This is my first fan fic so please bear with me.

I just wanted to give a special shout out to SL Watson and my friend Jo for beta reading, editing, and advice. Thank you ladies for all your help.

For Kelly and Marla, your encouragement and kindness inspire me. And for all the other ladies out there who are in love with Mr. Scott!

1.

As Yeoman Cathleen Mears stood over the stove melting the butter into the syrup and sugar mixture, the sweet fragrance filled the air, and she thought of the man she was making this special treat for while she worked.

It never occurred to her until recently to give the Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott much thought at all. That's not to say she didn't think of him as a pleasant, hardworking shipmate, but she had never looked at him as "dating material."

A few weeks prior, she and her female friends were playing drinking games together on one of the recreation decks when Yeoman Barrows started a round of "Who Would You Do?" The results were, as Commander Spock would say, fascinating.

"Okay, Rand, who would you do? Mr. Spock or Captain Kirk?" asked Yeoman Barrows, sipping on her fizzy yellow beer through a straw.

"Do I have to say why?" Rand sheepishly replied.

"Of course you have to say why, Janice," Yeoman Lawton grinned. "That's what makes it fun!"

"Well in that case.... it would have to be the Captain because he has the hottest ass!" She blushed and quickly took a sip of her drink, peering over the edge of her glass for their reaction. Laughter and giggling ensued, and they all took turns deciding who they would "do."

After Yeoman Lawton admitted she would do Ensign Chekov because she liked his sexy accent, and Yeoman Barrows confessed having had the hots for the ship's doctor for quite some time, it was Cathleen's turn. Smiling, Rand gave her a sideways glance "Okay, Cathy, who would you do?"

After thinking for a minute, she answered simply, "Mr. Scott." A brief silence fell as everyone looked at her in astonishment. "Well?" she started, "Why not? He's nice, he's very funny, he's smarter than people give him credit for, AND he's a good dancer. You know what they say about a guy who can dance."

"No, tell us." Barrows gave Lawton a nudge. "This should be good." Lawton nodded.

"Well, um....I have found in my own personal experiences that when a man has pretty good moves on the dance floor, he usually moves pretty good in the sack."

Tina cocked her head, trying to remember if she had ever seen Ensign Chekov on the dance floor. Yeoman Barrows, trying to stifle her laugh, choked on her beer.

"And anyways, Tonia," Cathleen continued defensively "Dr. McCoy is almost old enough to be your father!"

"Well, I suppose so." "But, I didn't know you had given it THAT much thought."

"I really hadn't, until now." Cathleen sat back in her chair and resigned herself to ridicule that never came.

Cathleen removed the pot from the stove and set it aside to cool. She realized now, weeks later, she wasn't as embarrassed as she had been when she admitted to her friends (and herself) that she had thought about Mr. Scott in a sexual way. She was even less embarrassed to actually be considering him as dating material.

In the weeks since the game, Cathleen noticed Mr. Scott was always nice to her, always willing to give her an extra hand with a repair, always engaging her in his familiar, jovial way. She had to admit he wasn't bad to look at of course, even when he was lost in his own thoughts or expressing a look of loneliness she knew only too well. He was a bit older than her, a little past forty.

But fifteen years isn't that much of an age difference is it? She pondered and smiled to herself, well, yes it is, but it's a simple case of mind over matter. As long as he doesn't mind, it doesn't matter.

She finished the batter for the gingerbread and added it to the stewed apples already lining the bottom of the baking tin. The smell of cloves and ginger made the galley smell homey and she took a minute to close her eyes and inhaled.

She found the Scottish recipe for apple gingerbread on the computer, and it reminded her of her grandmother's apple stack cake. It had taken her a week to find all the ingredients she would need. The apples and simpler ingredients were easily available, but she'd had trouble finding anything remotely resembling something called golden syrup and Demerara sugar. When the head cook informed her that she could use honey or high fructose corn syrup in place of the golden syrup, and the sugar in question was basically raw cane sugar, of which the ship had plenty.

Of course, she had to bargain an extra cake for him in return for using the galley during her off hours. It was worth the extra effort to be allowed to use his galley. She enjoyed being in a kitchen again, even if it meant working around the bustle of a busy galley crew. It also felt good to do something nice for Mr. Scott. It was her grandmother who always said, "The way to man's heart is through his stomach." She also knew he would be worth the extra effort.

Cathleen carefully placed both cake pans in an oven, setting the timer to go off thirty minutes later. It would give her enough time to change her clothes and freshen her face so she would be more presentable for her delivery.

After she hurried back to the galley, she took the cakes out of the oven. While they cooled she made a pot of black tea. She turned the small, steaming cake out onto a plate and put everything on a tray, turning back only once to grab some napkins from the counter.

As she walked down to engineering, she mentally rehearsed what she would say to Mr. Scott. She had decided that she would tell him the treat was a gift of thanks for assisting her with the daunting task of calibrating the console of the Galileo earlier that week. She knew he would say it was his pleasure to help. She also knew that in reality he didn't have to help her as it was not part of his job -- that he could have gotten another crewmate to do so. She also knew that he had actually been the one to do most of the work, even though it was her assignment. But Cathleen had asked him, and he had taken the bait, and -- nervous as she was -- she was about to, as they say, reel him in.

The ride down to Mr. Scott's office in engineering was the longest turbo lift ride she had ever taken. Cathleen toyed with the idea a few times of cancelling the whole operation. Maybe she should just take the tray into one of the break rooms and let the guys have at it. But by the time she came back around to sticking to her plan, the lift doors opened and she was in engineering. She set the heavy tray down on a workbench to press the chime key.

Mr. Scott's voice from the other side said, "Enter," and she picked up the tray and stepped closer to allow the door to slide open.

Mr. Scott looked up from his monitor and an infectious smile spread across his face. "Well hello there, lassie, what can I do for ye this afternoon?"

She set the tray down in front of him. "It's not what you can do for me today, Mr. Scott. It's about what I have decided to do for you."

The Lieutenant Commander looked down at the tray and back up at her. "I don't understand."

Stepping around his desk, she turned his cup over and handed him a napkin. "Well, it's time for your usual tea break, and I thought I would make you something special for all the extra help you've given me lately."

"Oh, it was my pleasure lassie, but ye didn't have to go through all the trouble to make......"

"Mr. Scott," she interrupted before he could finish his protest, "you are no trouble at all. It was my pleasure as well. And anyway," she gave him a pat on his shoulder, "I wanted to spoil you a little."

As she made her way to the door, he asked if she would stay and share tea with him.

She looked back at him as the door slid open." No, but you can share dinner with me Friday night, say, nineteen-thirty?"

His eyes widened and he eyed the cake for only a moment before his lips turned up sweetly. "I'll be there."