Chapter 3

His blood pressure was up and Doctor Roper didn't like it.

Neither did Dempsey although he wasn't surprised, given the tension of the last few days, Harry's was probably up too. He even told the doctor as much, not connecting his partner to his frustrations of course but letting her know what was on the line in the hopes of deflecting further medical examination through good old fashioned embarrassment. It didn't work. She just told him her remit was to check his fitness for a return to full duties within his working environment and that his duties in the bedroom department should be decided between him and his lady friend.

When she asked, on a scale of one to ten, how he would rate the level of pain he had been experiencing in the last few days, he decided to play it safe and told her a four.

"Really?" she had asked, obviously mildly surprised.

He'd shrugged. "Maybe I got a low pain threshold.

It bought him a new prescription but cost ten minutes worth of persuasion tactics as he did everything in his power to convince the doctor that he was fit enough to be released from her care. In the end, she agreed to let him go back to SI-10 in his full working capacity on the proviso that he made another appointment to see her in two weeks' time.

He could handle that. Two weeks was enough for him and Harry to get on an even keel and maybe by that point he'd have things under control again.

Harry accepted the news with a certain degree of coolness which both infuriated and intrigued him. Was she nervous now they'd got the green light? Did she have a belly full of butterflies and was her head full of self-doubt? He figured that was probably the case 'cause that was how he was feeling. It had suddenly got real.

Game on.

So at 7:20pm on the Saturday evening, Dempsey found himself sitting in his car outside Harry's house, nervously drumming his hands on the steering wheel and debating with himself whether or not ten minutes early look too eager.

Nah, this was stupid. He'd been ten minutes early only last week and had barely given it a second thought. Week before he'd been ten minutes late, stuck in the aftermath of an RTA. Lucky he'd had a good excuse 'cause Harry didn't approve of tardiness.

Nine minutes. Screw it, he was goin' in.

Picking up the box lying on the passenger seat, he locked the car and walked across the driveway up to the front door.

Was the jacket and tie too much? Wasn't like this was a proper dinner date, they weren't going out on the town. Harry was cooking them a meal, maybe with candles and a good bottle of wine.

Should he have brought wine? Shit, he should definitely have brought wine.

He checked his watch again, even though he already knew it was 7:23pm. There wasn't time to get to the liquor store, chose something and make it back here by 7:30pm.

The drapes were closed he noticed; not unusual in itself as it was dark pretty early these days but something looked different, the light that glowed from within seemed different. Maybe he hadn't been too wide of the mark when he'd guessed at candles.

Nice.

He liked that.

He brushed a hand over the whitewashed stone pillar as he mounted the shallow steps.

Dempsey got as far as the fourth step before he stopped in his tracks, eyes drawn to the lintel above the doorway. He grinned the broadest grin, his heart missing a beat. She'd tacked a sprig of mistletoe up there, well obviously it couldn't be real, least he didn't think so, not this time of year but never-the-less, it was mistletoe.

"That's real cute, Makepeace," he chuckled as he skipped up the rest of the steps and raised the black door knocker to rap out the silly, convoluted secret knock he had devised months ago to let her know it was him. She said it was ridiculous but she always answered her door to him with that fabulous laughing smile of hers.

He tucked the box under his arm and quickly adjusted his tie which now felt quite constrictive.

The big white timber door opened and suddenly all his senses were thrown into turmoil as he tried to take in everything that was being presented to him.

There was Harry, looking a million dollars in some silky little back number he'd not seen before, a cool, sexy smile on her beautiful face. Behind her he could see the bannister had been festooned with a garland of holly and ivy, intertwined with twinkling lights and to one side was a floor-standing Christmas tree. A real beauty! Seven feet tall if it was an inch and decorated with golden baubles, tinsel and more twinkly lights. Nat King Cole was singing The Christmas Song in the background, the music coming from the living room and floating side by side with those dulcet notes came the warm, homey smell of a traditional roast dinner.

And as he was still taking all of this in, Harry stepped forward over the threshold to put her hands lightly upon his shoulders.

"Hello, you," she said softly.

There was no time to react to any of it before she reached up and placed her lips on his to kiss him with a tender passion.

"Happy Christmas," Harry smiled.

Dempsey laughed, throwing an arm about her waist as they entered the house, the hand holding the box pointing back at the mistletoe.

"Nice touch!" He looked about the hall entrance, marvelling at the décor. "I mean… wow! This is all just terrific! So this is the reason you didn't want us to spend the day together today. You had me worried, Princess, I gotta say."

"Just my contribution to the cause. Why should only you get to be annoying on a daily basis? I decided it was my turn."

Dempsey dropped the box onto the hall table as Harry lead him through to where Nat King Cole was crooning through the speakers.

"If this was annoying, you'd have me beat hands down, only it ain't… it's beautiful."

He turned to her, gathering her into his arms and ignoring the tinsel draped picture frames and 3D foil decorations that hung from the ceiling.

"But none of it's as beautiful as you, babe. You look so hot, I just wanna unwrap you right now…"

He could see she was about to reprimand him and continued, "but there's somethin' else around here smells good enough to eat so I'm prepared to wait a while."

"How very gallant of you," she said sulkily.

He brought his mouth up close to her ear. "Course, if you was to offer me a little appetiser…"

"I can offer you a Scotch."

His hands were resting on her bottom but he wasn't going anywhere with it – not yet. They had all night and after all, when you'd waited this long, the last few hours needed to be savoured.

"Guess I should accept graciously, huh?"

"Very wise," she whispered. Then moving him firmly back she told him, "And while you're about it, you can fix me a Gin and tonic. I need to check on dinner."

He watched intently as she sashayed away to the kitchen in a pair or strappy red heels the exact same shade as her lipstick. Now what was it about red lipstick? He smiled to himself as he ran the back of his hand against his mouth to remove the traces of it from his own lips.

Dempsey made their drinks to the accompaniment of Ella Fitzgerald singing Sleigh Ride. The jazzy, upbeat tempo had an elevating effect on his already buoyant mood and within minutes he was tossing ice into their drinks from the ice bucket like a pro. Even though it was just the two of them, Harry had put a small sectioned dish of sliced lemon, Maraschino cherries and olives onto the tray beside the bucket.

Jeez, this girl knew how to do things!

He added lemon to her G&T (with the tiny pair of tongs provided) and went in search of 'the girl' in question.

"Lucky for you I already got my hands full."

She was bent over, peering into the oven at a sizeable roasted turkey.

"That's one helluva bird you got there!"

She reached inside wearing a pair of oven gloves and slid the roasting tray out. "Looks like it's done."

She glanced over her shoulder at Dempsey. "Ooh, lovely." Standing up straight, Harry paused a moment to allow Dempsey to tilt the glass for her to drink.

"Where'd you get turkey from this time of the year?"

"I have my ways."

I'll just bet you do."

Harry smiled as she covered the turkey over with foil whilst it rested. "I can't remember whether you've met Bernard or not."

"Bernard?"

"The gamekeeper at Winfield Hall."

She took her glass from him and had a fortifying mouthful.

"Don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Well anyway, Bernard's cousin, Jack knows a chap who owns a turkey farm in Essex. He sorted it out for me and had it sent up. It's a bit on the large side, isn't it?"

"I make a mean turkey club sandwich," he grinned.

"I think you'll be making them until it really is Christmas."

He sipped on his Scotch as he surveyed the kitchen, wondering about the rest of the food. There was only one solitary pan on the stove but one of those pressure cooker things his mom had was by the sink along with a stack of dishes and utensils. She'd been busy. She must already have taken everything through to the dining room.

"Want me to do anything?"

Her eyes flirted with his as she drew close to him. "I think we should at least finish these drinks first, James." A red painted finger nail of the hand holding her glass dragged down the length of his tie as she walked past him to the kitchen door. "Don't you?"

"You got it all under control, dontcha?" Dempsey growled.

He followed her back out after a hefty slug of Scotch. Boy, she looked good tonight. She looked like she could be bad. It wasn't just what she was wearing although God knew she was dressed to kill him, it was more like there was a glow about her, an aura. Tonight was the night and she was on a high.

He sat down beside her on one of the couches, hunched forward, his glass captured in both hands as he gazed about him.

"You sure put some effort into this one."

A large bowl of fir cones resided on the hearth and above on the mantelpiece lay a bough of fake holly. Dempsey then laughed out loud, seeing the two red, green and white knitted Christmas stockings hanging either end of the fireplace.

"They ain't the kind of stockings I'd of chosen but I'd still like to see you in 'em later."

"Would you now? I can always rely on you to lower the tone, can't I?"

The Ella track had slipped seamlessly into Dean Martin's rendition of Winter Wonderland.

"It's just what you do to me. Not my fault, Princess."

He sat back and let his head rest on the back of the sofa, eyes closed for a moment as he let the music and alcohol wash over him.

"This is great."

Harry watched the grin spread slowly across Dempsey's face, the small gap in his front teeth clearly visible. She rather liked that little imperfection of his – she only saw it when he was especially happy.

His eyes opened and he was looking directly into hers. It was pleasantly disarming.

"You're looking very pleased with yourself," she teasingly accused.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's Christmas and I'm spendin' it with the most beautiful, sexy woman I know."

He reached out and took up her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. "I'm a lucky guy."

"I probably haven't done so badly myself," she conceded.

"Probably?"

"Yes, probably."

"Oh, I get it, you're gonna reserve judgement 'til the morning, maybe?"

Harry smirked. "It was simply a grudging admission not a slight on your… potential prowess."

They were edging dangerously close to the bedroom.

"Hey, at least I got potential. Feels like you're open to persuasion."

He squeezed her hand and polished off the Scotch, smiling into the glass as the ice chinked.

Harry sipped at her Gin, feeling as tipsy as though this were her third. "Well with a reputation like yours, surely a girl would be an absolute fool not to be battering down your door." The sarcasm dripped heavily and Dempsey looked suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, about that."

She slid her hand away from his and sat back, facing him sideways on, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa and her head against her hand. "Do I really need to know?" she asked, so casually and with such an impish smile that it was impossible to know she was quailing at the thought of what his next words might be.

But the way she had withdrawn herself from him gave Dempsey an unconscious heads up.

"You know I ain't no saint."

"I do," she acknowledged placidly.

"I've played the field…"

"Several stadiums worth I'd have thought." The forced laughter sounded exactly that – forced. She didn't want to hear any of what he had to say on this subject.

"An' I know it ain't nice… what I mean is, you don't wanna know 'bout any of that stuff. It's in the past, right?"

Harry was desperate to swallow but fearful if she did, he'd hear the dry gulp in her constricted throat. Instead, she finished her drink and regarded him with a neutral expression. "Fine by me."

He was gaining a little enthusiasm now. "Yeah. Okay. Right. So with that in mind, I thought we could… I could," he corrected himself, "wipe the slate clean, or least ways start with a clean slate."

He was on his feet, dumping his glass on the coffee table beside the large green candle burning brightly within its' festive pottery container.

"Got you somethin'."

Dempsey disappeared through to the hallway and snatched up the box he had dropped on the hall table earlier.

Harry had of course noticed it but realised the handing over of it would be sometime later at an appropriate moment. This, apparently, was that moment.

"Here."

He held it out to her. It was a thin, rectangular box, roughly the size of a shirt box and it was wrapped in glossy red paper with a gold bow tied around it.

"Thank you," Harry beamed, guessing immediately in her mind what it contained. It weighed next to nothing and to Harry, it was obviously going to be lingerie of some description. The 'clean slate' comment didn't quite fit with it though but she put that to one side as she sat with the box on her knee to untie the ribbon.

"You seem a little bit on edge, James," she laughed. "Worried you've got the wrong size?"

For a moment, Dempsey appeared nonplussed. "Ahh, no," he scratched at the back of his head nervously, "it's not… you can't wear it, babe. It… umm," an uncomfortable shift against the arm of the sofa, "it's maybe not the kind of gift you think it is. Fact, it ain't even what you'd call a real gift."

He squooshed his lips with his fingers, his smile wiped away.

"It certainly looks like a real gift. I'm intrigued now."

If whatever it was in this box was making him so nervous then why give it to her in the first place? She definitely was curious though. She pulled the ribbon off and tore open the paper from one end, eyeing Dempsey as she did so.

Inside, she found folded white tissue paper and opened it out. There was just a single sheet of paper lying there.

Her eyes briefly scanned the typewritten text and then she looked up at Dempsey.

"Is this supposed to be funny?" Harry thrust the sheet towards him. "Are you expecting a pat on the back and a handshake?"

She stood up, distancing herself from him as she struggled to contain her rising anger.

"C'mmon, Princess, I did this for us…" Dempsey said in alarm as he stooped to retrieve the document that had drifted to the carpet.

"Well I'm really not impressed," she grated. "In fact, I think you should just go."