Lynch groaned. What had he been thinking, getting a job in construction? He was a retired psychologist, for God's sake. Not to mention thirty-six. Hey, that was mentioning it!

Instead of flipping burgers all day, he was toting around lumber and steel and digging and hitting things with tools. And spending lots of time with other sweaty guys in perpetually foul moods. Seeing as how God had seen fit to bless Lynch with a quick and flippant tongue, he'd had several fists planted in his face.

They hurt.

Lynch planted a few of his own, but still, damn. He and Mr. I. B. Profun had become well-acquainted over the last few days, what with the haymakers and muscle aches and all. Once again Lynch wondered why he'd ever looked into the job.

It paid a lot better than working in the diner did. Oh, yeah, that was why. Plus, Roderick International was headed by some rich guy with a conscience and there were good health benefits. Yea, that was why too.

He was walking back from his site, looking like a true construction worker. Lynch's beard, which he'd finally gone full-out on and was growing out instead of keeping the funny little mustache/goatee combo, had little dried flecks of plaster in it. Sure, he tried to keep it trimmed and neat but nobody looks good with plaster in their facial hair. His pants had primer on them, his work shirt was stained with sweat despite the cool temperatures, and he was carrying a dented hardhat under his arm.

Very grungy, all things considered. Still, he was thinking, maybe, it was helping out the physique. And at thirty-six, God why did he have to bring that number up again, that was like a miracle in and of itself.

Mmm, the park. Second time this month Keira found herself forgoing the typical bar or club scene and heading out to a park. Time to bond with nature and all of that, she thought with a light laugh. Even when she'd been young she hadn't cared to 'bond' with nature. She hadn't had much time to even do so.

Work and scurry, work and scurry. Fold these linens, wash those pots, stoke the fire. Work and scurry, work and scurry.

Keira frowned poutily, the full lips curving downward. Oh, now, why did she have to go and remember all that? She sighed and fluffed her hair. She wasn't a little servant girl anymore.

That was what was so wonderful about the world today. Women could do whatever they wanted, in a sense. No working in mines or factories for pennies an hour. No serving other families. No desperate hunting for a husband to support you so you didn't have to work in those mines or factories. Mmm, wonderful.

She ran a hand down her sides, smoothing the pretty blouse she had on. Too bad the weather was turning colder, and it did get so cold here. It was too cold now to wear her lovely dresses with their swishy hems. They made her feel flirty and fun. Winter meant all heavy sweaters and leggings and earmuffs. Winter wasn't flirty at all.

Perhaps she should think of going south for the winter, Keira thought, tapping a slick and shiny nail against her teeth. A little getaway somewhere where the nights were steamy and scented with sea... Well, maybe. Demaitre was an interesting place.

Keira was hungry. And horny. For some reason the two seemed to go together with her. And why not? Feeding was sexy. It was a little late, but perhaps she could find a little company for the evening, even though she was in a park rather than a club. A quick fling and a quick drink seemed just the thing. Tucking her hands in her pockets, the vampire set off at a stroll, senses attuned for the presence of another.

It was a few minutes, but she felt something, a tickle at the edges of her awareness. Felt like a mortal, though it was hard for her to tell. Quickly, Keira moved towards it, shadows and lamplight alternately falling over her. She paused in a pool of the former, studying the presence she had felt. Mmm, he wasn't too bad, she supposed, tapping her finger against her teeth again.

Her lips curved as she stepped out onto the path. Head down, she walked right into the man. The vampire's eyes widened as if surprised as she looked up. "Oh, my! I do apologize. Wasn't looking where I was going," Keira said with a slight laugh, her accented voice sounding a bit exotic.

Lynch had been lost in his thoughts (couldn't really call them musings) when the woman walked into him. "Whoa," he said automatically and reached out to steady her. Not that she looked like she needed steadying.

And then he was just dazzled. Maybe dazzled wasn't the right word. But when he spoke he babbled. "Oh, yeah, that's fine. I mean, I'm good. Are you good? Ah, I mean, are you okay?" Lynch asked, feeling a flush start to creep up his neck. Ah, why did he always have to go to little stammery pieces when a woman talked to him?

Bond, he told himself, James Bond.

"I'm kinda clumsy, I guess. I wasn't really looking where I was going either," he said with a friendly, and totally not sheepish, smile.

Keira smiled, enjoying the man's reaction. It was always such an ego boost when they stuttered and stammered and otherwise babbled like every thought had just fallen out their ears. Made a girl feel all warm and content inside. So she just smiled and let him babble away, more and more amused as his cheeks reddened.

He was so cute, getting all aflutter over little ol' her.

And cute anyway, she decided, studying him. Sure, he was all dirty and grimy, with paint on his pants, but it had a kind of workingman appeal. Mr. Manly the Construction Worker she thought with a barely muffled almost laugh.

"Oh, well, you take up a lot of space," Keira teased him, laughing lightly as she touched one of his shoulders. She could feel the warmth coming from him and, underneath the smell of dust and sweat and paint, the smell of his skin, beneath which the blood ran.

Cold wind gave Lynch a slap across the face but it didn't help. Underneath the scruffy beard his cheeks were still hot. It didn't help that the woman looked at him like she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

Oh my God, a hot chick's talking to me! Cue the blushing! By the way, can we mix up the brain to tongue messages so we stutter like a moron? Oh God, a hot chick's talking ot me! What do I do?

Yep... that was about it.

Lynch gave a weak laugh and hunched his shoulders a little. "Right. Yeah. Space. WHich is what I take up. 'Cause, you know... people do that. Seeing as how we're all, like, made of... matter." Lynch winced. Apparently, his brain cells had all just immediately gelled into a quivering mass.

We're all made of matter? Could he get any more lame?

"So. Nice, uh, night for a walk huh?" Now Lynch was talking about the weather. Wonderful. Why was he eevn talking at all? He should just run away. Far, far, away. And never return.

Once again, Keira gave a quiet, bell-like laugh, but quickly tried to smother it. She wasn't after embarrassing the guy or anything of the like. Just fluster him.

Not addressing his comment on how we all are made of matter, which could have either been a joke or just a flummoxed babble, Keira moved subtly to his side rather than standing in front of him. "It's a lovely night," she agreed.

Gently, she touched his arm again, sort of leading him on down the path, away from the lamplights. Poor guy was so off balance, he didn't even seem to notice his feet were moving. Keira smiled up at Lynch, saying, "Starry skies and a pretty park. Very... romantic, don't you think?"

She smiled again.

Lynch felt another of his brain cells give a whimper and fizzle, shorting out as the woman touched his arm. There was something about her, he thought dimly, like she was exuding some kind of pheromone that killed his poor cells even faster and more efficiently than a typical hot chick.

And that was saying something.

The spit in Lynch's mouth dried up and he gave a funny sound that was mostly likely the clearing of his throat. "Yeah... uh..." he tried to think of something else to say and then just said, "yeah."

Forget jello. Lynch felt like all the nerves in his brain were on overdrive, snapping like... things that snapped really fast. When the woman smiled at him, he suddenly had the strange and almost smothering urge to lean down and just...

Whoa! Okay, nice to know his parts still worked at his advanced age, but... Yikes. "So... yeah, nice weather. No clouds. Which is good, because if there were clouds it might rain," the ex-counselor said quickly, taking a half-step away from the strange, hot chick.

OOC: You're a clod... :)

She could hear his heart beating. It was a rapid thud. Aw, how cute. He was nervous. Keira wanted to laugh again. She couldn't help herself. The poor man was just so flattering, with his stuttering and flushing and altogether awkwardness.

It was a bit comforting as well. The vampire wasn't very fond of the men that acted as if they were put on this earth solely to sleep with as many women as they could. Smug and smarmy, they were, and it irritated her to no end. They were the sort she liked playing mean little jokes on.

Like handcuffing them to the bedpost naked, with a big heart drawn on their chest in lipstick and leaving them there. It was juvenile, but satisfying.

In any case, this man acted just the opposite. He was so very adorably unsure of himself around her that she almost felt sorry for how nervous she was making him. Elisabeth felt the burst of desire that came from him as he backed away and, smiling, she made use of that.

Lightly, she touched her palm to his cheek, stroking her fingers through his coarse beard. "Shh..." she shushed him, her lips hovering next to his for one long, tantalizing moment.

'Smug' and 'smarmy' were probably the least applicable adjectives to describe Tim Lynch as any in the dictionary. Lynch was just a good, down-to-earth, hardworking type who neither was nor believed he was God's gift to women. He was just the opposite, in fact, and it showed.

No sense describing his extreme nervousness anymore, that's been done to death.

As Keira, whose name Lynch still didn't know, trailed soft fingers down his cheek, he quivered like a Thoroughbred before the gun. Every muscle in Lynch's body was tense- half in terror and half in desperate anticipation.

And when her lips hovered so close to his Lynch couldn't stand it anymore. On a strangled moan, he crushed his mouth to hers. His hardhat, which had been tucked under his arm, fell to the ground as he clumsily grabbed her arms to drag her closer.

Keira grinned triumphantly as she felt the man's arms come around her, as his mouth fused onto hers. With a sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a sigh, she returned the kiss, enthusiastically wending her hands into his dark hair.

He was a good one. Healthy and strong enough to take a bite out of and easy enough on the eyes. Plus, there was the aforementioned adorableness of his anxiety. What was it about nervousness that made guys so cute? Nice guys didn't have to finish last--at least not with her. Keira preferred them.

She nipped restlessly at his bottom lip. Keira could hear the frantic thump of his heartbeat with them so close, could feel the flushed warmth of blood beneath his skin. It made her hungry. Fisting her hands in his shirt, she hitched herself up, pleased at the sound he made as she anchored herself around him.

She'd give the guy something to remember, at least, before taking a drink.

Her mouth was like a fever, flooding him with a heat he couldn't get nearly enough of. And when she clenched her hands in his shirt and wrapped her legs around his waist, it was like being swallowed by a fire.

"This..." Lynch managedd to tear his mouth from hers, his breath coming in quick ragged pants, "is nuts."

It really was. Part of his mind was still sane enough to realize that it was completely crazy to be kissing a complete stranger. Not to mention the thoughts running through the not-sane part of his brain. The kind of thoughts that worked best someplace dark.

But the sane brain was drowned out by the screaming need and Lynch fell into the fire again, his hands minicking hers as they lifted and buried themselves in the silky fall of her hair.