There you stand, a vision of elegance and grace, clad in silken satin and intricate lace.

Simon, standing at the door, takes you in, his gaze lingering on your form. He watches as you battle with the corset strings, the struggle clear. The sight of you, so enticing in your finery, is way too tempting for a man who claims to hate you.

A man who makes his hatred for you clearer and clearer each day. You are the bane of his existence.

"Any reason you're dressed like a hooker?" He crosses his arms, and your eyes trail up his body in the mirrors reflection; a man and a half. Truly, he was the most masculine man you'd ever met. Too bad he was a pain in the arse.

"I have a date, Lt. I'm sure that's a foreign concept for you." You retort. He walks behind you slowly; not touching, barely brushing. He grabs the strings, looking at your reflection over your head.

"Easy, Sergeant." He sighs. "You know half the women here fawn over me."