DISCLAIMER: The familiar characters belong to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. The additional characters and story line belong to me. Please do not reproduce this story without my permission.

AUTHOR: Kim

SUMMARY: Lee doesn't like what he sees when he gets a glimpse into Amanda's social life. Early second season. Fluffy as cotton candy.

BEES TO HONEY

"I still don't know why Billy insisted on this," Lee complained testily as Amanda pulled her station wagon into the driveway of her home.

She smiled tolerantly. "Because," she explained for the third time since leaving the hospital, "you hit your head last night and you have a concussion. It was either stay with me, so I can keep an eye on you, or stay in the hospital. And if my mother weren't out of town, you definitely would've been in the hospital for another day!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw him roll his eyes and clench his jaw. She added solicitously, "Do you want me to drive you back? I don't mind, Lee. Really, I don't."

She started to put the car in reverse, knowing that he would stop her. As expected, he placed a hand on her arm.

"No," he replied in agitation, running a hand through his hair. "I just can't believe Billy made it an order, that's all. I'd be fine if I could just go home!"

"Okay." Amanda was quickly tiring of his childish tantrum. "Would you just make the best of it, please? Having you around my house all day isn't exactly going to be a picnic for me, either, if you're going to be this cranky. Not to mention I have more baking to do for the boys' school fair and. . . Oh, my gosh!"

"What?" Lee asked in irritation, as they got out of the car and headed for the house.

"Nothing," Amanda said, distracted. "It's just that. . . I'd forgotten that I might have some visitors coming by. So you'll have to stay out of sight, okay?"

"What visitors?" he asked, annoyance clear in his voice and facial expression.

They stepped into the house and Amanda threw down her keys and purse. 'For a grown man, he can out-do any five-year-old in the whining department!' Amanda thought to herself with a smirk.

"Like I said, I'm baking for the school fair, and I'm also on a few fair committees, so there might be some parents dropping by. But you can stay in the kitchen. I'll just say it's a mess and not let anyone in there. It'll be just fine!"

"It'll be just fine," grumbled Lee in a mocking tone.

"Okay," she sighed. "Then you can stay upstairs. How's that?" she offered.

Lee considered it for a moment, but decided that he'd rather have her company. "No," he replied, sounding resigned.

Amanda nodded and walked into the kitchen, her difficult charge following close on her heels.

Lee had been on the verge of asking what she expected him to do in her kitchen all day, but he prudently rethought the situation. She really was putting herself out to do him a favor.

"Look, Amanda," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean anything against you. . . I'm just frustrated, that's all."

"I understand," she accepted his near-apology. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks," he said, grinning in relief.

He looked around the kitchen in amazement. Baked goods of every variety filled the countertops and kitchen table. All of them were labeled and in pink pastry boxes.

"Boy, you weren't kidding when you said you'd been baking," he joked lightly.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged. "It's for the kids. The fair raises money for the school, and that's important. It might not seem very exciting to you, but the kids love the fair, and the bake sale is always very successful."

Smiling at her defensive tone and posture, Lee held up his hands in defeat. "I don't doubt it," he placated her. "I've tasted your baking."

"Well." She nodded, feeling flattered and a little embarrassed at his sincerity. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied. "I'll be happy to pay more specific compliments if you give me a sample or two," he joked eagerly.

She laughed at him and shook his head. It never failed to amaze her how he could execute a one hundred and eighty degree turn-around with his attitude.

"Well, I think that can be arranged," she told him, grinning.

"How have you done all of this?" Lee asked. "You were with me all day yesterday, and then at the hospital most of evening."

"Well, I started a couple days ago with the pies and cookies. Mother helped me out last night, since I'd been at the hospital. She didn't have to leave on her trip until this morning. I'd gotten up early yesterday morning, worked after I got home last night, and baked this morning before I picked you up."

Amazed, Lee stared at her in admiration. "That's what I call dedication," he remarked.

"Oh, well," Amanda waved off his compliment. "You do what you have to do."

Amanda rolled up her sleeves and turned on the oven. Lee sat down on a stool at the counter and watched in fascination as she pulled pans and bowls from the cabinet, then began compiling ingredients for another culinary delight.

Having only dated women who ate out for every meal or had an in-house cook at their disposal, Lee had never seen a woman in action in her own kitchen.

Amanda seemed to completely forget he was even there, which made his covert surveillance even more enjoyable. True, he'd watched her through the window many times, but it was mainly when she was washing dishes or preparing dinner.

After a moment, Amanda glanced up to find Lee observing her intently. "Are you hungry? I could fix you a sandwich," she offered.

"Oh," he said, startled. "No, thanks. Maybe I'll just get some ice water, for now."

"Sure," she agreed. "Just let me know if you get hungry."

While he fixed his glass of water, Amanda set back to work. She bent down to get the mixer out of a cabinet. Lee noted, not for the first time, that she had a rather attractive figure. Those jeans. . . Well, best not to think of Amanda and her jeans!

She combined eggs, sugar and vanilla into a mixing bowl and plugged in her electric mixer. She was so intent on her activity that she seemed oblivious to her surroundings.

"Amanda, someone's here," he informed her. "Didn't you hear the doorbell?"

"Oh, gosh!" she replied, wiping her hands on a towel. "No, I didn't hear it!"

Lee shook his head, chuckling, as she hurried to answer it. 'She certainly does get involved in whatever she's doing,' he mused.

"Hi, Amanda!" Lee heard a male voice boom out.

"Hi, Steve, how are you?" came Amanda's reply.

"Not bad," Steve said. "I wanted your opinion on the back drop for the play. . ."

Lee strained to hear what they were saying, but after the initial greeting, all he could hear was occasional laughter.

"Well, I gotta get going," Steve was saying as Amanda escorted him out the front door. "Are you going to be at the PTA barbecue tonight?"

"Oh, no," Amanda said. "The boys will be at soccer practice after school, but after that, Mike Johnson will be bringing them home, and they'll have their homework to do, and Mother is out of town, so I need to home with them."

"Oh," Steve replied. The disappointment was obvious in his voice. "Okay, well, I still owe you a dinner, ya know!"

"I remember," Amanda said. "Say hi to your girls, okay?"

"Will do."

Lee stood in the kitchen, the adrenaline of annoyance running through his veins. That guy had been flirting with Amanda! Who did he think he was, anyway?

Amanda returned to the kitchen, surprised as she rounded the corner and nearly ran into Lee. He grabbed her arms to stop her rush, then pulled his hands away quickly.

"Oh, sorry!" She laughed. "I didn't know you were right there," she added, a perplexed look on her face.

"Who's Steve?" Lee asked, walking back over to his stool at the counter.

Amanda paused. Looking at him, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Steve is the father of two girls the same age as Phillip and Jamie. They're in the same classes. Steve's on the PTA. What else did you want to know?"

"Nothing." Lee shrugged, feigning indifference. He couldn't seem to stop himself, however, and he continued. "He just seemed a little too interested in you, if you know what I mean. That could be trouble. You know, with his wife."

Amanda met Lee's cautioning eyes and her own eyes widened in shock. "Lee!" she scolded him. "Steve's wife, Laurie, a very good friend of mine, died almost six years ago, in a car accident. She had their six-month old son with her, and he lost both of them."

"Oh," Lee said contritely.

"Yeah, 'Oh'," Amanda repeated, wondering from where in the world *that* had come.

For a while they chatted as Amanda poured batter into muffin pans. They talked about their recent case, which had culminated in Lee's concussion.

"Well," Amanda said logically. "It could have been a lot worse."

Lee was about to respond, when the doorbell rang again.

"I'll be right back," Amanda excused herself.

Lee stood and hastily made his way to the corner of the kitchen again, wondering who it was this time, or if Steve 'needed her opinion' again.

"Marty!" Amanda greeted her visitor. "Come on in."

"Hey, Amanda. How are you doing?" Marty asked.

"Just fine. Busy with the baking, like every year! Wait here, and I'll bring the pies for the contest," she told him.

"Let me just come in there so you don't have to. . ." he began.

"No, no, no!" Amanda insisted. "No one sees my kitchen in its current state of chaos, Marty."

Lee scurried back to his seat and tried to appear bored. Amanda entered and looked around until she spotted a stack of boxed pies. She threw him an apologetic smile and left the kitchen with the desserts. As soon as she did, Lee was back at his vantage point.

"Here we go," she said cheerfully. "All strawberry. I hear Linda's baking boysenberry, and Annie's taking care of the peach pies."

"Thanks, Amanda, you're a doll," Marty flirted. "Have you thought any more about my offer?"

Amanda said something Lee couldn't hear, and Marty laughed loudly. "You vixen!" he teased. "You know that I'm only half-kidding, don't you? Little Mikey, he really likes you. And he likes Phillip and Jamie, too. You have a couple of great kids, Amanda."

"I know, Marty," Amanda said quietly. "Mikey's great, too. And thanks, really."

"You'll keep considering it?" he asked. She just laughed again and closed the door.

She walked into the kitchen just as the timer started beeping. Checking the muffins, she glanced at Lee.

"Hungry yet?" she questioned, pulling on her oven mitt.

"What offer?" he asked abruptly, as if he hadn't heard her question.

"Excuse me?" Amanda was confused, having already forgotten her ritual conversation with Marty Sloane. She removed the muffin tin and placed it on a hotplate.

"Your friend, Marty, asked you if you'd considered his offer. What offer?" he asked again, as if interrogating a tough KGB assassin.

Her mouth gaped. She couldn't believe his nerve. It took a moment to find her voice.

"Marty?" she asked, stalling. "Marty. . . made me the offer of. . . well, of baby-sitting. Yes, he said he'd watch the boys and sometimes, in return, I could watch his son, Mikey."

She wasn't sure why she'd fibbed, except that it was none of Lee's business that Marty had proposed marriage . . . three times since her divorce from Joe.

"Uh-huh." Lee drummed his fingers on the counter, staring her down. "I don't think so, Amanda."

He sounded jealous. Just as jealous as a man could be. Amanda couldn't figure him out, no matter how much she tried. Why did he care?

Amanda recalled other times when he'd exhibited similar behavior. If a man showed even the slightest interest in her, Lee called him a 'stiff'. When she was dating Dean, Lee could never remember his name. He had never met or even seen Dean, and he had told Amanda that he 'couldn't picture them together.'

Lee waited expectantly while these thoughts went through her mind, his eyes challenging her to tell him the truth.

"Okay," she sighed, knowing he wouldn't leave her alone until she told him the truth. "Marty. . . asked me to marry him." There, leave it at that. No explanation needed.

Lee nearly choked on his mouthful of water, an ice cube launching from his mouth and skittering across the floor. "What?" he asked incredulously as he sputtered.

"He's divorced. He asked me to marry him," she said again, slowly. "He's asked me to marry him three times."

"Three times?" Lee repeated in disbelief.

"Three," she said seriously, nodding for emphasis.

"And you've turned him down?" he prodded.

"Of course I've turned him down! I'm not married to him, am I? But to him, I'm always considering it." She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him as he tried to regain his composure.

"Why? Why didn't you marry him?" Lee asked, but he was clearly relieved.

"Lee, a woman doesn't agree to marry a man just because he asks, you know," she explained, somewhat impatiently.

"I know that," he replied, somewhat mortified at his curiosity. 'Why can't I just leave it alone? What do I care about how many men want to marry Amanda King?' But the very idea caused an unpleasant, yet inexplicable, chill to course down his spine.

Determined to drop the subject once he could calm her down, he shrugged at her, again assuming an expression of mild contempt for suburbia and its complicated romances. He looked up into her furious eyes, and fleetingly reflected on how beautiful she looked when she was angry.

A small smile played about his lips. Unfortunately, Amanda interpreted it as mockery, and her indignation went up a notch.

"Do you think my opportunities are so limited that I should accept the first proposal I get?" she asked him huffily.

"Just how many opportunities do you get?" he was surprised to hear himself ask.

She shook her head in disbelief, ignoring his question, and set to work on the cookie dough. She was uncomfortable discussing this particular topic with him.

"Do you want a muffin?" she asked him.

"I thought you'd never ask!" he said, grinning at her. He was vastly relieved that she had chosen to end the conversation.

She couldn't help but smile back. Then, she laughed as he went over to her refrigerator and started rummaging around.

"It's in the door, top shelf," she informed him.

"What is?" he questioned, straightening up and frowning.

"The butter," she said.

"How did you know I was looking for butter?" he asked.

"Well, I would hope you weren't looking for spicy mustard to spread on your blueberry muffin, Lee," she teased.

Lee laughed, pulling the butter out and setting it on the counter. He spread a large slab generously onto the warm muffin.

"Mmmm." He closed his eyes in ecstasy. No one made a better muffin than Amanda did.

His joy was short-lived, however, interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. 'Probably her mother,' he thought with fleeting hope.

"Hello?" Amanda answered.

"Oh, hi, Carl. . . Yes, I am. . . Uh-huh. . . Yeah, that would be just fine. . . I have almost everything done. . . If you wouldn't mind, that would be great. . . What?"

Lee watched as Amanda smiled into the phone, caught his eye and then turned away from him, twirling the cord in her fingers.

"Oh, I don't know. . . Well, thank you. . . No, I'm not, really. . . Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes. . . Uh-huh, bye-bye."

She hung up and stood, for a moment, with her back to him. Finally, she spun around, smiled brightly at him, and attacked her cookie dough with a vengeance.

"Let me guess," Lee said patronizingly. "Carl is another single father who is enamored of you."

"No, Carl has never been married. He's a teacher," she retorted, becoming embarrassed. She could tell what he was thinking.

"And?" Lee prompted, pretending to want to hear more.

"And nothing," she said. She wanted to change the subject, so she tried to distract him. "What about you?" she queried. "Who's your current girl of the week?"

"We weren't talking about me, Amanda," he reminded her.

"That's right," she agreed. "We weren't. You know, I wanted to ask you how many different ways there are to pick a lock."

"What?" Lee was taken aback.

"Well, yesterday, I saw you use two different devices for two different locks. I was just curious," she expounded.

"Oh," he replied, momentarily derailed from his train of thought. While he enlightened her about half rakes and other useful spy devices, she listened with only half her mind. The other half was busy trying to justify his seemingly jealous behavior.

'Well,' she reasoned. 'He's probably just annoyed with all the interruptions. After all, even though I'm not his type, he likes to have my undivided attention. That's all there is to it. He couldn't possibly be jealous.'

Satisfied that she had explained the situation to herself, she gave her full attention to Lee. He was now expounding on the best way to override security systems.

"Fascinating," she complimented his lecture.

"It really is, Amanda, and I'm happy that you're so interested in the finer points of the business. But you'll probably never need to put any of this to use, you know," he said loftily.

"Oh, I know," she humored him. "But it's interesting, all the same."

Lee suddenly remembered her phone conversation. 'She was distracting me,' he realized ruefully. 'Maybe she's cut out for this business, after all!'

When the doorbell rang for a third time, Lee simply shook his head. 'Is there no end to the number of her admirers?' he wondered.

"Be right back," she assured him.

"Amanda!" yelled a deep-voiced man.

"Hi, Carl," she replied. "Stay right here, and I'll bring the bake sale items from the kitchen - it's kind of a mess."

"No problem," Carl responded. "I know how you women are about your kitchens! My mother used to swat me with a wet kitchen towel if I got in her way."

Amanda entered the kitchen, grabbed a stack of pastry boxes from the counter and headed back out. She made several trips back and forth while Carl loaded his car.

When she took the last batch, Lee hoped that Carl would make a hasty retreat. He was disappointed.

"Well, thanks for coming for those, Carl. It'll really save me time in the morning. I'll only have a few more things to bring that I'm baking tonight."

"No problem," Carl said happily.

Lee snuck a peak around the corner. Carl was a tall, well-built man. He was smiling adoringly down at Amanda while she talked about how busy they'd all be at the fair.

"Yeah," Carl agreed, then asked hopefully, "Say, are you coming to the park later?"

"No," Amanda replied. "Can't make it. Mother's out of town, so I'll be here with the boys."

"Oh, that's too bad, I was hoping you'd be there," he said earnestly. "Listen, do you think we could, maybe, go out sometime?"

"Oh, uh. . ." Amanda hedged.

"Look," Carl interrupted gently. "Don't think I don't know that you could have your pick of any man in Arlington. I just hoped that maybe we could get together. I'd really like to take you out to dinner. You could bring Phillip and Jamie. Think about it, at least."

Amanda was obviously touched by his invitation. Lee strained to hear her reply, but she was very quiet, knowing he was in the kitchen.

Carl, however, was not so discreet. "Great!" he exclaimed happily. "How about next weekend?"

Again, Amanda's response was indiscernible. Lee frowned, perturbed by this turn of events. She had obviously agreed to go out on a date with the creep!

The sounds of Amanda and her visitor exchanging good-byes prompted Lee to resume his position across the kitchen.

When she returned, Amanda didn't acknowledge Lee's questioning gaze. Instead, she went back to her duties, asking, "Are you hungry for a sandwich yet? You must be hungry by now."

"Uh, sure," Lee agreed. "That'd be good. Do you want some help?"

"No," she assured him. "You should be taking it easy."

As she turned to pull sandwich makings from the refrigerator, Lee noted that her body language was tense, as if she was waiting for his interrogation.

"So, how well do you know this 'Carl'?" Lee asked, and immediately wished the words back.

Amanda sighed. "Look, Lee," she said. "It's really sweet that you care enough about me to inquire about this, but. . ."

He started to protest, but she held up a hand and continued. "But you really don't have to play Big Brother and worry about me. I've known Carl for a very long time, and we're just going to take the boys to Pizza Planet."

"I'm not your 'big brother'," he said, horrified. He definitely didn't want her to think he was being protective in a brotherly way. The alternative was not something he wanted to even think about, though.

"So, you're quite a hot commodity, huh?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He didn't understand what was driving him to act this way, and he could tell it wasn't winning him any points with Amanda.

She whirled around to face him, her mustard-slathered knife waving in his face. "Yes. Yes, I am. Is that so hard for you to imagine?" she asked defensively. She'd had enough of his mockery.

Lee stared at her. "No," he heard himself answer. 'Just how many men want her, anyway?' he asked himself, not liking the effect this revelation was having on him.

"What does it matter, anyway?" she asked, her eyes blazing.

"It doesn't matter," Lee said quickly, sitting back nonchalantly and studying his nails. "It doesn't matter at all. Date whomever you want to."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Stetson!" she quipped in a pseudo-grateful tone. "I'm so glad you approve."

The whole situation unnerved him more than he cared to admit, even to himself. Conflicting thoughts battled in his mind. He told himself that he would never pursue a romantic relationship with Amanda, yet, at the same time, he detested the thought of another man winning her heart.

The rest of the afternoon went by slowly, both of them conversing in a halted, unnatural way. Thankfully, no other admirers came around or called. Lee had come to think of them as bees to honey. It was a fitting analogy.

Lee couldn't help but continue to wonder about Amanda's social life. She certainly didn't talk about dating, but then, why would she? It was evident that she wasn't suffering from a lack of interested parties.

Around four, Lee called the doctor at the hospital and reported that no complications had arisen from his concussion.

On their way to Lee's apartment, they drove past the park and Lee happened to recognize one of Amanda's many suitors, standing over a barbecue grill. He pretended not to notice, and Amanda didn't seem to see them.

As she dropped him off, Lee awkwardly thanked Amanda for her company, lunch and the several samples of baked goods. Neither of them mentioned anything more about Amanda's visitors or the conversations they'd unwittingly spawned.

As he watched Amanda drive away, a plan formed in his mind. Smirking, Lee decided to throw some cold water on 'Operation Amanda', and drove to the nearest bakery. Purchasing a cake, he put it into his trunk and grinned the entire way back to the park.

Easing into a parking spot, he noticed the men, still gathered around the barbecue, while the women were at the picnic area setting up side dishes. There were only a handful of parents sitting around. Obviously not everyone had arrived for the PTA barbecue, yet.

Walking confidently over to the group of men with the cake in his hands, he recognized Carl and Steve. Unfortunately, Marty wasn't present. But, two out of three wasn't bad!

Lee approached the group of men, some of whom, he figured, must have been husbands of the women sitting at the picnic tables.

"Hi, there!" he greeted in a cheerful voice.

"Hi," they responded uncertainly. This man in his leather jacket, they knew, was no PTA dad!

"Do we know you?" asked Carl.

"Ah, no. . . " was all he could say before he was introduced to Carl, Steve, Bob, Sam and Mark. He gave them one of his many cover names, just in case.

"I'm just dropping this cake by for Amanda King," he explained after the introductions had been made. "She said to tell you she's sorry she couldn't make it to the picnic, but wanted to send a dessert for everyone."

"She's such a sweetheart," offered Steve with a grin.

"Yeah," Carl shot him a jealous look. "She is."

"How do you know Amanda?" one of the other men asked, as Carl and Steve were glaring at Lee.

"Oh, well. . . you know, we're real good friends," he said.

"How good?" asked Steve curiously.

"We're just friends, really." Lee assured them with his words, but he could see that they weren't buying it. Each man eyed him skeptically.

Guiltily, he worried that he might be damaging her reputation, so he added, "Yeah. . . I'd like to be more than friends, but so far, that's all we are. Oh, and please don't mention this to her, huh? I don't want her to know I told you guys how much I like her. Who knows? One of these days I might be on the PTA, myself. I barbecue a pretty mean burger."

He winked conspiratorially, said goodbye and strode back to his car, with the assembled men (and their wives) watching curiously as he went.

As he walked away, Lee had trouble stifling his gleeful laughter at his last comment. Him, on the PTA! Him, married to Amanda with two step-sons and a live-in mother-in-law! 'I crack myself up,' he thought.

Carl flipped a burger and said, "Well, that's that."

Steve looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"We might as well give it up." Carl acted as if the situation was obvious.

"Why's that?" Steve asked.

"Do you really think she'll go for one of us, with *that* guy hanging around?"

Steve considered for a moment, then sighed. "Oh, man. . ." he groaned. "Look at his car!"

"Yeah," Carl sighed agreement.

"You guys are toast," Bob laughed.

*****

At the school fair the next day, Amanda had two very strange conversations.

Linda Baker came up to Amanda and thanked her profusely for sending over a cake to the PTA barbecue.

"Imagine - all the baking you'd been doing and you still thought of us over at the park!" she had gushed.

Amanda hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, which was always the case with Linda. No sooner had Linda walked away, than Carl approached her sheepishly.

"Hey, Amanda," he greeted.

"Hi, Carl!" she replied.

"Look, we don't have to go for pizza if you don't want to," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground. "I didn't mean to push you into a date or anything."

"You didn't push me into it, Carl. I want to go, and I've already told Phillip and Jamie, and they're really looking forward to it," she said, puzzled as to why Carl would say such a thing.

His face lit up. "Really? You want to go? That's great, Amanda."

He'd walked away with a spring in his step, leaving Amanda staring after him in confusion.

She rejoined the moms at the bake sale booth. Business was booming and they were nearly sold out of everything.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice said. "Are there any blueberry muffins left? I hear they're the best in Arlington."

Amanda looked up into Lee's face. He never ceased to amaze her. Here he was, on a Saturday evening, at an elementary school fair.

"Um, yes, actually," she replied, smiling. "I think we do have one more box of blueberry muffins."

Lee paid for the muffins and winked at her, then disappeared into the crowd.

Annie, whose husband, Bob, had filled her in on the details from the evening Lee had dropped by with the cake, sidled up to Amanda. Now Annie wished she'd gotten up from the picnic table to meet the mysterious stranger.

"Now, *he's* a keeper, Amanda," she whispered. "What a hunk!"

"Oh," Amanda was quick to correct her. "He's not my hunk. . . I mean, he's not my boyfriend or anything."

"Uh-huh," Annie snickered.

"Seriously, Annie," Amanda insisted. "He just wanted to buy some of my muffins!"

"He's interested in a lot more than your muffins," Annie remarked.

"Annie," Amanda was confounded at her friend's assertions. "You've got it all wrong. I don't even know that man!"

"Not according to Bob!"

"What does Bob know about anything?" Amanda asked, her eyes widening in puzzlement.

"Don't worry, hon," Annie said to a very baffled Amanda. "Your secret's safe with me!"

THE END

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