Harry turned and unlocked her front door, saying,

"I'm afraid we will have to search for seats; everything is rather topsy-turvy in here while I'm redecorating."

As she entered her house, she shrugged off Dempsey's jacket and reached to flick the light switch near to the front door. She was surprised, however, to find that no light was produced.

"That's odd," she commented, utilizing the light from the outside of her house to find her way to a nearby table lamp, only to realize that it was also failing to turn on. "I don't believe this; I seem to have no power."

Dempsey walked through the hallway to check the light switch in the kitchen ahead.

"No, you definitely aint got power. Where's your fuse box?" he asked, "I'll take a look."

She closed the front door to keep the rain and cold out, but found that this only made the house darker. Having moved halfway across the hallway by then though, finding her way back seemed as difficult as forging forward.

"It's in the garage," she replied, now unable to see Dempsey at all though the darkness.

"Dempsey, where are you?" she asked.

"In the kitchen," he shouted back, having moved since they last spoke.

"Wait there for a minute," she replied, feeling her way to the kitchen door. "I'll come with you. My electrics have been a little temperamental lately." She strained to pick out any light in the Kitchen but couldn't work out where anything was at all. "Where are you?" she asked, fumbling through her bag for her mobile phone.

"Here," he said, taking hold of her shoulder and frightening the living daylights out of her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"You startled me," she said, taking hold of his hand.

"D'ya have a torch or somethin'?"

"Somewhere, but I can't remember where I put it," she replied. "We can use the light from my phone though," she said, pulling it out of her bag and holding it up ahead of them. It didn't help very much, but at least they could now see enough to avoid obstacles. "The garage is through here," she said, leading Dempsey across the kitchen to a door which connected it with the garage.

Dempsey and Harry didn't take long to realize that, not only did they not really have enough light to figure out the electrics, but the problem didn't seem to be a simple one.

"I'll take another look tomorrow for ya, if you like, when it's light, but ya might need to get in an electrician," he informed her.

"Could anything else go wrong tonight?" she sighed, heading back into the kitchen, mobile phone still in hand. Dempsey followed, locking the connecting garage door behind him. "Don't answer that," she added, not wanting to tempt fate. "Well," she said, turning to him and glancing around the half lit kitchen, "I'm not going to be able to offer you that hot drink after all, sorry."

He shrugged.

"But... I could offer you a towel at least to dry off," she went on, holding up her phone again to move out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "Maybe the rain is dying off."

He followed her careful progress up the stairs and paused at the top when the light from her phone suddenly disappeared as it turned itself onto standby. She opened a door however, and the outside streetlight, which was shining in through the window of the room, provided him with some sense of orientation.

He moved to the doorway, recognizing the room immediately from earlier; it was her bedroom. As she searched through one of the cupboards for towels, his mind was immediately thrown back to their encounter earlier that day in that same room... he watched her reaching up into the cupboard, his eyes hovering on the bare expanse of her back and the outline of her figure in that black evening dress. His thoughts then returned to the events of the evening: the intimacy of their dance, the secret foot play under the table, the glances and flirting. Nights like that shouldn't end, not with two people apart anyhow.

Finally, she closed the cupboard door and held out a towel for him. He stepped into the room to take it from her.

Harry took her own towel and began to dry her hair, her heart thudding at the look on Dempsey's face when he had stepped into the room. They both stood there for a while in silence, drying off, with Harry wondering what to do next. Could she really send him back out again? But then again, she doubted the wisdom of allowing him to stay.

Dempsey was very tempted to make some kind of suggestion at that point; he really didn't want to go back to the guest house, and it had nothing to do with the rain. Damn, it had been so hot between them earlier; it was arousing him then just at the thought of it. And by the way Harry's eyes had darted away from his, he was certain that she too was thinking about what had happened between them in there that afternoon.

"Is it still raining?" she finally said, walking to the window to glance outside. Oh no, it was indeed still pouring down. She gazed thoughtfully out at the night sky for a moment before turning decisively at last and saying,

"Dempsey I've been thinking, if it's dangerous for me to be walking around tonight, it must be twice as dangerous for you. The last thing I need is to wake up to your dead body in my car!"

He liked the way this conversation was going. Dempsey was getting more excited by the second.

"We have a problem though," she went on.

Damn.

"I don't really have anywhere for you to sleep. The spare room is empty now and the lounge furniture is all piled up in the middle of the room ready for when we decorate…"

Oooh, that's a problem that can easily be sorted. Dempsey glanced around the half lit room, his eyes hovering on Harry's bed.

"I suppose we could try to move everything off the sofa for you."

Nah, that was a bad idea, a real bad idea.

Before Harry set her mind on that decision, Dempsey decided to cut his losses and settled for,

"I'll take the chair." He gestured to a soft seated arm chair in the corner of the room.

She frowned. "It won't be very comfortable."

"Are you kiddin'? When I was in New York, I fell asleep most nights on my office chair. It was probably a lot less comfortable that that," he pointed out.

"Did you ever get any sleep in New York, Dempsey?"

"Not much," he replied.

She tutted. "I have a blanket somewhere, I'll find it for you," she said, returning to her bedroom cupboards.

Well, if he was in the same room as her, there was at least a minute shred of hope.

"Here," she said, handing him a blanket, "I'm going to use the bathroom."

She turned then and began fumbling in one of the cupboards again before having found what she was looking for and leaving the room.

Dempsey threw the blanket on the bed and stripped out of his damp shirt and trousers, grateful to shed the uncomfortably wet clothes. Retrieving the blanket, he unfolded it and settled himself on the chair, covering his frozen body.

As he waited for Harry to return, he heard her voice from the other room and strained to hear what she was saying.

"…It's Harry. Where are you and why is your phone off? I'm worried about you. I'll phone you tomorrow. Take care…"

Hmm, she must have been trying to contact Richie. Dempsey figured that perhaps he hadn't done himself any favours by kidnapping Harry's boyfriend. Still, what else would he have done, under the circumstances?

In the bathroom, Harry changed into the nightslip which was unfortunately the only nightwear she had in the house. Hmm, after their earlier encounter with her wearing it, she could do with something a lot less revealing right now. Well, at least the room was fairly dark.

Entering her bedroom again, she was relieved to see that Dempsey had already settled himself in the chair. This didn't stop her feeling ever so slightly guilty though, slipping under the fluffy duvet on her spacious double bed.

"Well, night," she said.

"Good night Harry," he replied.

She turned onto her side and found a comfortable position for her head on the pillow. Then all was silent.

She lay, waiting for sleep to come. She waited some more. Then she turned onto her other side, hoping that the new position would bring sleep. The problem was that her body was still cold. She pulled the duvet more snugly around her and waited some more. She swore that she could hear Dempsey breathing! She wished he would stop doing that so loudly. Now she was too aware of him lying in that chair. Damn it, and why was she still so cold?

Then a thought crept uninvited into her head, 'if she was still cold, how much colder must Dempsey be after having walked back with no jacket on, and now with only the covering of a thin blanket?' Was she being unthoughtful and unkind, making him sleep on that chair? He had leant her his jacket, leaving himself with no source of warmth. And he had walked her home, which he hadn't needed to do, just to make sure that she was safe. Okay, but what could she do about this situation? She could hardly have him sleeping in her bed!

She twisted again under the duvet in search of a more comfortable position. Right, she would just lie there and not move a muscle; she would have to fall asleep eventually. Go to sleep! What the hell was wrong with her? Sleep, sleep, sleep. She was going to sleep if it killed her!

"Damn it Dempsey," she said suddenly in frustration, "I feel bad leaving you to sleep on that chair! Are you warm enough?" she asked.

His eyes flew open then. He had been attempting sleep, but was too aware of her tossing and turning to achieve it.

"Hmm, I aint exactly hot here," he admitted, suddenly full of hope.

She growled, throwing the duvet back from her. "Right, if you want to, you can sleep in here with me…"

His heart raced.

"…but," she stressed, "may I make this clear, this is an invitation for you to sleep more comfortably, nothing else, alright?"

"Sure," he replied, jumping up off the chair. "I get ya Harry."

With huge reservations, she moved across to one side of the bed, making room for him.

He got in beside her.

Maybe this was a mistake. Now her heart was thudding; sleep was probably going to be even more difficult now.

"Goodnight Dempsey," she said again, turning away from him.

"Night," he replied.

Silence lasted for a while before Dempsey broke it with,

"Harry."

Oh no, what now?

"Hmm?"

"Did you and Richie fight?" he asked.

She paused briefly before answering, "We had some cross words," she admitted.

"Did ya make up?" he went on.

She thought for a moment. "I will see him tomorrow and arrange for the return of your car."

Damn, he had thought that maybe they had broken up.

It was some minutes later before he spoke again.

"Harry."

"What Dempsey?"

"I was kinda thinkin'…"

"What were you thinking?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, ya know last night…"

"Hmm."

"We slept together on the sofa, right? An' there was no room, so we hadda sleep closer. Well, there aint really no difference between that and now. And… well, I'm still kinda cold. There's only really one way to get warm," he reasoned.

She hated herself for the smile that crept across her face.

"Dempsey, you should have been a lawyer, not a cop," she laughed.

Right, he was risking it. Reaching out for her, he slid one arm underneath her pillow and the other around her waist, pulling her back into him.

She yelped, and he was worried for a moment that he had misunderstood the situation, until she exclaimed.

"You're freezing!"

Phew.

"Just wait a bit Harry, we'll both soon be warm."

In more ways than one if he didn't behave himself!

She felt totally encompassed by him, and she hated to admit it, blissfully comfortable and warm now. His hand lay at that moment, on her stomach, his arms holding her tightly to him. Okay, maybe this was acceptable. She needed to make one thing clear though.

"Dempsey, if your hands move to anywhere else apart from where they are now, I'll chop them off."

He chuckled. "Oooh, so violent Harry. What will you do after that? Gateaux torture?"

She laughed. "Shut up and go to sleep."

As they lay there, Harry's treacherous mind slipped back to that morning, and Dempsey's erotic dream… his hands moving up her thigh… Dempsey's mind was well and truly on what it would have been like if Harry had given in to him earlier and they had had mad passionate sex before the evening out.

He slowly became aware then of Harry's breathing quickening from the hand that he'd placed on her stomach. Oh God, it made him want to take all her remaining clothes off and kiss every part of her to see just how much that would affect her breathing! He couldn't risk pushing his luck that night though, but this didn't stop his mind from pondering every way possible of trying to affect her without it being construed as sexual.

Harry was just beginning to think that maybe he had fallen asleep, when she felt him move his arm. If he was going to push it, she would tell him to get out of her bed.

He lifted his free hand though and made the fairly innocent gesture of sweeping back her hair with two fingers. His eyes caressed her neck and he just couldn't stop himself from brushing those fingers gently along the length of it.

She should say something.

Then he moved his hand again, trailing his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm.

"Dempsey," she said with a warning in her voice.

"What? It's only an arm," he replied.

Hmm, but it was the 'touching' that was worrying her…and the tingles that it was creating.

"I gotta say Harry…" he whispered in her ear. Damn, that always got to her. His hand was caressing her arm still. "… you have the smoothest skin of any woman I've ever known."

If it weren't for the sense of awe she could detect in his voice, she would have interpreted that as a line. This was getting dangerous.

"Dempsey, don't make me force you back onto that chair," she appealed.

His hand stilled then in mid stroke. Then it returned to her stomach and he nestled into her again.

"Alright," he conceded, but then added, "Don't ya just love the good old British weather?"

She laughed. "Go to sleep Dempsey!"