Oh for the happy, heady days of Havensworth when life was full of hope, possibilities and sexual tension.
She put the phone down and sighed.
He was sat at the hotel bar, another shirt and tie having a drink at the end of the day.
She wished she had more courage.
The courage to ring him right now.
The courage to have not fled the night before ... in the corridor.
But the look on his face. The desire in his eyes.
She shook her head and tried to rub the heat from her face, the heat that inevitably rose up whenever she thought about that moment.
And as she watched him sitting there, she felt sorry, sorry for all her mixed signals, sorry for his confusion, sorry for the lonliness that he personified just sitting there.
It was that sorrow and regret that made her get up and leave the room.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," he said, masking the surprise that she was even there.
He waited, expecting some message, something about the conference, some intel.
"May I?'
She nodded to the stool beside him.
"Er...yes," he stuttered, surprised once more, "can I get you something…?
She smiled slightly, glancing at the barman who had slid into place.
"Large G and T, please."
Harry was confused.
She had rejected him after their dinner date, avoided him where possible on the grid and positively ran from him in the corridor but most of all, as far as he knew, she didn't drink G and T.
And now here she was, he glanced at his watch, at 11.30pm, asking to join him for a drink. If this was personal, not professional it didn't bode well.
The glass was placed before her.
She took a sip that became two and then three.
"Thirsty?"
"Parched," the glass rose to her lips once again and then it was empty, "And to be honest I needed it in order to say what I'm about to say."
"Same again," asked the attentive barman.
"Please, only larger," she handed him the glass.
Harry was looking at her, waiting. Waiting for the final 'I can't do this' she had obviously come to deliver.
But she said nothing.
When the drink arrived she eagerly began to consume it once more.
He thought about trying to argue his case but then he hung his head and prepared for the sentence.
"Harry…"
He had taken comfort in the bottom of his own glass, swirling the contents around hypnotically.
"Harry."
"It's okay, Ruth. You've made yourself clear enough before now. I'm not exactly a teenager who needs letting down gently."
"Can you remember that far back?'
He glanced at her and saw the playful smile lurking at the corner of her mouth.
"Only when the mists of time clear sufficiently, Ruth."
She took another drink. The glass was empty again.
She waved the barman away as he approached. It was enough to say what she needed to say.
"Harry…"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
He nodded sadly, "you don't need to …"
Her hand slid across the bar and found his.
"I was wrong."
"Wrong? About what?"
She hesitated. Maybe she did need another drink. No, she just needed him to understand what she was trying to say.
But he just looked at her.
And he wasn't the only one, she could see through the mirror behind the bar. There were a couple of the Foreign Secretary's security detail looking on, clearly aware of the intense, if confused, conversation that was going on at the bar.
She moved her hand away. This was a mistake.
"Ruth?"
"I'm sorry," she said again, but this time she was on her way out.
"Ruth…"
The security detail looked at him. He glared and turned back to the bar.
"Double," he snapped at the barman.
Ruth sat on her bed.
Why was she doing this here? Wrong place, wrong time.
But wasn't it always.
She ran her hand through her hair. She wasn't being fair to him, she knew that but she was caught. Caught between dream and reality.
A knock on her door failed to distract her.
Harry turned away shaking his head wondering what the hell he was doing.
No, this needed to be sorted out, otherwise who knew how long it could go on for.
The second knock roused her.
She opened the door blankly.
They stood, each staring at the other, neither speaking.
Down the corridor the lift binged and laughter rang out as the doors slid open and several people began to emerge.
Harry stepped quickly into the room, closing the door behind him.
Like a startled deer Ruth's eyes were wide with surprise.
"I don't think this is a conversation to be had across the threshold, do you?" he said. more statement than question.
"No," she answered quietly.
She turned away, it was all too much. The gin had most definitely gone to her head and now here was Harry standing in her room, demanding to have a conversation, wanting answers.
And she couldn't blame him.
He waited but there was only silence.
"Harry … I …." her sentence tailing off into the ether.
"What? What is it you're trying to say, Ruth."
"I'm sorry … but you need to go," she moved past him to the door, ignoring the confusion and frustration on his face.
As she reached for the handle and opened the door, his palm banged down hard against it and it snapped shut.
She looked up at him.
"Ruth…." He whispered huskily, "what do you want from me?"
"To leave."
But he didn't leave, he only leant closer, his mouth almost touching her ear.
"Not until you tell me what you were wrong about."
She couldn't say it, he was too near, she was too hot.
He moved slowly so that he was looking at her, his eyes insistent, his expression set and determined. Yet still he was so very close.
"Ruth, it's nearly midnight but I swear I'm going nowhere until you talk to me."
She realised there and then that there was no way she could talk to him about this and so she resolved to do the next best thing.
She kissed him.