Harry feels incredibly nervous. He'd stood in front of the open doors of his wardrobe, wearing nothing but his trunks, trying to decide what to wear. He has no idea what Ruth would like to see him in, so he decides on chinos, a sky blue V-necked jumper, and a lightweight jacket. He hopes she'll approve of the way he looks, and that she won't guess how much trouble he'd gone to. He'd shaved, shampooed his hair, and used a touch of his usual cologne.

He stopped at an off license near Ruth's house, and spent precious minutes deciding what kind of wine to buy. In the end he chooses a New Zealand brand – Spy Valley Chardonnay. He hopes two bottles will be enough. They have work tomorrow, after all.

Ruth opens the door to him, and stands aside to let him inside. She is dressed in blue jeans and a fitting red jumper with a scooped neck. He glances quickly at the top of her cleavage, something he never sees when she's wearing work clothes. Her hair is curly around the ends, like she's just stepped from the shower, and she smells beautiful – like a summer garden. He wishes he could scoop her up in his arms, and carry her upstairs, and to hell with talking.

"You look nice," she says self-consciously. "You're all dressed up."

"You look lovely, Ruth," he replies. You are lovely, he thinks. The house is warm, so he removes his jacket, and Ruth indicates a coat rack just inside the door where he can hang it.

Harry had deliberately chosen to wear a jumper which clings to his torso, and one glance at Ruth shows him that she appreciates his choice. He notices how her eyes stray to his throat and stay there, and then she quickly looks away when she sees that he has noticed her interest in his body. He smiles at her before she turns and shows him to her living room.

"I can order our food now if you like."

"That would be good," Harry replies, "and I'll open one of these," he adds, holding up one of the bottles of wine.

They are sitting side by side on the sofa in Ruth's sitting room, each with a glass of wine in their hands. They talk about work, because it is a safe subject, and also because they have barely exchanged more than a few sentences in the eight days since the evening at Dieter's. Harry tells her about his meetings with several JIC members, all of whom had initially been disturbed by the events at Havensworth, and Ruth talks about her intel report, as much for something to say as a need to share the information with Harry. He'll be reading her report in the morning, so she has no need to tell him anything. It's just that they each have missed talking to the other about work, and so they have a week's worth of catching up to do.

Harry notices how Ruth uses her hands when she speaks. He is fascinated by their movement. They are delicate hands, but seem powerful when she uses them to illustrate a point. He only takes his eyes from her hands in order to watch her mouth, and then he wonders how it would feel to kiss that mouth – not a quick peck, like after they'd been to dinner, but a proper, full-on snog.

He notices her watching his hands as he speaks, and then her eyes wander to his neck and throat, and eventually to his mouth. At least this time they are both on the same page.

It is only after they have eaten their Chinese dinner, and are again sitting together on the sofa with their second bottle of wine that Ruth mentions the events of a week ago.

"I suppose I should explain what happened at Dieter's …... what was going on with me."

"I'd like to know, Ruth. I know that you thought me rude."

"In retrospect, I believe you were telling the truth, Harry."

"You're talking about that night at Havensworth?"

"Yes. When we were at Dieter's, the thing you said which angered me the most was when you said that I was also after more than a drink and a talk. You're right about that, and that's what made me so angry. I wanted to …... blame you alone for desiring me. I wanted you to be the predatory man, while I was the innocent victim."

"You were never that, Ruth."

"I know." She looks down at the glass of wine in her hands, and lightly swirls the liquid around in the glass.

"I shouldn't have said …... what I said to you. It was …..." He hesitates.

"Confrontational."

"Yes. It was …... even though it seems it was also the truth."

"I've been wondering ever since that night when I ran from you -"

"Which night is that, Ruth? There were two."

"At Dieter's. I was so angry, and I wanted to blame you, but I was an equal participant in what happened."

"Yes, you were. Can we agree on a truce? I couldn't stand another week like the last has been. It's been …..."

"Truly awful," Ruth finishes his sentence for him.

"Yes." Harry is watching her, hoping for some sign that they can move a little closer to one another. When no such sign comes from her, he decides it is time he lay himself open a little. "Ruth ….." he begins warily, his eyes on the one glowing bar of the gas fire.

"Yes?"

"I would really like it if we could be more than just colleagues. I know that I want more than friendship from you, and that I have feelings for you. I also believe you feel similarly."

He turns to look at her, but her eyes are focused on her wine glass. He waits for a couple of minutes until the silence becomes uncomfortable. He is just about to qualify his statement when Ruth speaks, her voice a monotone.

"I've been waiting so long for you to say those words, Harry. You have …... no idea how difficult it is to try to read your intent."

"And here I've been, thinking that I wear my heart on my sleeve."

"I'd never accuse you of that, Harry. You're very closed off, especially at work, and work is where we see one another most."

"I can't go around declaring my feelings for you at work. It's not the place for it."

"I know. I've run that last conversation we had at Dieter's through my mind over and over, and all I could see was you being rude to me. Now you say you have …... feelings for me, then it takes on a different hue."

"I still don't know how you feel about what I've said. You've managed to avoid saying anything about it." Harry turns towards Ruth, and watches her struggle with her answer. He wishes she'd look at him. He wishes that so much that he reaches out and with his finger under her chin, he carefully turns her face so that she looks at him. "Tell me, Ruth. Tell me what you think of what I said about having feelings for you."

He watches her watching him, her eyes wide. He is reminded of a small animal caught in a trap, and immediately regrets putting her on the spot in this way. Ruth then does something which has his body vibrating with emotion. She lifts her hand slowly until she grasps his hand in hers. She takes it from under her chin and drops her lips to it, kissing the skin on the back of his hand, and then his palm. Her lips are soft and warm, and he's sure he feels the tip of her tongue touching his palm, sending shivers through him, ending up in his groin, where he feels a familiar stirring.

With no warning at all, and without saying a word, Ruth then lifts her lips, and takes his hand in both hers, and places it – palm down – on her chest, just above the neckline of her jumper, where she holds it against her skin. He can feel her heart beating as quickly as he's sure his own must be. With difficulty, he lifts his eyes from her chest, and his hazel eyes gaze into her blue pools.

If this is an invitation to kiss her, then he's not about to let it go unanswered. With his hand still against her chest, he leans towards her, and places his lips on hers. The kiss is very gentle and careful – just in case – but after a few moments he feels her lips part beneath his.

This is their first proper kiss. After a short time in which they explore inside one another's mouths, they slide closer together on the sofa, and Harry slides his free arm around Ruth's waist, drawing her closer. He feels both her hands at the back of his neck, and feeling bolder than he has in a long time, he slides the hand she placed on her chest under the fabric of her jumper until his fingers are underneath her bra. As much as he wants to push further, he is also a gentleman, and decides that this will be enough for one night. He can touch the flesh of her breasts, but is not about to push his fingers any further. That will be for another night.

Eventually, the need to take a breath has them pulling out of the kiss so that they look at one another, their eyes glowing.

"That was wonderful," he breathes, taking his hand out from underneath Ruth's jumper.

"You really know how to kiss, Harry."

"Good," he says, not knowing what else he can say about that.

"I've been thinking about something," Ruth says, sitting up, and so no longer leaning against him. "I'd rather like it if you stayed the night with me. In my bed."

For a moment, Harry is unable to speak.

"Ruth …... you've taken me by surprise."

"I don't mean for sex. I don't think we're quite ready for that yet. At least, I'm not, although I suspect you are."

"Are you sure, Ruth?"

"Never surer. I know you didn't bring sleeping things, and I haven't clothes to fit you, but …."

"I can sleep in my underwear. It will cover the bits of me I'd best keep to myself." As soon as he speaks, he wonders whether he has gone too far. He watches Ruth's face, and a slow smile crosses her face.

"It's important your bits are covered," she says, smiling. "I might be tempted were they not."

He smiles back, relaxing into this idea that they sleep together in Ruth's bed.