They were in the car park outside the office and Harry was staring at him furiously, hands on her hips. It was late afternoon and bitterly cold, but she scarcely seemed to notice.
"What's eating you?" he asked, knowing his words were likely to provoke her further. She had left Spikings' office looking ready to explode. Then she'd requested a chat 'in private', which knowing Harry, was more ominous than it was inviting.
"You completely undermined me in there!" Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. Impatiently, she swiped away a strand of stray hair. God, he thought. She was gorgeous when she was this angry.
"It's happening more and more often, Dempsey and I'm sick of it!"
He made to put his hand on her arm and then thought the better of it.
"Come on Harry," he contrived to make his tone as soothing as possible. "It's only 'cos I'm concerned for your safety. You take things too personal. It'd be the same with any partner of mine. This guy's dangerous."
He could see he needed to calm her down, to be the placatory one. It didn't seem to be working, though.
"With any partner? Like a male one? I don't think so," she said.
He didn't answer. Don't bring this up again. We've been over it a-thousand –and-one-times.
"What happened just now was the last straw."
"What's that meant to mean?" He folded his arms.
"It means I've had it, Dempsey. Your mood swings, your bad temper. I'm not sure I can work with you anymore."
If her intention was to rile him, she was certainly succeeding. She not able to work with him? That was a laugh. She stared at him fixedly and he eyeballed her right back.
"Oh really Sergeant, is that so?" He enunciated slowly, each word drenched in sarcasm. "Well let me tell you something. Lately, all I've been thinkin' bout's been gettin' a one-way ticket out of here, back to New York City."
He felt a certain gratification when he saw the way her eyes widened at his words.
"Let's face it, this ain't workin' for either of us."
She didn't answer, so he plunged on.
"I mean, you wanna go undercover lookin' for a maniac who stabs women and slashes their throats. You get mad at me for suggestin' it's not such a good idea, when we both know that less than a month ago you were kidnapped and nearly killed in that house in Buckingham. And you're still not over it."
"What on earth are you talking about?" She tilted her chin, but he'd got to her, he knew he had.
"You may not want to face up to it Harry, but it affected you, and it affected you bad. You really wanna put yourself through something that could be similar, or even worse?"
Her anger had completely dissipated now. She shivered in the gathering gloom and pulled her mohair sweater more closely around her. To Dempsey, she suddenly seemed smaller, more vulnerable.
"I don't see what choice I have," she said quietly. "I've got to carry on - it's the job. If I start worrying about what might happen every time we get into a dangerous situation, I might as well hand my badge in. It was a bad case, but I'll deal with it. I just need time."
They had moved closer together and were only aware of each other, oblivious to the bleak car park around them.
"Do you think I don't think about that day, Harry?" he said softly. " Do you think I don't play it back in my mind – thinkin' you might be dead? Do you think I don't think about how it ended?"
Their eyes met. She let herself remember – how they had kissed. At first they were 'glad to be alive' kisses, but that had quickly turned into something else, and the passion that had ignited between them - the bliss of finally giving in to something that had been building for so long - had been almost frightening in its intensity. When she thought about it later, that night seemed almost like a dream. But here, looking into his face, it felt all too real again.
"Of course I do," she whispered finally.
"Can you blame for for findin' it hard, spendin' so much time with you when you won't see me out of work?"
"That day was one of the hardest of my life. And you were there for me when I needed you. But I told you at the time. In the real world, we work together James. We're partners, not lovers."
He looked away but not before she saw the hurt in his eyes.
It was several moments before he spoke. "You can't tell me you don't feel something for me, cos I don't believe it. I remember how it was with us too well."
She shook her head. "You're not listening to me. It's harder for me than it is for you. Every promotion I've had, I've had to work three times as hard as a man in the same position. And I don't want to throw that away. You have an affair with me; no one cares. The rumour goes around that I'm sleeping with my partner, any authority I have is completely undermined."
The words made sense so why did saying them make her feel so empty?
"We could get around that," he said, "If you really wanted to. Why don't you just admit it, Harry? I ain't exactly your type. I don't fit into your world, do I?"
Adrenalin surged through her. Was he going to throw her background at her again?
"That's untrue and unfair."
'Is it?"
"You know it is." To her annoyance, she felt the tears come.
"That is NOT the reason. As a matter of fact I was going to invite you to come and spend Christmas with my Father and me at Winfield Hall. He was looking forward to having you. That's how much I think I'm above you, Dempsey!"
She turned and began walking quickly back in the direction of the office, leaving Dempsey to absorb it. Despite everything, a grin spread over his face. She had invited him for Christmas.
"Hey Harry, listen – I'm sorry. I didn't mean it…" he trotted to catch her up.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," She blinked her eyes rapidly. "Let's focus on the operation, okay? I want to do this undercover, Dempsey. In a strange way, I think it'll help me. Please understand."
"Sure angel, whatever. Just don't cry okay?"
"I'm not!" She gave him a watery smile and disappeared inside. Dempsey stared unhappily after her. She was the last person on earth he'd ever want to hurt, so why did it feel as if he had managed to?