On board the plane D.C. Fry had been told to serve champagne to the love birds and Dempsey had dumped a mickey in both glasses to try and bring things to a bloodless conclusion. The champagne had been demanded by Courtenay as she felt she needed something.

Unfortunately, Brian was on an adrenaline fuelled high and it would take an elephant gun to take him out not a mild sedative. His wife however was exhausted from the stress of the situation and soon slumped in her chair.

Brian was vociferous when he couldn't get Courtney to wake up and Hargreaves went to the cockpit to fetch the co-pilot who had some medical experience.

Dempsey entered the main cabin and insisted that Courtney be removed from the seat next to Brian and pretended to listen to her heart. 'Very rapid heartbeat,' he concluded in an authoritative tone which was a load of rubbish as the drug would slow that down. 'We need to get your wife to a medical facility; we're going to have to land.'

'We land in Spain,' Brian was not going back to Heathrow and he waved his weapon at Dempsey in a threatening manner.

'Your wife's unconscious,' Dempsey stated. 'You try and rouse her if you don't believe me,' he was totally in the zone when McIntyre came over to shake Courtenay. As the man's attention was then on his wife, he dropped his guard and Dempsey punched him on the jaw and that was that; the guy was out cold. Hargreaves did the honours with the handcuffs once Dempsey had removed and secured the gun.

'Okay, let's go home,' the American went back into the cockpit took over the flight for a few circles around the airport and then handed over to the pilot to land the plane.

Brian McIntyre looked a dejected figure as he descended the steps and was taken into police custody and Courtenay was stretchered off as she was still under the effects of the sedative.

The team met up again at SI10 and Spikings was in a very good mood. 'Well done,' he beamed. 'Not a drop of blood spilt and all the hostages grateful and singing the praises of our wonderful police force. The Home Office are delighted and so are upstairs. The only thorn in the flesh is the psychiatrist report on McIntyre, do what you can there Dempsey, we don't need the paperwork.

'Yes I'm sure Detective Inspector Dempsey can pour oil on troubled waters,' Harry folded her arms across her chest and viewed her ex-partner critically.

'I'll do what I can,' he responded glaring back at her. Women, one bowl of chicken soup and you'd think he'd proposed marriage. If she wasn't interested in him why did she get all fired up cos Suzanne liked him. It was nuts.

-oOo-

Harry's exhaustion was getting problematic and she longed for a decent night's sleep the only problem with that was the only way she'd get it would be if she could sense Dempsey was in near proximity. She'd thought long and hard about this and concluded that annoying though that was; it was the painful truth. Of all the people to fall for she had to pick a practiced womanizer who seemed to attract determined, females effortlessly. Stupidly, she seemed to like bad boys whether they came in Saville Row suits or leather jackets and jeans. 'I'm an idiot,' she muttered under her breath.

'I'm going for a shower,' Dempsey muttered as he'd been working for thirty hours straight. He headed for the male locker room as Harry came back into the office with her cup of black coffee.

What possessed her she never knew but five minutes later Harry found herself in the male locker room and taking her ex-partner's shirt off the hook where he'd left it and quickly departed stuffing the stolen article in her handbag.

The American was fairly vociferous when he found his shirt was gone and asked the guys if anyone had seen it, indifference reigned as none of them had seen it and he got various offers of tee shirts and tanks that the guys kept in their lockers as spares.

Harry was painfully typing something and ignoring the hullabaloo but what she didn't realise was a tiny piece of Dempsey's white shirt was caught around the clasp of her handbag. Nobody noticed this other than James who didn't say anything but the corner of his mouth twitched as he suppressed what would have been a shit eating grin. He sat down at the typewriter and typed out his report in triplicate and tried not to watch as Makepeace left for the evening. He failed and his eyes were glued to her trim figure as she departed.

'Nice arse,' Watson muttered as he gave Chas his expenses and he grinned as Dempsey gave him a homily on sexism in the workforce which they all knew was a load of bullshit as the American was a keen connoisseur of the female form and was gagging to do it with D.I. Makepeace.

-oOo—

Dempsey couldn't contain his curiosity and let himself into Harry's house in the early hours of the morning and opened her bedroom door and there she was all curled up like a sleepy dormouse and she was wearing his shirt. He hadn't the heart to wake her cos she obviously needed the sleep so he closed the door and went to get some shut eye on her sofa. He was exhausted so it wasn't hard to settle down and drift off, needed to wake earlier than her though so as to make the breakfast that he'd brought with him.

-oOo-

Harry woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in weeks, it was so good to get a decent night's sleep she went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and washed her face; ran a brush through her hair and went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

She got an unpleasant shock when she walked into the kitchen wearing the shirt and nothing else and came smack bang into James Dempsey who looked horribly amused. Oh my God, this was beyond humiliating.

Makepeace tried to quell the full body blush of heat that travelled through her nerve endings but managed to rally with true Winfield grit. 'Fair cop guv, you've got me bang to rights, I haven't slept for what seems like weeks and the best sedative I could think of was sniffing you; reminds me of boring stake-outs or long evenings dealing with paperwork and it worked like a treat.' She took a seat at her kitchen table brazening out the shirt which was thin cotton so Dempsey was probably getting an eyeful, when all she wanted to do was scarper back to the bedroom and put on some clothes.

'Tea and a chocolate pastry,' he landed the plate and mug in front of her and sat back in his chair observing her whilst drinking his coffee. His appreciative gaze ran over the pretty picture she made in his shirt, kind of intimate wearing a guy's shirt specially as he'd worn it for a long shift.

'Pain au chocolat,' she corrected in her usual cool fashion. She sipped her tea trying to regain her composure which drew on all her aristocratic years of breeding. 'What are you doing here anyway? I don't remember inviting you to invade my home.'

'Very good, cool under fire,' he acknowledged as he drank down some of the coffee and picked up a bagel and slathered it in cream cheese. 'I'm a good detective Makepeace; crime to solve, followed my nose.'

'Yes well it is certainly aromatic, but it did the trick I'll send it back to you laundered,' she got up ready to lock herself into the bathroom and then gritted her teeth as he rose and barred the way with one tanned, muscular arm against the door jamb.

'Not so fast sweetheart, you steal a man's shirt that's an offence in my book; if you'd asked I'd've given you all my laundry you could've knocked yourself out.' He tipped up her chin so she had to look at him. 'Missed me then,' his voice was low and deep with that honeyed tone that he knew got to his partner and generally made her soften towards him.

'It's a weakness, I'm fighting it,' she bit out her blue eyes annoyed that he was calling her on her stupidly, embarrassing behaviour.

'I can imagine you feel awkward,' he murmured as he traced the vee of the shirt where it was unbuttoned his fingertips feeding the sting of sexual arousal for them both. 'Cos it seems to me that it's not the shirt you really want.'

'Oh shut up,' she snapped irritably. 'I got a good night's sleep so mission accomplished, I was desperate…

'Yeah well that's cos you're in denial and all that repressed sexual tension is ready to overflow a bit like Vesuvius on a bad day.'

'In your dreams,' she bit out and then blushed because she'd been dreaming about him and it had been pretty steamy stuff.

He leant down and kissed her neck a little sting of a kiss that burnt its way through Harry's nervous system; he felt her shock at the action as she jumped slightly, 'see you in the office,' he drawled and strolled to the door. 'Only have to ask Makepeace, it's your turn.'