Dempsey looked ahead and saw that soon this magical moment was going to run out. He felt he was making all the running but he couldn't afford to regret 'losing the one that got away'. This Ireland thing was supposed to give him the now or never opportunity and he needed to know if he and Harry had a chance else he had some serious decisions to make. He threw his arm around her shoulder.

"So what's your ideal date Sergeant?" he asked as he turned and walked along side her

"October 25th"

"I kinda didn't mean that sort of date Harry" he ran his fingers through his hair

Harry felt a rush of excitement - he wanted to talk dates but she didn't want to seem over eager "Sorry" she turned to him "soft, from the Middle East and if possible Tabical variety"

Dempsey groaned, she wasn't making it easy – was that deliberate he wondered and/or a bad sign. He was thinking of where to go with the fresh vs. dried date thing when his mind flip back and he suddenly asked "So what's so special about the 25th October?"

"That's my birthday Dempsey"

That he didn't know that unsettled him.

"What's yours?" she asked

"20th April"

"No favourite date" she knew his birthday; it had involved a long night at the Bramcote Arms.

"4th Thursday in November"

"Funny date" she remarked

"Last time I was home was 29 November 1984" Dempsey knew it exactly, "this year it's 27th November" he explained

"What is?"

"Thanksgiving"

"That's American right?"

"You know I think I prefer Thanksgiving to Christmas" his mind was back in time "the family get together, hang out together, eat a turkey dinner and have a great laugh…"

"Tell me about it" Harry invited him and as they wandered along the waters edge he did. It sounded fun, it sounded like a family bonded together but Makepeace heard a longing in his voice, the missing of his family, a homesickness he no longer was forced to endure and she wondered again if it would be cruel to cage him in London.

Suddenly Harry found herself frustrated, she hadn't meant to divert the conversation that much, after all it was the one question she wanted answering: did Dempsey think they were dating or not and did she think he would maybe ask her soon? Was this his game or his dream? The more she had contemplated the question last night when she was awake on the stake out, the more she considered his behaviour lately the more she had convinced herself he was at least trying to make some sort of statement.

Dempsey could see their shoes ahead on the beach and as he led Harry towards them away from the waters edge across the sand James took hold of her hand again.

"I've got some things I need answering" Harry blurted out. Like Dempsey earlier Harry saw the distance to their destination closing down and the opportunity with it.

"Like what?" Dempsey was nervous as soon as Harry was questioning he feared the worst

Harry steeled herself, she found this hard "So are we undercover at the moment?" she asked

"It's funny that" Dempsey started "I can so clearly remember telling Fry"

"Dempsey!"

"I wish I could remember the moments before and after"

"I wish you would answer my question" Harry was frustrated

"Which was?"

Makepeace sighed resignedly and considered whether it was better just to enjoy the moment for what it was than explore deeper and find disappointment.

"You know I like doing undercover with you Harry, this one especially"

"Me to" she glanced sideways coyly "but is this" she tilted their joined hands and looked down at them then back into his eyes "undercover?"

"Never let the cover slip – that's what I told Fry…"

Harry released her fingers in disappointment, her fears had been met and her hopes dissipated. She started to regret that she had let Dempsey undress her.

"You never know who might be watching" Dempsey had continued but realised that was the wrong answer as Harry's fingers disengaged his. Had she not heard him when he said he liked this undercover with her? – He had thought the meaning quite clear!

James turned to see where her hand was and reached out for it "I can't see anybody watching us now Sergeant" he spoke so softly that Harry felt hope rise and confusion stir – he still hadn't answered her question – well not to her satisfaction.

As he took her hand back in his hand his thumb rubbed her knuckles - his touch was speaking a different language and whether out of understanding or yearning she took his meaning to be positive.

"I'd like to do this more" he murmured

"What undercover?" Harry asked

"Walking with you" he looked at their hands "like this" Suddenly he knew he had to prolong the moment – it couldn't stop yet they were on the verge of sorting things out.