Still might continue with this for a wee bit longer
Two, delicate kisses; one candlelit dinner; a series of small, intimate, clandestine gestures; and one overwhelming, nerve shaking, all encompassing snog.
That, in a nutshell, was a fair summation of the week that followed beef bourguignon.
It was a week that had seen Harry return to work, struggling on occasion with his bandaged hands.
A week that had seen Ruth, seemingly no longer in need of hiding her affection.
A week in which Harry Pearce, for the first and only time in his life, had visited the service psychiatrist. For as accustomed as he could ever be to the nightmares and flashbacks, he knew that this was his last chance of a life and quite honestly, he would do whatever it may take.
On the grid they had given little away but it was clear to all that they had reached some sort of understanding.
In the small kitchen behind the forgery suite, Ruth was making tea. Earl grey tea. And a coffee for him.
She felt him there before she saw or heard him.
He was behind her.
He stepped close, very close.
There was still enough of the illicit, the exciting and the unexpected, to make her feel as she had years before.
"Anything for me, Ruth?" he breathed into her ear.
"Besides the coffee?" she turned towards him, his mug cradled in her hands, "I left it black ... the milk's off."
"Past its sell by?"
He radiated a playfulness, yet an intensity, that drew her like a magnet and she was suddenly and powerfully grateful that it no longer made her want to run from him.
What was this thing he could do to her, just standing there, close but not touching?
"Talking of which," he continued, "would you like to come to mine for dinner, tonight?"
"You're cooking?
"In a fashion," he smiled.
"Yes, Harry, I'd love to."
"Good."
He didn't move but just kept gazing into her eyes, a molten stare.
She felt the heat rising.
"Shall I put this on your desk?'" she asked of the coffee.
"I'll take it."
And his hands slid around hers, so they were in effect both cradling the cup.
She looked down, watching his fingers tantalisingly moving over hers. She liked the way their hands blended together.
And then her eyes shot back to his.
"The bandages…?"
A smile edged his lips.
"Back to full capacity, Ruth," he whispered.
And with that he took the coffee and turned away.