Sorry I haven't updated for a while but I've been on holiday. Managed to get quite a bit written whilst lounging on my sunbed so you won't have to wait long for Chapter 25. Was a bit weird trying to write 'snuggly-warm winter' in the Canaries!

Chapter 24

Fire And Ice

True to her word, Harry was back downstairs inside twenty five minutes, fresh and fragrant in a fluffy white towelling bathrobe and embroidered white silk slippers.

Dempsey instantly detected a trace of vanilla following in her wake, layered with a sweet almond and orange blossom.

"Will it be long?" she asked, crossing to the fireplace and taking up the poker. "I'm rather hungry now."

"The guy said around forty-five minutes."

He watched as she stirred the coals, the flames leaping up with gusto.

"I stoked it up a little," he told her, "should be okay for a while."

She gave him a knowing look.

"What?" he asked.

"Definitely a man thing. Harks back to caveman days. You just can't resist playing with fire."

"My mother always says one day I'll get my fingers burned but whadya gonna do?"

Harry replaced the poker in the stand. "Listen to your mother?"

She went and sat at the opposite end of the sofa to Dempsey and curled her legs up.

Not taking his eyes from the television screen, he scratched the back of his neck as he asked the question, "So, you get a lot of guys stickin' their poker in your fire?"

It was cheap even for him and he hunkered down with a wincing grin on his face, waiting for the onslaught.

"Only fully approved cavemen."

She too was facing front and Dempsey looked across in time to see the teasing little smirk on her face.

"Think maybe I got time to grab a cold shower? Suddenly got awful hot in here."

"That's what happens when you go stoking the fire."

She was giving it right back, no cool avoidance, not cold reprimands. Harry was lapping it up and in a way it gave him too much food for thought. He wasn't used to encouragement and he was at a loss as to how far he could or should take it

He stood up and slipped his wallet from his back pocket.

"If I ain't down in time, I'll leave a twenty on the hall table."

Did he sound nervous? Jeez, why did he sound nervous? She was makin' him nervous!

She looked up at him and smiled and he saw the reason he called her 'angel'. Makepeace was beautiful… like, soul-tearingly beautiful and he wanted to be wrenched apart.

He slunk out, feeling for the first time in his life like he might be 'lost in paradise'.

The room was suddenly very empty and the heat that had built up, dissipated with incredible speed. Harry hadn't wanted him to go for a shower; she needed him to stay with her.

How ridiculous! For two pins she would have followed him up, using the excuse of checking she had left him a towel or to point out that there were disposable razors in the bathroom cabinet. But he knew where both items were kept because he'd stopped the night before on several occasions. And besides, he might have got the wrong idea – and that was such a wonderfully bad idea.

Not that she hadn't seen it all before of course, ironically not long after they had first met. She had gone round to his flat to call for him. With him fresh out of the shower, there had been some altercation over women operating in their line of work. It had ended with him saying he was prepared to treat her as 'just one of the boys' and he had shed the bath towel that had been wrapped so securely about his hips in a bid to openly embarrass her. But she had failed to show any interest in his nether regions as convincingly as any professional actress you could care to name. Given that at the time she had viewed his antics as mere 'showing off', her resilience had been relatively high. To be able to pull it off now she would surely deserve an Oscar.

He would be under the shower now; the hot, gently pummeling jets of water cascading down over his lean, toned body to warm him through and ease his tired muscles. The image played with unbearable vividness across her mind until she was forced to get up to busy herself with drawing the curtains and putting on the lamps.

Too bright, she realised - the atmosphere was lost. She switched two lamps off again to leave just the standard lamp over in the corner along with the warm glow of firelight and the constantly moving light of the television screen.

Better.

Harry anxiously bit the inside of her cheek.

What did 'better' mean? Better for what? Better how?

She was mood-setting wasn't she, creating an ambiance. Why was she playing such a dangerous game? But then, it was only dangerous if she didn't want to play 'til the end. Did she? Could she admit that much to herself?

Things would change between them, would alter irrevocably if they ever… And she probably wasn't being fair to him, afterall, he was hardly up to… that sort of thing, either mentally or physically. He'd only just been released from hospital, he didn't need any more issues to contend with.

What was the matter with her anyway? Why couldn't she get these thoughts of James out of her head? It was absurd. The realisation that she now wanted him was just ridiculous beyond words!

But she did, oh God, she did, like she had never wanted a man before. She was running the same temperature she had run all those years ago at boarding school, late at night in the dormitory with her friends, speculating about what 'it' would be like that first time and who 'it' would be with. The object of their fantasy was usually Paul, the groundskeeper's lad; tall and fair, sinewy and perpetually tanned from his outdoor work. But Harry was no longer fourteen and the first time now a distant memory but that same anticipation was there, building unstoppably from deep within, threatening to explode with nymphomanic force.

She was only human though… she smiled weakly to herself… how that would amuse James… and of the girlfriends she could think of who had met him, all without exception had intimated in various ways that they wouldn't kick him out of bed if the opportunity arose, and that included married Angela Carstairs! Men like him triggered some base instinct in women, it was to do with their subconscious recognising a potential mate in all that muscular, fertile virility.

Not tonight though, and not whilst he was staying with her. He was unwell, it wouldn't be fair. No, not EVER she quickly corrected herself. He was her partner which made it practically illegal in some books.

That thought added fuel to the already raging fire. Pushing the boundaries, going beyond the limit was something she had never done until she had met Dempsey. He had forced her into a new dimension of danger, one that excited her and brought her to life although she wouldn't dream of admitting it to him.

Hurrying out to the kitchen, Harry employed herself with the practicalities of arranging plates, serving spoons and chopsticks along with a jug of water on a tray in anticipation of their meal's arrival.

The doorbell rang just as Dempsey reached the bottom stair.

"I got it," he called out.

He paid for the food and taking the brown paper carrier through to the kitchen, he found Harry getting serviettes out of a drawer.

"Here ya go!"

He dumped it down on the worktop just in front of her, leaning around her to do so.

She smelt so good; whatever it was she'd used in the tub was acting like some kind of aphrodisiac and he breathed in long and deep.

"Lovely," said Harry.

"Yeah," he agreed, his mind very far from Chinese food. "Got those crispy noodles that you like."

"So I see."

She opened the white paper bag that was on top of the foil containers and taking out one of the long, puffed, deep fried noodle crackers, munched down on it.

"Hey, they're mine!" she scolded when Dempsey helped himself too.

"Like we don't share?" he threw back, helping himself to more.

Harry knocked his hand away. "Not my crispy noodles we don't," she laughed.

"Ahh, c'mmon, Princess. Just gimme a couple," he begged.

To his delight, Harry held one up to his mouth and when he made to bite into it, she snatched it away again.

"Ask nicely," she teased.

He grabbed her hand back. "Uh uh. We're partners, we share everythin'. It's the law."

She tried to pull away again but Dempsey's grip was firm. "Don't make me fight you for it," he warned.

"You'd lose," she challenged.

He tried to bring her clenched fist to his mouth, the tantalising morsel between her thumb and forefinger. She resisted him and their eyes locked. Without a word he lowered his head and bit down, his lips so close they grazed her thumb.

"I play dirty," he said low as he looked up into the darkened blue of her eyes.

Harry was transfixed for a moment and she felt herself losing all the resistance she had so carefully engineered.

But Dempsey broke the tension, crunching up the crispy noodle with one of his trademark grins and then releasing her hand. He hadn't had a choice. If he hadn't let go when he did he would have kissed her and he wouldn't have been able to stop.

Harry turned away with a nervous smile and began putting the foil cartons on the tray, Dempsey removing the lids.

"What's this?" she asked lightly, pointing to a dish containing prawns.

"King prawns in a garlic and oyster sauce."

She pointed to another. "And that one?"

"Crispy chicken with chili and salt – it'll blow ya socks off."

"Do I want my socks blowing off I ask myself?"

"Sure ya do Makepeace, live a little."

They carried everything through to the sitting room and served themselves from the cartons. Despite Harry's earlier hunger pangs, she found she was only able to eat sparingly. The food was lovely but her appetite was blunted by her quickening heartbeat.

They were sitting on the floor with their backs to the sofa, the food before them as though they were having a picnic. They were laughing about their youngest colleague, Graham Fry who Harry had just informed Dempsey had got a hot date tonight with a girl named Caroline, a new barmaid at the SI-10 local, the Bramcote Arms.

"I need to have a talk with this chick!" he exclaimed. "She don't know what she's getting' herself into. Our Fry is a real sex beast! You oughta hear him in the men's locker room. I actually heard him say 'tits' one time. No tellin' what kind of depravities he's got goin' on in that tiny mind o' his."

"Ahh, I think it's rather sweet," she cooed, "he's a nice young man."

"Don't say that within his earshot else he'll be all over you like a rash. Got a crush on you the size of Rushmore."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Don't be ridiculous!" she laughed with undisguised amazement.

"C'mmon, you ain't noticed? Seriously?"

"Well I'll admit he might be a little bit in awe of a senior officer but I'm sure that's as far as it goes."

Dempsey reached over with his chopsticks for the chicken and chili salt dish. "You tried this yet?" he asked, picking up a large piece. "Let me tell ya Makepeace, it ain't 'awe' makes a guy's pants get tight that way."

"You're really not funny," she huffed.

She accepted the food he offered into her mouth, turning her body to face him and drawing her knees up.

"Good?" he asked.

"Don't judge others by your own standards."

"Me? I don't do crushes, I see somethin' I want, I usually reach right out and I take it." He made an exaggerated pincer movement with his chopsticks in her direction.

"The chili adds a nice kick doesn't it?" Harry went for more and Dempsey was gratified to see it met with her approval. "Usually, but not always?"

"Huh?" the chopsticks were heading his way for some reciprocal feeding and he was totally distracted by it.

"You usually take what you want, but not always."

He watched her own lips part as she placed the food in his mouth, her left hand cupping underneath his chin should any of the food fall off the chopsticks.

She smiled radiantly as he began to chew.

"Shit, that's hot!" he cried, sucking in air and reaching blindly for his glass of water whilst Harry fell about laughing.

"That'll be the chillies, I suspect. I might've been a bit heavy handed."

He couldn't speak, his eyes were watering and he was busy washing water around his mouth.

"Bit too hot?" Harry asked, exuding sarcastic sympathy as she cocked her head to one side.

He vented a single expletive, sweat now standing out on his brow and she realised she might have gone too far.

"Are you alright?"

She shouldn't have done it but it had just been too tempting to hook those tiny little loops of fried chili peppers together on the chopsticks and pop them into his mouth along with the chicken. It had been a silly error of judgement though; he was still below par and she was supposed to be aiding his recovery, not hindering it.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay, James?"

He looked sweaty and blotchy; the skin around his eyes blanched white.

Anxiously she took his face in her hands. "I'm sorry, that was silly of me," she apologised as she wiped the moisture from his cheeks with a serviette.

He pushed her hands away roughly. "I'm okay…it's okay."

But he was still desperately sucking in and blowing out air in a bid to cool his mouth.

"Can I get you some ice or something?"

He shook his head and scooped a spoonful of boiled rice into his mouth to absorb some of the heat.

She felt horribly guilty. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, I'm the one who's sorry. No more jokes about Fry and his crush, I promise. I mean, I got a feelin' I could wind up with a stick of dynamite up my ass next time!"

"I didn't realise I'd given you that much," she said humbly… and Dempsey quite liked her humble.

The killer heat had reduced down to a tingle but he saw the scope for sympathy.

"Just gimme a minute," he told her in an exhausted tone and lay his head back on the sofa seat edge.

Makepeace knelt by his side, mortified by her actions. "It'll wear off in a few minutes. Is there anything I can do?"

Dempsey kept his head back and his eyes closed. "Yeah, there is…"

He knew that at this point her suspicions would be aroused so he carried on quickly, "Would you maybe loosen my clothing…get me cooled down ya know and I got a feelin' the kiss of life could work wonders."

Harry smiled. "Of course, Dempsey and a glass of sparkling cyanide when you're ready."

He clutched his chest. "Makepeace, I'm cut to the quick. That you should speak of poison after what I've been through!"

It was true that she hadn't thought before she said it but he didn't exactly sound disturbed by it.

He opened his eyes and grinned up at her and Harry laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully.

"You idiot!"

He chuckled.

Slewing herself back onto her bottom, Harry found herself leaning against him when Dempsey's arm came up to hug her in a friendly gesture.

For the next hour they watched a one-off drama on BBC1, an Alan Bennett black comedy. Although Dempsey couldn't really appreciate the nuances of the Yorkshire dialect, he got the bitter-sweet implications and was able to laugh in the right places.

They picked intermittently at the remains of their Chinese meal, Harry offering him chopsticks loaded with the lethal chili peppers every so often which had the effect of cracking them both up repeatedly.

At ten-thirty, Harry cleared everything away and took the tray back to the kitchen where she quickly washed up their plates. The left-over food went into the fridge – ready to be eaten by Dempsey for breakfast in the morning.

"You ready for hot chocolate?" Dempsey asked, wandering into the kitchen.

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Yes Pops, Harry was out of the bathroom 'inside 25 minutes'! #wonderwoman