Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter! I'm almost finished writing this story now, so the next couple of updates should hopefully not be too long. I have a slight problem with obsessive editing, so I tend to hang onto chapters for longer than I probably should...wonder if there's a help group for that?!

Hope you enjoy x

'Christ almighty'.

Serena's muttered oath was directed at the television. She had been flicking channels for the past five minutes and there was absolutely nothing on. Blowing out a sigh, she hit the standby button on the remote and stood up to pour herself another glass of wine. She couldn't settle. And, much as she hated to admit it, it was thoughts of Hanssen that were sending her slightly haywire.

Despite making arrangements – well, more like loose plans – for tomorrow, she had been thinking about him ever since she had left his office earlier that afternoon. Even Ric had noticed she seemed distracted, and she was very grateful that she had managed to avoid Michael. Making an excuse for the two cups of coffee that he had caught her with would have been easy enough. Explaining away the blush that she knew coloured her cheeks whenever she remembered their flirting and parting kiss would not have been so straightforward.

She narrowed her eyes at the now-blank television screen as she took a sip of her wine. She couldn't remember the last time a man had made her feel like this – or, in fact, the last time anything of any description had made her feel like this – and she couldn't decide if she liked it or not. Usually so in control of everything around her, Serena felt like she was being pulled along on a rollercoaster that she hadn't asked to join. She wasn't ready for it, but, when she thought about it, she didn't think she wanted to get off either.

Shaking her head at herself, she padded through to the kitchen, wondering what she had in the way of junk food. She was already in her pajamas, having dived straight into a deep, hot bubble bath when she arrived home from work, but far from taking her mind off Hanssen, it had only made things worse. She stood on tiptoe as she reached to the back of the cupboard, hoping that Eleanor had not discovered her stash of sweets, and grinned in triumph as she pulled out a bag of Haribo. Tangfastics were not the healthiest dinner she had ever had but they would do for tonight.

Ripping open the bag, Serena headed back through to the living room to try and find a book or magazine or something to occupy her mind. There was no point in going to bed. She would never sleep. Chewing on a sour gummy bear, she spied Eleanor's latest edition of Marie Claire lying underneath last week's newspapers on the coffee table. She never read fashion magazines usually – she couldn't see the point of looking through endless pages of skinny women modeling the latest outfits that she wouldn't be seen dead in and couldn't afford anyway - but, as she was discovering, there was a first time for everything. She settled herself back down on the sofa with the bag of sweets, her wine glass and the magazine, and was just getting comfortable when a knock at the front door made her jump.

'What the….?'

She was not expecting anyone. If Eleanor had been coming home earlier than planned she would have sent a text and besides, she had a key with her. Serena threw down the magazine and headed towards the front door, wine and sweets clutched in one hand. She thought wryly that the sight of her in bright check pajamas and an old Harvard university sweatshirt would send all but the most determined visitor scurrying away.

'Henrik?'

He looked a bit uncomfortable and tense, standing on her doorstep in his suit and coat as she squinted at him under the glare of the security light. She pulled the door fully open, her brow furrowed in confusion, and briefly wished she had bothered to get dressed again after her bath. But her pajamas were obviously not having the effect she thought they would, as he stayed on the doorstep and the ghost of a smile crossed his face.

'Am I interrupting something?'

She had to smile as she stood aside to let him in.

'Only this'.

She held up the hand with the Haribo and the wine, and took his coat with the other. She realized that she was pleased to see him – but that didn't stop her wondering why he had chosen to show up at ten thirty at night.

'I thought we said tomorrow?'

'We did'.

'I thought you were busy tonight'.

He shrugged.

'I was. But when I finished…..well. Tomorrow seemed like a long time to wait'.

Serena stared at him for a moment. He looked as stiff and formal as he always did, his expression now unreadable. But she was quickly learning to understand the small flickers of emotion he sometimes allowed to show through in his eyes, and now she saw that he was nervous. She guessed it had taken him a while to decide to drive to her house instead of straight home.

He gestured to her pajamas.

'I can go if you're wanting an early night'.

Serena smirked. As well as being nervous, Hanssen was also slightly embarrassed. She shook her head.

'I wasn't going to bed yet. And anyway, it could have been worse. If you'd come an hour ago, I would still have been in the bath'.

He blinked and she reached for his hand, loosely taking hold of his fingers to lead him through to the living room. She settled herself back down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he sat down.

''Would you like one?'

He raised his eyebrows. 'One of what? A sour jelly sweet that's guaranteed to rot my insides or a glass of wine?'

'That's also guaranteed to rot your insides, just in a different way? Either. Both'.

To her surprise, he reached across and dug into the bag, pulling out a cola bottle and grimacing as he chewed.

'It tastes better washed down'.

She held up her wine glass, and he nodded.

Serena got up again to fetch the bottle and another glass, setting both down on the coffee table in front of him before sitting back on the sofa, her legs curled under her. She watched him silently for a moment, sipping her wine, but he didn't speak. He was staring at the newspapers, and she wondered if last Sunday's Times was really that fascinating.

'Are you at least going to take your jacket off?'

He didn't reply, but reached for another sweet. Serena sighed, and shifted over so that she was almost touching him. She reached up and slowly pushed the dark suit jacket off his shoulders and, as he pulled his arms free of the sleeves, she began loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. Satisfied that he looked a bit more comfortable, physically at least, she sat back against the cushions.

'There. So. Generally, when two people are sat next to each other like we are now, they do one of two things. They either talk to each other, or….'

Hanssen looked mildly surprised.

'The last time I went to London, the man sitting next to me on the Tube did neither of those things'.

'I'm pleased to hear it. But we're on my sofa. You kissed me last night and told me today that we should probably talk about it, and then you show up on my doorstep at half past ten at night. So I was sort of assuming that you wanted to talk.'

Serena hadn't really meant to sound so impatient – although she would be the first to admit that patience was not her forte. But if she left him to his own devices, she thought Hanssen would probably sit there in silence all night. Despite the fact that he had obviously decided he wanted to see her, conversation, especially of the personal kind, did not come easily to him. It didn't to her either, really, but it seemed she had had a lot more practice.

She sighed again, putting her glass down on the table and reached to take his from his hand too.

'But if you really don't want to talk, you could at least kiss me again'.

Serena leaned back against the corner of the sofa and reached for her wine. Her legs and bare feet were resting in Hanssen's lap, and as his fingers gently stroked backwards and forwards along the top of her foot to her ankle, a little shiver of pleasure ran through her. She smirked inwardly. He might not be much good at conversation, but he could certainly make his feelings known in other ways. He had taken her up on her invitation to kiss her again and this time she was very grateful that she was safely sat down on the sofa. His lips seemed to be capable of doing things to her body that she had not thought possible. Somewhere along the line her sweatshirt had ended up on the floor, but everything else seemed intact. For now.

'Is Eleanor not coming home tonight?'

Serena shook her head. Hanssen knew, of course, that she had a daughter, so she figured she should have expected the question at some point.

'Staying with her father for a few days'.

She tried to keep her voice neutral. The last thing she wanted was for Hanssen to realize how bitter her divorce had been and how much of a struggle it was sometimes to keep things civil. She would have been quite happy never to see her ex-husband again, but unfortunately he was Eleanor's father.

'Ah'.

The look on Hanssen's face said that she had not been as successful at hiding her feelings as she usually was, and he looked as if he wished he hadn't asked. She reached for the bag of sweets again, suddenly desperate for something, anything, as a distraction, but paused with her hand on a jelly shape and looked over and met his gaze.

He would never ask, she knew that. Henrik Hanssen was the one person she had ever met who was as reluctant as she was to open up to others, and so, like her, he never expected others to open up to him. But something in his look made her want to talk, to explain. And, she reasoned, it wasn't as if she could clearly define 'private life' anymore where he was concerned. The line was becoming more blurred by the day. If her world was going to turn upside down anyway, she figured she might as well give it a helping hand.

'We divorced over ten years ago. It wasn't exactly amicable'.

Serena paused, and popped the sweet into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she realized she had never spoken about this to anyone.

'You would have thought that after a decade we could talk to each other like adults, but it doesn't usually work out that way. If it wasn't for Eleanor, I'd love to pretend it never happened. She was the only good thing to come out of it'.

She smiled to try and lighten what she was saying, but Hanssen just nodded.

'How long were you married?'

Serena blinked at the question.

'Three years. Long enough to bring out the worst in each other'.

She unconsciously brought her hand up to touch her cheek, but dropped it quickly as she realized Hanssen had seen. The unspoken question in his eyes was obvious, and she silently cursed herself for not being more careful. She knew she didn't have to say anything, but didn't see the point in lying when he had guessed the truth anyway.

'Once'.

She didn't look at him. She couldn't, and this time the wine glass provided the distraction.

'That was the day I discovered what stilettos are really for. He never laid a finger on me again - literally'. She didn't see any reason to elaborate even further. It really hadn't taken long, she reflected, for it to all fall apart.

'Okay, enough about me', she said lightly. This had gone too far already. Despite all the surprises of the previous two days, nothing had prepared her for the feeling of actually being this comfortable talking to Henrik Hanssen.

He didn't look up, but continued stroking her ankle.

'I'm sorry', he said quietly.

'For what?' Serena was surprised. Her disastrous marriage had hardly been his fault.

'Asking'.

'You didn't ask', she reminded him, poking him playfully in the arm with her toe. 'I told you'.

'Yes, but….'

She stopped him with a shake of her head and took a deep breath.

'I felt comfortable telling you', she admitted quietly. 'Which is a very strange feeling for me'. She reached over and put her empty glass down on the floor. 'In fact, you're having a very strange effect on me altogether'.

His fingers stopped moving, and she suddenly panicked that she had said too much. Too much, too soon. This was still the same Hanssen, after all.

'I'm glad I wasn't the first one to admit that'.

His voice was soft, little more than a murmur, but she knew she had not misheard.

'I suppose that's what I came here to try and tell you, but…..' He shrugged and looked over at her, a hint of a sheepish smile on his face. 'I did warn you this is not my strong point'.

She smiled back, her stomach doing little backflips. Although, she thought logically, the sour cola bottles weren't helping.

'Not mine either. What's that saying? Blind leading the blind?'

Hanssen smiled properly now. 'That sounds appropriate'.

'So do we give it a go?'

Serena was typically blunt again and, if she was honest, she wasn't really sure what 'it' was. But she felt they'd both come too far to back off now. There was a moment of agonizing, thoughtful silence before Hanssen finally nodded.

'I suppose I have now seen you in your pajamas'.

Serena nodded, smirking. 'A line has been crossed. And these are the respectable ones'.

He feigned a look of horror and she poked him again, harder this time.

'Well, you know what the answer is if you don't like them'.

He raised his eyebrows, pretending innocence as she shifted up to sit on his lap.

'Take you shopping?'

His hands slipped around her waist and down to rest on her hips, and she smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

'Enough talking'.

Slowly, very slowly, Serena became conscious of the fact that she was cold. She shifted a little, her eyes still closed, and pulled the quilt further over her head. Her sleep-filled brain registered the fact that she wasn't wearing her pajamas, which would probably explain why she was chilly, but for a moment she couldn't remember why that would be. She always wore pajamas.

With a flash of memory that worked better than any alarm clock, the events of the night before came back to her and she was jolted wide awake. She wasn't sure whether to groan or laugh out loud, and settled for snuggling further under the quilt instead. She reached an arm over to the other side of the bed and, although it was warm, there was no one there. She briefly wondered if she had dreamt it. If so, she was willing to pull her first sickie and stay in bed for the rest of the day. It was the best dream she had had for years.

Pulling herself up and out from under the quilt, she sat up and gazed around the bedroom. Henrik – she was starting to think of him now as Henrik rather than Hanssen, which was just as well if she remembered rightly about last night – was nowhere to be seen, but she relaxed slightly as she caught sight of his clothes piled up on the blanket chest at the bottom of the bed. She guessed that meant he hadn't done a runner, although she was learning to take nothing for granted. The deliciously sore feeling that she got when she moved would remind her of that for a couple of days yet, and a slow grin spread across her face. Pushing back the covers, she grabbed her dressing gown from the back of the bedroom door and padded downstairs quietly. She had a feeling she knew where he would be.

'So you're still here then'.

She leaned against the kitchen door, watching him pour coffee into two large mugs. He turned and smiled, looking slightly embarrassed with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

'Did you really think I'd left?'

Serena shook her head and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his back.

'Not once I saw your clothes still there. I thought even you wouldn't have headed home in just a towel'.

She moved away slightly as he turned and slipped his hands around her waist again, pulling her in for a slow kiss.

'Are you all right?'

She smiled. His concern was kind of sweet, and she nodded.

'Umm-hmm'. She looked up at him, a teasing glint in her eye. 'Just out of practice, that's all'.

'I was going to bring you coffee'.

'You could still bring me coffee'. She looked up at the clock. 'I have no intention of actually getting up at quarter to six when I don't have to be at work until nine'.

He raised his eyebrows.

'Back to bed?'

She nodded decisively and turned, the twinkle in her eyes making sure that he followed.

'Back to bed. I want to make sure I didn't dream last night'.