After the usual Friday night wait they finally manage to find a cab and she gives the driver her address before settling back against Dempsey, her head leaning on his shoulder, her hand on his thigh. She thinks about what Tommy said, his total lack of surprise that Dempsey wants to stay in London, his repeating of her partner's assertion that he's "fallen in love with a Brit." She lifts her head from his shoulder and looks up at him, thinking about how he's gone from the partner who infuriated her (and still does, sometimes) to the man who makes her heart skip when he looks at her. She smiles and leans up to kiss him, rubbing her nose softly against his before she pulls back.
"You okay, princess?" He smiles and squeezes her hand.
"I am. I…" Her stomach rumbles loudly, and she smiles, forgetting whatever it was she was about to say. "I think perhaps we should have eaten dinner."
"Yeah, sounds like it." He smirks at her and leans closer. "You seemed way too focused on dragging me back to your place so you can have your wicked way with me to worry about eating. You want to stop somewhere?"
"No." She shakes her head, keen just to get home, although she mentally kicks herself for not ordering something at the hotel bar because she knows she's probably going to need to eat before they do anything else. "I have food at my house. We can eat when we get back."
"Good plan, sunshine." He runs his thumb across her bottom lip. "You're going to need to fuel up for what I have planned for you."
He kisses her and for a moment she forgets the grumbling of her stomach and the only thing she's hungry for is him. Nobody has ever kissed her in the way he does, like it's the only thing he ever wants to do, like there's nothing else in the world as important as the feel of her lips on his. For weeks his kisses have left her burning inside, and she's lost count of the number of evenings she's prepared herself for more, has anticipated his lips tasting every inch of her, only to have him squeeze her hand, kiss her at her door, and tell her to sleep well. She knows tonight is different, there won't be a premature farewell, so they can make time for food.
When they get to her house she finds herself fumbling with her door key, choosing to blame the lack of food combined with several drinks, because she certainly wouldn't admit to any kind of nervousness. She's a fully grown woman, not an inexperienced teenager, so there's a big part of her that feels silly about being nervous. There's a bigger part though that is aware that this isn't just any man, this is Dempsey, and he's different, he matters more than she ever could have imagined he would. To his credit, he says nothing as she tries again with her key, just standing behind her and waiting, following her inside when she eventually gets through the door.
She takes off her jacket and drops it onto the back of the closest armchair, watching as he does the same. She hadn't really noticed earlier what he was wearing but here in her living room as she flicks on the lamp he looks as sexy as hell in his jeans and a black shirt. Oh Harriet, you are in so deep…
Before she can question it, desire takes over and she steps closer to him, backing him towards the sofa until he has no option but to sit down, his eyes wide and fixed firmly on hers. She climbs into his lap and settles herself back on his thighs, sliding her arms around him, her hands clasped at the back of his neck and her fingers toying with his hair. What would he do, she wonders, if she just seduced him right here in her living room...
"Well, well..." His arms wrap around her waist and he pulls her closer. "Hello, you."
"Hello yourself." She smiles at him, biting her lip when she feels his hand pull her shirt out from where it was tucked into her trousers, his fingers warm as they roam across her lower back. "I had a good time tonight. It was nice to meet Tommy, I really liked him. My God, I can picture the two of you as little boys so clearly. A pair of tiny tyrants, I'm sure."
"Yeah, you're not wrong there." He nods, returning her smile, his fingers moving higher up her back. "We were cute though, enough that it got us out of trouble a bunch of times."
"Mm, I'm sure." She slides her hands into his hair and leans in, kissing him slowly and softly. She sweeps her tongue across his top lip, knowing exactly what it does to him, the tightening of his fingers under her shirt proving her point before she pulls back, slightly cruelly, perhaps.
"He liked you too, Harry, but I knew he would. I mean, how could he not?" He leans into the touch of her fingers in his hair, grinning when her hunger loudly makes its presence known again. "You're right, we really should've had dinner. Come on, let's eat something."
She climbs somewhat reluctantly out of his lap and heads to the kitchen, dragging him with her, her hand firmly in his. She thinks about how she was never a hand holder before, probably not helped by marrying a man who considered it "a crass and unnecessary public display of affection", his actual words, if she recalls correctly, the one and only time she attempted to take his hand. With Dempsey she can't seem to help herself, she finds herself reaching for him almost instinctively, and every time she does his hand is there waiting for hers.
"Do you have any bread?" He turns to her from where he's staring into the fridge, like it holds the secrets of the universe, a block of cheese in one hand, a tomato in the other. "I can work with what you have in here if you have bread."
"Are you planning on feeding me?" She leans back against the counter, pointing to the bread bin. "In there."
"You planning on standing there and watching while I do?" He puts the food down and smiles at her.
"I thought I might, yes." She hands him a chopping board and returns his smile. "It's fascinating, like watching a bear try to play the flute."
"Hey, I can cook!" He grins and reaches for a knife. "And how do you know I can't play the flute?"
She watches as he turns on the grill, slices the cheese, and chops the tomatoes, remembering his mother telling her how good a cook he actually is, especially if he's cooking for someone he loves. Her mind zones out as he moves between the counter and the grill, reaching at some point into one of the kitchen cupboards, finding whatever it is he's looking for. She can't help noticing how comfortable he looks in her kitchen, how at home he looks in her house, and it's a sight that fills her with a feeling she can't quite name, but it's a feeling she likes, and a sight she knows she wants to see more often.
It's the smell of toast and melted cheese that kicks her brain back into action, and her stomach too, growling again in anticipation. Her half of the sandwich is set down on a plate in front of her, along with a glass of water, and she can't help smiling at how thoroughly pleased he looks with himself as he sits down opposite her. He gives her the look that turns her insides to jelly, and she wonders how she managed to resist it for so long, and more importantly why she did. He takes a bite of his sandwich and his eyes close briefly in appreciation. She picks up hers and does the same, albeit a slightly smaller and definitely more cautious bite. He may somehow have an impossibly high tolerance for melted cheese and its resemblance to molten lava but she's a sensible person who would like to keep the roof of her mouth intact.
"Damn, I make a good sandwich." He pauses and reaches for his water, his only concession to the hot cheese.
"Oh my God, I love you, this is perfection." There's a brief beat of silence, an air of hesitation, but then she looks into his eyes and she can't believe she missed it for so long, the fact that he clearly loves her, and that she has come to feel exactly the same way.
"Like I said…" He shrugs and breaks eye contact for just a few seconds before looking back at her. "I do make a damn good grilled cheese."
"Yes, you do." She puts her sandwich down and reaches her hand over to rest on his. "Regardless of the quality of your sandwich making, however, there's a very strong chance that I'm at least a tiny bit in love with you, James Dempsey."
"You are, huh?" He smiles softly, his gaze fixed firmly on her.
"It certainly would seem so, yes." She feels a flush moving into her cheeks, the intensity in his eyes sending waves of warmth through her body.
"Well then, it's a good thing there's way more than a chance that I'm a hell of a lot more than a tiny bit in love with you." The smile on his face morphs into the wide grin she loves, the one that would make her heart skip a beat if it wasn't skipping several already. "But I feel like you had a pretty good idea of that already."
"I think I did, and I'm…" She lets out a small, slightly embarrassed laugh. "I'm an idiot for not realising it sooner, for not realising how I felt sooner."
"There's no hurry, honey. We have all the time in the world." His thumb runs gently across her cheekbone and she feels herself sigh contentedly. "Now finish your damn sandwich so I can take you to bed."
They spend the next few minutes in silence, both eating, glancing over at each other in between bites, his eyes dark as he watches her. The sandwich fills one hunger, and her entire body tingles in anticipation of him fulfilling the other.
"I do have one question," she says, reaching for a sip of water as he nods at her to go on. "Is it completely ridiculous that I'm still calling you Dempsey? I mean, we're so far from being just work partners now, but it just...it's what feels most natural."
"Doesn't matter, it's just a name." He picks up their empty plates and takes them over to the sink, turning back to face her. "You'll get a different answer on what my name is depending on who you ask. Dempsey, James, Jim, Jimmy, 'that bloody Yank'."
"I do quite like 'that bloody Yank'." She grins at him, knowing their boss has a soft spot for him despite the myriad of nicknames that suggest otherwise. "I'll bear that one in mind."
"We could just wait and see what name you're screaming in my ear when it counts tonight and take that as the one." He walks back over to her and she stands up and takes his hand.
"These are some big promises you're making." She leans up and brushes her lips against his ear. "I like it."
"Oh you'll like it." He lets her lead him out of the kitchen, her hand firmly in his. "I always keep my promises, Harry."
They reach the bottom of the stairs and she stops, turning to him and pushing him back against the wall.
"I just need to be sure of something." She's already perfectly sure, but this feels like part of their dance and she's enjoying it. She opens the top button of his shirt and slides her hand inside before she leans up, ghosting her lips lightly against his. "You're not about to kiss me goodnight and leave, are you?"
"Oh Harry, do you really not know how long I've wanted this?" He sighs softly, his warm breath mingling with hers. "How long I've wanted you?"
"I'm not blind, I know you wanted to get into my pants the first time we met." She remembers the way he looked at her before he had a clue she was his new partner, the way his eyes roamed over her body with no shame at all. "You couldn't stop staring at my legs."
"Believe me, no red-blooded guy on earth could have resisted your legs in that outfit." He pulls her against him, like he wants to prove his point, as if she's oblivious to how he feels. "And I know you know this, but...we are way beyond me just wanting to get inside your pants now. I didn't know you then, all I knew was that you were the hottest thing I'd ever seen."
"I do seem to land all the prime undercover roles and the outfits unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately from your point of view, come with the territory." The feel of his lips drifting down the side of her neck makes her pause and she catches her breath. "The perils of being the only woman."
"You know, I thought part of the deal would be that I'd get landed with some jaded dude counting down the days to retirement for a partner, and then suddenly there you were, all sexy and beautiful and sassy as shit." His tongue tickles her skin and she sighs against him. "I remember thinking I was about to be in real trouble."
"And now?" She drags her head back from the comfortable junction where his neck meets his shoulder, looking up at him.
"More trouble than ever." He grins and she returns it. His smile is infectious, no matter how she sometimes tries to pretend otherwise.
"We're cops, Dempsey. Trouble is what we do." She grabs his hand again and turns back towards the stairs. "Now, let's go to bed."