He was finally going to get her to himself.

The start of his and Camille's relationship hadn't been as perfect as he was hoping for. Richard had had plenty of time to fantasise about what it would be like if he should actually somehow manage to get her to want to be with him – and those fantasies had been surprisingly romantic. Especially for a man who only watched romantic comedies under protest and cursed the apparent need for the majority of detective novels to always have some romantic sub-plot. But all that time longing for Camille had meant that he, in his weak moments, had found himself hoping he would turn out to be the detective who, despite their many personality faults, wins the heart of a beautiful, intelligent female colleague.

And in those same fantasies, he had always imagined that they would spend a lot of time together at the start of the relationship – with not many clothes on. Instead, life had gotten in the way. Cases that needed solving, previous plans that had to be kept.

But tonight was the fundraiser. Their first proper date. And his opportunity to finally have her to himself. Yes, there would be other people there, and maybe even some they knew. But he was sure he could circumnavigate them with a few polite words. Then the rest of the evening could be spent romancing Camille in the way she deserved – and attempting to make up for all his many faults. Thank goodness they had been forced to learn how to dance at school – he was confident an event like this would concentrate on the sort of music he could handle. Waltzes and the like. And he had excellent table manners.

Table manners? God help him if he was relying on table manners to make up for his otherwise uselessness at relationships.

Camille looked amazing.

The dress had to be new – at the very least it was new to him, he supposed it was hardly something she would wear to work though. Richard wondered if she had arranged to have it made especially for her – it certainly fit her very well. And the shoes, he really liked the shoes. She was looking at him expectantly. He was supposed to say something, wasn't he? Richard was still struggling to accept she would go to all this effort for him. Should he say that? No, it lacked confidence. Should he mention he liked the shoes? No, she might think he had some kind of fetish. Even if he was hoping she would keep them on later. Did he have a fetish?

"Richard!" Camille said, reaching out a hand and placing it on his arm. "Breathe!" He did take a deep breath, and found suddenly his thoughts were a lot clearer. She smiled, "I am going to guess you like the dress."

"Yes," he said emphatically. "And the shoes. You look…fantastic. You look fantastic. You are fantastic."

"Thank you," she replied. Fingering his bowtie (he knew how to tie a bowtie, another point to him!) she added, "You look good as well. Where did you get the Tux?"

"I had to order it on the internet from Miami. Did you know there aren't many places in the Caribbean that rent tuxedos? And those that do seem to be out of the eighties – powder blue or with a flowery shirt."

She gave a little shrug, "Well I think you'd look good in powder blue." He frowned – though he had imagined Camille would be applying pressure to change his wardrobe, it has never occurred to him something as horrendous as a powder blue tuxedo could be on the agenda. A pair of shorts maybe (he could argue for the Bermuda kind) but what…"Relax!" She said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm joking. Though it is good you bought the tux, you might need it again in the future."

And with that little tease, she took his arm and directed him towards the car.

"Oh look," Camille told him, shoulders slumping as they walked up the path towards the resort, which was lit beautifully and to Richard looked magnificent, so he did not know why Camille was so disappointed.

"What is it?" He asked, looking around for evidence of human rights abuses or an animal in distress.

"Keenan is collecting tickets on the door," she said. "I was really hoping he'd be joining in tonight, having a good time, he deserves to you know? But instead he has stuck himself on the door. He really doesn't understand what a great guy he is." Richard recalled thinking Keenan would volunteer for this role – and Camille with her expertise on the human condition has easily figured out why. Camille had confessed to him that the boy – well, young man he supposed – had been brave enough to ask her out, citing that he met so few women who didn't think he was weird. So, though he had more guts than Richard (look at how long it had taken him to make a move with Camille) it seemed they still shared a certain awkwardness with women…and also, apparently, slightly similar taste in those they liked. Richard did feel for Keenan, but he would rather not have the boy's moping ruin their evening.

"Well don't assume he volunteered," Richard said, even though he didn't believe it. "They might have made him, what with being the most junior member of staff and all."

"That isn't exactly comforting, Richard."

He supposed it wasn't. "He'll find somebody eventually, don't worry. Even the most hopeless cases do – just look at me." She smiled up at him, squeezing his arm.

"Good evening, Keenan," Camille looked the young gentlemen up and down as Richard hunted around in the pockets of his tux for the tickets. She gave him a quick wink, "Well don't you look handsome." Keenan didn't respond, he seemed to be having a similar reaction to her outfit as Richard had earlier, or at least she guessed that was why his jaw was slack and he was staring. When Richard found his tickets and looked up, he frowned, unimpressed by the gawking. He flapped the tickets in Keenan's face, who came to his senses and accepted them sheepishly. Camille thought it was kind of cute – and flattering, of course.

"Are you on the door all night Keenan," she asked – hoping the boy didn't notice the dirty look he was receiving from Richard. She squeezed her lover's arm really quite hard, in the hopes he would get the point and cut it out. Richard covered an "ow!" with a cough, and then stood quietly next to her. Nobody could say Camille didn't know how to get men to behave.

"No, no," he said, looking at his feet. "Um, we expect everyone to arrive in the next hour or so. Then we are supposed to go in and mingle – tell people how essential the marine reserve is."

"Good!" Richard said, taking an interest. "You'll be able to tell people about your research, an excellent demonstration of the importance of the reserve."

Of course Richard felt scientific progress was the most important aspect of the charity. Keenan glanced up for a moment, then went back to examining his toes, "Actually, I was told specifically not to talk about my research. Apparently not many people like octopuses. They prefer coral and marine mammals and brightly coloured fishes, you know?"

Camille felt a pang of sympathy. But at least Keenan would get to interact with other people. "Well, I bet you could show people just how interesting they are. Like you did with me."

With that little compliment, Keenan stood up straighter, finally looking up. "Well maybe I will give it a go!" He said. "I'm not even the most junior person, anymore, you know. There is a new girl." Keenan nodded into the hall, and they both peered through the door and easily spotted who he was talking about. A pale looking young woman was offering punch. She kept fiddling with her dress straps and dirty blonde hair that had been put into a slightly untidy up-do. But pretty, still, very pretty. "Her name is Katie and she's from Oxford. Very smart, of course, just like anyone from Oxbridge. Her PhD research is on the mating behaviours of Stenopus scutellatus and other members of the Stenopodidae." A quick glance at her face caused Keenan to realise she had no idea what he was on about, so he explained, "that is the gold coral banded shrimp and its relatives. Her research is actually very interesting, they have quite elaborate courtship the boxer shrimp…but she was also told not to talk about her PhD. Instead she was told to concentrate her Masters project which was on peacock flounders."

"Oh well they are fantastic creatures," Richard enthused. "Real masters of disguise, they can rapidly change colour to camouflage into their surroundings and in the lab they've even matched checkboards and things like that. And their eyes move independently of each other so they can be looking in two directions at once."

"Yes," said Camille. "But they can't use tools, can they?"

"No," Richard said, taking the hint. "Definitely not as good as octopuses."

"Or shrimp," Keenan added, sending a glance in the direction of this Katie person. Camille thought his willingness to defend her was sweet.

"Or shrimp," Richard repeated – not succeeding in sounding like he meant it.

There then followed a lull in the conversation which eventually became a slightly awkward silence. Keenan cleared his throat and told them, "Well, you two, um, having a great evening!"

"Thank you, Keenan," Camille said, reaching out to touch his elbow. "You're doing a great job."

Richard took Camille's arm and quickly steered her over to the drinks. He knew she was concerned about Keenan, but was hoping to distract her. Though this action brought them face to face with Katie, the poor student in the same position as Keenan, so was not the most effective move to make Camille forget about him. Oh well, they had all evening, he could afford some time on others.

"So," he began, passing a glass of punch to Camille and awaiting his own drink. "You study shrimp courtship?"

She paused in the middle of filling his glass, looking at him for a moment like she had misheard. Then she gave a quick smile, pulled sharply at the strap of her dress and passed over his glass. "Um, yes, but how did you know that?"

"Keenan, on the door, mentioned it," he said, indicating the boy with his glass. Keenan, it seemed, has been watching them and quickly averted his eyes upon being caught. Richard frowned briefly, but Keenan was only human and Camille did look amazing, he couldn't begrudge the fellow an appreciative glance or two. Though he was exactly overjoyed with the way Camille was grinning, and the little significant look she gave him.

Katie's mouth opened, gaping like a fish, before she finally said, "Oh." She tucked the loose strands of hair that had come loose from her style behind her ears and began to rearrange the remaining empty glasses. It seemed Katie expected them to leave but Camille had other ideas.

"Oh what?" She prompted.

She gave them a wide eyed look, but realised they (or at least Camille) was really interested. She gave a shrug, "Oh, he must have actually been listening. Most people switch off when I start talking about my research. Shrimp are just food to most people."

Richard, feeling sorry for the girl, said, "Well I would love an overview of your work on boxer shrimp." His choice of the word 'overview' was deliberate – he hoped she would keep it to that, and be brief. Richard had already annoyed Camille that time they'd gone on the boat tour, with all his detailed scientific chat to Keenan, he didn't want to do it tonight.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "I mean, I have also studied peacock flounders. They are very interesting. They have eyes that can look in different directions," she demonstrated by holding an index finger up to each eye, pointing them in opposite directions. "And can camouflage themselves against a whole range of surfaces."

He looked at Camille, who have a small nod, and said, "Yes, but I know that. Tell me about Stenopus scutellatus?"

And so they listened for 10 minutes as Katie explained the background biology of S. scutellatus, as well as the specific questions posed by her own research. Richard thought Camille did a remarkable job of feigning interest. He actually was interested, to an extent, and even he struggled a bit when she got into the intricacies of fights between the females. But Camille kept smiling, nodding in the right places, and looked alert throughout. It was quite the skill – and he had to wonder how often she had needed to utilise it with him. He would need to watch out for it in the future, so he knew when she was bored. He hoped interest was the only thing she faked…

Katie ended her explanation, which had been interrupted briefly a couple of times by other guests needing drinks. She gave a quirky little half smile, rearranging the skirt of her dress, and said a little breathlessly, "Well, that's it, um, any questions?"

"No, I don't have any," he said. She looked down, awkward, and Richard remembered it was a sign of failure in academia if you weren't asked questions. He quickly added, "Because you explained it all so clearly, you see." That seemed to appease her. "Um, Camille?" He said, guessing now it was time for them to leave.

"Oh, I do have one question," she said, surprising him. "Though as Richard said, it was very well explained, I was actually just wondering if you knew what Keenan studies?"

It seemed like a very odd question to ask, Camille knew exactly what Keenan studied surely. Unless she had been switched off entirely when he spoke? Katie smiled and told them, "Oh he has a really cool project on tool use in Atlantic Amphioctopus species. A kind of octopus," she added at the end. "He is probably the best person to ask - very smart. Really dedicated as well." She frowned as she looked over at Keenan, currently smiling politely and accepting tickets off an elderly white couple. "You know, I'm not entirely sure he does anything but work." Realising she had something slightly inappropriate, Katie focused on inspecting her brightly painted nails.

Camille didn't comment on it. Instead she just nodded and said, "Thank you, Katie." Richard glanced around the room, looking for somewhere suitable where he could take Camille so they could be mostly alone. On the drive over he had had time to think of some suitable compliments for the way she looked (better than just the fantastic he had managed earlier), and he was eager to use them before he forgot or made the first mess up of the evening. If his inability to speak earlier didn't already count as a mess up. Camille, it seemed, was not on the same wavelength as him because she asked Katie next, "What do you like doing outside of your studies?"

"Ummm," she said. "Well, actually, I quite like dancing. Which is why it is cool to be here. Though I don't know many people I'm hoping somebody will ask!" Camille shot him another look, and Richard wondered if he was supposed to volunteer to dance with her. He didn't particularly want to…

"Well, you enjoy your evening!" Camille said, bringing the conversation to a close at last.

"Thank you! You too!"

Richard tried not to wince at the food at dinner. Seriously, they were serving sea food? He wanted to give the same rant he had before, but remembered how all that had achieved was Camille rolling her eyes, huffing, and walking away. So instead he grinned and bore it, though Camille seemed to know and was amused by it. She herself seemed distracted during dinner, kept glancing over towards where Keenan was hovering. Some of the other staff of the marine reserve were sitting amongst the guests, no doubt to try to drum up support (e.g. more money) for the reserve. That included Katie, who was picking at her prawn cocktail whilst some older bloke leered over her, but not Keenan. He was next to the kitchen door directing waiters. In fact there were quite a few moments during dinner that Richard just felt Camille wasn't really there, with him, in the moment. That she was busy contemplating other things. There was a sick feeling in his stomach when he thought about what those other things might be.

He tried to win back her attention by offering to share his desert, when she seemed to enjoy hers so much. But she shook her head, "If you want me to stay in dresses like this, I wouldn't be forcing too many deserts on me."

Richard felt this was paranoid, and Camille wouldn't even put on half a pound indulging on this one occasion, but he had enough common sense to know one doesn't discuss weight on the first date. Soon dinner was over…and it was time for the dancing. As he watched them moving tables whilst they stood, enjoying an after dinner coffee, Richard bit his lip and found himself mentally rehearsing moves he hadn't used in years. Camille must have noticed his pre-occupied nature, because she nudged him with an elbow and said, "I won't make you dance, if you really don't want too."

"I do want to dance with you," he insisted. "I just wish it wasn't in front of all of these peoples. And I had full control of the music."

"Well, I can at least offer not to force you to dance to a fast song with me," she said with a knowing look.

"That was never going to happen anyway," he assured her. Camille just pouted.

Camille had to admit she was impressed. She had suspected, when he held her oh so briefly over a year ago, that he actually knew how to dance. And now she knew her suspicions to be true. He had held her confidently, though there were a few stumbles that were largely her fault as they both tried to lead. He gripped her hip in a commanding (and rather sexy) way and gave her a look, and she capitulated and allowed him to take the lead. And she didn't regret it. Three songs later the tempo picked up slightly, and to save him the embarrassment of trying to excuse himself she immediately said, "Shall we get a drink?"

He nodded, and hand on the small of her back led her over to the bar. Camille glanced about her as they moved through the crowd, trying to identify those she knew but looking for somebody in particular. Ah, there he was, Keenan was making his rounds with a clip board. Probably trying to encourage people to sign up for the silent auction. So basically, not enjoying the party at all. Unlike some of his student colleagues, she could see Katie dancing quite nearby. So could Keenan. Richard passed her a glass of something, which she sipped at, tracking Keenan as he failed to get some stuck up couple interested in whatever he was trying to sell.

And just like that, her mind was made up.

"Richard," she said, turning and placing her still largely full glass on a tray. "You know how you don't want to dance to fast songs?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Don't worry, I am not going to make you, that promise still stands. But, well, you wouldn't mind if I danced with somebody else for these dances?"

"You want to dance with strangers?" He asked.

Camille, who wasn't actually adverse to the idea of dancing with strangers, knew what a foreign concept that would be to Richard. She hurried to correct him, "I don't want to dance with just anybody Richard. I want to dance with Keenan."

"Oh," he said, scuffing a toe against the floor. "Yeah, sure." A small shrug followed.

"Oh come on, I won't be too long!" She cajoled. "I just feel he should have fun!"

"It's fine, really, go!" He told her. "I'll go find some science-y types to talk to. You know, and talk about stuff that would…bore you."

Camille smiled, that was the right attitude – the two of them would have to learn to compromise in the future if they weren't going to kill each other. She gave him elbow a quick squeeze, then turned and threaded her way towards Keenan.

Richard was both a complete idiot, and not an idiot. He was a complete idiot because he should have seen this coming, and he was not an idiot because he could see what was happening in front of him now. Keenan, it seemed, was a very good dancer – at least under the tuition of Camille he was. He had watched as Camille had tapped him on the shoulder and asked him. He'd frowned down at the clip board, but a few words of encouragement from her and he shoved it at a passing fellow staff member and followed her out to the dance floor.

Richard was too old for her! That has to be it. He had worried eventually she would realise this, but he thought they would have more than two weeks. God, probably less than that, look at the way she had "other plans" at the weekend. And how she had assured him that he wouldn't enjoy joining her and her Great Aunt for dinner. No, they were probably just excuses – her not wanting to spend time with him but being to kind to drop him so soon.

Richard bit his lip, suddenly convinced that it was the bedroom that was the problem. He had thought he was being enthusiastic – but perhaps he didn't really have the energy to keep up with a woman like her. Didn't they say women reached their sexual peak around her age? He had never paid any attention to, what was in his opinion, diatribe – but not he wished he had. And oh God, men, they reached their sexual peak in their early twenties didn't they? Camille had told him she'd let Keenan down by explaining he was too young for her, but perhaps a little time with middle aged Richard had quickly convinced her that wasn't the case. She wanted somebody younger, and more adventurous, not way past their sexual peak and able to bloody dance to fast songs! After all, she had told Keenan earlier he looked handsome. And Richard had seen her watching him all evening. And what further evidence did he need then her own words: 'I don't want to just dance with anybody, Richard. I want to dance with Keenan!'

Oh God, he was getting dumped for somebody who studied octopuses. This was the most humiliating moment of his life.

"Wow!" Katie had appeared from somewhere, and had followed his sullen gaze to where Keenan and Camille were dancing to their second song. "Keenan really knows how to dance!"

Oh good. The gods were not done with his humiliation yet. Perhaps Katie was going to feel sorry for him, offer to dance, and he'd have to turn her down in his own floundering way. But no, as soon as the song came to the end and she saw Camille disengage from Keenan, she declared, "I better get in there before some of the other girls do!"

Nope, dumped again for Keenan. The boy was a younger, more confident version of Richard. In fact he was like how Richard was at his age – before too many rejections forced him into his current emotional shape. That was, slow to trust and completely useless at expressing himself on any topic that even touched on 'feelings'. Want a monologue on Watts' translation of Pro Tito Annio Milone ad iudicem oratio versus Geerebaert's? He was your man. Want your boyfriend to tell you are beautiful, and that he loves you? Go somewhere else.

Richard realised that Camille was looking about for him – he had not remained where she had left him. And that fear of feelings meant he didn't want to face her, not yet, he wasn't ready to hear the truth from her lips. He needed time to compose himself – build walls. He tried the French doors he was leaning against and to his relief they were open – so he slipped through and out on to the balcony. No doubt when Camille couldn't find him she would just go back to Keenan, or dance with other young men.

He stared down into the garden that was lit so nicely. The plants were all new, not really bedded in yet, and he could see where turf was dying at the edges. A metaphor for his relationship with Camille – unable to take root, dying before its time. Curling up at the edges…oh God, he wasn't even any good at metaphors!

"There you are!" He jumped, the glass slipping from his fingers and smashing to the garden below. Thank goodness there was nobody down there, a manslaughter charge was the last thing he needed. Though he supposed it would be one way off the island and away from the awkwardness that would now ensue with Camille. Or he could just resign and take up writing crime novels for a living.

"Richard!" Camille said loudly. She touched him gently on the back. "Where are you?"

He frowned, "I'm on the patio?"

She rolled her eyes, "Not literally, in your mind?"

"Just…" He gave a shake of his head. "Nowhere. It doesn't matter. Why aren't you dancing?"

"Because my dance partner is skulking on the balcony."

"I thought you might be inundated with better offers."

"Richard!" She admonished him. "Are you jealous because of a couple of dances with Keenan? It shouldn't be attractive, but it kind of is." She stepped close to him, smiling up at him and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. No doubt she felt she had to show some kind of loyalty to him this evening, given how much he had forked out on the tickets.

"Well at least there is one thing you find attractive about me."

Camille took a quick step back, her face turning to thunder, "Ok, now it isn't attractive. What has gotten into you?"

Richard sighed, "Look, I understand, it's not your fault…"

"I know it's not my fault!" She interrupted him. His temper flared, and he almost shouted, but decided to try to maintain some decorum. If tonight had taught him anything, it was that he was the mature one in this relationship.

"Obviously it just isn't meant to be. And the sooner we acknowledge that the better."

"Are you dumping me, on our first date?"

Like a man like him would ever willingly leave a woman like Camille. "I'm not dumping you Camille, I'm letting you go. I can see now, you know, how your 'other plans' have been you trying to get out of time with me. How all night you've been watching Keenan…who you run off to dance with at the first opportunity. I am too old for you, too boring, and I was lucky to have you whilst I did."

She stared at him, before shaking her head very slowly. "You think I want Keenan?"

Richard looked at the floor and nodded.

"You're an idiot." She said "Luckily for you, so am I a bit. I'm sorry - I thought you knew why I was dancing with Keenan." She came close to him, using a finger to lift his chin. "You've gotten better at reading my looks recently, but perhaps this one did require a bit more explanation. And I'm also sorry because maybe my little plan wasn't entirely appropriate for our first date."

"Plan?" Richard repeated faintly.

"Yes, plan." She said with a sigh. "I just felt so sorry for Keenan, stuck on the door you know, and he did kind of help us get together in a roundabout way. I saw the way he looked at Katie, and how Katie was when she spoke about him, that I knew they were interested in each other but each not sure about making the first move. I was watching him all evening because I wanted to make sure he was watching Katie and she him so I didn't embarrass myself." Richard blinked hard. He thought he was just about following who was watching whom…or supposed to be watching at least… "I ran off to dance with him because Katie had said how she loved dancing and I thought it would trigger her to go over and ask him if she knew that he danced. Look!" Camille took him by the hand and dragged him to the door, pointing out the couple on the dancefloor. "It worked," she offered rather weakly.

"You were setting them up?" He asked.

"Yes! Now you are going to ask, why am I trying to set up other people on our first date? But Richard you make me so happy. And that just makes me want everybody to be happy. And maybe he would have spoken to her eventually but…I don't want people to have to wait either."

"I make you happy?" He repeated.

"You make me very happy," she said.

"And your other plans, they really were just other plans, weren't they?"

"Of course they were. Actually one of the weekends was spent hunting out this dress – I thought you deserved something special," she said with a wolfish grin.

And Richard believed her. Camille leaned up and kissed him, and he quickly pulled her close and responded. After a few moments, she pulled away and asked, "So, do you forgive my matchmaking?"

"If you forgive my jealous stupidity," he confirmed.

"Well then, I guess we'll be ok." She took his arm and pulled him back inside. "I believe it is a waltz, shall we dance?"

"As you wish. One question though, are you going to be matchmaking on every date?"

"Oh no, definitely not." She told him, patting his hand. "Dwayne is my next project, that'll take way more time than just our dates…."

Richard hoped she was joking.

A/N: And that is the end of the story, and of the Marine Biology series! Phew!