Thanks for all the reviews I've had. It makes the whole thing worth while, knowing that people are actually reading. I've had a few extra fav's and follows too recently which is lovely :-)))

Just want to say, sophiesworld2 is a little bit scary. She seems to know exactly what's going to happen and managed to guess who Harry's 'lame dog' is from chapter 1! ;-D

Chapter 7

Despite being ninety-nine percent certain who was ringing her doorbell at 11:00pm on this Saturday night, cautionary habit forced Harry to leave the chain in place as she opened the door.

Strangely, the first thing that struck her was the fact that it was raining, quite heavily it appeared, in big fat droplets that splattered as they hit the ground. But then she fixed on her visitor, soaked to the skin in a pale blue sweatshirt and jeans, his blond hair plastered to his skull and the lengths curling darkly against his shirt collar.

He looked up at her, humiliation dulling his eyes.

"Sorry," he said.

Harry removed the door chain and stood back quickly to let him in.

"Jonathan! Come in. Look at you, you're drenched!"

He shuffled forward uncertainly. "I'm really sorry. I just didn't know where else to go..."

"Don't be silly. I'm glad you're here."

Was she glad though? Really? Well as far as the rest of her night with Dempsey was concerned, it was an unmitigated disaster. Of all the times for Jonathan to turn up, he had to choose tonight.

As he stepped into the hallway, she got a clearer view of his appearance. He was bedraggled and dirty; the sweatshirt filthy and with what looked like blood down the front of it.

The dark red flecks adhering to his nostrils and unkempt moustache would corroborate this.

"What happened?" she asked with concern.

His hand rose to his nose and he brushed the back of his hand against it gingerly. "It's nothing. It's fine. I tried to telephone earlier but the line was engaged. I'm sorry," he apologised again, "it was wrong of me to turn up unannounced like this and at such a ridiculous time of night"

And then he suddenly seemed to become aware of his surroundings. A variety of expressions crossed his haggard face before, upon taking in Harry's less than modest attire, he side-stepped to the door, mumbling, "I'm so sorry... I shouldn't be here... I'm clearly interrupting something... I'm so sorry, Harry."

"It doesn't matter. Really. Stay and have something to eat at least, while you dry off."

"Plenty to go around, pal."

He instinctively looked towards Dempsey who was leaning in the dining room doorway.

His eyes widened and he held a hand up in supplication. "Oh hell! I didn't know you..."

He looked from one to the other beseechingly. "I saw there were two cars outside but it's a shared driveway isn't it? I assumed one was the neighbours' ..." He hefted his backpack higher up on his shoulder and they both caught the small grimace of a man in some physical discomfort.

Dempsey stepped forward and casually extended his hand in greeting.

"Jim Dempsey. An' I take it you're Jonathan Makepeace. Harry's brother-in-law, right?"

He shook Dempsey's hand gratefully. "Yes, yes that's right... well, ex brother-in-law, more's the pity... from a selfish point of view, you understand. My brother was a bloody idiot."

"Yeah, Harry said your paths had crossed the other day. Getcha a drink, Jonathan?"

Harry looked on, amazed at how calmly Dempsey was handling the situation and feeling meaner than ever for wishing he'd picked another day to show up.

"No, honestly. I'm sure the only visitor who'd be welcome tonight is Father Christmas."

He looked about him with a wry smile and Harry once again cursed the appallingly bad timing.

"Rather an elaborate joke," she told him carelessly as she took his arm and steered him through to the dining room.

"Now you help yourself to whatever you want while I set another place."

Jonathan started to object again but Harry raised a finger to silence him. "You're staying and that's an end to it."

Dempsey took his backpack from him and handed him a dinner plate as he told him, "We're on the mulled wine – might warm you up. Or how 'bout a beer? Or a cuppa tea, maybe?"

Harry had her back to them as she selected the silver from the drawer and had to stifle a laugh.

He'd picked up a very English way of saying 'cup of tea'. When he first came to London, he'd joke about with an absurd Cockney accent but now it wasn't so much about putting an accent on as not having his own American accent when he said it.

"Would tea be a lot of trouble?" Jonathan asked hopefully.

"No problem. How d'you take it?"

Dempsey went away to the kitchen leaving Harry alone with her visitor who stood awkwardly holding the plate.

"Harry, I know it's an awful imposition but do you think I could use your bathroom?" He tugged at the front of his sweatshirt. "I seem to be rather a mess at the moment."

"Yes, of course! I'm so sorry, what was I thinking?" The surprise of him turning up like this had thrown her somewhat, knocking her inherent good manners for six. "I'm sure we can find whatever you need."

Jonathan followed her out into the hall and she indicated he should precede her up the stairs.

She was embarrassingly aware of the shortness of her robe, not to mention the fact that she was wearing not a stitch underneath it.

"First door on the right," she directed. "I'll sort you out some towels, you'll find disposable razors in the top drawer of the small chest of drawers and shampoo and everything is already out so just help yourself."

"Thanks," he smiled humbly. "I shouldn't be burdening you like this. I want you to know that I'm very grateful."

Harry ignored his gratitude, hoping that passing it off would make it less of an issue.

"Have you got a change of clean clothes?" she asked lightly when they were stood in the bathroom. "I'm sure Dempsey wouldn't mind lending you some of his if you'd like me to pop those in the washer."

Again, she made light of it, making sure she was out of the door before she said, "Just bring your stuff down when you're ready."

"Dempsey?" Jonathan queried the use of his surname.

Harry smiled, realising how odd that must sound to him. "James," she corrected herself but didn't offer any further explanation at this stage

After quickly changing into jeans and a pink mohair jumper, Harry hastened back downstairs, that name still on her lips.

"Hi," she said dubiously.

Dempsey was in the kitchen, filling the kettle with water, the pottery (not china) teapot on a tray along with a jug of milk, the sugar pot, spoons and mugs. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have understood the choice of pottery over china.

"Hey."

He turned and Harry went to him, insinuating herself into his arms.

"Sorry," she whispered with a grimacing sigh.

"It's cool," he assured her. "Relax. You puttin' him up for the night?"

"I thought I might offer. I can't not, really. Do you mind?" She rolled her eyes. "Silly question – of course you mind."

Dempsey flicked a few strands of her fringe away from those worried blue eyes. "Yeah, I mind. I mind I ain't got you all to myself, I can't deny it. But I guess his need is greater than mine, ya know."

He ran his hands up underneath her jumper, grinning when he discovered her lack of underwear. "I take that back, I suddenly got a whole lot needier."

Squirming pleasurably, Harry sighed. "Oh and I might have offered to lend him some of your spare clothes."

"Okaaaaaay..." he chuckled. "Anythin' else? I mean, my car keys are still in my jacket pocket?"

She looked at him with a mixture of remorse and chagrin.

"Hey, come on, Babe, I'm kiddin'. He's one of the good guys, I get that. You wanna do for him, it's okay by me."

Moulding her body to his, she gently kissed his mouth. "I'll make it up to you," she said shyly.

"Countin' on it, Princess."

There was that dark, salacious tone in his voice that made Harry shiver with anticipation but she still saw the love that shone in his eyes. There was no mistaking it; she felt it penetrating her heart, gloriously painful love that threatened to take her down and bury her deep.

"I can't tell him to go," Harry reasoned.

"I know."

"He wouldn't have turned up here unless he was desperate."

"I know that too," he soothed. "I understand."

Tears suddenly and inexplicably formed in her eyes, trembling along the waterline before two large droplets of frustration and sorrow spilt down her cheeks.

"I don't want you to bloody understand!" she hissed, angrily wiping them away.

"What?" Dempsey baulked. "Hey!"

He withdrew his hands from beneath her jumper, pulling her to him and tilting her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

She laughed then, sniffing back the new tears that had begun to well up. "I want you to be resentful. Everything was perfect, wasn't it? I put so much effort into tonight..."

"I know you did, baby." He kissed her forehead.

"... because I wanted you to know how much I appreciated all the bloody stupid Christmas stuff you'd done and now this has happened and spoilt everything and I feel like it's all my fault and you're being exceptionally nice about it – ridiculously nice. And I just keep thinking that this was a one-off that we'll never have back again and it's totally ruined. It feels like all these weeks, all the build up, it's all just gone up in smoke..." She ran out of breath then, gulping back any further bitter lament. "And I want you to be angry about it," she managed to add.

He wrapped his arms round her in a bear hug, laughing as he swayed her gently from side to side.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. If it's any consolation to ya, while you was upstairs, I think I probably curdled the milk I was cursin' so bad."

Oh yeah, he was mad alright. He was boiling over inside thinking how this guy, the brother of her ex-husband no less, had managed to almost wreck the event of the year.

She was smiling now, her arms tight about his waist and almost like she was reading his mind, concluded, "I suppose it could've been worse, he could've arrived a couple of hours earlier."

"See? Every cloud, huh?"

She nodded. "He must think we're completely bonkers." She brought her hand up to rub away a faint red lipstick mark from his jawline just below his ear. "Christmas in September! Not sure what explanation to give him. It isn't really the sort of thing one can just gloss over, is it?" she said, pulling a face.

"Not really," he laughed. "You did kinda pull out all the stops on this one."

"Hmm. Are you suggesting my efforts are lacking in subtlety?" she replied impishly.

"Subtle like Marciano's Susie Q," he drawled.

Harry frowned playfully. "I have absolutely no idea who these people are."

"The great transatlantic divide strikes again."

"Make that inter-planetary divide," she smirked, gazing flirtatiously at his mouth.

Dempsey gazed right back, feeling the same old irresistible draw to her, only these days, he wasn't forced to walk away from her teasing devilment.

"Two worlds sure collided tonight though, huh?"

The feelings of frustration and sadness that had descended upon Harry minutes ago were being gently eased away simply by his attentiveness and caring. The problem of Jonathan Makepeace no longer seemed so depressing now she had had her little rant and vented her emotions. Dempsey, she realised, one way or another, always managed to distract her when problematic issues were in danger of getting the better of her. His brusqueness and irreverence was one way and seemed to do the job in working situations but his natural charm and warmth of character succeeded on a more personal level.

He had the power to mentally disarm her and, Harry decided as their lips met, that made Dempsey a wondrously dangerous individual

"You find out what his deal is?" he asked against her softly yielding mouth.

"Not yet."

"So we got a few more minutes to ourselves," he grinned, "before we need to think about any more problems. How 'bout we make the most of 'em?"

NB – 'Marciano's Susie Q' is a reference to the 1950's American boxer, Rocky Marciano and the nickname of his famous 'right hook' knockout punch.