"You made it out alive then," Eddie observed as they got back into his car.
"It was a close call," Dempsey replied, "Take us somewhere more friendly, will ya?"
He needed somewhere a lot more intimate where he could continue with that rather promising banter they had begun and gear the evening in the right direction.
"I'll drive towards the city," Eddie answered.
Dempsey sat back in his seat and glanced out of the window thankfully as they moved through, and past, that shoddy looking area.
"Hey, can ya find us an Irish bar somewhere?" Dempsey asked on impulse.
"Yeah," Eddie replied. "I think I have an idea where a good one is actually having thought about it. Great idea," he concluded.
"You alright with that?" Dempsey asked Harry, feeling suddenly in high spirits.
She smiled at him. "Chasing after your roots Dempsey?"
"To be sure, to be sure," he came back with a grin.
Around twenty minutes later, Eddie pulled up again and pointed them in the direction of a pedestrianized area where, in a courtyard, there were a couple of pubs, shops, cafes and a restaurant.
"This is more like it," Dempsey commented as they headed through the cobblestoned archway and into the courtyard.
He spotted the green and gold of the pub sign immediately, with the golden Celtic harp next to the lettering, "The Tipperary." Since the weather was still considerably warm, there were people sitting outside the café bistros and the pub itself. On their way towards the pub, Dempsey spotted a small shop displaying a huge range of novelty socks, ties and other accessories for men. He shot out his arm and encircled hers, pulling her to one side momentarily. She glanced at him in confusion.
"Great shop eh?" he said, stopping to look at the window display.
She turned to him, a smile hovering. "Yes Dempsey, very nice."
"So, if you were gonna buy one of those pair of socks," he pointed to the window, "which one would ya choose?" he asked.
They had every colour under the sun; he'd got this in the bag.
"Those are men's sock," she pointed out.
He frowned. "Yeah but, if they were women's socks?"
"I don't really…"
"C'mon, just go with me on this will ya?" he cut in impatiently.
She watched him for a moment before turning to peer into the window. "Now, let me see. Hmm, I think… yes, I'd buy a pair of those lovely multicoloured socks," she said, pointing to a striped pair.
He glared at her. "Great. Ok, let's go."
She tried her hardest to keep the laughter from building up as they finally entered the pub.
It was everything one would expect of a typical Irish pub with memorabilia covered walls, comfortable seating and friendly Irish bar staff.
"Guinness?" he asked Harry with a challenging look when they reached the bar. "Or doesn't the lady drink Guinness?"
"I have been known to actually," she replied haughtily.
"Two Guinness it is then," he said to the barwoman, turning back to watch Harry's reaction.
She smiled at him, seemingly unperturbed.
They took their drinks and went to find a seat. Harry made for the exit, assuming that they would sit outside where most other people were sitting, but Dempsey redirected her towards a more comfortable and intimate area of the pub with large sofas and soft upholstered bench seating. He clearly had his eyes on one of the sofas, however, she make a stand and placed herself decisively on one of the benches.
He'd have to settle for that. He sat next to her, and again, slid an arm along the back of the bench behind her.
"So, where in Ireland was your grandmother from?" Harry inquired, taking a sip of her Guinness. It was an acquired taste, and she wasn't quite sure that she had acquired it yet, but she wasn't going to let Dempsey know that.
"County Galway," he answered, amused at the sight of Harry with a pint of Guinness in her hand.
"Have you ever been there?" she asked.
"No. I thought about it once or twice when I was over here but… ya know Spikings, wouldn't give me enough time off."
She nodded and thought for a moment, trying to decide how to broach what was now on her mind.
He wondered what she was thinking.
"Dempsey," she began.
"Yeah."
"Talking about Spikings…" damn it, she tried not to smile but a smile gave her away.
He smiled in return, a knowing smile.
"Will I find out tomorrow what was said in that meeting of yours?" she finally asked.
"I dunno," he replied.
Hmm, okay.
"I suppose it all ended well for you both then," she said, hinting for more answers.
"Suppose it did," he came back, giving nothing away.
"So do you know where Tony is then?" she went on.
"I would guess he's back in New York," he answered.
She finally gave up the presence and came right out with, "Look, you might as well just say, is there any way I can convince you to tell me what he said, or not?"
He considered that before turning towards her on the seat, his gaze becoming intense, whilst still remaining playfully amused. "Well, there is definitely one way."
She halted with her drink halfway to her mouth, and turned her head slowly towards him to check if she had read his comment right. He held her gaze, wondering… waiting for her response.
"I don't want to know that much!"
He laughed. "You dunno what the 'way' is."
"Hmm, I can guess," she responded.
"Sure you don't want to know how it could be done?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm sure," she replied, taking a sip of her drink and replacing it on the tabletop in front of them.
He stared at it for a moment, a plan formulating in his head.
"Tell ya what," he began, "If you can finish that pint before I finish mine, I'll tell ya what he said."
She turned to him with surprise. "What's the catch?" she asked suspiciously.
He grinned.
"Dempsey, I don't know what you think you'll get in return but…"
"Just a kiss," he cut in. "I want one kiss from you sergeant, nothin' more. Now, I can't say fairer than that, can I?"
Her eyes scanned his face. He was being serious! Why would he ask for that?
"Well, you could say fairer than that by just telling me," she pointed out. "Besides, what do you want a kiss for?"
"What for?" He thought that was obvious. "'cause it's sexy," he grinned.
She shook her head at him. "You're incorrigible."
"Think about it," he said, still grinning. "I'll be right back."
And then he stood up and headed across the bar.
She did think about it. It was ridiculous. She couldn't just kiss him like that if he won. If she was going to kiss him, which she wasn't, but if she was, it would be on her terms, not his. But then again, she really didn't want to be seen to turn down a challenge either. There had to be a way she could have her cake and eat it. Okay, desperate situations called for desperate measures; she jumped out of her seat and rushed over to where a young barman was collecting glasses from off the tables. Smiling sweetly at him and offering him a five pound note out of her handbag, she explained what she needed him to do.
By the time Dempsey returned, Harry had raced back to their seat and was waiting anxiously, praying that her plan was going to work.
"You decided yet?" he asked as he approached their table.
"Yes actually I have. I accept the challenge," she said.
He was shocked. He had really expected her to turn him down with some sort of witty comment.
"Alright," he said, taking his seat and picking up his pint, almost triumphantly before he'd even won.
Her eyes flicked to the glass collector who was, luckily for her, paying attention and waiting for his cue.
She held up her glass.
"Ready?" he asked, his blood pumping with adrenalin.
"Ready," she confirmed.
"One, two, three," he said, rising the glass to his open mouth and pouring and gulping for dear life.
Harry also began to drink, but she was far more focused on Dempsey, how alert he was to his surroundings, and the glass collector who was approaching. The further Dempsey got down his pint, the more he was only conscious of how much Guinness he had left to drink and Harry saw her chance, motioning to the glass collector. He sailed past their table, whipping her half-filled glass away and handing her an empty one. She held it near to her mouth, as though she had just finished drinking, and replaced it back on the table loudly just before he'd finished, announcing that she'd won.
His eyes flicked towards her, a frown of confusion developing. He gave up on the rest of his drink and lowered his glass.
She grinned at him.
"Are you kiddin' me?" he said.
"What?" she replied innocently.
"Aint no way you drank all that so quickly, no way," he shook his head. "I don't buy it. Don't know how ya did it, but you cheated somehow. Harry, look me in the eyes an' tell me ya didn't cheat just now," he said.
She took a breath to speak and hesitated before saying mysteriously, "A lady never reveals her strategies."
"Hmm, you ain't no lady," he sulked, "A lady don't cheat."
She laughed.
Still not satisfied, Dempsey glanced around for more inspiration and found it at the bar in the form of two tattooed men locked in an arm wrestle.
Harry had followed his line of vision.
"Oh no," she said.
"Oh yes," he countered.
"I hardly think it's fair," she pointed out.
"No? Well you're luckyI'm," he stressed, "feelin' fair. You can use two hands; I'll just use one." He held it up and placed his elbow on the table ready. "At least ya can't cheat this time."
She narrowed her eyes at him. How was she going to get out of this one? Oh God, there was really only one way she could think of.
Here goes.
"Two hands?" she reconfirmed.
"Yep, two hands, the same prize to the winner."
"Okay." She placed one hand in his grip and the other firmly over the top of her first hand. For her plan to work, she just needed to hold her ground for as long as she could.
"Ready?" he said.
She nodded.
"One, two, three…"
As soon as she felt him put pressure on her arms, whilst holding him back, she wriggled across the seat towards him. He glanced down at the seat and back up at her. Their thighs were almost touching.
"This aint exactly the right position," he said.
She shrugged, daring him to make something of it.
He wasn't really adverse to that position though, particularly when she edged even closer, leaning in towards him. What was she doing?
Moving slowly, closer and closer, he became fascinated by her impending nearness, but it was when her face got even closer and her eyes began to flirt with him, fluttering up to his and then down to his lips, that he started to buzz with pure excitement. Maybe he was going to get his kiss early? She liked things on her own terms after all.
Nah, what was he thinking? She was going to stop soon, but it was okay because then he was going to win anyway.
But no, she showed no signs of stopping as she lifted her face to him. Before he knew it, she was close enough for him to smell her perfume, feel the heat of her, the energy emanating from her. And to his surprise, although he knew this was simply a ploy to win the competition, her eyes visibly softened and intensified when she found that she had nowhere left to go without pressing her lips to his. Instead however, her face remained where it was, tantalizingly close. But he was starting to become confused with this game. The signals were all mixed up. Her face was becoming decidedly flushed and her lips parted slightly as she exhaled. She looked flustered, almost breathless, and not in as much control as she perhaps should have been, considering that this was her game. How much of this was part of her plan, he wondered. But he wasn't going to move or take those exquisitely pink, glossy lips so near to his. He wasn't going to do it, although it was fast becoming the only thought in his head, but no, he wouldn't. He didn't need to. He'd win that kiss fair and square from her soon.
But those lips of hers, hovering in front of his, drew his attention again against his will. He forced his focus away, moving them up to her eyes. That could have been a big mistake though because then their gazes collided and, at such close quarters, the reality of what was happening hit them both.
Something was changing, filling his body with an energy he wasn't certain he could control. She drew back then, only by millimetres, but her eyes darted from his and it seemed to him as if, without warning, she was unsure of what to do. He watched as again she contemplated the whole of his face and the moment seemed so significant suddenly. Suddenly it all felt real, no longer a game at all, and what strengthened that idea even more was the fact that in that second, he realized that neither of their arms had any tension in them whatsoever.
She must have also realized this almost the exact same time as he did because she caught his arm before he could manage to move hers to the table and legitimately win that kiss he so badly wanted.
Straining against him, she realised that she was still in the same dilemma though. She needed to up the ante.
This time she crossed her legs before moving one, slipping it between his and sliding her calf suggestively up and down against his leg. His eyes widened, but to her dismay, he reacted by using his free hand to place it on her calf and run it slowly, heartstoppingly upwards. In pure panic, and in a bid to beat him, she removed her top hand and placed it straight on his thigh. She had seen how he'd reacted to this earlier and her only hope now was that it would affect him enough to give her the advantage. Her gamble paid off. He couldn't stand it anymore and was going to either lose the damn arm wrestle, or else grab her, throw her across the bench and jump on top of her there in the middle of the pub! Luckily for him, she was in just as much trouble as he was and she finally backed down by suggesting,
"Let go of my hand and let's call it a truce."
He thought about it for not much more than a second before he thought his trousers were going to spontaneously combust, and then he answered,
"Okay, let go after three…One, two, three."
To both of their relief, they released their hold at the same time and withdrew their hands… all of them!
Harry was finally able to divert her attention away from him, and said, with her breathing far too erratic for her own liking,
"Think I'll go and get some more drinks."
She only got a few steps away however, before she heard him say wryly, "Think ya should, cause I aint gonna be able to move from here anytime soon."
Unable to stop herself, she turned to glance over her shoulder at him with a smile.
"Wicked woman!" he added, shifting on the seat uncomfortably.