's death glare is boring a hole in the back of my head right now."

Virginia took another peek. "Right again."

Spinelli shifted his focus over her head, seeming deep in thought. She took the opportunity to look around the room. Gus wasn't the only one watching them. They seemed to be captivating a lot of people. Or more likely, it was just him that drew a lot of attention.

"Ginny," he murmured, "I want to thank you for all you have done for Simon."

She started shaking her head, about to say it was all part of the job.

"I think he's in love with you."

Surprise subdued one denial, starting another. "He's not—"

"Don't worry. I'll keep him in check." A vexing grin spread on his face but slid away as he continued with, "I also want to apologize for my behavior a few months ago in your kitchen. I can assure you it will never happen again."

Virginia looked away, bowled over by the burn of embarrassment—picturing that day had that effect. Then the full meaning of his words sunk in, disappointment drowning everything else in its wake. She tried to hide all the emotion from showing on her face, but the comforting brush of fingers along her spine told her she had failed.

He leaned in once more. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I'll never kiss you again. But anger will never be the initiator."

Her eyes shot to his.

He glanced down at her lips.

She stopped dancing—frozen—didn't even realize it.

He took her hand that was encased in his and directed it up to his neck. "Don't stop now." With nothing in the way between them, he pulled her closer.

She shut her eyes, numbed out except for the electric points of contact between them: the soft stubble rubbing against her cheek, the small circles being traced on her lower back, the hard chest pressing against hers. She inhaled, savoring the scent of soap, shampoo, and his cologne. Oh, man, he smelled amazing.

Despite all that stimulation, her mind drifted, on a quest to discover why this felt so good. Was it a feeling of safety? Or was it simply a sense of femininity, daintiness, recklessness? Perhaps drugged? She couldn't find the right word. Caught up in her search, she moved in closer to that wonderful scent. One of her hands inched up to the bottom of his hair where it rested on his jacket, her lips almost touching the spot where his shirt collar met his neck.

His arms tightened in response, bringing them so close she could feel the vibration of his voice rumbling through his chest when he said, "Ginny?"

"Hmm?" she answered, still distracted by her thoughts.

"As much as I love this, I have to be able to walk off the dance floor when the song ends."

Her eyes flew open. God, she was no better than the blonde with the boobs pushing up against him. She eased up on the pressure between them, leaning back to look into smiling eyes. "Sorry," she squeaked, her cheeks flaming as she perused the crowd, having forgotten all about them while in her own little world.

The song played its final verse and came to an end.

He broke his hold on her, flooding her with a sense of discontent. "Thank you for the dance, beautiful." Reaching for her hand, he pulled it up to his lips and kissed the back of it.

Before she could even blink, he had spun on his heels and was leading her back through the crowd.

Everyone at her table looked as stunned as she felt. Except Walt—he refused to meet her eyes. When her escort pulled out her chair and held it, she sat down. Like a trained dog.

Turning his attention to the birthday boy, Spinelli put his hand out. "Happy birthday, Captain."

Cap grabbed it in a firm handshake. "Thank you, Mr. Spinelli."

Virginia felt the gentle caress on her shoulder. Heard the softly spoken, "Have a good evening." And then he was gone.

A hand landed on her upper arm, Cap pulling her toward him to keep his comment private. "That looked . . . friendly."

Was he being funny or cynical? She didn't have the mindset to think about it. "I could use a drink."

He jerked back in his seat. She didn't normally drink during departmental events. "Excuse me"—with a wave, Cap caught a passing waiter's attention—"one white wine for the lady."

Over the next hour, Virginia nursed her wine while still recovering from their dance. At eleven o'clock she decided it was time to go. After saying her goodnights to everyone, she got up to leave.

"Can I walk you to your car?" Apparently, Walt was speaking to her again.

She shook her head. "I'll be fine."

His mouth pressed into a hard line.

"But thank you for the offer."

Silence.

Okay, so it was back to the cold shoulder. She really didn't have time for this. "Well, goodnight."

On her way out, Virginia searched for Paul and found him leaning against the wall with a woman tucked under each arm. In the midst of turning his head from one to the other, he spotted her approach. After a whispered promise in the ear of each, he dropped his hold and stepped forward to meet her.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, I've had a long day."

"Do you want me to walk you out?"

Geez. Was it the whole dress thing that had men thinking she was helpless? "No, I'm fine, have fun." Her gaze flittered to the women behind him. "Two, Paul? Seriously?"

He shrugged. "They're sisters. How do you choose one without insulting the other?"

"That's sick."

He gave her a wicked grin.

She reached out and straightened one of the ribbons on his jacket with a sigh. "Call me tomorrow, come for dinner"—she kissed him on the cheek—"if you have the energy."

He laughed and stepped back, lifting his arms. The women molded themselves against him again.

Virginia shook her head and left.

As she walked along the hallway leading to the elevators, a younger woman approached from the opposite direction. Her stare was level and steady, and when Virginia was almost upon her, a flirtatious smile appeared. Huh? Out of sheer politeness, Virginia was about to smile back when she realized the woman's focus wasn't on her at all.

"Hi, Mark," she sang with a toss of her hair.

"Good evening."

Oh, shit. Virginia's pulse started to race.

He was right behind her. 

END OF FORTY-ONE

Okay, I won't leave you hanging. You've all been very patient. I'll be back tomorrow with another update. Don't forget: note, vote, and . . . I wish there was a rhyming synonym for share.

Dedicated to @ashley96mc , author of Chasing Danger, for all her support and astute comments. She gets me :)