The last time it happened, she was wearing a long black dress. An embassy reception that they both were made to attend. A fight with Jane about him missing her birthday. His temper still running high when he arrived and Tessa, in her black dress, an infinitely soothing sight when he arrived, but at the same time still, impossibly, setting him on edge. Too much whiskey, and he genuinely had no recollection of who had kissed first. It could have been either of them. A hastily booked hotel room and a key fumbling in the lock. That was all it had been. No great affair, just a quick shag in a London hotel room. She had made it clear that that was all she wanted. He had tried to hide his disappointment when she said it- he had thought he'd been...impressive, driven on by his lingering anger and the excitement of the smell Tessa's scent- but she had told him with so much ease and assurance that he hadn't dared to try to change her mind, then or in the many years since; through his divorce, through seeing her every day.

But here he was, in his office, kissing her, and being kissed in return. It was so different this time. She stood up to meet him, Tessa was never a woman to go weak in the knees and, Gods, she could kiss. His hands on her hips, he pulled her flush against himself, and she pressed forcefully back, pinning him to the edge of his desk, her hips grinding against his as their tongues explored each other's mouths. The thoroughly wicked, triumphant little smile that he caught sight of on her lips in between kisses only made him devour her lips more hungrily, and he was thinking how impossible he was to resist when he was brought very thoroughly down to earth by the feeling of her unzipping his trousers and slipping her hand inside. He realised that one of her legs was almost around his waist and that his own hands were all over her bottom, having pulled her skirt up, and withdrew hastily.

"Tessa," he hissed, "What's the matter with you? What are you doing? It's Monday morning and we're at work, for Christ's sake!"

She gave a low laugh.

"That remark would have a lot more sting if I couldn't feel exactly what your cock is doing at the moment."

"Tessa!" he forcibly removed her hand from his trousers, "You are completely insane!"

She only seemed to laugh more, oh Christ, she had a dirty laugh, but she began straightening her skirt and stockings and sinking back into the chair. She fixed him with her gleaming eyes, and he turned away from her, fastening his trousers and making sure his tie was straight and walking round the desk so there was a barrier very firmly between them before daring to sit down. She still looked amused as he caught her eye, but when she saw the look on his face her look changed to one of frustrated boredom.

"Oh, Harry, you're really not doing your reputation justice!" she told him, almost sharply, "Yes, we've been in here alone with the blinds shut for almost twenty minutes and what will everybody say? God, I might as well have done this with Malcolm!"

He frowned, ignoring her light mockery.

"What do you mean "my reputation"?" he asked her, frowning, rubbing his chin a little in annoyance.

"Oh come on, Harry, I've read your file," she told him, "And I'm not the only woman around here with a long memory."

He gave a short sigh.

"I thought you were the one with that sort of a reputation?" he asked her.

She didn't so much as blink; in fact she let out another sharp laugh.

"At least I live up to mine," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow, looking rather proud of herself.

Well, he couldn't fault her on that count. There was a brief pause.

"Tess?" he asked her, as calmly as he could, "What are you up to?"

"I'm not up to anything, Harry," she replied plainly.

He wished he could be convinced by that. But her face was all innocence, and that was one thing he knew for a fact Tessa was not. It seemed that she read his mind, but it only elicited another laugh from her lips.

"You don't believe me, do you?" she asked, "Oh, Harry. Don't be like this, it doesn't suit you."

"It doesn't suit me to be used either, Tessa."

"Oh, really?" she raised an eyebrow at that, "I was rather under the impression that it did. In certain ways, at least. It certainly suits you to use people," she pressed a little further, "Where was that hotel again? It was the...er, French Embassy, wasn't it? So it must have been Park Lane, oh Harry, that must have cost you a pretty penny. And for such a quick fuck-... No, using people doesn't suit you, does it? Having me on the most expensive sheets in London because you were cross with your wife."

Tessa must have had deceptively long arms, because where she sat she was able to reach across him desk, gently brush her cool fingers against his glowing face, brushing his cheek quite tenderly.

"Don't give me that bollocks, Harry, please. You aren't a jot better than I am," she gave him a tiny, smug smile, "You know where I live, I'm sure."

She got up and left without a second glance, with almost perfect assurance that she would see him that night.

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