At the shack, Camille heard her phone ring but didn't pick it up, she was enjoying herself too much. They had both managed to overcome the aftermath of their argument on the way home and Richard had invited her in his usual polite way. His previous eagerness had died a little on the way home and he had almost been hoping that she would have said no, that way he could sloped off to bed and pretended that the entire day hadn't actually happened. But to his surprise she had accepted and they now found themselves on his veranda enjoying another beer. Camille, to his slight annoyance, had discovered his secret stash and put the majority in his freezer to cool quickly. Clearly she was here to stay.

"And that!" Camille concluded. "Was the worst date I have ever been on. Beat that!" Richard wasn't actually sure he could. It was nice to know even attractive, successful individuals like Camille had the odd bad date. It seemed she hadn't been joking when she had declared the blind dates arranged by her mother to 'always be a disaster' – but this one more than anything.

"Did he really steal your shoes?" He asked just to make absolutely certain she wasn't pulling his leg.

"Hey!" She cried, mock hurt. "Check the court records if you don't believe me, thank goodness he pleaded guilty and I didn't have to testify that I had arrested my date for theft. No judge would forget that in a hurry."

Richard chuckled and not for the first time did Camille think how much more attractive he was when he smiled. Her heart gave a little flutter again so she took another swig of her beer to try and calm it down. "Come on then."

He shrugged. "I don't think I can."

"Seriously? I've just met your stalker and you can't think of a bad date story to tell me?" Richard swallowed nervously and began to pick at the label of his beer. She sighed and he got the impression that he was losing her interest. "Well at least someone stole your shoes because they liked them. Amy once brought a pair with her on one of our dates because she didn't like the ones I was wearing."

"Really?" Camille asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, and it had been my tie on the previous date," he confirmed. "But don't all women want to change the men they are with? At least Amy is direct about it."

"Of course all women don't try to change the men they are with! That is just what men tell themselves," Camille protested.

Richard just levelled her with a look, "So you seriously don't keep a mental checklist of things you secretly wish were different about a man, and then subtly try to change them?"

"No all women do that first part," Camille admitted with a smile. "I just don't bother with the second." Richard considered listing the many things she had either made him do, or tried to get him to do, since he came to the island – but that would imply he thought they were in some kind of relationship, which they obviously weren't.

She continued. "So come on then, what was it about her?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, chuckling he took another sip. The alcohol was loosening him up. "In my defence, on the surface we did have quite a lot in common. We went to the same university, did the same subject, liked the same films, books. She seemed like a good match."

Camille nodded sagely. "So you liked her um..." she paused, deciding how best to phrase her statement and made a circular motion in front of her breasts with her hands, "personality?"

Richard bit back a smile and licked his lips. "Yes, I suppose on the surface, her..." he cleared his throat, "personality was very appealing."

"But not appealing enough to make up for the craziness," she teased him.

"I don't think any…personality traits…could make up for her craziness," he told her honestly. "I don't understand how somebody gets like that without medical intervention, though I suppose in reality she's harmless enough, just really annoying.

"You know for a moment I was honestly scared she'd turned up on the island for me, but I suppose that's a bit vain, of course she has other reasons to be here."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Camille said slowly.

"As we have already discussed, there is no way that somebody would fly across an ocean for me. I am not that much of catch," he said rather firmly. She looked as though she was about to say something to disagree with him so Richard continued quickly before they got into a quagmire of false compliments. "I mean, the time we spent together was hideous."

"Oh I think I know something that you two did that wasn't hideous." She wasn't quite sure why she said it; she didn't really want to think about it.

He scoffed and she picked up on it immediately. "Oh wait. You're basically telling me that the only reason you got together with her in the first place was hideous?"

He tried to remain aloof. "I don't want to talk about it."

She was not to be deterred. "How hideous?"

"I'm not talking about it."

She tried a different tact. "You know, I've had some pretty bad experiences too."

"Experiences?" He highlighted the plural.

She scrunched up her face, couldn't quite believe that she was about to tell him this. "This one guy tried to lick my face." Richard made the appropriate retching noises. "Your turn..." he shook his head. "Another guy tried to smell my armpit..."

He looked incredulous. "Where do you find these men?"

Camille shrugged, "I've convinced myself that you all have weird quirks, but some of them just turn out to be more bearable for women than others. And you know quite a lot of women have weird quirks as well." She gave him a pointed look, to try to emphasise this was where he should tell her whatever Amy's was.

He didn't fall for it, "You among them?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said it teasingly, but Richard blushed profusely and suddenly returned to awkward again, just as she thought he had consumed enough alcohol to loosen up. That at least let Camille know that yes, he was interested in finding out. She poked him hard on the arm, "Go on, tell me!"

He sighed in defeat – his embarrassment at her earlier jest had probably worked in her favour, now he would confess just to distract her from the rather personal question he had asked. "She had…requirements…for the language used in bed."

Camille frowned, confused, "Lots of women like dirty talk Richard – are you really that adverse to it?" She didn't add that she could be one of those women on occasion, so she so hoped that wasn't the case.

"No! I mean, not no to not liking it, or no to liking it or no to – I mean, no it wasn't…what you said. It was how she liked to be referred to in bed. And how she referred to me." He came to a stop again, but there was no way Camille could leave it at that, so she poked him in the arm again, hard. "Ow!" He protested briefly. ""Fine, if you're going to get violent. She liked to be called by her title, actually she sort of insisted. You know..." He left the ending open, praying that she would understand.

"Title?"

He sighed. Clearly there was no escaping this. "Miss Bordey, Mr Poole, that sort of thing." His face creased with embarrassment. "Only it was worse than Mr Poole." He was obviously having some difficulty talking about this. "She called me Sergeant Poole." He swallowed a mouthful of beer again. He might as well complete his humiliation. "I had to call her Miss Thorpe."

Camille couldn't help herself, she let out a snort of laughter. "Oh my God!"

Richard was rather more resigned, but nodded along with her. "Oh my God." He had his head in his hands unable to bring himself to look at her. He shuddered. "God, it was so awful." He risked a look at her and could see she was still trying to hold her laughter in. "I mean Camille what do you do in that situation?" He didn't wait for an answer. "And then afterwards, all I wanted to do was leave and have a shower but I thought that would be rude, so I had to stay and hold her."

"Well," Camille said, leaning back in her chair after she recovered from the fit of giggles. "I can now totally see why you took such drastic action in trying to avoid her. And why you told Dwayne not to sleep with her. I can assure you that I do not need to be called Sergeant Bordey in bed, it's entirely voluntary."

She winked, and this time he didn't get embarrassed, he accepted the flirting easily. "Well that probably stems from your more relaxed, Caribbean attitude," he suggested.

"Well we are more relaxed about a lot of things around here."

Richard scoffed, "You mean like time keeping, drinking on the job…"

"Relationships between colleagues," she finished for him. He dropped his fifth (or was it sixth?) bottle of beer with a resounded clatter. Both swooped down to fetch it, with only resulted in them bashing their heads together.

"Sorry," They both muttered at the same time, before looking at each other and smiling. In the end the sheer proximity of their faces triggered what an evening of flirting and alcohol and tension hadn't quite been able to manage. One moment they were sharing a small smile as they reached for the bottle, and the next moment it lay forgotten, as their hands (and mouths) were really rather busy doing other things. Looking back, neither was sure who made the first move – both would claim it to be the other – or perhaps, for once, they had been of one mind. Richard was certainly not arguing with Camille as she led him inside and towards the bed.

Richard lay, fighting sleep and holding her close. Closer than he thought he should, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet. Just in case she didn't come back. She sighed and pressed herself back against him and then wriggled so she was facing him.

"You know you don't have to do that."

"Do what?" he mumbled.

"Hold me." The thought flashed through his mind that she didn't want him and he was about to release her when he heard, "you know, if all you want to do is have a shower and leave..."

He narrowed his eyes at her and kissed her in response. "I," he assured her, "am exactly where I want to be."

Camille's phone buzzed again. "Ignore it," Richard told her, but she just shook her head at him.

"I have been all evening, I think it's about time I checked it, don't you?" She rolled off him and dashed, naked, out on to the porch where her phone (within her bag) was laying waiting for her.

When she jumped lightly back into bed, moving to be close him again, he informed her, "I'm only tolerating that action because I enjoyed the view. Now please tell me there isn't a murder we are supposed to be solving."

She gave him an enigmatic smile then put him out of his misery. "It seems that Amy has been enlightening Dwayne on a few of your past antics." He looked at her blankly. "Bedroom antics..."

He gave her a pleading look. "Dwayne called you to tell you that?"

"No...my mother called me to tell me that."

He sunk back on to the pillow, palm against his forehead and said quietly, "I'll be a laughing stock."

Camille couldn't understand why he was so upset. She thought he'd take it as a compliment, and her mother wouldn't tell anyone. Even if she did, she wasn't sure why he'd be so embarrassed. Then it hit her. "Oh my God she wasn't talking about that!"

The palm was removed a fraction of an inch, she had his attention. "My mother called to tell me that apparently you are a genius in bed..."

"What?"

"She went to clear some glasses off the table, and Amy was going on and on to Dwayne about how you were the only man to ever truly satisfy here," she scrolled through the messages. "Listen; she texted me some highlights as the evening went on." He raised an eyebrow in amusement as she did a pretty good impression of Amy. "'If I was the sort of woman to keep a top ten, Richard would be in every single spot.'" She bit back her giggles at his embarrassment, "'I've spent a lifetime trying to find somebody who can live up to him.' Oh, this is a good one, 'I don't believe a woman on this planet had truly lived until she's been made love to by Richard Poole.'"

"Are you serious? But it was awful, we've been over this!"

"Apparently it was only awful for you. Of course what my mother didn't know was there was no need to tell me any of those things." She gave him a sly wink. "I already know them to be true."

Richard, thinking she was mocking him, gave her a glare. It wasn't mocking though, it was teasing. "Though I have to say, the rest of womankind will just have to live having never known true satisfaction because I am not letting you go."

Richard had gone very quiet. She was suddenly nervous. "Is everything ok? Have I said something wrong?"

He took his time to answer, savouring her discomfort. "I was just thinking about how much you sounded like Amy."

She realised that she might have placed too much meaning on their fledgling relationship. That she had been banking on this not being a one night stand. "I didn't mean..." It was his turn to tease her, snorting with laughter.

"Inspector Poole that is very unkind."

His laughter stopped abruptly as memories resurfaced from an encounter that he would rather forget. He lowered his voice, chiding her. "You should be very careful what you laugh about Camille." She quirked her eyebrow at him. "You play games like that and you might find yourself having your face licked again." He made a move towards her and she screamed trying to push him away before collapsing into giggles.

"Perhaps I was the only man who actually agreed to call her Miss Thorpe, which is why I rate so highly in her estimation," he explained. "But it seemed rude not to agree."

"Richard I am certain other men have agreed," Camille told him. "And like I said, I know exactly how talented you are!" She waggled her eyebrows at him, but then seemed to lose some of her joviality and looked thoughtful instead.

He had been intending on kissing her, but something in her current mood stopped him. It was as if she was hiding something from him. He returned her earlier question. "What are you thinking about?"

She seemed almost embarrassed to tell him. "When you said I was a mature rioja..."

He didn't want an argument. "Camille, I didn't mean..."

"No, I know." He still looked wary. "What did you mean?"

"I don't understand why this is important."

She shrugged. "I just want to know how much time we've wasted. Maybe if I hadn't shouted at you, we'd have made it here a bit sooner."

He gave her a small smile. "Or maybe if you knew a little more about wine..?" It was her turn to look sheepish. "You are French after all." That earned him a playful punch. He sighed and said slowly. "I suppose I meant that I thought you were beautiful and lively, and complex. And intense." He smiled at her. "You can be very intense. In a good way." He added the last bit in case she was about to take offense.

But when he looked at her he could see that her eyes had softened. She was worried that she was about to cry so she tried to change the mood. "Were?"

Richard for his part was beginning to wonder how he had managed to screw up again when she clarified. "You thought I was beautiful?"

Ah, now he understood. "Are beautiful. Very beautiful and very lively and very complex. And elegant. Did I mention elegant?"

She drew him back into another kiss. "You don't have to charm me anymore Inspector, I'm already in your bed." He laughed drew her close again, wanting to prove that he had no intention of letting her go either.