Next day, London – Tuesday, 25th October

She'd texted him to let him know what time she'd be home tonight, and she'd been delighted when he'd replied with a suggestion that he bring round some take-away for dinner at seven. She'd got home late due to a delay with the train and then just about every other public transport system she'd had to use in London, so she'd only had time for a quick phone call to her mum to let her know she'd arrived safely before she'd jumped in the shower and began getting ready.

She's still drying her hair when she hears the doorbell, so quickly abandoning the rest to dry and curl at will, she unplugs the hair-dryer, leaving it out to cool, and after a quick brush and a final look in the mirror, she dashes downstairs, calling out, "I'm coming," as she goes.

The rapid beating of her heart has nothing to do with her quick decent down the stairs and everything to do with the man standing on the other side of her front door. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, she self-consciously pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and opens the door.

He's gorgeous. There's really no other word for it. How could she have forgotten how broad and tall, how beautiful and sexy, how strong and present he is, how keen and intense is his gaze, how soft are his lips and how his eyes make her whole body melt for him, she wonders briefly before she blinks and manages to pull herself together long enough to murmur, "Hello, Harry."

"Hi," he replies, his voice deep and warm, like dark chocolate, she thinks fleetingly before stepping aside to let him in.

"Come in," she whispers.

"Thank you," he replies and steps past her into the hall. Both his hands are full, one holding a plastic bag with their food which smells deliciously like curry and the other what looks like a bag containing several bottles of wine.

"Those look heavy," she observes, nodding at the bags. "Why don't you take them through to the kitchen?"

"Okay," he smiles and follows her advise as she turns to lock and bolt the door. She takes her time with it, trying to calm her nerves by giving herself an internal pep-talk and taking deep breaths, but the moment she hears him enter the hall again to hang his coat and she turns to face him, her heart rate has sky-rocketed once more and she's anything but calm again.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs as he takes a step closer, his coat now safely hanging next to hers.

"Thank you," she smiles shyly, dropping her gaze to the floor as she smooths the simple, navy blue dress she's wearing with her palms.

"Ruth?" he asks softly, taking a step closer still.

"Yes?" she breathes, lifting her eyes slowly, taking in his large, black, leather shoes, the dark jeans, soft, grey, v-necked jumper, and light pink shirt he's wearing, his open collar and soft kissable lips, before her eyes finally meet his. Delectable is the only word that springs to mind.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" he murmurs softly.

"Mind?" she whispers, tilting her head up and taking half a step towards him. "No, I don't think so, Harry."

She sees him smile before he leans in, his right hand cupping her face, his thumb moving across her chin and brushing her lower lip as he murmurs, "You don't think so? Ruth... sometimes you think entirely too much." Then she feels his other hand slip behind her, pulling her against him as he leans in and captures her lips ever so gently with his. Her hands move to touch him, her palms gliding slowly up his sides, then his chest and, eventually, over his shoulders, delighting in the feel of him, so solid, so real and strong, and she can already feel her insides melting, churning, wanting. She slips her hands into his hair then, pulling him closer and opening her mouth below his, eager to taste him once more. His right hand is in her hair, cradling her head, his fingers rubbing and massaging, finding all the right spots that she never even knew existed and making her shiver. His other hand is still holding her close, running over the curve of her bottom and squeezing it gently from time to time in a rhythm that has her blood boiling within seconds. She can feel him swelling against her stomach, so she nudges her hips closer, grinding against him, matching the rhythm his hand is setting on her bum.

"Christ, Ruth," he groans as he pulls out of the kiss, wrapping both arms around her, one hand on her hip and the other cradling her head against his shoulder. "You give yourself so completely."

He sounds awed and very highly aroused, his voice gravelly and deep. "I trust you," she explains simply because it's the truth. She'd thought of little else on the train ride back up to London, and she'd decided that she needs to trust him... with everything, including her heart. And once she'd made that decision, it had been so remarkably easy to do so because she'd realised that she doesn't believe that he'd ever deliberately hurt her. She's not naïve enough to think that he won't do something that might wound her inadvertently. After all, he's seen a lot, lived through a lot, he's a man and has had many failed relationships over the years, as has she, and she knows that the scars they both carry from their personal history and the job run deep and might cause them to behave in ways that no one else can understand, her own tendency to run and hide being a perfect case in point. But her mother was right; she's made her choice because she loves him more deeply than she's ever loved a man before, and now, she needs to give it her best shot.

He pulls back to look at her, his gaze keen and intense as he searches hers for a moment before he whispers, "I don't know what to say, Ruth... You... astound me and I... I think you've bewitched me. I can't stop thinking about you. When there's no crisis at work, all I think about is you."

"That's nice," she smiles, "because I think about you all the time too. I'm sorry I ran away. I... I needed to think... A lot has happened and I wanted to make sure that we... that I was making the right choices."

"And are you?" he asks softly, his gaze slightly wary but full of hope.

"Yes," she replies firmly. "Yes, I am."

He smiles, holding her gaze for long moments as he lifts his hand to push a strand of her hair behind her ear and softly stroke her cheek. "I'm glad," he murmurs and presses a gentle, chaste kiss against her lips. "Now let's eat. It's getting cold."

"Okay," she nods and moves to step away from him, but he gently grasps her hand in his and links their fingers together. She looks at their joined hands for a moment and then smiles up at him before leading him into the kitchen. They stand side by side at the kitchen counter, serving up the food and opening the wine, exchanging warm smiles and looks, and loving every minute of it.

They eat their meal in much the same manner. She tells him about her mother and David and all she did while in Exeter, and he fills her in on what's been going on at work. Then they do the washing up together and move to the sitting room with their glasses and the half-full, second bottle of wine.

"Do you want to watch something?" she asks as she steps into the room. "It's only half past eight."

"Okay," he agrees.

"The bottom shelf there has all my videos and DVDs," she says, pointing to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. "Why don't you choose something? I don't care what we watch, and I'm sure if I pick something you'll tell me it's a chick-flick and turn your nose up at it."

He smiles, placing the bottle of wine and his glass on the coffee table and moving over to the shelf she's indicated as he murmurs, "I haven't seen a film in so long, Ruth, that I'm sure I'll be happy to watch anything... Especially if I get to cuddle with you on the sofa while we watch."

She smiles at that and turns to find him looking at her, his gaze warm and joyful. "Funnily enough, that's exactly what I was thinking," she replies. He chuckles and turns back to the shelf as she puts down her wine glass, retrieves the remote controls, and turns everything on.

"Ruth, you appear to have all the Bond films here," he comments a few seconds later, and when she turns to look at him, she finds him watching her with one eyebrow raised in question.

"What can I say?" she shrugs. "I must like English spies."

"What? All of them?" he asks with a twinkle in his eye.

"No," she smiles, "just the good looking ones."

"Bugger," he sighs. "There goes my chance."

"Yes, well," she grins, "you must be the exception that proves the rule."

"Cheeky," he frowns in mock offence, making her laugh.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she teases. "Were you fishing for a compliment there?"

"Of course not," he replies quickly and turns back to scanning her video collection, but before she can do anything more than take a half step in his direction, he exclaims, "Those magnificent men in their flying machines?! I can't believe you have this. I haven't seen it since I was a boy."

"My dad and I used to watch it together," she explains as he brings it over to her and she slips it from its cover, sliding the video into the player. "He bought a video player almost as soon as they first came out. He was a real geek, my father. Anyway, we used to rent this film quite often. I should get it on DVD now, I suppose," she adds and looks up to find him smiling down at her. "Shall we?" she suggests.

He nods and turns to the sofa, taking a seat on the left hand side and draping his arm along the back of it in invitation while she starts the video. Then she takes a seat beside him, leaning into his side, tucking her legs up beside her and resting her head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around her. "This is so nice," she sighs.

"Yes, it is," he whispers and presses a kiss against her forehead before turning back to the TV as the film begins to play. She's seen this film so many times already that she knows it practically by heart and doesn't need to watch it. Instead, she surreptitiously watches Harry as he begins to chuckle almost from the moment it starts. He looks so happy and relaxed that it warms her heart and she drinks him in hungrily, unable to quite believe that he's really here with her. She's imagined this so many times and the reality of it is so wonderful that she finds herself unable to stop smiling or gazing at him in adoration.

"Ah, the lovely Patricia," he murmurs after a bit, making her snort derisively. "What?" he asks, turning to look at her in surprise.

"I hate her," she explains.

"Hate her?!" he replies, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. "Isn't that a rather... strong reaction?"

"Oh, come on, Harry," she objects, sitting up as her eyes flash in annoyance. "She's spoilt, manipulative and selfish. Don't tell me you like her?"

"Actually," he smiles, "I was in love with her once."

"In love with her?" she says in utter astonishment.

"Yes," he grins, "though I was only about eight at the time. Clearly I have a thing for beautiful, intelligent brunettes with gorgeous eyes."

She blushes, dropping her gaze in embarrassment even as her heart lifts with hope that he might fall in love with her too one day. He chuckles and pulls her gently against him again, pressing his lips softly against her forehead before turning back to watch the film.

"God, it's amazing how sexist these old films are," she sighs a little while later.

"We don't have to watch this, Ruth," he murmurs in response.

"No," she objects, "it's not that. I do like this film. It just bothers me sometimes. Though to be fair, the whole point of it is to make fun of stereotypes."

"Indeed," he replies, pressing his lips against her forehead again. She quite loves these kisses, she decides, almost as much as she loves the passionate ones he gives on the lips. There's something so reassuring about them as they have nothing to do with lust and desire but, instead, are a mark of true affection.

She tilts her head slightly so she can see his face, and continues to watch him watch the film, mesmerised by how open and relaxed he is, how his face betrays his emotions, and how his quiet chuckles of amusement warm her heart. He hasn't appeared to have noticed her scrutiny, which surprises her somewhat and pleases her no end as she feels free to continue, watching him until about half way through the film when the "Intermission" card appears across the screen.

"Shall I skip this?" she asks quickly to hide the fact that she's been observing him so closely, "Or make some tea?"

"Tea would be nice," he replies, "and I need a bathroom break."

"Okay," she smiles. "I'll get started on the tea." So she takes the empty glasses and bottle to the kitchen and prepares the tea with Harry's help, once more delighting in the domesticity of the situation. Then she nips to the loo while he carries everything into the living room, and soon they're sitting on the settee again, sipping their tea as they watch the rest of the film.

"So who would you pick?" he asks as they near the end of it. "Richard or Orvil?"

"Neither," she replies without hesitation. "I was never in love with either of them if that's what you're getting at."

"Not good looking enough for you, eh?" he teases.

"No," she smiles, then adds, "nor are they spies," making him laugh. "But if I had to choose between them... I don't know. I mean Richard won't take her flying because he gave his word, so that's a positive thing, and he's in uniform, and let's face it, all girls love a man in uniform." She winks at him, making him laugh again. "But he can't be bothered to change his weekly schedule to get married?! And he's so pompous and has absolutely no clue how to treat a woman... Orvil, on the other hand, is weak, easily manipulated, which is not a good thing. Like you said the other day, you can't go against your principles for anyone. I mean, he almost gets kicked out of the race and loses everything to take her flying! Some people might think that's romantic, but in my book, it's just plain stupid. On the other hand, he seems to know how to make love to a woman, which is definitely a point in his favour. So, I guess, if you twisted my arm and forced me to choose one of them, I'd pick Richard."

"I'd never do anything of the sort, Ruth," he growls, leaning towards her. "I'd have to be mad to force you to pick another man over me."

"Yes, you would," she whispers breathlessly as he moves closer, his eyes dropping to her lips as he slides his hand along her cheek, gripping the back of her head and neck gently with his fingertips and pulling her towards him. His lips are soft and gentle as they brush against hers, pulling away again and coming back for more, repeating their motion over and over, his rhythm slow and seductive. Her hands are resting on his chest, gripping his soft jumper as she hums in pleasure and lets her eyes drift shut, getting lost in the sensation of his mouth on hers. "You have perfect lips," she whispers between the third and fourth kiss, her voice sounding different, low and seductive, even to her ears. "I could spend all day kissing them," she confesses between the fifth and sixth kiss as she slips her hands up over his shoulders and behind his neck, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss with a moan of pleasure. He groans as she sucks and licks his lips, becoming bolder by the second until soon they're engaged in a full on snog, their hands wondering freely over each other's clothes as he leans into her, pushing her into the cushions behind her.

"Ruth," she hears him groan when they come up for air, but the rest of what he was going to say gets lost in their next kiss. Her knickers are soaked already and she can feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, but when she strokes him gently with her fingertips, he lifts his head abruptly, breaking the kiss even as a moan of pleasure escapes him. "Ruth," he pants, his eyes dark with desire, "it's... late. I should... go home."

"You could stay... if you want," she replies softly, dropping her gaze to her hands as she sits up and smooths down her dress, not daring to look at him lest he read the confusion and hurt in her gaze.

She hears him exhale heavily, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees him lift his hands to rub his face. Then he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before he turns towards her again and murmurs her name. His left hand slips across to rest over hers that are clasped together now in her lap, his thumb caressing her skin softly as he whispers, "I want to, Ruth. I want to stay here with you, but I think it would be wiser for me to go home tonight."

"Why?" she asks in puzzlement as she lifts her eyes to his.

"Because I feel that we're going about this all wrong," he explains. "Circumstances pushed us into a... situation that was... that neither of us could control, and I think that... we should rectify that and... slow down. I want to get to know you, Ruth, and to show you who I am away from work. I want to spend many wonderful evenings like this close to you... both physically and emotionally close. I don't want to... rush into anything because this is too important to me to risk messing up." He hesitates and speaks slowly, clearly taking care to find the right words to express himself, and she can tell that he's suddenly rather nervous, fearing her rejection perhaps, and it makes her realise that he was probably quite hurt by her sudden disappearance from London right after they'd got together and has possibly spent the last few days worrying that he's screwed everything up between them. It's the first time she's really thought about what message her actions must convey to him and she suddenly understands his need to be cautious now. Perhaps he's just as scared as she is to risk getting hurt.

"Okay, Harry," she murmurs softly, unclasping her hands so she can slip them around his. "I've had a lovely time tonight."

He smiles shyly and nods, saying, "Me too, Ruth. Perhaps we can do it again sometime this week?"

"That would be very nice," she nods. They stare into each other's eyes for long moments until she drops her eyes to his lips for a second and whispers, "Can I have another kiss, Harry, before you go? I really love your lips."

"Oh you love them now, do you?" he grins, leaning towards her.

"Mmm hmmm," she hums. "I adore them."

"Well, the good news is," he whispers against her lips, "that they adore kissing you too."