Standing at the mirror, Foreman knotted his tie, getting back into the spirit of teasing Amber. She appeared over his shoulder, and Foreman didn't miss the way her gaze trailed down from his shoulders. He knew he shouldn't let himself get puffed up over her compliment, but he couldn't help it. Working out helped him dissipate a day's frustration, and he liked the results--he liked knowing he looked good. But it mattered more when Amber said it. Made him feel bigger, stronger. Which was ridiculous. He really was regressing back to high school, when all that mattered was who could shoot a three-pointer or run a football up the slot for a touchdown. He adjusted the knot one last time and turned back to Amber. "You'll have to come to one of my games," he said. "I'll play for the skins. You can decide then."

It didn't pass him by that she'd managed the same transformation as he had, but even better, since Foreman got the benefit of the view. "I already know what I prefer," he said, touching her elbow and leaning in close as if he might kiss her. Before he got near enough, he backed off. "Like this, of course."

Chuckling, he left the room, escaping any vengeance Amber wanted to take, and grabbed his coat from the closet. "I promise I could feed you," he said, "but we don't have time. There's a coffee place downstairs, though." He checked to make sure he had his keys, phone, and pager. God, he didn't want to go. He faced the door and set his shoulders. All the fun they'd had so far--and the fights too--he'd have to forget that while they were at work. He didn't know how Amber would take it, if he was less communicative, less open. Obviously he couldn't show favouritism, and if he did, House would take that as license to torture both of them more than he was going to anyway. "Ready?"