Ruth ate as much of Harry's delicious pasta bolognese as she could before the urge to sleep overcame her. She declined his offer of a glass of wine.
"You go ahead, Harry. Don't let me stop you."
"I won't," he replied, smiling across the table at her as he poured himself a glass of red.
When she'd finished eating, Ruth asked did he mind if she went straight to bed. She knew it was probably rude of her to do so, but she was past caring.
Harry accompanied her upstairs, and he waited outside the bathroom door while she cleaned her teeth. When she reached his side – just outside her bedroom door – he took her hand, and leaned down to kiss her. It was a simple, chaste, but very gentle kiss. Ruth was glad he had felt the need to walk her to her bedroom door and kiss her goodnight, even if it was not quite 9 pm on a Saturday night. As she closed the guest bedroom door behind her, the feel of Harry's kiss still on her lips, Ruth was reminded of their one and only date, only a few weeks previously, and how Harry had kissed her chastely after he'd walked her to the door. She'd felt like a 16-year-old, anticipating a goodnight kiss from a boy she liked. Ruth's head hit the pillow, and after that she was dream-free until morning.
When she awoke the sun was up, but the house was quiet. She had no idea whether Harry was up, or still asleep. Donning her bathrobe over her flannelette pyjamas, she went to the loo, and then ventured downstairs, where all was quiet. She made herself a mug of tea, and sat at Harry's kitchen table, contemplating the situation in which she now found herself. When Harry had suggested she go home with him, she'd not thought too much about it. As she saw it, Harry was lonely, and she was in need of someone to look after her. They'd met one another's temporary needs, and that was all. The kissing and fumbling under clothing they'd engaged in at the Barber mansion had been an extension of those needs …... were they not?
Were they anything else, anything more, then maybe she was already out of her depth. She knew she was out of her depth …... out of her depth, and already in love with her boss.
Not knowing Ruth was already up, Harry lay awake in his bed, having slept as soundly as Ruth. He was lying under his duvet, wondering what he should say to convince her to stay with him for the day. Maybe asking her would be a good place to start. Having decided on that as a starting strategy, he got out of bed, went to the loo, washed his hands and face, and then put on a bathrobe to go downstairs. He'd heard her get up, and so he hoped that him being in night attire would not seem too familiar, too forward. What was he thinking? Less than 24 hours previously they had become very familiar and forward with one another.
Harry met her on the stairs as Ruth was making her way back to her room.
"Good morning," he said, a little embarrassed to be seeing her like this, with both of them in his house – although it had been his idea – and both in their night attire.
"Good morning, Harry," she said, stopping on the stair below the one on which he was standing. She looked down and away from him before she continued. "I thought I might get dressed and go home. I have to wash my clothes. I've run out of clean clothes, and …..."
"If you can wait an hour, I'll drive you home. I have to go into work for a few hours. I have some things to tie up from yesterday's operation."
"Do you want me to come in with you?"
Yes, he thought. I want you to come with me, and I never want to let you out of my sight again. "No, that's fine, Ruth," he said. "Get some rest. Spend the day doing nothing." He smiled at her in a way which left her breathless.
Ruth took a couple of steps past him, and then turned to face his retreating back.
"Harry," she said.
"Yes?" His face as he turned to look at her told her that he wanted to say something different. He wanted to say, `Please stay with me, Ruth'. He wanted to say, `Don't leave me here alone.' Ruth knew that the right thing to do would be to go home, and leave Harry to sort out what it was he wanted. Did he want company, or did he want to begin a relationship with her? Did he perhaps want both?
"What is it you want …... with me?"
Ruth hadn't meant to say that. Her mind had planned for her to ask him to visit her after he'd finished work, and maybe they could do something together …... have lunch, dinner, and …...? But her mouth had asked him that question, the question to which she really wanted answers.
"Do you have to ask?"
"Yes …... I do. I can't tell what it is you want."
Harry plunged his hands into the pockets of his bathrobe, and his eyes stared at her from three steps below where she stood. Very slowly he began to climb back to her level.
"I want everything, Ruth," he said huskily, standing too close to her, his face only marginally above hers, now he stood two stairs below the one on which she stood. "Everything you are, everything you have to give, to share …... and I want to share myself with you in the same way."
Ruth swallowed, finding it difficult to concentrate on what was being said ... what was really being said. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She fought an urge to lean against him - solid and immoveable - and be swallowed up in his embrace.
"Do you mean sex?" she blurted out.
Harry continued to stare at her, and Ruth continued to feel exposed, naked under his gaze. "Among other things. Sex isn't everything, but it's important. You do desire me, don't you, Ruth? Or am I misreading the signals? What happened yesterday in our room wasn't just us playing along according to our legends …... was it? Because it wasn't for me."
Ruth shook her head, unable to find the right words. Without thinking about it, she reached out and put her hand on his cheek, and rubbed her thumb under his bottom lip. God, she loved his lips! His skin was raspy with a day's beard growth. Somehow, for reasons she could not explain, Ruth found his day-old stubble to be incredibly sexy, the kind of sexy which had her knees trembling with the thought of it, and touching it, rubbing her thumb across it left her breathless. She reached up and placed her lips on his, carefully, tentatively, exploring his lips, along with all the possibilities now open to them.
Ruth opened her eyes as she was kissing him, and noticed his eyes open, and watching her as he kissed her back. She began to giggle, and she pulled away from him as she almost collapsed from her giggling. Harry reached out his hands, and slipped them around her shoulders, pulling her against him, and letting her laugh, cry, whatever she needed to do against his shoulder. He kissed her hair, once, twice, and then on the third time, Ruth lifted her head and intercepted with her own lips. She wanted Harry's lips on hers. That was where they belonged.
Which was when the kissing became something more. They were again back in their plush bedroom at the Barber manor, lying together on their large bed, exploring one another freely. Without thinking about it, Ruth slid her arms around Harry's waist inside his bathrobe. As she sought to get closer to his skin, she untied the belt, and pushed her hands under his t-shirt. She moaned into his mouth as her hands connected with his skin – the skin of his stomach, his sides, and then his back. God, he felt good. His body was so warm. When Harry took his mouth from hers and ran his lips down her chin to her throat, her neck, and then inside the collar of her pyjama top, she knew that were they to continue, Harry would not get to work.
Reluctantly, Ruth pulled away from him, removing her hands from his skin. He sighed heavily, his eyes still closed. "Ruth," he said. It was a cry, a plea for clemency.
"I want to do this, Harry. I want …... more …... but you have to go to work, and I have to go home."
"Later?" he asked, his eyes lazily watching her.
She nodded, and stepped away from him.
When Harry dropped her off at her house an hour and a quarter later, he leaned over and kissed her goodbye, saying, "I'll call you when I leave work. We can ..."
"Spend the rest of the day together."
"Yes," he said, pulling away from her, "and tonight as well. This time you'll not be sleeping in the guest bedroom."
Ruth nodded her assent, and got out of the car, and walked up the path to her house. She turned and waved to him as she reached her doorway. Being with Harry in this way no longer frightened or confused her. It suddenly felt so right.
It was much later that he rang her from work. He apologised for being late, but she said she understood, and that she'd been able to put all her washing through the washer, and clean her house, something she managed only rarely. What she omitted to tell him that the energy in her body from anticipating what the rest of the day would bring had given her the zing to be able to clean her house from top to bottom. It had never been so clean.
When Harry arrived to pick her up, he'd removed his tie, and suggested she bring with her the clothes she planned to wear to work next day.
"You might like to bring some clothes to sleep in too, Ruth, but I don't imagine you'll need them."
Ruth looked over at him as he spoke, and saw that he was serious. "If you need sleeping clothes," he added quickly, "I have plenty of t-shirts that are too tight on me."
After Ruth had put out enough food for Fidget to last a couple of days, Harry helped carry her clothes out to the car.
"I feel like I'm heading off on a dirty weekend," she said.
"No, just a dirty Sunday night," he replied, smiling down at her as she clipped the seat belt in place.
Harry decided that in order to stretch out the anticipation of their time together, it would be best were they to go out to eat. He suggested a casual Italian restaurant only two blocks from his house.
"We can walk there, Ruth."
"And we can hold hands as we walk," Ruth added. For some reason her thoughts were becoming her words. She may need to be more careful.
The restaurant was rustic, staffed by real Italians, with genuine Italian accents, and the food was exquisite. The lighting was just bright enough for them to be able to see their food, and summon a waiter from the other side of the room. It was casual, but romantic …... tasty, but not expensive …... and the company was as good as it gets. Ruth noticed Harry relax as soon as they sat down. The smile he gave her as he sat back in his chair was one she would later call upon when she needed to remember his face while they were apart – even if only for a few hours. After checking with her first, he ordered for her, adding a bottle of house chianti to their order.
"The chef here is a woman. She's wonderful. You'll meet her later."
The waiters knew Harry by name, and they all greeted him, and when he introduced Ruth to Fabrice, the chef's husband, the chef was called out from the kitchen to meet her.
"Viviana, this is Ruth. She's Harry's lady. I need you to make her the best gnocchi you have ever made. We need Harry to bring this lovely lady back here. What do you say?"
"Consider it done. My dear Ruth, I have my very own sauce for the gnocchi, and I've been saving it just for you. It's my grandmother's recipe, passed down to her from her own grandmother. If you don't like it, you don't have to pay for it. Isn't that right, Fabrice?"
Ruth laughed at the attention of Viviana and Fabrice. They made her feel welcome, special, just as Harry had made her feel special by bringing her here for dinner, somewhere he ate regularly and was known. Harry smiled as she looked across the table at him, her eyes shining. At that moment, he wanted to tell her he loved her, but there would be time enough for that later.
When it was time to order dessert, Ruth put her hand on her tummy and shook her head.
"I can't, Harry. I can't fit it in."
"You have to, Ruth, otherwise Viviana will be offended. You have to try her Tartufo di Pizzo. As she tells it the recipe was passed down to her by her father's mother, herself born in Calabria."
"She probably bought it at the market," Ruth quipped, not really meaning it.
"I'll order a serving, and we can share it," Harry said, smiling at her with his eyes. He could not remember the last time he'd felt this happy.
When Harry and Ruth left the restaurant, Fabrice and Viviana saw them to the door, and kissed them each on both cheeks. They walked down the street hand in hand, their bellies full, and their faces smiling. They talked little, each knowing that they were walking back to Harry's house, and that meant that their lives were about to change.
A/N: Yes, I know I'm dragging this out, and that is cruel, but things get quite ... er, personal in the final two chapters. I imagine Harry & Ruth would want to build the anticipation before they did anything.