Hope you enjoy!

All things considered, the first day hadn't gone too badly. But now he was tired and hungry and all he wanted was hot food, a hot bath, and the all too brief oblivion of sex.

As one after the other the fridge then a succession of kitchen cupboards mocked him, he hoped that at least the boiler wasn't on the blink. Shrugging off his jacket he hung it up on the back of a kitchen chair and draped his tie over it. His shoes he prised off and kicked unceremoniously under the table. By the time he reached the foot of the stairs his shirt was unbuttoned, his belt unbuckled and his socks were languishing in the drum of the washing machine.

The doorbell rang, and for once it wasn't accompanied by a barking frenzy; Scarlet was staying with Wes for the duration of the inquiry, and, by unspoken agreement, if things really went pearshaped, beyond. After a moment's hesitation he padded to the door, anticipating a charity collector, a utilities salesman, the window cleaner. Anybody, really, except Ruth. It was unclear who was more taken aback; he at the presence on his doorstep of someone who'd done her best to avoid him for days, or she at his state of undress.

'Ruth! This is a surprise.'

Her eyes widened momentarily, then dropped, trying to find somewhere safe to focus on. Seemingly even his bare feet were cause for embarrassment as for once she raised her eyes to his, a rather becoming blush staining her cheeks. 'Sorry, sorry, I've obviously come at a bad time. I just thought you might not feel like cooking after...after today.' She held up a carrier bag. 'Chinese. Perhaps you could reheat it...'

Sod it. He wasn't about to disabuse her. 'After we've worked up an appetite?'

The blush deepened. 'Um, sorry, I only got enough for one. I didn't realise you had company. I'll go. Enjoy.' She grimaced. 'I mean the food, not the...well, obviously...I'm sure you'll enjoy the...' Her hand flapped.

'The wild, passionate sex?'

'Yes, that,' she muttered. 'Anyway, I hope tomorrow's not too...I hope it goes well. As well as can be expected.' She thrust the bag at his chest and turned to go.

He sighed. 'Ruth?'

'Mmm?'

'I was about to have a bath.'

'Thanks, but I'd rather not get into a discussion about your favourite sexual positions on your doorstep.'

He laughed, and she shot him a withering glance. 'You know what I mean.'

'I was about to have a bath,' he repeated. 'And do you really think I have a queue of women desperate to scrub my back?'

'Well, no, of course not.'

'Oh. Thanks very much.'

'For god's sake, Harry, do you have to make this so difficult?'

'Excuse me? You're the one who's turned up on my doorstep uninvited with a rapidly congealing takeaway and assumed that you've interrupted my ravishing of some Michelle Pfeiffer lookalike!'

'Michelle Pfeiffer?'

He shrugged.

'In your dreams. Honestly, you men are so bloody predictable.'

'...and you can add insulting me to the list. Look, I think we've given the neighbours enough of a floorshow; are you coming in or not? We can split this and I'm sure I can run to a bottle of wine and cheese and crackers, or something equally exciting.'

'What about your bath?'

'Bugger my bath.'

'And the surveillance team? We're not really supposed to have any contact with you.'

'I'd say bugger them too but you'd probably take that the wrong way. So to speak.' He smothered a grin. 'Why did you come round then if you're so bothered about them?'

'I...' she lapsed into silence, fingertips birling her ring.

'Well, you're here now so you might as well come in.' He turned and headed along the hall to the kitchen, sure that she would follow. As he was putting plates under the grill to warm he heard the front door close.

'I'm in the kitchen,' he called. 'Come on through.'

Silence.

'Ruth?'

He went back out into the hall.

She was gone.