Chapter 25

Marshmallows With Your Medicine

"You ready for hot chocolate?" Dempsey asked, wandering into the kitchen.

"Mmm, you're on! I don't have any nutmeg though," she warned, remembering the sprinkle he had used when last he made it.

"Cinnamon?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Don't think so."

"Okay, so we gotta bring out the big guns. Scotch? Brandy? Rum?"

"All of the above but is alcohol wise?"

"It's medicinal. Just a shot ain't gonna hurt. An' I'm gonna need skewers, preferably of the wooden variety."

Harry held a finger up. "We have skewers! There's a load left over from a barbeque I gave last Summer."

"Okay, so you set up the medicine and grab us a handful of skewers, I'll bring the marshmallows and hot chocolate through soon as I'm done."

"Oh and I don't have any of that squirty cream you had either. Does it matter?"

Dempsey was taking a fresh, unopened bottle of milk from the fridge. "You told me you had a can of cocoa, right? And sugar?"

"Definitely."

"Then we're set. No problem." He shooed her away with a gesture. "Go! I got it covered."

"Next one along," Harry told him, guessing it was a saucepan he was rummaging for in one of the bottom cupboards.

"I knew that!" and he flung open the next cupboard door.

Harry gave a secretive little smile – it wouldn't do for him to know how warm and happy she was feeling right now.

Back in the sitting room, Harry placed a bottle of brandy on the coffee table and beside it, the half full packet of 12" wooden skewers she had managed to locate. She curled up on the sofa again and flexed her toes in appreciation of the warm comfort she was indulging in. A hot milky drink was traditionally the last step before bedtime, only conversely, she didn't want to have to go to bed for a while yet, things were far too pleasant to be drawing to a close so soon and besides, she was wide awake.

Several minutes later, Dempsey wheeled though the door holding aloft two large blue and white china patterned mugs. He back-heeled it shut behind him.

"I think you'll find this to be one of my finer efforts. See, it's all in the consistency – once you got that right then creating that whipped up frothy head is child's play."

"Creating?" Harry questioned humorously.

"Yeah, creating," he defended, putting the mugs down and uncapping the brandy.

She watched as he slowly trickled a generous amount of the amber coloured liquid down the inside rim of each mug, thus avoiding the disruption of the cocoa dusted froth.

At last, he picked them up again and offered her one. "Haaaa?" he asked, seeking her approval. "Haaaa? Does that smell good or does that smell good?"

Harry had to admit it smelt good enough to bathe in for a couple of hours. Languishing in the creamy, alcohol infused bubbles would be wonderfully delicious.

Rather than sitting beside her though, Dempsey went over to the fireplace and put his drink down on the hearth.

"Okay, let's get toastin'."

He dragged out the bag of marshmallows he had stuffed into one of the deep front pockets of his bath robe.

"You wanna bring me those skewers over here?"

Harry obediently hopped off the sofa and passed them to him.

"Am I allowed to toast or is that all part of the caveman thing?"

"Sure you can toast but it's kind of an art form."

He ripped open the bag.

"It's what?" Makepeace scoffed.

"It's true! Gotta get it just right or the whole thing goes up in smoke. Here…" He handed her a skewer, implying she should sit down beside him which she did, resting on her knees.

Harry put her mug on the other end of the hearth and watched him thread a white marshmallow onto a skewer followed by a pink one and then another white.

She liked his hands. Although not quite the long, sensitive fingers of the pianist he'd ribbed her about earlier, they were surprisingly refined she had noticed. His fingernails were always clean but then, he did have a tendency to bite them but his fingers were slim and somehow interesting and she knew she would be content to watch them employed in whatever task they were occupied with for hours. What made it all the more captivating was the way the firelight flickered over then to highlight every sinew and tendon, the skin turning from dark to pale against the backdrop of the navy towelling bathrobe. He sat cross-legged with his lower legs exposed, the material gathered together modestly in his lap and again she was reminded of his boorish locker-room behaviour and her glimpse of The American Dream when they first met. At the time she had been more annoyed than anything else but if that situation arose now… But it wouldn't; it wouldn't happen now because ironically they had become too close for it to happen again.

"Hey!"

She was suddenly conscious of the fact that he had been talking.

"Sorry?" she apologised, diverting her gaze to his face.

"Okay, I'll admit marshmallows maybe ain't that exciting but you could make an effort to humour me here."

"I didn't think to pack you any pyjamas," she blurted, her mind still on his bare legs and beyond.

He gave her a side-long look. "C'mmon Princess, you know me well enough to know I'm not a pyjama-wearing kinda guy. Last time I had on a pair of p.j's, they were footsies!"

"Footsies!" Harry laughed. "I'm sure you must've looked very cute in them."

"You should see how cute I look these days."

He waggled his eyebrows and Harry understood the implication.

"It has to be said Dempsey that your bedroom apparel really hasn't done a lot to enhance your charm of late. Bloodied t-shirts and hospital gowns really don't do it for me."

"So what does? Just for future reference."

"Pink or white first?" Harry asked, skirting his question as she pulled the bag of marshmallows towards her. "Does it bear any particular relevance, artistically speaking?"

"Just do what comes naturally."

"You know I prefer structure."

"You might surprise yourself."

Harry smiled sublimely and without taking her eyes from his, plucked a marshmallow at random from the bag.

"Whoa, marshmallow roulette!" Dempsey mocked.

She pushed the plump white confection onto the skewer she held.

"Two more, babe and you ain't allowed to look."

Their heads were close together – too close, but neither could tear their eyes away from the other.

"I can cope with that. I quite like surprises," she murmured. Her hand reached out for another and she fed this onto the stick.

"Me too."

The third one was pushed into position and then Harry raised her hand up between them to lick the powdery coating from her fingertips.

"Done." She dropped a carelessness into her tone in the hopes of covering her felicity.

What was she doing? Just what the hell was she trying to do to him?

Dempsey caught up the hand holding the skewer and lifted it for them both to see.

"Well would you take a look at that," he smirked quietly, viewing the three white marshmallows. "Three in a row wins you a Cupie doll, lady."

"Oh I do like consistency."

He grinned. "Yeah. All's right with the world, huh?"

"So are you going to show me how it's done?" She nodded her head towards the fire, breaking the eye contact.

"There's nothin' I'd like more," he growled pruriently. "Watch and learn, Princess"

He extended the hand holding his own skewer towards the fire and there was a lively sizzle the second the flames licked over the sweetmeat.

"See the trick is to keep it movin'," he said as he rotated the stick. "Just a second too long and it burns but when you have it turnin' like this, the outside caramelises and you get a crispy kinda shell."

The sugar was indeed bubbling around the surface of the marshmallow and they had already turned a pale golden colour.

"And inside," Dempsey continued, "is all warm and gooey."

He removed the skewer from the flames, a smile spreading over his face as he viewed the finished product.

"Perfectamundo!"

He held it out to her, just a bit too high for her to take it from his hand and before she'd allowed herself time to consider, she was leaning forward, trying to find the best way to tackle biting into the first marshmallow in the row.

"Careful, they're real hot," he warned.

"As hot as those chillies?" She lifted her eyes to his impudently.

"Hotter." Dempsey held her hair back with his free hand. "Wouldn't want you to burn those lips."

After first blowing gently, Harry bit down delicately through the crispy outside and tore at the gooey, sticky marshmallow with her teeth, laughing. "God, it is hot!"

She rolled the sticky creaminess around her mouth as it cooled.

"You like?"

She nodded. "Very sweet."

He offered her the skewer again and she took the other half that was just about to fall only this time, her left hand covered his to hold it steady. "It's nice."

She ran her tongue over her lips to remove the sticky residue.

"Lemme get that," said Dempsey and brushed his thumb across her lower lip.

But then his hand curved to cup her jaw and his eyes became so incredibly gentle that Harry was spellbound. Suddenly the dream came back to her; sitting in her chair at work with him standing over her, his eyes boring down into her, taking her breath away and making her cry out with unimaginable pleasure as she… She swallowed hard in an attempt to eradicate this mental amative.

But then the warmth of his fingers disappeared abruptly.

"Better drink your chocolate before it gets cold," he told her quietly.

Cold? It was ice she needed right now… or him.

Son of Spikings - You are exempt from reviewing this chapter... far too 'girly' for manly Fiacre!