Author's Note: I just wanted to say that there is no way I could have ever written this story without reading "the Rake's Revenge", by Gail Ranstrom. It's an awesome book, and it was my inspiration. Read on and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own a whole lot of...nothing.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" JJ asked Emily, gazing out the jet at the twinkling stars.

"My mother is hosting a gala, and of course, she's forcing me to go," Emily answered, sighing.

"That's not so bad," JJ commented.

"It is when I don't have a date and my mother decides to play matchmaker," Emily retorted.

"Oh…then I see what you mean." JJ paused. "Well, why don't you ask one of them to go?" she asked, motioning to the four men behind them.

Emily thought it over. "That's not a bad idea." She turned to them. "Hey, do any of you have plans this Saturday?"

Reid looked up from the chess game he was playing. "I'm going to visit my mom…"

Dave sighed and leaned back in his seat in exhaustion. "Book signing," he said in explanation.

Morgan looked at her. "I don't…oh, wait, I'm going to Chicago for my sister Sarah's birthday."

Emily frowned. This was not going well. She locked eyes with her last hope. "What about you, Hotch?"

He shook his head. "I'm not doing anything. Why?" he asked.

She closed her eyes in relief. "Would you mind going to a gala with me? I wouldn't stress so much, but I'm really not in the mood for my mom to find, oh, God knows, some Prime Minister's son for me to date. So, please?"

He chuckled. "Sure, it's not a problem. You said this Saturday?"

She nodded. "Yeah, at seven."

"I'll be there."

"Thank you so much!" She turned back to JJ, who was grinning. "What?"

"You and Hotch…" she said vaguely.

"What about us?" she challenged.

"Oh, come on, Emily. I know you like him," JJ said.

Emily hissed. "Say it louder, will you?"

JJ smirked. "Sorry. But when it's over, you better tell me every single detail."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Nothing's going to happen, Jayje."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

~.~.~

Emily walked over to her door as a knock resounded through her spacious living room. As the door swung open, Hotch's breath caught in the back of his throat. He couldn't take his eyes off her; she was glorious. Her ivory skin was luminescent in the light, and her face was framed by wisps and curling tendrils of ebony silk. She was wearing a dark red, floor-length dress made of silky material, and a slit crept up to her thigh, revealing her smooth legs and matching stilettos. All in all, she looked amazing.

He was finally able to find his voice. "Wow. You look…wow," he said lamely.

Her smile grew wider. "Thank you. I'll take your speechlessness as a good sign. As for you…" She reached forward and straightened his bow tie, appraising his tuxedo. "Not bad at all," she complimented.

He smiled. Actually smiled. "Are you ready?"

"Definitely."

~.~.~

Hotch and Emily walked into the elegantly decorated ballroom, his hand carefully placed at the small of her back. The room was filled with political diplomats, young and old, and Hotch wasn't surprised when several men turned to look at Emily almost hungrily. She seemed not to notice, and Hotch realized that she was probably used to all the unwanted male attention. They made their way to an empty table and sat down, nodding politely at anyone who glanced at them.

"And my mother has outdone herself yet again," Emily said sardonically.

"That I can see," Hotch said, looking around at all the people. Barely seconds later, they were approached by Elizabeth Prentiss.

They stood. "Hello, Mother," Emily said brusquely, giving her mother a short hug.

"Emily," the Ambassador greeted. "You came."

"As I said I would." She turned to Hotch. "Mother, this is my friend, Aaron Hotchner. Hotch, Elizabeth Prentiss," she introduced, watching as they shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you," Hotch said politely.

"Same," Elizabeth replied. "Emily, there's someone I would like you to meet," she told her daughter.

Emily shot Hotch a look. "I told you so," she mouthed. He smirked. As a handsome, young bachelor was waved over, Emily said, in a low voice, I'm with someone, Mother."

Elizabeth ignored her. "Emily, this is James Brennan, the son of the British Ambassador. James, this is my daughter, Emily."

James shook her hand. "It's a pleasure," he said.

She smiled. "Yes, it is. But, I'm sorry, I'm here with someone."

"Him?" the Ambassador asked pointedly, looking at Hotch.

"Yes," she answered curtly.

As if to further prove her point, Hotch stood and extended his hand. "Dance with me?" he asked, smiling.

She gladly placed her hand in his. "Of course," she answered, following him onto the dance-floor.

He placed his hands on her slim waist. "You weren't kidding when you said your mom liked playing matchmaker."

Chuckling, one arm came around his neck, the other remaining folded against his chest. "I know. I love her, but sometimes she just drives me crazy."

As he pulled her closer, he breathed in her unique scent. It was citrusy, with the slight edge of something sweet. It was subtle, feminine, and very Emily. He cleared his throat. "I don't think I said this earlier, but…you look beautiful, Emily," he commented quietly.

Her eyes sparkled. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it seconds later, as if she didn't know what to say.

"What is it?" he asked, unable to hold back his smile. There was something about her that always made him happy.

Her lips stretched into a heart-stopping smile. "You called me Emily," she pointed out, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

"I did," he agreed, leaning forward so his lips were mere inches from hers. "Which means that I want you to call me Aaron," he added.

"Aaron…"

He closed the distance between them, their lips brushing together softly in a synchronized pattern. She sighed contentedly. After breaking apart briefly, and gazing into each other's expressive eyes, they kissed again, this time more boldly. Hotch let his lips gradually drift to her neck.

"Do you want to go some place more private?" Emily asked quietly.

He nodded. "Lead the way."