Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate them. This story is taking on a life of its own, it was never intended to go beyond the phonecall. Hope you like this chapter, probably not as much fun as the previous ones, but as dinner is now on the cards I'm afraid I felt that Tessa needed to be taken out (not literally obviously)... Please r&r...

Booth snapped his phone shut and dropped it into his jacket pocket. He let out a slow breath; that had been some conversation. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to clench his fist and shout 'yes!' Just play it cool, he thought, it's just dinner... between friends... He realised that a few people were staring at him, he wasn't sure if it was because he'd been entertaining them with his phone call in the middle of the store or because of the nervous smile he knew was plastered on his face.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then glanced at his watch, 17:45 - time to leave if he was going to get home, changed and be on time for dinner. As he walked towards the exit, hands in his pockets, he started to click the button on the top of his pen unconsciously. The same mantra repeating over and over in his head: do not over-analyse; it's just a meal; between friends; like many other Fridays over the last couple of months. He ignored the part of his mind that told him that the lack of a case together made this event decidedly different; and he certainly wasn't going to think about the fact that they had always met on neutral territory before, at a bar or a restaurant, never at one of their homes.

As he stepped outside, he put his shades on and ambled towards the car. The sun was glinting off the paintwork and he could see the smudges from a week of dusty city driving. Well, that took care of Saturday morning anyway. The FBI liked its agents to present a certain image, a clean car, along with a suit and tie was part of the deal.

He swung onto the car seat and squinted at the traffic. Even in the 15 minutes or so he'd spent in the store it seemed to have got a bit quieter. It was still a frustratingly slow journey home though, especially as Booth was looking at his watch every couple of minutes. By the time he pulled into his own street it was near enough half past six. He parked on his driveway and was out of the car in seconds. It took him a moment to find his keys, but he was soon standing in his cool, dimly lit entranceway dumping a pile of mail onto a table. He looked at his watch again - twenty five to seven.

He walked into the living room and automatically turned on the TV to the news channel. As he hung his coat and jacket behind the door, he listened to the headlines and reflected that working for the FBI had turned him into a news junkie - 24 hour news was like a giant, globally accessible early early warning system. He turned the TV off again, wondering if Temperance was a news addict.

He felt a smile tugging at his lips again as he thought about dinner and wondered what she was going to cook. Her invitation had sounded like a spur of the moment kind of thing, but surely she had to have planned it? He found it difficult to imagine Temperance inviting someone round for a meal the same day without having thought about what she was going to cook. He reprimanded himself internally, what did he know! Dr Brennan had proved that she could surpise him enough times in the past - like with Charlie the puppy-dog overnight guy - just the memory of her description of 'his great thighs' set his teeth on edge.

He walked towards the stairs and saw he had two messages on his answerphone. He stopped and pressed play. "Congratulations you've won a holiday in the Bahamas. Just press 0 and..." Booth jabbed the delete button. The answering machine beeped and then a familiar voice started to speak, Booth sighed and leant against the wall listening.

"Seely, it's me, I got your messages. Look, I was wondering if I could call round on Sunday and collect the rest of my things? There are a few things I need... and well... maybe we could talk?" The voice trailed off and then spoke more decisively. "Or not, if you prefer, but I do need my things. I assume that you are not away with work this weekend. Call me."

Booth shook his head. He and Tessa had officially split a couple of weeks ago although they had only seen each other twice the month before that. He had expected it to be painful, as they had been together for a while, but if he was honest all he really felt was relief that it was over.

He looked at the two cardboard boxes by his hall table. A pair of gloves and a couple of packs of photos poked over the side. The remaining evidence of Tessa's presence in his life, boxed and ready to go. He'd offered to drop the boxes off a couple of times and was getting fed up of looking at them. Well, it looked like Tessa had finally got the hint.

He stared at the phone again, surprised at the feeling of resentment that Tessa's message had roused in him. He thought for a moment and realised that he was angry that his past was interrupting an evening when he wanted to be thinking about the future. He blinked and decided he was getting ahead of himself again, but one thing was for damn sure, he wasn't ringing Tessa back tonight.

He did call a cab company and booked a ride for just after half past seven.

He took the stairs two at a time and closed the blinds in his room before pulling off his suit and leaving it lying on the bed. His ensuite was one of his favourite features of the house, it was done out in cool blues and whites and had an amazing frosted glass panel in the sloping roof above the shower. He dumped his crisp white shirt in the washing basket and started to lather up for a shave. He somehow managed to avoid nicking his skin and looking critically in the mirror he thought he'd got rid of most of his stubble. His underwear joined his shirt in the basket and he padded into the shower. He could feel the warm water washing the grime of the day away and he started to relax. As he washed the soap off he looked critically at his body, he was feeling pretty fit, but a few more loops around the park on his lunch time runs wouldn't go amiss. He barely registered the scars that across his taut stomach and the indentations on his shoulder, one courtesy of his army career and the other from a disastrous FBI operation.

He was soon standing drying off his hair with a vigorous rub of the towel and working out what to wear. Last minute dinner was not formal, so jeans? But he needed to look as though he'd made an effort, so a smartish pair? He pulled on a pair of low slung black jeans and pulled fitted black t-shirt from the drawer. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his brown leather jacket. He hesitated in the doorway and then decided that aftershave was in order. He wondered if Temperance would appreciate that the 30 seconds he'd spent actually thinking about what to wear was something of a record - he was more of a 'Grab at random. Is it clean? Then it's fine' kind of guy.

The clock in the kitchen told him that he had half an hour to kill before the cab came. He started sorting through his mail while drumming his fingers absently on the kitchen table. He wondered about having a beer while he waited, but decided he against it. To his relief to the cab was actually on time and he picked up his keys, wallet and phone and was out the door almost as soon as it parked outside.

He gave the driver directions to Temperance's house and stared idly out the window. As they drove along, he watched people walking their dogs, kids riding their bikes and a couple of stores shutting up shop for the evening. Suddenly Booth gripped the armrest - he hadn't brought a bottle of wine, and worse, was he supposed to bring flowers? He tapped his knuckle against his teeth as he thought. He knew there was a nice store at the end of Temperance's street, but would they still be open? Should he get the cab to stop at the next store he saw? He kept an eye out, but every store they went past seemed to be closed. He couldn't believe his bad luck.

They were already in Temperance's neighbourhood, when he saw a little shop with a display of flowers. He waved at the driver to stop and leapt out asking him to wait. He stared at the flowers - should he get some? Would it seem too intimate? But surely it would be rude to turn up with only a bottle of wine? But what to get? He had no idea what flowers she liked. What if she suffered from hay-fever? Booth was unaware of the elderly sales assistant eying him with amused smile.

"Can I help you sir?" she said.

Booth jumped as she spoke, "Uh, I guess. I need some flowers."

"Indeed. May I ask what the occasion is?"

Booth's eyes widened, "Umm, it's dinner. With a friend. Well a work colleague, who's a friend..." he trailed off.

The assistant nodded reassuringly, in her line of work tact and diplomacy were as important as the ability to hand-tie a bouquet in two minutes. Not many customers would actually buy something if you laughed at their first date nerves, "Perhaps these tulips and freesias, sir? They're very pretty, but not too gaudy, and I wouldn't recommend roses for an informal dinner date."

Booth looked at the pretty pastel blooms and nodded. "Great, they'll be fine." He didn't add that in his view flowers were flowers. The assistant wrapped them in green tissue paper and tied them with raffia. Booth paidand gathered them up awkwardly. The assistant shook her head as he left, wondering why such a handsome young man was looking quite so nervous. Hopefully his young lady would appreciate the gift.

Booth got back in the cab and in another five minutes he was at the end of Temperance's road, right outside the store he remembered. He paid the driver and got out waggling the flowers from side to side. The store had a good selection of wines, including some chilling in a fridge. Booth picked out a dry white and after paying started to walk slowly towards Temperance's door.

Her doorstep was neat with lavenders plants in pots on either side. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fact that his heart was racing as he rung the door bell.

(TBC)