Title: If Wishes Were Scarecrows

Author: Rita (dittypiddler)

Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. No infringement intended.

Timeframe: Just before the start of third season.

Summary: Amanda does a little spying on Lee.

Rating: PG, for one "damn."

Thanks to Cheryl for the beta.

Feedback: Always

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Releasing an exasperated sigh, Amanda slapped the file down on her desk. Lee’s expense report might as well be written in code, for all the sense it made. She should be able to decipher his chicken scratchings by now, but this was the most illegible report he’d given her in a long time. He’d have to decode this gobbledygook himself, or she’d never figure it out.

He was late. Again. He’d come in late all week. She could guess why. His bleary eyes and disheveled appearance spoke volumes.

When she heard his voice, she looked up with a ready smile, but it froze on her lips when one of the women from the steno pool honed in on him, wiggling her hips with every step. Oh, Lord. Not again. The predatory gleam in the girl’s green eyes reminded Amanda of a huntress stalking her prey. And it was open season on Lee Stetson.

Hmmm. This one was a redhead. He usually preferred blondes. Maybe he’d decided that variety was the spice of life. Ha! But the woman was definitely his type. Her perfect hourglass figure would make any man drool. Not that Amanda had ever seen Lee drool. Just the opposite. Women almost swooned at his feet.

And he was certainly every woman’s fantasy, standing there so tall and cocky, with that smug smile on his handsome face, while he chatted with the redhead. What was her name? Sherri? Kristi? Marci? Something that ended with an "i." Naturally. He had a penchant for women whose names ended in "i."

There was Debbi, who dotted her "i" with a cutesy little smiley face. If the note she’d left in Lee’s apartment was an example of her mentality, she was no brain surgeon. Not unless her IQ had advanced beyond room temperature in the last two years. And Randi baby--the jealous type. Amanda had met that one. Long blonde hair and very chesty. Maybe she carried her intellect in her bra.

Ouch. Now that wasn’t a very nice sentiment. Accurate, but not nice at all.

It didn’t matter what the redhead’s name was. The girl wouldn’t last any longer than all the other hussies who had paraded through his life like some damn harem.

Amanda winced. That wasn’t very charitable, either. Her thoughts were starting to mimic Francine’s acid barbs. At least where Lee and his . . . ahh . . . his lady friends were concerned. Not the most attractive image of herself.

If only she could convince him he was better than that. So much better. Behind the Scarecrow’s mask lurked a special man. A gentle and caring man. A man who deserved more in life. So much more. He needed someone who cared for the sensitive man he could be, not the suave playboy persona he presented to the world. She wished, oh, how she wished she could be that someone. In a platonic way, she already was.

Sure, she was physically attracted to him, too. Well, she had a pulse, didn’t she? Heck, if she wasn’t tempted, she’d have to be dead! But she wasn’t his type. He’d told her often enough that they were just friends . . . and business associates. She gritted her teeth. His annoying spiel was practically engraved on her brain.

But still . . . she could dream . . . and wish . . .

Yeah, right. And if wishes were Scarecrows, Amanda would ride.

Oh my gosh. What a foolish notion! She rolled her eyes. As if she’d ever have a . . . a thing with Lee! She smacked her forehead and turned her attention back to the couple dillydallying by the coffeepot.

The curvaceous redhead simpered and cooed, fawning all over him. He must be in full seductive mode. The young woman was new to the steno pool. Maybe she hadn’t gained intimate knowledge of his compelling charms yet. But she would. Tonight she’d become his newest conquest.

After wining and dining her, he’d take her back to his apartment. He’d sweet-talk her, and flash his irresistible dimples, and look at her the way Amanda had seen him look at other women. So many women. He’d bring out a bottle of wine--good, but not expensive--and before long, the girl would be engaged in a game of "backgammon" with Lee.

Amanda had heard about those games so many times. Too many. It would end like all the others. After a few rolls in the hay, he’d grow tired of--whatever her name was--and look for a new partner to play with.

Now the girl was blushing. He must be ratcheting up the charm. Maybe he was asking her out. She was obviously willing. More than willing. The little floozy stood so close to him, practically slithering against him. Lee would have no trouble bedding this one.

Oops. Amanda bit her lip hard. Another catty Francine moment. ‘Amanda King, you should be ashamed of yourself.’

Well, at least the poor dear would have fond memories and some new stories to tell around the water cooler.

There. Much better. More sympathetic.

Lee’s jaw clenched as he crumpled a napkin and threw it in the trashcan. Strange. Why was he acting so antsy? When he brushed his hand through his hair, Amanda’s fingertips stroked the desk in the same rhythm, while she imagined running her fingers through his thick hair, feeling its softness flow between them. Her fingers froze on the glazed surface. Oh, boy. She must really be discombobulated to equate her desk with Lee’s hair. There was no resemblance at all.

Now he was moving away from the redhead. She appeared angry and unwilling to let him go, gripping his arm and tugging him toward her. But Lee only shook his head and scowled at her. What was that all about? Amanda strained to hear their voices, but the din in the Bullpen had grown louder. Maybe the girl was too cloying for his taste.

Well, that had never stopped him before. He’d always seemed to enjoy having a woman tethered to his arm--like some blasted trophy from his latest hunt. No, he was probably just distracted about a case or something. Yeah, that must be it.

Looking like he wanted to pummel someone, he pulled away from the redhead and strode toward Amanda, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

Uh-oh. Hoping that he hadn’t caught her spying on him, she averted her eyes and began typing furiously, her fingers hitting the keys at random.

When Lee cleared his throat, she summoned an innocent smile and looked up at him. "Good morning. Lovely day, isn’t it?"

"Mmm-hmm." He settled himself on the corner of her desk. "So, did you enjoy the show?"

Feeling her cheeks burn, she looked away again. "Show? What show? I don’t know what you’re talking about." She fumbled with the file in front of her. "Lee, I need you to go over this expense report--"

"Later." He chuckled. "C’mon, Amanda. You think I didn’t see you eyeing me when I was talking to that redhead? So, I repeat, did you enjoy the show?"

Take charge of the situation, Amanda. It might be less embarrassing. Not meeting his eyes, she concentrated on straightening and stacking the folders on her desk.

"Well, if I was, and I’m not saying that I was, you can hardly blame me. After all, it’s not every day that a simple housewife like me gets to watch the legendary Scarecrow in action." She nodded twice and glanced sideways at him. "I feel very privileged." Resting her elbows on the desk, she laced her fingers under her chin and gazed at him with the most serious expression she could muster.

Gotcha. Now it was his turn to blush. Served him right.

"Ha, ha. You’re just a barrel of laughs today, aren’t you?" He leaned closer and winked. "Well, for your information, my dear Mrs. King, that barracuda tackled me. Not the other way around. And, for your further information, I wasn’t interested in her rather lewd and lascivious proposition."

"Oh." Gosh, maybe he really had been annoyed with the girl.

"Now if you’re through raking me over the coals, I need your help with the case I’m working on. Can you join me on a stakeout tonight?"

"Stakeout? What stakeout? I haven’t heard anything about a stakeout." She snapped her mouth shut. Darn rambling.

"The same one I’ve been on every night this week. I’ve stared at that warehouse until I’m glassy-eyed. I figured you could help me watch it and keep me awake at the same time." He shrugged. "Besides, I wouldn’t mind the company."

"You mean you’ve been on a stakeout all week? You haven’t been . . ." She swallowed the rest of the words.

Lee looked around the Bullpen. "Is there an echo in here? Isn’t that what I just said? So how about it, will you come with me?"

"You betcha. I can’t think of a nicer way to spend an evening." Amanda matched his wide grin with one of her own. He hadn’t been playing backgammon after all.

And there was certainly no harm in wishing for a Scarecrow, was there? Nope. No harm at all.

The End