Sunday afternoon Harry packed her car up.

"Harriett dear" her father called from the doorway.

"I wasn't going to go with out saying good bye to you Freddy"

"I don't want you going with saying that I hope you and James…."

"I've had it up to here!" she was cross, "Bloody everybody hopes: wedding bells, a ring on your finger, babies! children! 'you and Mr Dempsey', 'Jim and yourself dear', 'this time next year'…,"

"I'm sorry" Freddy said

Harry relented "I know, but don't you think I hope too"

"But you are dating, aren't you?" her father asked

"I don't know" Harry rubbed her fingers through her fringe "How amazingly stupid is that" she said "I don't think so…" Freddy used the waiting technique and Harry turned to him "Why do you ask?"

Freddy considered a few reasons and chose one to tell "Your friend Annabelle came to se me in hospital; we were chatting about Wagner when she said you and James had been at Kenwood…"

"– how on earth could we be dating if I don't know, if we haven't said? You can't slip into a relationship without knowing it can you?" the question was rhetorical and Freddy let it rest that way

"What do you hope Harriett?" he asked instead

"My hope is so much simpler. I hope that we get the chance to talk properly, I hope he will tell me that he loves me or at least cares or that we can date…" she paused again "….or are dating?" she added with some confusion as she recalled some of their recent times together. She shook her head: this past month she had done more 'couple things' with Dempsey than she had on many official dates – the case was beginning to build. She smiled as she could almost feel the touch of his thumb on her cheek, and hear him sing into her ear.

"I think he already has" her father pointed out

"I'm not so sure" Harry shook the dreams out of her imagination; looked at Freddy and smiled at him, everyone else might drive her mad but she owed something to her father "Next week we're off on an undercover to Ireland" she informed him.

Lord Winfield looked a little nonplussed "As Mr and Mrs Dempsey" Harry added "We'll see where that leads us" She kissed her father on the cheek, and getting into her car passed a comment on him 'getting out of the wheel chair and starting to walk again because sure as hell she wasn't hosting next years event'

On Monday morning she walked into the office. "How did your weekend go Harry?" asked Chas

"Good" she looked over at Dempsey "Very good thank you"

Dempsey followed her over to the coffee machine; from behind he could whisper into her ear. "I've discovered a new name for you Tiger"

She felt his breath warm her neck, she kept bent forward, he was caressing her neck with his finger tip and that in itself thrilled her. She waited.

"Guinevere" he whispered. She blushed slightly and turned to look at him

"Well that would make you Lancelot" she looked into his eyes. 'The trouble was' she thought 'she still couldn't tell for definite if he was or not.' She handed him a mug of coffee and made her way back to her desk.

He sat at his, put his feet up on her desk as usual and hummed 'I've got you under my skin' Harry gave up trying to pretend to work and sat back and they watched each other. The rest of the office missed the moment; there was no crackling tension, sparks or chemistry about to explode but a radiating warmth that made them both glow within. Dempsey smiled and bringing his feet back down he leaned across and whispered "Next year we'll have a swing band outside entertaining in the afternoon and we'll get a Jazz band in fromNew Yorkfor the ball." He jumped off his seat "Chas, you got some work me?"

Spikings came out of his office

"Dempsey!"

"Boss"

"I've got plenty of work for you: Since you lost Yancy and the Raymond Brothers"

Harry looked up sharply

"You can go and find me Patrick Tierney…"

"We've talked to Inspector O'Malley" Makepeace butted in

"And so have I, I've arranged for the whole thing to be brought forward a week – that should keep you busy Sergeant"

Makepeace looked across to Dempsey who shrugged his shoulders

"Well" said Spikings

"Sir?" asked Makepeace

"The arrangements still need arranging so I suggest you start 'arranging' Sergeant" Spikings shut the door to his office.

Next story "The Luck of the Irish"