It was so hard when we first met. I'd never met someone and instantly felt that connection, that magic portrayed in John Cusack movies. It was as though we could finish each other's sentences. A look and we knew what the other was thinking. A touch, even for an instant, and both our pulses raced. The elusive thing called chemistry was there in quantities I had never even dreamed of experiencing.

The only thing I have ever been able to prove about God was strong evidence in this case. Unfortunately, that thing is the macabre sense of humor the Almighty seems to possess. Satan, I believe in. The existence of evil is not a matter of opinion in police work. But proof of God's benevolence has always been limited to the rare impossibility of a victim's survival and that sense of humor. My relationship with Jen always seemed the perfect example of a divine joke, full of mocking temptation.

Jen was more computer wiz than cop, part of the new generation of law enforcement. With her degree, she would never ride in a squad car, let alone walk a beat. You just don't put a sweet young thing with that kind of potential out among the animals. She knew about the evil of the world through studying it rather than experiencing it. At least, that's what I thought at first.

Like me, Jen was married. She married the college boyfriend rather than the high school prom queen, but there were similarities. Both of us were happy in our relationships; we even liked each other's spouses. Neither of us had any desire to be a home wrecker. Neither of us felt any desire to leave our marriages in the dust. Yet every time I was alone with her, I felt more alive than ever before.

We both knew it was hopeless. When her husband was transferred to San Francisco, I was somewhat relieved. I know Jen was, too. There was never any question about whether she would go with him. Every department in the country needed someone with her skills. She'd even get a raise.

I would miss the sweet torture of her scent and the stolen moments when we hugged in a deserted office. We both knew we could never consummate our passion without destroying our lives. A police department is like a small town, where everyone knows everybody's business. Add the fact that I'd been there twenty years, and there's no hiding a blessed thing. But our need for each other was so desperate, it tempted us constantly. We fought hard to keep things platonic in the eighteen months we worked together, but we were always teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Still, I never kissed her until the last day we worked together. That one moment was almost enough to kill us both. She caught me coming around a corner and pulled me to her. When I felt her lips on mine and her hands around my waist, I couldn't resist. I drank her passion in like any junkie who's been denied a fix. And when we heard footsteps coming, I finally understood the pain of withdrawal. I asked her why now, after all this time, why take the risk? She got a sad, hard look on her face before she answered.

"Because I knew you wouldn't."