Carries straight on from the last chapter...

"Touché," he whispered, with a wink of his left eye.

"Naturellement," she laughed, pulling the flute from his hand and finishing both their drinks with flair.

"What was that for?"

"I was rectifying the situation."

"Golden rule of Spycraft; stay one step a head." He leant forward towards her, and she was completely unsure what she expected him to do, yet she did know she hadn't expected him to snake an arm behind her and bring out the bottle from the small table.

He took a large mouthful and held the bottle teasingly out of reach.

"How old are you?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"How old are you?" he countered.

"It's rude to ask a lady."

"And round and round we go. A lady wouldn't steel champagne and neck it back, Ruth."

She let her head fall back as a laugh tripped from her throat, and when she righted her head, his face seemed suddenly much closer than it had been.

She could see a small drop of champagne making its way down his chin and, without thinking, reached up and caught it on her finger. She sucked the finger in her mouth, enjoying the tang of the sticky, sweet nectar as her tongue swirled over the tip of her finger.

Harry almost forgot how to breathe as he watched her; it was such an erotically tempting move on her part and he felt himself leaning into her, aching to join his tongue with hers and share the experience. He groaned as she removed her finger and licked her lips. Giving into temptation, he lowered his head to hers, aching to feel her soft lips under his.

"Room Service!" The shout was accompanied by a loud knock on the door and they both sprung apart like guilty teenagers that had been caught out by their parents.

Ruth was the first one to move and practically ran to answer the door, affording Harry the chance to not only clam down slightly but to also have a stern word with himself about his behaviour. He was determined to use this week to get to know Ruth better on a personal level but that didn't mean that he should try and put his tongue in her mouth the very first night they got here. She deserved to be wooed and he vowed not to rush into anything; the last thing he wanted was to pressure her into something and then have her regret it.

Mind and body now fully back under his control, he walked into the room and set about peering under the large silver lids that covered both sets of food, whilst Ruth busied about signing for the food and tipping the waiter. For the next ten minutes they barely looked at one another or spoke, both suddenly unsure of the ground they were on and determined not to do anything to alarm the other one.

"How's the food?" He was aware of how lame a question it was but it was the only thing he could think to say to her that was completely innocent.

"Good, thanks. How's your steak?"

"Nice and rare just how I like it."

"No wonder your cholesterol is so high, all that red meat."

"Have you been reading my files again Miss Evershed?!"

"Um, no. I wouldn't dream of reading your personal files Harry." She tried to sound outraged at the accusation but they both knew that she made a habit of keeping tabs on him. It was something which both comforted and frustrated him, especially when his lunch time sandwiches now came on brown bread instead of white and didn't have any butter on.

He had never acknowledged that it was her doing it, just grumbled occasionally and ate it anyway and she had never admitted meddling but, since she arranged the sandwich delivery, she was the only suspect.

"I'm surprised I was even allowed to order it; someone seems to have started tampering with my food orders lately."

She looked a little sheepish for a moment but noticed him smiling softly at her, before managing to gather her wits and counter his inquisition with her own.

"Were you jealous? Earlier? About the champagne?" she asked. She willed him to say yes, knowing that if he did she would more than willingly bring back the moment that had been interrupted by the room service and lean in to kiss him.

"Jealous? Don't change the subject."

"Jealous, yes."

"N-no. Leon's just not…he's not the type of bloke I'd want to see you involved with. Shady past."

"Oh, so it's only my welfare," she muttered, and took renewed interest in a piece of bacon hanging out of the lightly toasted bread. She picked at it, pulling bits of it out and popping it into her mouth piece by piece.

"Yes. Well, no. I don't know."

"Neither of us ever does."

"I'm not trying to play games, Ruth. If I'm going to upset you, I'd rather just go." He was already standing and she wasn't sure what to say to make him stay that wouldn't result in a conversation she didn't feel ready to have.

"What are the plans for tomorrow?" she asked, quickly, thinking of nothing else which wasn't completely loaded with meaning.

"I think Adam wants us all to scout out bars in the morning, which could turn out to be my own personal hell." He saw her face drop. "If you're around, though, I'll look for you when I get back."

"I'd like that."

"Goodnight, Ruth."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Once inside his room, Harry was unable to stop the thought that there were possibly only twenty paces and two doors that separated her from him. He wondered what effect her being so close would have on his sleep and decided that he would either spend the night awake torturing himself picturing her sleeping or else it would fuel his fantasies of her to epic proportions. Neither option seemed incredibly relaxing to him. Unknown to him Ruth was still sat on the edge of her large bed, looking longingly towards the room door and hoping that some semblance of sense and clarity might occur to him, and he might sweep in and throw her roughly backwards, bringing her top up and caressing his hands across her smooth…

She stood, suddenly, aware that her hands had been messing with the hem of her top and her fingers gently stroking her stomach as her mental encounter had taken over her, and went into the bathroom, splashing a generous handful of cold water at her face, and shaking her head so that droplets splashed the mirror.

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