I think I probably rushed the first chapter in my haste to post - worrying that seeing the latest episode might mean I had to totally rework it all.

Anyway, here is the second. Any and all feedback would be gratefully appreciated, so I can hopefully write something you all want to read.

I love the new fics popping up. Thanks all of you. Louise. :-)

"Here's your tea…..Richard?"

"What? Oh, thank you." He had been so absorbed in his negative train of thought; he'd missed her coming back into the room.

Reaching out to take the cup and saucer, their fingers brushed, sending sparks shooting all the way up his arm. The cup rattled, slopping warm liquid over the side and he swiftly turned to place it onto the chest of drawers to one side of him, anxious to cover up all signs of tension lest she question him on it.

"Sorry, jet lag."

"Don't worry, it's fine." Camille answered, similarly absorbed with her own goose bumps. Rubbing her hands briskly up and down her shirt covered arms as if cold, she continued. "How was London?"

Richards face instantly softened; lit up.

"Oh it was beautiful, you should have seen it. The red double decker buses contrast with the greyness of the stone of the buildings, the taxi drivers are just as grumpy as they ever were and a cold draught blows from the entrance to each tube station. There is traffic noise everywhere; thousands of grey suits on mobile phones trying to walk whilst reading newspapers. And the bare trees are just starting to bud. And it's a really delicate green you know? Not the deep green of the palm trees but somehow more fragile. It's, well, it's just London."

What had she been hoping for? That he would have seen the light; returned with a newly found enthusiasm for her Island? Ha! What a joke.

Well the joke was on her.

Richard reached into his jacket pocket.

"I bought you a present."

Camille's jaw dropped in shock, a warm feeling suffusing her body and swiftly replacing the dismay from a second earlier.

"Really?" she covered it up with sarcasm. "Don't tell me. It's one of those snow globes with a miniature Buckingham Palace inside it that I can put on my desk and you can stare dreamily at when it's 40 degrees outside."

Richard attempted to look offended but in his nervousness felt he was failing to pull it off. He wasn't used to buying gifts.

"Actually…, well, it's here." He placed a small box containing a seashell shaped bar of lavender soap into her hand, withdrawing his fingers from hers slowly, unwillingly.

"I…, there was a shop I passed in London specializing in French gifts, and I…., I thought it smelt nice so I…" he shrugged awkwardy.

"So what you are saying is that I need to take a bath?"

"What? No!"

"But I smell, and am obviously in need of some...," She glanced down at the packaging "beautiful lavender scented soap?"

"But that's not, I mean, Camille! Why do you always do that?"

"Do what? First I am like a doll left on the shelf with a wonky eye. And not only that but I find I now have a body odor problem" A part of Camille knew that was not what the gift represented, that she was being more than a little unfair. But she wasn't sure she was ready to confront what it did mean. Besides, the arguments they often had were so much better than the nervous silence of earlier; they exhilarated her.

"I don't understand. I thought women liked receiving presents. Isn't that what friends do?"

"So Fidel and Dwayne; are they to be the grateful recipients of a similar hint at their cleanliness?"

"I didn't get anyone else a present!" Richard roared.

Camille had opened her mouth to fashion a retort but closed it again swiftly, a hush descending as they gaped at one another, eyes wide.

Richard was the first to drop his stare from hers; to break the tension, rolling his shoulders and letting out a long breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

"Richard, what are you wearing?"

"What?" His brain felt foggy, unable to keep up.

"Your shirt? What are you wearing?" Camille gestured towards his chest, and he followed the direction automatically, glancing down at himself.

"Oh that. I had the misfortune to be sat next to a two year old on the flight whose lunch didn't agree with them. This…." He tugged open his jacket, to reveal a deeply coloured casual shirt - the sort without top buttons - allowing the hollow of his throat and a few stray chest hairs to present themselves clearly to Camille stood opposite him. "…was the best they could come up with. Tie and shirt are all ruined. Luckily my jacket and trousers survived the experience."

It sort of suits you." The edges of Camille's mouth twitched. "I bet you are dying to get home and change aren't you."

"No," he denied whilst nodding in confirmation of the truth of her words and watching her smile of acknowledgement.

Not wanting to rock the boat again now their mood had lightened, and being unsure he wanted to hear the answer, but desperately curious, Richard took a deep breath. "And what about you? You look very smart this evening."

Camille's smile vanished, and she averted her gaze. Richard thought he caught the hint of a blush but couldn't really be sure.

No; he really wasn't going to like the answer.

"It's, it's nothing. Just a change." Where to start? She couldn't even begin to explain -didn't want to- how she had thought that dressing in a more European fashion might catch his eye; garner his approval. Persuade him that Saint Marie wasn't such a backwater.

If Richard's curiosity had grown from the evasive answer, then he wasn't going to show it. Letting the subject drop appeared to be by far the better option; for both of them.

A wave of exhaustion caught him suddenly and he stifled a yawn. He no longer felt like talking about work. It could wait. He was too tired. Too tired to deal with the tension that rose and fell like waves in the small room, and not brave enough to explore the reason behind its existence.

Clearing his throat, he shuffled his feet; took a swift gulp of his now lukewarm tea and prepared to take his leave.

"Ok; well, I'll leave you to your Friday evening. Have a lovely weekend Cam….." Richard broke off in shock as Camille's lips made contact with the corner of his mouth; her hands grasping firmly around his neck halting his movement towards the door.

She spoke in a low voice, withdrawing far enough to make eye contact. "Thank you for my gift."

She had been aiming for his cheek. A sudden decision brought on when he appeared to be leaving; her only thought to delay his course.

But now it wasn't enough.

A moment's hesitation and she inclined her head once more towards his. More deliberate this time, slowly asking for permission as her soft lips met and moved against his, gently tasting and exploring. Her heart was racing, her mouth curving up into a smile as she felt his shocked acquiescence merge into something more responsive. He was most definitely kissing her back.

As she gently withdrew once more, wanting, needing confirmation, his hands which had been hanging uselessly by his side came up to clutch at her shoulder blades, holding her to him, making it clear he was no longer heading for the door.

Triumphantly their mouths met for a third time; more demanding now. No further questions to be asked, each greedily taking as much of the other in as possible.

Richard wasn't sure who lowered/pulled who towards to the bed. He wasn't complaining.