So, the snow had all melted here, but guess what? We're apparently going to get lots more! In the meantime, here's a little more of what Cal and Gillian have been getting up to when snowed in ;-)

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Chapter Eight

Ten minutes later, Cal and Gillian were curled up on the sofa together, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as they sipped their wine, watching a show that Cal could only describe as dire – even that seemed to be an understatement. Five guys and five young women – all ridiculously attractive, of course - were sent to a villa in Ibiza together; they were set various tasks, had to go on dates with each other in different pairings, and basically spent most of the time swanning around in bathing suits bitching about each other and scheming to try and sleep with one of the others.

The only reason Cal was tolerating this, of course, was that Gillian was leaning against him, the warmth of her body already seeming to seep into his skin. He might be watching utter crap on TV, but he was more relaxed and content than he'd been for a long time.

"Ooh, she's so jealous," Gillian said. "Look at her, saying she doesn't care if Kirsty and Simon get together because it's Rob she wants – you can just tell she's after Simon."

"Why d'you watch this crap, love?" Cal shook his head in amazement.

"What?" Gillian looked at him in surprise. "It's interesting!"

"Interesting? Are you serious?"

"It's an interesting study in human behaviour," she informed him. "See how these people react when thrown together; see the emotions they try to hide; see the…"

"All I see, love, is a bunch of hormonally charged twenty somethings desperate to be on television and get laid, and who don't care if those two things happen at the same time. And I don't see how a woman who reads Jane Austen and Shakespeare can enjoy this rubbish. Or why she'd make her poor partner watch it, either."

"Well, if you were better at snap you wouldn't have to watch it, would you?" she teased him.

He grinned. "You really do love to torture me, don't you Foster?"

"Yep. But I can't torture myself anymore." She reached for the control and quickly killed the TV.

"Eh?" Cal said as he watched the screen go blank. "I thought…"

"That I enjoyed that monstrosity of a program? Certainly not, you're right. It's complete rubbish."

Realisation dawned on Cal's face. "You were just trying to wind me up?"

"You lost a bet. I thought I should make you suffer a little, especially since you were so cocky about winning." She giggled at the look on his face. "What's the matter, Cal? Couldn't you read me?" She gave him an innocent smile. "Did I really have you convinced that I cared about Kirsty and Simon?"

"You…" He shook his head, unable to believe she'd fooled him like that. "It's the wine," he said at last. "And the cider. You plied me with alcohol so you could make me weak and defenceless and take advantage of me."

Gillian laughed. "Want me to finish the rest of your wine, then?" She held out a hand to him, her eyes sparkling.

"I've got it, thanks," he said, draining his glass. "Can't have you getting drunk, god knows what crap you'd want to watch on TV if you were hammered."

"Speaking of TV… you know The Notebook's on tonight?"

"Oh, no. God, no. I remember when you first saw that and came into work the next day still crying."

"Not still crying," she corrected him, "just crying again. I stopped crying when I was asleep, and having breakfast and getting dressed, but then I got into work and it suddenly came flooding back to me…"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Women," was all he could say to that, and Gillian grinned at him.

"It's starting in about… ooh… two minutes." She flicked the TV back on, and found the channel.

The commercials drew to a close, and Cal sighed dramatically. "Here we go then." The idea of having to hold and comfort Gillian as she cried over a movie, though, was… well, not an entirely hideous prospect.

The film was just about to start, when suddenly the screen went black, at the same time as the room was plunged into darkness.

"No!" Gillian squealed.

"Uh oh," Cal said, standing up and crossing carefully to the window. Looking out, he saw all the houses in Gillian's road were also blacked out. "Power's out in the whole street."

He heard Gillian move towards him; stumbling slightly, she reached out with her arm and he caught her by the elbow, steadying her.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Cal was able to make out Gillian's face, scanning the street as he just had. "Damn." She sighed, then turned to face him.

He grinned at her. "So, what now, love?"