This one has been languishing unfinished in my drafts for a while, and I thought I'd better finish it off and get it up on here. Not at all sure about it, but I hope you enjoy!

She knew it was him standing behind her. Not because of his aftershave, the scent of which was lost in the heat and the press of bodies around them. Not because he leaned over and whispered into her ear. Not because she could see his now rumpled shirt out of the corner of her eye. It was because every nerve end in her body, every fibre of her being just knew. It was as if the air around them changed somehow when he moved into her orbit. She ducked her head, so he couldn't see her smiling.

Now she could feel his lips at her ear. So, so close.

'You'd better keep a clear head for your disciplinary in the morning, Ms Evershed.'

She couldn't resist. 'Disciplinary?'

'Mmm. For gross misconduct. Verbal abuse of a superior officer.'

'Well, that's a matter of opinion.'

She could sense he was smiling.

The barman nodded to her. 'What'll it be, love?'

She reeled off their orders, hoping that if she'd got any wrong they were all too far gone to notice, let alone care.

'Tsk, disobeying a direct order to boot. It's not looking good, Ruth.'

'I trust you'll punish me severely then.'

'Well, according to the policy manual, the appropriate punishment for such shameful misdemeanours is a good spanking.' He felt a brief flutter of panic as the words left his lips, til he heard her low chuckle.

'Ooh, promises, promises. Here.' She twisted round and thrust two bottles of Becks and a Smirnoff Ice at his chest. 'Make yourself useful.'

The merest hint of a smile playing about his lips, he held her gaze for just a fraction longer than was necessary, then he wove his way back to their table, the bottles held high.

Having started at lunchtime, only the hardened drinkers were left. Or to be more accurate, the hardened drinkers and Ruth. Stephanie, Paul, Mark and Bridget had long since gone home, and Harry was thinking he should really be making tracks. While the relationship he had with the team was a million miles from that of the average manager and his underlings, he was still their boss. So quite why he found himself saying 'great idea' when Tom suggested going on for pizza, he wasn't quite sure. And so they downed their drinks, sorted out the tangle of coats and sleeves and handbags, and edged out of the booth, through the throng of post-work drinkers, and out into the cool of the evening.

Somehow, they'd all paired up. Zoe and Tom were bickering about Carry On films; Malcolm and Colin were debating whether teleportation of whole molecules would ever be possible; and Danny and Sam trailed some way behind the techies, eyes only for each other. Ruth and Harry, held up while she foosled in her handbag for lipgloss, brought up the rear, the flirty banter of moments earlier having evaporated into tongue-tied embarrassment almost as soon as the fresh air hit them.

'I can imagine how this evening's going to end up,' Ruth said eventually.

'Wh...?' Stunned that her thoughts were mirroring his, Harry's head snapped round. Her eyes, however, were focused on Danny and Sam. 'Ohh! Yes, you're probably right.' He chuckled. 'I thought for a moment you meant us.'

'Harry,' she said, colouring, 'you're my boss.'

'Well, yes. But we hardly have a normal, run of the mill, superior - subordinate relationship, do we?'

'You really do have a superiority complex don't you?' But she was smiling. 'And as chat up lines go...'

'It's not a chat up line. But given the nature of what we do every day of course our relationship is different to those who just write a few reports, make a few phone calls, do a bit of filing, and bugger off home at 5 o'clock.'

'And on that basis you think I'm going to jump into bed with you?'

His gaze dropped. 'I-I'm sorry. I thought there was...I thought you...' He sighed. 'I never was any good at twigging when women, well, fancied me.'

A flash of dimples. 'I find that hard to believe. You're a spook, Harry Pearce. Reading people is your stock in trade.' She hesitated. 'And for what it's worth you weren't wrong about me.'

'But you just said...'

Somehow the gap between them and the rest of the party had widened, yet her voice dropped. 'I don't want you to get a reputation as the kind of boss who sleeps with his staff. And I don't want to get a reputation for being the kind of woman who sleeps with him.'

He scuffed at a pebble, and watched for a moment as it skittered across the tarmac. 'I think that those who matter, and I mean both personally and professionally, know us well enough to know that neither of us does casual sex, either for personal or professional gain. And everyone else, well, I couldn't give a flying f..robisher what they think.'

'A flying what?'

'First polite F word that came into my head.' He heaved a sigh. 'Look, we should talk about this, and much as I love them I'd rather not do it in front of the team. Christ, Zoe would be butting in with advice every five minutes and Malcolm would bloody hyperventilate.'

Ruth laughed. 'No, they could kill it off before it even got started. I could eat a bloody horse though. You ate half of my lunch, if you recall.'

'A couple of chips,' retorted Harry, affronted.

'Mm,' said Ruth, her eyebrow arched. 'So what do you suggest?'

'Well, there's a Pizza Express about five minutes away back that way. I suspect that's what Tom had in mind but he's been so busy playing Andrea bloody Dworkin he hasn't realised we've gone past the turn off.'

'But he might do an about turn and...' She saw the look on Harry's face. 'He wouldn't admit ...? Oh, okay. Well, Pizza Express it is, then.'

And with a smile that sent his heart doing somersaults, she curled her hand into his, and they turned and went back they way they had come.