Wow! Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews - and to everyone who's followed and added this to their favourites. I never expected this to get such a great reception! No pressure for the rest of it, then...but anyway, here's the second chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Serena was awake before she opened her eyes. She could tell it wasn't quite light outside, and the pounding of her head told her that getting up wasn't a good idea just yet. Slowly, as she gingerly moved her arms out from under the quilt, the events of the previous evening came back to her and she groaned out loud. Hanssen's behaviour had left her feeling totally confused. So confused that she had drunk half a bottle of Shiraz before she had even thought about something to eat. One cheese sandwich and another glass of wine later, she had finally made it to bed. And as she opened one bleary eye, she realised that neither the alcohol nor the sandwich had helped to shed any light on the matter. She was still just as bewildered, only now she had the mother of all headaches too.

'Fuck!'

Her one open eye had caught sight of the clock on her bedside table. She could have sworn she set the alarm, but either it hadn't gone off or she had slept right through it. The time on the display read 7:24. And if her memory served her correctly, Hanssen was supposed to be picking her up in six minutes. She threw back the bedcovers and hastily headed for the bathroom.

He was bang on time. She had expected no less, really. She had hoped for a minor delay – roadworks, perhaps, or that he might get miraculously lost on the way to her house – but at seven thirty exactly her front doorbell rang. Unfortunately, those six minutes had not been long enough for her to fully get dressed.

'It's open!'

Serena quickly crossed from bathroom to bedroom, buttoning up her blouse as she went and hoping that she was right in thinking that she had forgotten to lock the door. She stopped at the top of the stairs to sneak a peek down to where Hanssen now stood in her hallway, but he looked up just in time to see her adjusting her bra strap under the blouse.

'Overslept, Ms Campbell?'

Serena beat a hasty retreat into her bedroom, blushing furiously and swearing under her breath.

'No, I'll be down in a minute. Make yourself at home'. Although the idea of Hanssen making himself at home anywhere was laughable, she thought she should at least offer.

Ten minutes later her make up was done, her short hair was no longer sticking up in all directions, and as far as she could tell she was not missing any vital items of clothing. She quickly grabbed a jacket and headed down the stairs, expecting to see Hanssen still standing in the hallway, but there was no sign of him. Hearing noises from the kitchen, she cautiously headed down the hallway and stopped at the kitchen door. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but it had made no difference except to slightly smudge her mascara. She still couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.

'You need to go shopping, Ms Campbell'.

Serena was too stunned to do anything but accept the mug of black coffee he handed to her. She took a tentative sip, burning her tongue, as he turned back to the counter and resumed buttering the pile of toast slices that lay on the wooden chopping board.

'What are you doing?'

'Making you breakfast. Since it seems that you woke too late to make it yourself'.

He turned back to her, holding out a slice. As she threw her jacket over the back of a chair and took the toast from him, she searched his face for any sign of the cold disapproval she had been expecting, but couldn't see it. Instead, the amused twinkle from last night was back. Maybe, she thought as she took a bite, it hadn't been the effect of her tiredness and she hadn't imagined it. Maybe she just wasn't used to it. She swallowed hard and took another mouthful of coffee, wondering how far she dared go here. Part of her was still waiting for the telling-off.

'Do you think we could dispense with the 'Ms Campbell'?'

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised as he held out another slice of toast. Serena shrugged and smiled as she took it.

'Since you're making toast in my kitchen, it seems a bit formal. Wouldn't you say?'

Hanssen gave a single, curt nod, but Serena saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he turned back to the toast and took a piece himself. Pulling out the chair that she had carelessly thrown her jacket onto, she sat down and indicated for him to do the same.

'Aren't you going to give me a bollocking?'

Hanssen sat down stiffly opposite her at the small kitchen table, his back still ramrod straight, and took what could only be described as a delicate sip of his coffee.

'And why would I do that?'

'Because it is now….' Serena checked the clock on the wall. 'Ten to eight. Not half past seven'.

'Yes, half past seven has been and gone', Hanssen agreed, and took a bite of his toast.

Serena couldn't help it. She looked at him in open amazement and blinked several times as she realised that he was enjoying this. Finally, his face broke into a proper smile as he saw her expression. It was the first time she had ever seen it, and she found herself thinking it made him look….well, maybe not exactly handsome, but certainly much less scary.

'Believe it or not – Serena – I understand that these things happen'.

'What things?'

'A late night and most of a bottle of wine'.

Serena opened her mouth to deny the last part, but closed it again as Hanssen looked pointedly at the open bottle, still sat by the sink with an empty glass beside it. She wasn't sure whether to act contrite or give in to the laughter that was rapidly welling up inside her, and drank the last of her coffee while she tried to make up her mind. When Hanssen began to fastidiously brush crumbs from the table into his cupped hands, she could contain it no longer.

'What's so funny?' Hanssen enquired as he carried their empty cups over to the dishwasher.

Serena decided there was no point holding back now. In for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandmother always used to say.

'You', she said simply, trying not to snort with laughter. 'Henrik Hanssen is in my kitchen making toast and coffee. It's absurd'.

'Clearing up toast and coffee, to be more precise'. Hanssen sniffed the remaining contents of the wine bottle, and wrinkled his nose before tipping the red liquid down the sink. 'It was for purely selfish reasons. I have no wish for one of my best consultants to be keeling over in theatre because she got up too late to eat anything. And I wanted another cup of coffee myself'.

One of my best consultants? Serena wondered whether Hanssen realised he had just complimented her, and thought she had better not say anything just in case he retracted it.

'I did tell you to make yourself at home, I suppose'.

She looked over at him with a glint in her eye. Others who had been on the receiving end of that glint on previous occasions had called it flirtatious, sexy even, and Serena knew it. She briefly wondered what the hell she thought she was doing, and then decided it didn't matter anyway. Despite his sudden show of humanity, she still doubted whether Henrik Hanssen would know sexy and flirtatious if it jumped up and hit him in the you-know-whats.

Somewhat to her relief, he merely gave her a one of his expressionless looks before pointedly checking his watch.

'Your first theatre slot is when?'

'Nine thirty'. Serena stood up and slipped on her jacket before bending down to free the hem of her black trousers from where it had become caught in her heel. 'Another bloody hernia', she muttered. As she stood up and turned round to grab her handbag, she almost hit Hanssen in the chest and drew in her breath sharply. She had not realised he had been standing that close, and, to her shock, found that she did not immediately want to back away.

'Sorry', she murmured. 'Didn't see you there'.

'Evidently'. Hanssen's voice was dry, but his fingers were ever so slightly unsteady as they reached up to gently wipe the tiny spot of mascara that had smudged when she had rubbed her eyes earlier. The feel of his hand, and the unexpected softness with which he rubbed her cheek made her heart skip a beat before resuming its normal rhythm, albeit slightly faster than usual. She knew that any moment now her cheeks would start going pink and even he would be able to tell exactly what effect that small touch had had on her, but Serena found herself unable to look away. Finally, after what seemed like ages but was probably only seconds, he turned and picked up his car keys from the table. But not before she had caught a flash of something in his eyes. She wasn't quite sure what it was, and she sure as hell wasn't going to ask him what just happened. As she followed him out of the front door to the car, Serena found herself wondering whether Hanssen did know about flirtatious and sexy after all, and – more worryingly – whether she wanted to find out.

'Something wrong?'

She realised Hanssen was standing by the car door waiting for her to get in, and she shook her head, partly to answer him and partly to try and clear it of the totally inappropriate thoughts that were threatening to confuse her even further. She quickly climbed into the passenger seat, and grimaced as her headache returned with a vengeance.

'You'll find some paracetamol in the glove box'.

Of course she would. Serena sighed as she leaned forward to open the small compartment and saw a packet of the painkillers. It was probably the tidiest glove box she had ever seen, and she made a mental note never to let Hanssen in her car. Popping a couple of the little white tablets into her mouth, she swallowed and screwed up her face. Her head really was pounding.

'I should ring the garage'. She stuck a hand in her bag to try and retrieve her mobile, wondering if she had been sensible and saved the garage number from last time. Probably not.

'Already done'.

'What?' She turned to look at him. Once again, his face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

'Yes, while you were getting ready'. He turned away from her to check the road before swinging left towards the hospital. 'They should be collecting it at nine, so I suggest you leave the keys in it somewhere'.

'How did you know my registration?'

'I didn't. I gave them mine and told them yours would be parked next to it'.

She slowly realized that for once, yesterday she had parked in her allocated parking space. Which happened to be next to Hanssen's allocated space. Serena felt slightly dumbfounded. Again. This was beginning to be too much for one morning.

'You….' She stopped speaking as she realized she had no idea what to say. She could hardly ask Hanssen if he had suffered a knock to the head. Finally, she decided to just roll with it, that it was just a crazy couple of days. Her head was still hurting too much to do anything else and besides, stranger things had happened - although off the top of her head she couldn't think of any. As the car pulled smoothly into the hospital car park, she consoled herself with the thought that he would probably return to normal soon enough, and then she would not have to worry about what her own feelings might or might not be. Surprisingly, the thought was not as comforting as she imagined.