Castle tapped on his keyboard. Not the keys, but the part where his wrists had been resting making it warm. Because he couldn't think of what to write.

His outline was filling in, but he really didn't like the feel of the Jamie/ Nikki vibe. It should be more… something. More… friendly? More… trusting? Just more. He knew there should be more.

He ran his hands over his stubbly jaw then pushed them through his messy hair, scratching his scalp.

He grabbed his mug, not looking, and pulled it up for another sip, only to find a few drops of cold coffee in the bottom.

Palm to his cheek and elbow on the desk, he stared at that little blinking line. He sighed.

Then he pushed his rolling chair roughly away from his desk, mug in hand, and stalked to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot.

Normally, he did other stuff while the coffee trickled into the carafe, but this time, he leaned heavily on both hands on the counter, watching the pot slowly fill.

Maybe if he just started writing, it would come. If he didn't work on the scene he'd been struggling with anymore. If he just wrote some random thoughts, random scenes. He didn't have to use them, or he could flesh them out later for some other part of the book. That would help.

He hated being blocked.

The coffee maker stopped dripping, and he poured himself a fresh cup. Then he situated himself back into his comfortable desk chair to get back to work.

Now… what did he want to write?

Nikki looked from side to side, searching for anybody. She turned around, slowly and fully scanning 360 degrees, before becoming satisfied that she was alone. She took a deep breath and let down her guard. Then she laid back down on her beach towel, unhooked her bikini top, and relaxed in the sunshine. It felt good, healing even, to soak up the warmth and rest her weary body. Besides, she didn't want a tan-line across her back when she got into that gown. Beckett (oops, backspace over that) Nikki smiled as she thought of how Rook would be rendered speechless when he saw that the gown was backless. Anything that made that man stop talking was a good thing. With another deep breath, she closed her eyes, thinking of how much he talks… how his deep voice, smooth as velvet, caresses her and makes her heart flutter and her insides warm. A smile slowly spread on her face. She wondered why she wanted to make him stop talking in the first place.

Mmm. I like that. He takes a sip of near-scalding coffee. The Hamptons has a private beach. I wonder if I should invite her again. His hand goes to the back of his neck, squeezing firmly on the taut muscles that are sore from staring at the computer screen and rolling his head to work the soreness out. He freezes with a devilish smile.

"Rook, let me go! Get me out of here!" Nikki didn't truly expect him to be interested in bondage when she teased him with a suggestion that they could use her cuffs for something "more fun than arresting people." Rook laughed and held the key just out of her reach. "But Kate (backspacing again… I've got to quit doing that) Nikki, you've been a very naughty girl. I might have to punish you. But I promise, when I'm a bad boy, you can spank me." A smirk that was both threatening and dangerous formed on her rosy lips. Her eyes became dark, and she raised an eyebrow. Then, in her sultriest voice, she purred, "Jameson, how can I spank you if you've got my hands bound? How can I touch you? How can I make you

Castle pulled his hands from the keyboard. "Whoa." I've got to stop there. That… that doesn't need to be written down. Maybe… um… a suspect chase.

Hmmm….dah dah duh da dah. Oh, got it.

He turned into an alley, knocking down trash bins as he flew past. Nikki had been closing the distance and wasn't about to slow down because her path was now littered with cans and junk and old take-out cartons. Rook was close behind her, easily keeping up. The suspect jumped to scale the fence blocking his escape and Nikki pushed harder to catch him before he made it over. A beer bottle rolled into her path too late for her to avoid it. Maybe if she'd worn athletic shoes, she could have made it. But Nikki Heat always wore too-high heels. The bottle caught under her Prada pumps turning her ankle with a sickening crunch and sent her hurtling to the pavement. Rook nearly crashed into her, leaping and stumbling to avoid the collision. She cried out in pain, "Aah! Shit!" Her face had an angry red scrape from the tumble she'd just taken, but she saw the suspect shimmy his way over the top of the fence, so through her pain she yelled to Rook, "Get him! Don't let him go!" He hesitated for a second to make sure obedience was the right choice – his instinct had bowed to protecting her – then took off after the suspect. It was his fault she was anguishing in an alley with a broken ankle, and he wasn't about to let the SOB get away.

Rick smiled. That could become usable material. He could sit here punching out little scenes all night.

He took a long sip of coffee and poised his fingers over his keyboard.


Please review! And throw me some prompts for little Nikki Heat scenes.