She wasn't there yet. Hotch sat, stirring the ice in his drink, eyes trained on the door. She wasn't there yet. She said she'd be there at eight—her and JJ—and it was fifteen past that. Emily was always punctual. Fifteen minutes was cause for concern.

As if she heard his worry, a familiar dark head appeared in the doorway to the bar and he relaxed slightly. He watched her turn toward the pregnant blonde behind her. He could tell by her body language that she was laughing and he imagined he could almost hear the sound floating over the bar's conversations. He loved her laugh. He especially loved the way she giggled when he was kissing her. The way he had kissed her two nights ago.

They'd not spoken of that night since, hadn't spoken at all since. In fact, he'd not even seen her. She'd called in with a family emergency. He'd worried, until she'd called Morgan to tell him she'd be back tonight in time for drinks with the team. Said she'd explain what had happened then. Morgan had said she sounded fine, just a bit exasperated. Hotch suspected she'd driven to Maryland on behalf of her mother. He wondered how much had to do with her family and how much had to do with her maybe wanting to avoid him so soon after they'd…One night at a time, that's what they'd settled on before he'd left her condo that next morning, to make the familiar walk back to his own place. He'd still worn the sweats Morgan had left at her place; he'd ripped them from his body the instant he'd walked through his front door.

He hadn't wanted to be wearing another man's clothes while smelling like Emily. He'd been strangely reluctant to shower, wanting to still be able to smell her scent on his skin. Who knew if he'd get to experience that sensation again?

He hadn't meant to experience it to begin with, but he couldn't find it within himself to regret it. But he knew she wasn't ready for more, and he'd not pressure her. But, dammit, he'd missed her these past two days.

She approached the table, smiling a greeting at the rest of the team before turning to him. He wondered if he was the only one to catch the slight little hitch in her breathing as she said hello to him.

He scooted over, making room for her on the bench beside him. It felt damned good when she pressed against his side. JJ slid in across from her, laughing when her belly bumped the edge of the table. Hotch and Reid pulled the table a bit more in their direction to give the blonde some more room.

"Get everything taken care of?" Dave asked Emily.

"Yes. For now." Emily rolled her eyes before slipping a hand into the pretzels in front of her and pulling some out to pile on a napkin. She never ate directly out of the bowl, not like the rest of the team. Hotch chalked it up to her OCD tendencies.

"What was it, girl?" Morgan asked.

"My mother's brain is fried." Emily said. "My grandfather fell and my mother had meetings and couldn't stay with him. No one else could, apparently."

"How old is he?" Dave asked.

"Eighty-seven. He didn't appreciate me hovering." Emily said. "But my mother finally hired him a full time nurse, although he didn't like it at all. So I had quite a few ruffled feathers to soothe."

"Well, we missed you. Should have seen Reid on the consult we did yesterday." Morgan teased the youngest member of the team. "Had two drunk college freshman drooling over him in the precinct while they waited to be booked."

"It wasn't funny." Reid said, "And Morgan just made it worse."

"Morgan…how often do I have to tell you to be nice to Reid?" Emily snickered, reaching behind Hotch to ruffle the genius's hair. "He's sensitive."

Reid wasn't the only one sensitive, Hotch decided, as he felt her body press briefly against his side. He stilled, then felt her trim body echo the movement. His knee pressed against hers, slowly, firmly…deliberately. Only he heard her breath catch—just the way it had two nights ago. He dropped a hand under the table, the one closest to her.

He ran a finger down the outer edge of her thigh, ghosting over the thin cotton of the black slacks she wore. Her breath released in a slow, low little sigh. She looked at him, quickly. He doubted anyone else saw the slight flush on her cheeks in the dim light of the bar. But she didn't pull her leg away from his.

He took that as all the encouragement he needed.

He decided then and there, that tonight was the next night at a time.

Hotch was going home with her tonight…

(Profile of A Stalker almost demanded a sequel. It's a darker, hotter fic than most of what I write—if that's possible. There will probably be a LOT of naughty things done…Please understand that with me working eighty hour work weeks at one job alone—I have three—fanfiction updates will be sporadic in nature. So please don't PM me asking for updates—I simply don't have time to answer! But please feel free to let me know what you think…)