She drinks the last of her martini and looks up to see him coming through the door, unable to bite back her smile as his eyes connect instantly with hers. Biting her lip, she picks up the cocktail stick from her glass and slides the olive into her mouth, watching as he makes his way across the bar, taking in his freshly combed hair, black suit, grey shirt open at the collar, a hint of a smile on his face. He slides onto the stool next to her and she turns slightly, pushing her hair behind her ear and stifling yet another smile at the hungry look he gives her. His gaze drifts to her collarbone, to the deep neckline of her black dress, to the silver necklace nestling in just the right place. She sighs expectantly.

"Scotch on the rocks for me please, and a martini for the lady here." He gestures to the young man working behind the bar.

"Somewhat presumptuous of you...but thank you." She pushes her empty glass away and rests her arms on the bar, mostly to resist the urge to touch him, knowing it's way too early in their game for that. "You're American?"

"You're beautiful." His eyes roam across her face, lingering on her mouth for a beat longer than a stranger perhaps should. "And yeah, New York. You know what they say, if you can make it there you can make it anywhere."

"Mm, so I've heard." She returns his gaze, matching his lingering look with no difficulty. "Are you just visiting?"

"Nope." He shakes his head, doesn't take eyes off her. "I, uh...kind of live here now."

"Kind of?" She frowns, unable to resist pushing him just a little on that one. "How does one kind of live here?"

"No, I do live here. I guess what I mean is I got sent over here to work, for a year originally and then...a year went by, then a bit more, and then nobody tried to send me back, and I…" He leans in closer and she can smell him, his familiar aftershave coming up faintly through his shirt. She feels a wobble in her knees and she's glad she's sitting down. "I fell in love with...the city, so now it's home."

"It's a hard place to leave, once you're in love, isn't it?" She wonders if he's even aware of the slight nod he gives in response as she shifts closer, her arm resting against his on the bar. "Do you get homesick? New York seems like it would be a hard place to forget."

"I miss it sometimes, sure." He runs his thumb slowly down her little finger, a tiny touch but one that sets her nerves on end. "But I have everything I need here."

"Everything?" Her heart pounds at the combination of his words and the softness in his eyes.

"Everything and more, yeah." He smiles at her, telling her what she needs to know. "So...at the risk of sounding like a sleaze with a cheesy pick up line, what's a beautiful woman like you doing drinking alone on Valentine's Day?"

"Well, I could ask the same of you…you're a handsome man, you're wearing that suit very well, you're confident, charming...yet here you are. All alone in a bar, on Valentine's Day, just like me." She leans even closer into him, distracted for a second by the arrival of their drinks, but turning her attention instantly back to his eyes. "It's different for men though. You could probably sit here and drink in peace all night without anyone trying to pick you up. Which would be entirely their loss, of course, but still, you see my point."

"I do, but who says I'm trying to pick you up?" His voice drops lower and sends a shiver running through her. "Can't a guy see a pretty woman across the room and decide he might want to talk to her?"

"I was beautiful just a moment ago." She smirks at him, enjoying the spark that appears in his eyes whenever she teases him. "Have I been downgraded already?"

"Definitely not." He reaches for his drink, her eyes follow his movement, fixating on his hand, his fingers. "Can a guy not spot a drop dead beautiful woman at a bar and come and say hi?"

"Well, he can, I suppose…" She takes a sip of her drink, watches as he does the same, the silence between them almost humming with anticipation. "But usually if the decision is made from across the room, it's based purely on the physical, on the notion that the woman looks like someone the man would like to fuck. Only then does he decide to talk to her to make sure she's not a total bore before he offers her a sweet roll in the hay."

"Well, well..." He smirks and she returns it, her eyes drifting to his mouth, her brain thinking of what she might like him to do with it. "You look like butter wouldn't melt in that angelic mouth but you sure as hell shoot straight from the hip, don't you?"

"I do." She nods, shrugging faintly. "I have to, really, in my line of work. Although, actually...I think I always have."

"I like it, it's very sexy...so what if I cut right to the chase and said I was trying to pick you up on this Thursday that just happens to be Valentine's Day." He reaches for his glass, his hand brushing hers, the hairs on her arms reacting instinctively. "What would you say?"

"I would say I'm very flattered but I have someone at home." She runs her tongue slowly across her top lip, her gaze flicking down from his eyes to his mouth. "Someone I love more than I ever expected to. Someone who has me never wanting to even look at another man again, quite honestly, let alone pick one up at a bar."

"Beautiful, honest, and loyal...I have to say that whoever you have at home is a lucky guy." He picks up his glass and takes a drink and she can't help staring at his throat as he swallows and looks back at her. "For the record, I have someone at home too. She's gorgeous, she's smart, and she deals with my crap like nobody else. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me, no doubt about it, and I don't even want to think about what my life would be like without her."

There's such a sweet sincerity in his words as he stares intently at her that she almost forgets the game they're playing in her urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless. She reminds herself that she's an undercover police officer for a living, takes a gulp of her martini, and gets back on track. Crossing her legs as she leans back on her stool, she watches his gaze predictably shift to her thighs.

"So if you're not trying to pick me up…" Glancing quickly around them, she lowers her voice, shifts hard into her undercover mindset. "Do you really think it's entirely appropriate to be looking at my thighs like you can't wait to get your head between them?"

"I was just admiring what you're wearing. It's a nice dress." He reaches forward and traces the hem of her dress with his thumb, sliding his fingers under it, tickling her thighs. "I mean, sure, it doesn't hurt that you really do have great legs."

"Oh, well…thank you." She uncrosses her legs slowly, her breath catching when she feels his fingers move higher under her dress. "You know what I think?"

"What's that?" His eyes widen when she runs her foot slowly up his calf.

"I think you should tell me what made you walk over here and buy me a drink, and I think you should also tell me what you think we should do when we've finished these drinks." She gestures to their half empty glasses without taking her eyes off his. "Do I say thank you for the martini and goodnight? You go home to your bed, I go home to mine, and that's it? Or…do we not?"

"I really just figured I'd grab a quick drink after work and I came over here because you're the most beautiful woman in this place, by a mile, and I had to talk to you." He's confident, pulling his fingers out from under her dress and running them through his hair. "What I want to do is take you to dinner, talk to you some more, then I'd like to take you home and-"

"I don't do this." She stops him suddenly, biting her lip, her foot still pressed against his leg. "I just...wouldn't want you to think I spend my evenings sitting in places like this waiting for handsome men to buy me drinks, I mean, I don't-"

"I wasn't thinking that." His hand cups her chin and he runs his thumb across her bottom lip. "Have dinner with me, princess."

Standing up, she finishes her drink, the final mouthful sliding down her throat with a pleasant burn. When she turns to pick up her bag, he's watching her, blatant desire in his eyes as they roam the length of her dress, and she doesn't think it's a hunger that will be satisfied by just dinner. She really hopes not.

"Okay, why not." She murmurs, throwing her jacket over her arm. "I'll have dinner with you."

They eat largely in silence, sneaking glances at each other, and brushing hands across the table. Every time their eyes meet she gets closer to just grabbing him and dragging him out of the restaurant, out onto the pavement, into a taxi, against a wall, anywhere, just somewhere they can be alone and she can get her hands on him, can run her lips all over him. It's not the first time they've done this, the role playing, the off-duty undercover game, but it still surprises her how much of a turn on it is. It's not because they need to spice things up, far from it, it's more that these evenings add a different layer to things, make her feel sexy, and in turn they seem to do the same for him. She loves the way he looks at her, like they're seeing each other for the first time all over again. The conversations about work, the stupid disagreements, the errands they never seem to have time to run, the dry cleaning that never gets picked up when it should…all of it melts into the background, and they're just James and Harriet for the night, nothing to think about but each other.

She turns down dessert, tells him she doesn't eat it often (which of course he's well aware of), and definitely not when she's wearing a cocktail dress as fitted as the one she's wearing tonight. She can't control the way she blushes when he tells her how sexy she looks in it. It's clear he's feeling the same urge as she is to get the hell out of the restaurant, but she knows the longer the build-up, the sweeter the pay off, so she agrees to coffee, picking up the cup as soon as the waiter brings it, savouring the smell.

"Coffee, not tea?" He raises an eyebrow across the table. "Which one of us is the American here?"

"Oh, I'm very open to American habits." She smirks and tilts her head back slightly, very aware of his eyes on her neck, of the flush moving up and colouring her cheeks. "I probably shouldn't drink it this late though. I'm going to be wide awake all night…"

"Quite a risk you're taking." He runs a finger slowly down the back of her hand, his touch so feather light she can barely think straight. "I guess you'll just have to think of a good use for all that energy."

"I guess I will. Maybe I can go for a run, or go dancing, or...hmm, I'm sure there's something." She puts the coffee down and stands up, moving to stand beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder as she bends to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to the bathroom…you should pay for dinner because we need to leave."

"We…we do?" She hears the arousal in the way he stutters, and it makes her want him even more than she does already.

"Yes, we do. I want you to take me home." Her lips brush against his ear and a sigh falls from his lips. "I want you to see what I have on under this dress…and then you're going to take me to bed and do all manner of filthy Valentine's Day things to me."

She smiles as she stands up, not missing the darkness in his eyes, the look of pure longing he gives her as she turns to walk away, and she hopes he can't see the faint tremble in her knees as she crosses the room.

It's cold when they step outside and the February chill bites hard as she pulls her jacket around her. She momentarily regrets opting for bare legs until she remembers how much quicker and easier it will make things later and her regret is instantly reversed. He steps towards the kerb but she takes his arm and pulls him back, moving the two of them around the corner and pushing him back against the wall. She can't explain it, and God knows she hates being cold, wouldn't usually opt for it by choice, but she has to touch him and it has to happen now.

They have a perfectly warm and comfortable home barely a fifteen minute taxi ride away, yet here they are against a cold brick wall on a freezing February night, her fingers in his hair, her tongue in his mouth, and his hands roaming across her back. It's ridiculous in its absurdity, yet it's somehow so unexpectedly sexy that she can't help herself. She pushes her thigh in between his legs, pressing her body tightly against him, moaning into his mouth when his hands tug roughly on her hair.

"Cab, Harry. We need a cab." He's the one who breaks first, and his forehead rests against hers, his breathing fast, uneven.

It's the first time either one has spoken the other's name all night and it ignites the heat already simmering deep inside her. She grabs his hand and drags him to the edge of the road, grinning when a taxi screeches to a halt almost instantly.

"Well, I'm glad I wore this dress." She smirks up at him. "Instant taxis at our disposal, it seems."

"It's a nice dress, honey, but I think it's your legs doing all the hard work." He grins, and when he opens the car door and waits for her to climb in first, she can feel his eyes on her.

She gives the driver the address and leans back, crossing her legs and sliding her hand across the seat, bringing it to rest beside his, deliberately not touching despite her fingers tingling in their urge to grab his. She grins when she sees him curl his fingers into the leather. It's good to know the slow burn of the evening has him in the same state as her, and she glances out the window, willing the familiar streets to pass by more quickly.

When they come to a stop in their driveway, she laughs at how fast he hurls a pile of cash at the driver before he opens the door and pulls her out with him. She steps in front of him as they reach the door, determined to get in ahead of him, feeling his hand slide around her waist as they move into the hallway. Throwing her bag onto the floor, her jacket too, she threads her fingers tightly through his and pulls him into the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink?" She waves vaguely at the counter as she kicks off her shoes, her eyes on his as he shakes his head.

"You." He steps closer and cups her face in his hands. "I just want you. From the minute I saw you sitting at that bar tonight all I wanted to do was rip your clothes off and kiss every inch of you."

"So…" She sighs softly, feeling the catch in her breath, the anticipation. "Why don't you?"