I am sooooo sorry this has taken so long! My work and personal life have gotten in between me and my stories... Please forgive! I will make it up to each and every one of you, I promise! This is just a short bridge chapter but the next will be longer and is already in process. I need this one to get me from here to there. :) As always... Let me know what you think!

Piercing blue eyes seared into hers making her twitch with discomfort. Panic began to sizzle just below the surface of her skin. His eyes were unmoving and unfamiliar yet there was a sparkle in them... A hint of laughter? What the hell? Finally breaking her gaze with his, Emma's eyes travelled down the innately masculine features of his face and landed smack dab on a pair of upturned lips, a small chuckle of humor escaping them. He was close. Too close. The heat from his proximity was beginning to warm her and from the looks of his face, she could only imagine that his body would be just as beautiful. She released a gasp wholly outside her own control and watched as his smile grew deeper, revealing a full set of beautiful white teeth. She shivered involuntarily. Her body was betraying her mind. This ridiculously bold man was invading her space and all she could do was stare and sigh. What the hell is wrong with you, Emma?

He spoke as he pushed away from the bar and drew himself upright, his sweet Irish lilt dripping from every word. "My apologies, lass. I thought you were someone I once knew."

"I guess you thought wrong." She had intended for her tone to be icy and short, but once again her body betrayed her and her voice came out in a breathy uncharacteristic whisper.

He smiled again and extended his hand. "Killian Jones."

Two simple words. Two simple, beautiful, thickly accented words. Killian Jones. She stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap herself around the strange way she was reacting to this man; this man she had never seen before a day in her life. This beautiful stranger. Emma didn't do strangers. In fact she didn't do anyone, she was a very private and guarded person and she liked it that way. Yet in the single course of a minute this man had effected her with a string of contradictions. Her guard told her to push past and run to the comfort of what she knew - her friends. Her soul told her to stay put, talk to him and wait it out. This craziness was entirely new to her. Over the past ten years, Emma hadn't felt a single feeling as far as a man was concerned besides caution and panic; the exception being her friends and a few choice co-workers. How had this man...? She had been standing there silent too long. His hand was still extended, his smile humorous and his eyebrow raised questioningly.

Quickly, she shoved back the questions and did her best to re-erect her walls. Her hand was slightly shaking as she extended it and met his grasp. "Emma Swan." Her smile was slight and a bit forced, finally regaining some control.

He nodded pleasantly in response and after a brief squeeze, he released her hand. She withdrew it quickly, as if she had just been scorched with a hot iron. Crap. What is this man doing to me? She had to get away from him... Now.

Shifting to her right, Emma begin to move forward, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Jones, I have some friends waiting."

"Aye lass, I hope you have a lovely evening, however..." He paused for a moment, motioning towards the bar top now behind her, "you may want your order."

Whirling around she noticed the order for her table placed neatly atop the marble bar top waiting for her retrieval; the ruddy old jolly bartender smiling sweetly at her. "Need a hand, dear?"

Before Emma could answer, the voice of one alarmingly handsome Irishman raised from behind her, "No need, Fergus, I'll assist our lovely Miss Swan."

Emma spun around quickly to face him once again, this time her face spelled out her clear frustration. She just wanted to walk away from this man, so why was he making it so hard? "Really, Mr. Jones, I will be quiet okay on my own." She raised a hand in protest to his forward ministrations towards her order. " I paid my way through law school as a waitress, so I'm pretty sure I can handle these few plates."

Completely ignoring her objection, Killian leaned past her to grab two of the four plates from the bar top. As he retreated, his chest brushed against her arm sending fizzling little charges across her skin. Snatching her arm quickly across her body, Emma drew in a quick breath of uncertainty. Had he felt it too? Chancing a glance up, their eyes locked and small smirk graced his lips, assuring her that he too had felt the tingle. Unwilling to give the moment purchase, she shifted her gaze from his and turned back to the bar top to snatch up the remainder of the order and her drink. Careful not to touch him as she passed, a nod of her head motioned the location of her friends in the pubs back corner. Had she trusted her voice she may have spoken, but at the moment all Emma knew was that she needed to put some distance between herself and Mr. Killian Jones. Unfortunately for her, the crowd and the relatively short distance from the bar to the table would not be nearly enough.