Chapter Text

Cluedo

"Well like what?"

"I don't know, erm….. twister?" Camille arched her eyebrow and he spotted, without truly meaning to, a glint sparkling in her dark eyes as her voice dropped.

"…hide and seek?"

"Don't be so childish." The words were out of his mouth before his brain was even slightly engaged. Which made him cross.

A vision of a beautifully long, toned, almost naked limb twined sinuously around his trouser leg as a spinning wheel landed on left foot, green, flashed through his brain, unbidden, followed swiftly by another. A mischievous Camille smothering giggles and pushing him behind the door to his bathroom in the darkened shack, pressing her body against his to hide with him as Dwayne (on seeker duty) came to the end of his count, and assaulting his senses with musky perfume.

He pushed the thoughts away, uncomfortable with the impression they left in his mind. His heart was racing and he would have started sweating were he not already in a near constant state of dampness from the heat generated in this godforsaken corner of the planet.

He wished she would stop teasing him like this. He liked to stay focused and in control and whenever he was around her these days he felt, well, cross!

"Reverend Green" Camille bent towards him, almost caressing the words as they dropped from her lips.

"No!" he raised his voice, no longer daring to look at her.

"Well one of them must be right", she threw the paper and pencil onto the table.

"Yes, but that's hardly the point is it. Look ca…can we please just play the game properly?" He wasn't going to look at her as she strode barefoot across his veranda. Honestly he wasn't. She was behaving like a child trying to catch someone's attention and he didn't understand why it seemed to be his she was seeking.

"This is the game? This?"

He lapsed into silence. The combination of Dwaynes apparent confusion about his favourite game, and Camille at the other end of the veranda peering through Lucy, which ordinarily he would have balked at, giving him space to breathe and calm his heart rate. His eyes were drawn, by her comment, to the couple on the beach, then snapped back instantly to the woman stood beside his telescope.

"Amazing what love can do."

And bang went his blood pressure, his shoulders climbing up around his ears and brow furrowing. If he weren't absolutely clear in his knowledge, through many years of experience, of exactly how attractive (or not) he was to the opposite sex then he would swear that she was flirting with him. Did she not realize how inappropriate that was towards a senior officer? How awkward he felt?

It wasn't even as if he could broach the subject with her. Perhaps that was her way of communicating with men in general he told himself firmly.

No, he would have noticed.

Not that he was looking.

"Sergeant Bordey…." He launched into the only retort he could come up with; one that even he would recognise was a defense mechanism. But what else was he supposed to do when she was stood there swinging her body at him with eyes narrowed provocatively.

"Five, four," He averted his eyes.

"You should try it you know, …love."

What WAS she trying to do to him?

And more to the point, would he ever sleep tonight with all these new images and ideas in his head.

Chapter Text

This wasn't what he imagined, Richard thought grumpily, squirming slightly as an exhaled breath ruffled the nape of his neck, the muscles in his arms protesting from not only holding himself in this awkward position, but partially supporting another body's weight too.

A month.

A whole month had passed since Camille's probably innocuous, definitely teasing, comment on the veranda of his beach hut. Made on a day when he had been trying so hard to relax, lighten up, even fit in with his colleagues during a relatively slow week of work. Well, a slow week apart from the murder they had solved at the Clinic.

A month of confused dreams and tantalising scenarios. Of waking with sheets wrapped around his pajama clad legs, face pressed against his pillow.

A month of requiring a cold shower before and after work each day, and failing to kid himself that it was all because of the heat.

A month of no new murders to focus on, merely a detective sergeant who would persist in sitting right opposite him day after day in shorts, or tight tight trousers and tiny tops; her feet often resting atop the desk so that it was physically impossible for him not to notice the shapely lines of her legs. Or the arch of her eyebrows (that got him every time) when he harrumphed about the lack of cases, the heat, or the knowledge that London had ground to a halt last week due to a fall of snow. Snow! Oh to feel that cold!

He had considered suggesting she take some time off. That he, Fidel and Dwayne would cope fine and would call if a crime wave suddenly took off. He felt it might give him some respite from the uncommon sensations he had been experiencing far too often in the last month and even rid himself of the ridiculous ideas his subconscious had been having. However, the very night the thought had occurred to him, his dreams had left him far more disturbed than the alternative images. Scenes of bumping into Camille, dressed in a barely there sundress, in the marketplace on his way to get lunch. Clutching the arm of a tall dark, similarly indecently clothed man. Laughing up into his face and barely noticing Richard. Or dancing and flirting with admirers in her mother's bar as he attempted to enjoy a post work cup of tea before retiring to his shack. Alone.

So he had continued to torture himself, hoping the next flight to the island, from anywhere, would bring a horde of criminals he could sink his teeth into and direct all his attention towards.

He truly believed that this would solve the problem and rid himself of this affliction he appeared to be labouring under. A refocusing of his priorities would be all it took to consign this aberration to the past. A sign of living in the heat he supposed. It could do strange things to a man.

So why on earth, he berated himself, did he think that following through on the impulse to pick up, and then buy an old edition of Twister he had spotted out of the corner of his eye on a market stall last week would be a good idea? Not only that, but then leaving it, apparently casually, in a prominent place on his sideboard for eagle eyed Fidel, newly enthused following his endorsement for his sergeant exams, to pick up and excitedly suggest they play, whilst innocently musing aloud that Camille had wanted to play this, and why hadn't Sir mentioned that he had it before now?

A month of visions and not one of them had involved this scenario.

But then that was a good thing wasn't it?

Richard sighed loudly, not bothering to hide his irritation. After all, anyone hearing it would simply put it down to his apparent reticence to play the game. His unwillingness to have anyone invading his personal space to thins degree.

He tried to hunch his shoulders, to stretch, eliciting a grunt as the body behind him attempted to retain their balance.

Richard considered for a moment faking a slip to bring the game, this pointless stupid game, to a hasty close. But the thought of Dwayne landing full weight on top of him was even more unappealing.

"Right foot, red" Camille's voice playfully called out, knowing what difficulties that was likely to present the participants. He would lay bets that she had doctored the spin somehow.

Shooting a venomous look in her direction whilst trying, and failing miserably, not to notice how the diaphanous crimson shirt she was wearing clung to her curves, he ventured to rotate his hip and shuffle his foot forward on the plastic sheet. His eyes had lingered a moment too long though, and it was a mistake.

Like a pack of cards, the three men came tumbling down. And he was at the bottom of the pile.

All the air rushed from his lungs with the sudden pressure upon his chest, his left arm crumpling underneath him awkwardly and his nose and cheek pressing firmly against the sticky plastic, held in place there by Dwayne's knee. Not a good look.

His two police officers unhurriedly began to untangle limbs, arguing good-naturedly about who the winner was, and who had maintained their position the longest. Richard didn't contribute. He was not yet certain he could move or breathe and he (as sure as hell) was never playing this game again.

"Get up you clumsy oafs, you're squashing him," Camille had thrown aside the spinning wheel and was tugging at Fidel's shoulder, admonishing him gently in the French accent he had grown accustomed to thinking rather attractive.

"Sorry Sir"

"Sorry Chief!"

Both men spoke in unison, Dwayne's hand using the area somewhere around his kidneys as a support as he inelegantly maneuvered himself off Richard, eliciting a heartfelt groan from the Inspector.

At the sound, he felt rather than saw Camille sink to knees alongside him, encouraging him with gentle warm hands into a sitting position, then proceeding to run her fingers through his hair around to the nape of his neck, and across his shoulders, continuing her leisurely journey down his arms, clad unusually, and in honour of the game, in shirtsleeves.

"Nothing broken then?" looking directly at him.

Richard, gulped and shrugged, rendered inarticulate for the moment, but not wanting to break eye contact.

Camille sat back and grinned mischievously; "Whose turn is it to be spinner if we play again?"

Maybe he wouldn't write the game off just yet he thought, the remnants of soft hands leaving delightful trails of pins and needles through his body.

Chapter Text

On the whole, Camille felt the game of twister had gone down quite well.

Of course the second game they had played had been the last, and had been far too brief in her opinion after Dwayne, stretching out backwards to reach a foot all the way across the mat, had ended up sat on his bottom, knocking Richard off balance sufficiently to throw him out of the game too and deem her the winner.

At the time she hadn't felt like a winner. Disappointment had flooded through her and she had almost thrown the spinner at Dwayne's head; firstly for his abruptly drawing the game to a close and secondly for nominating her as the spinner for the first game. The only bright spot in that being the sight of her three friends trying to maintain their personal space in their own very individualistic and manly ways whilst also trying to win. It had had her covering her mouth with her hand to stifle giggles more than once, alleviating some of her frustration.

But after the initial let down - the pangs of dismay - the irritation of events being taken out of her control, and her inability to change anything without drawing undue attention to herself or potentially making a huge fool of herself. After those feelings had dampened somewhat, others crept in to fill the space.

Memories of his warm hand enclosing hers as they helped each other off the floor and into standing; of the soft hairs at the nape of his neck that her fingertips had lingered in whilst ostensibly checking for injury.

And the most powerful memory of all, one that her detective's brain could not pass of as insignificant was the knowledge that Richard had bought the game. Had heard her suggestion made flirtatiously, remembered it and acted upon it. He was such a deliberate, fastidious man that it had to mean something.

She was not sure what it meant exactly and most days didn't want to dwell on the possibilities. After all, he drove her crazy with his anally retentive brain, and the slightly smug expressions sent in her direction whenever he was proven right; which dammit, was frequently. But even on the days he wound her up most she would know she wasn't being strictly fair. He may have come across like that at their first meeting, but as the team had got to know him, they had begun to respect his methods, and when he had, on occasion let them in; given them a small snippet of his life in the Uk, it had provided another piece to the jigsaw, a step towards understanding him.

And somewhere along the way, Camille had found herself smiling gently when she thought of him, looking forward to being with him each morning, and missing him when he wasn't there. Even suggesting weekend outings and acting as tour guide to prevent the feeling of loss she had started to experience on a Friday afternoon when a weekend stretched out in front of her with no urgent cases to work on.

Somehow, this infuriating, annoying, difficult, pedantic man had not only managed to earn her respect but a place in her heart. Not that she wanted to examine that fact too deeply, lest it turn into something irreversible. What she would rather focus on was games. Fun. Teasing him and watching his reaction. Light and playful was good, and so much better than analyzing her feelings.

And if her brain kept insisting on remembering the look on his face; the small twitch somewhere around the corner of his eyes as their gaze met unexpectedly, or his audible swallow whilst her fingers traced his scalp for lumps after Dwayne and Fidel had landed on him; heard only because she had forgotten to breathe herself, then she would just blame it on too much work. Too much time spent with her superior officer and too few eligible men asking her out recently.

He mother, and the poor young – and gorgeous- man she had turned down more bluntly than necessary last week at the restaurant might tell a different story but Camille wasn't going to let that bother her.

So to keep herself in check, to prevent these internal meanderings, and changes of direction her brain kept taking. To keep things bright and flirtatious, and recalling her original suggestion made on Richards's veranda, then surely Hide and Seek would be an excellent idea. It was a popular children's game. Dwayne and Fidel would think it was hilarious. There were plenty of places to hide in and around Richard's shack and it would further forward his education into the laid back fun appeal of Island life. With his penchant for detail, he would probably be pretty good at it, but then so was she so it would be a challenge.

No; there was no way she would be in too much danger of anything more than mildly suggestive teasing so long as she firmly pushed away the tantalizing image of squashing him into a darkened corner, close enough to smell the salt on his skin and the tang of tea on his breath, and…..

Oh hell, maybe reminding them of her game suggestion wasn't such a bright idea after all, Camille frowned.

"Sergeant?"

"Hmmmm"

"Any suggestions?"

"What?" Lost in her daydreams, she was struggling to focus and apparently had missed an entire conversation.

"Camille. It wasn't a difficult question." Richard chided.

"Sorry Sir, I was miles away. What were you saying?"

"Late night was it?" Came the waspish reply and even to her own ears, Camille's "No" sounded ever so slightly defensive, making her frown some more. She had absolutely no reason to feel guilty. Any wanderings of her mind or loss of concentration were certainly not the result of late nights out - even if they were there would be no reason to feel self-justifying.

Richard sighed, slowing his speech as if explaining to a child. "In honour of my first six months on Saint Marie, and due to the remarkable crime free phase we appear to be experiencing, I had suggested another favourite game of mine. But Fidel here doesn't seem so keen…."

Camille glanced across at Dwayne and Fidel who were shaking their heads vigorously.

"….do you have any suggestions?"

"Hide and Seek?" Damn! She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Brilliant idea." Fidel was first to reply from his position behind Richard; unaware of how his boss suddenly resembled a goldfish; mouth working but no sounds coming out.

"Why not! We can play at the Chiefs house," Dwayne helpfully added. "Plenty of places to hide round there."

"Isn't…." Richard cleared his throat gruffly, trying to regain his ability to speak. "Isn't it a bit childish?"

"Not at all," Dwayne drawled, grinning." We all need to be in touch with our inner child."

Richard shrugged, in part to release the tension in his shoulders Camille felt, although she couldn't be sure since she was trying hard to focus on the fly that had landed on the corner of her desk to give herself time to regain her more usual feeling of control and confidence.

"I haven't played hide and seek since I was nine years old. It seems…. Oh Why not! I WAS quite good at it."

Wow! Fly forgotten, her eyes snapped back to her Senior Officers. They were actually going to do this!

Island life must be getting to him.

Chapter Text

"That's cheating!" I refuse to count that in the final tally."

"Don't be a sore loser."

"But Camille, you can't keep moving your hiding place. It's not... well it's just not done."

"Show me where it says that in the rules," Camille retorted, folding her arms and smiling as she saw Fidel and Dwayne roll their eyes and move towards the kitchen in search of a drink. They were getting used to their Detective Inspector and Sergeants little 'discussions'.

"You know I can't."

"Well don't be so pedantic then. I win, you lose and can be on seeker duty again."

I am not being pedantic! The fact remains that I would have won in record time had you not snuck around behind me to hide in three different places AFTER I had searched them!"

"I don't sneak."

"And I don't like being followed!"

"If you would take off your damn suit and those squeaky shoes you insist on wearing, you might find I don't hear you quite so easily."

"And if you put some more clothes on then..."

"Can I get you a drink Chief?" Dwayne called around the corner bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt.

Camille had no idea what Richard had been going to say; and by the startled eyes looking anywhere but at her, neither did he.

"Chief?"

"Coming." Richard turned, swiftly heading towards the shade of the kitchen and the safety of the company of his fellow officers.

Camille let out a breath and followed slowly. He had often made faux pars regarding ladies clothing during his time on the island, earning some odd looks. But as far as she could remember, he had never directed anything toward her attire. Almost stubbornly so.

"I've thought of a compromise" Camille placed her empty beer bottle by the sink and turned to face the three men behind her.

"If Richard dares to take off his jacket then we will allow him to prove to us just how good at hiding he is. Dwayne – you can find us all this time."

"Why me?" Dwayne complained.

"Because…." Camille hesitated. What could she say? Because you were instrumental in spoiling the game of twister? Because I will be driven insane if I hear Richard counting to 100 in slow deliberate tones again? Because I want to break the rules just to see how he reacts? Because…?

"Because it will give you a chance to finish your beer out there in the sunshine without us rushing you."

Dwayne shrugged and grinned, examining the drink in his hand. "Ok."

Hang on! I haven't agreed to anything yet!" Richard protested, even as he allowed Camille to move around behind him and reach her fingertips inside his lapel, gently slipping the jacket from his shoulders.

From her position behind him, she watched a shiver dance up his spine, which she knew he would have hidden if he could, and her arms itched to test her effect upon him some more but she carefully stepped away, laying the clothing neatly upon the bed.

"Alright then, how long have we got to hide?"

"About a minute, maybe more." Dwayne smiled laconically, lifting the quarter full bottle to show the team his counting method.

"Go!" Fidel darted out of the kitchen door, heading for the trees and the Police Land rover beyond. Camille, flashing a competitive smile at Richard, took off towards the veranda.

"Oh, for heavens sake!" She heard his halfhearted protests behind her but knew he would join in within seconds. He enjoyed the possibility of victory too much.

Once she hit sand, she immediately doubled back upon herself, knowing the perfect place to hide. The winning spot.

After the storm of the previous week, Roast Beef had been dragged up off the beach for damage inspection. A little plugging, sanding and then a fresh coat of paint on her bottom had been all that was required and she had been left to dry, upturned on her end against the old storage shed fifty yards from the quieter side of her Senior Officers shack. She had spotted that there was just enough room to squeeze between the boat and disused wooden hut whilst she had been tailing Richard during his earlier search for her. It wasn't an obvious opening because of how it was leaning, and as she had gone the long way, looping all the way around Richards shack, she felt that they wouldn't be looking for her here anytime soon.

Slowing to take a careful look around her Camille dipped her shoulders and pressed herself through into the cool shade beneath the hull. She could hear the waves breaking, rushing up onto shore then receding – echoing around the concave interior and she settled her bottom back against the wood to enjoy the ebb and flow.

She ought to have been prepared. After all, she could hear the squeak of his shoes from half a mile away, but the echoing nature of her hideaway amplified noises unusually, so as the light which had been flooding through the narrow gap was extinguished by a large shadow Camille couldn't hide her startled gasp.

The gasp was met with a grunt. The bright light and dark shadow making it impossible for either of them to see the other. "Camille?"

"Shhh – Dwayne will hear you. Go find somewhere else to hide, there isn't enough room." Camille urged as she watched his silhouette attempt to squeeze through the gap.

"No way – this is my boat, and my idea."

"I was here first. And you don't even like boating – when was the last time you used her?"

"So?"

"So….." Camille was cut off by Richards gruff curse.

"Dammit, I'm stuck."

She could see him wiggling, trying to move his chest back and forth, and extended her arms out towards him, hands hitting warm solid muscle that clenched beneath her touch.

"Wha…what are you doing?"

"I was going to give you a shove," she retorted more distracted than she would like to admit by the solid flesh beneath the thin shirt.

"Right…., thank you." Richard replied in a tense voice.

"On the count of three, one, two…."

"On my way to find you!" Dwayne's voice carried across from the general direction of Richards hut.

With no thought involved, Camille instantly grabbed a handful of Richards shirt and pulled….., hard.

It was enough.

Richard stumbled through into the limited space and into Camille, pushing her body firmly against the hard wood of the shed, his mouth against the thick curls of her hair, one hand against her hip and the other trapped awkwardly somewhere around her stomach.

His bunched shirt remained clutched in her hands and she could feel his heart beating erratically beneath.

Neither of them moved, or appeared to breathe and as the seconds ticked on, the silence grew.

Chapter Text

Silence is an interesting concept.

It envelops you; cocoons you in a giant woolen blanket, insulating you from the rest of the world, yet heightening your senses. Time appears to move slowly and sluggishly through silence, whilst movement and sensation is amplified.

Within this bubble of silence, in deep shade beneath the hull of Richards boat, Camille could feel the roughness of the wooden shed. It prickled the bare skin on her shoulder blades where her vest top didn't quite cover.

She could feel an almost rhythmical puff of breath caressing her curls and tickling her neck.

She could feel the pulse of a rapid heartbeat beneath her tightly clenched fingers, incapable of loosening their grip on the crisp cotton shirt due to the weight of the body holding them in place.

She could feel the sticky warmth just beneath her ribs where an arm and wrist, not hers, was inelegantly pressed - and a steady, pulsing warmth of an entirely different nature pooling in places she didn't want to think about.

She could feel her insides doing flip-flops violently enough to make her wonder whether he would be able to feel the vibrations.

In this state of hyperawareness, her ears began to buzz, then roar and through the stillness she heard the crash of the waves upon the beach and their hissing retreat across the sand.

She could hear the chirrup of an Elaenia and the gentle breeze rustling through the heavy palm leaves.

She could hear the far away laughter of some children playing and she could hear the heavy exhalations and hitched inhalations of Richards's breath close to her ear.

Had she been stood there a second or a minute? It was hard to tell. Was he as aware of everything around him or was this a normal passage of time to be spending pressed so closely against someone after an unexpected event. The time it would take anyone's brain and body to catch up with one another.

What would happen if she turned her face slightly? His head was so close that his lips would surely…

Camille shook herself internally. Any movement, provocative or not would surely break the moment.

That he was here with her, in this small hidey-hole, his body firmly, if awkwardly, hugging hers was undoubtedly an accident. That he hadn't yet moved, apologized, run away….. that was a miracle and she was going to enjoy it, for whatever it was.

Fragments of conversation filtered through, carried on the breeze. Dwayne laughing and Fidel complaining. She caught Richards name spoken in jest; something along the lines of his frequent escapes from any social event and the likelihood of him being found back at the Office.

Camille smothered a grin but the gentle tremor that rippled through her body was apparently enough to waken Richard from his stupor, from this alternate universe they had found themselves in.

He cleared his throat, shuffled his feet and clumsily pushed himself back, levering himself with the hand which had been grasping her hip. Up and away from her, she instantly began to mourn the loss of contact.

Richard turned, repositioning his body alongside hers to lean back against the hut behind them, but brushing the underside of her breast with his forearm as he did so. He had been about to say something but the words died in his throat and their startled eyes, now accustomed to the semi darkness, leapt to each other's.

Camille shook her head, dismissing any need for apology, placing a gentle hand on his arm to affirm the communication and then leaving it there, telling herself the contact was necessary in the small space.

She gulped a lungful of air and hoped her pointed nipples were not too obvious beneath her thin top.

"Er…um, perhaps it would be breast…erm best if….." he trailed off leaving Camille wondering what he had been going to say before his latest faux par. He was not immune to her. That had become apparent during their seconds – minutes?- spent flattened against one another. But she was intelligent enough to know that that fact didn't mean anything was ever going to happen. That he would let anything happen.

Did she want it to?

God yes.

"Just play the game Richard" She spoke in hushed but urgent tones, brooking no refusal, yet not fully aware of which game she was referring to.

"They're expecting to find you hiding in the office with a cup of tea in hand," she continued, qualifying. "Dwayne has probably laid bets about how long it will take you to decide hide and seek is not that much fun after all. So prove them wrong."

"Actually I was having quite a lot of fun," he retorted, temporarily rendering her incapable of speech.

How did he keep doing that?

Just when she would start to think she understood him, he would, with one incisive comment, totally turn the tables upon her. It was one of the things she most lov….. found attractive about him.

"Was?"

"What?"

"Was having…..past tense…." She held her breath.

He chuckled, face lighting up with the beautiful, shy smile he so rarely bestowed upon her and her heart clenched.

"Very well Detective Sergeant, the fun I am currently having." He nudged her elbow and she found herself blushing, grateful that the colour of her skin and the shady space were disguising the heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. She was used to having the upper hand when it came to interacting with men and his ability to disarm her was unsettling.

"So wha…" Camille broke off in surprise as Richard placed two fingers over her lips hushing her as he moved closer into her.

Distracted, and feeling a tug of excitement in her gut from his lingering fingers and his motives, she felt a slightly sick disappointment curse through her when she heard Dwayne and Fidel chattering close by. She hadn't heard them coming and had surely been about to get the wrong idea.

After what seemed like an age, the two men wandered out of earshot.

"I don't think they'll be back to check this section of the beach for a while. They're only looking for you anyway, since I am undoubtedly in the office or at your mothers." Richard whispered.

Camille stopped berating herself. He hadn't yet removed his fingers from her lips. She spoke gently through them. "So how long do we hide for before we let them find us?"

Richard shrugged, eyes focused on her lips.

"And how do we fill the time – I want to make sure you are still having fun." Camille's lips curved upward ever so slightly, the sensation of his fingers against them sending a shivers up and down her spine.

His eyes darted up to meet hers then away again immediately. His shoulders twitched.

"Surprise me." He murmured.

Camille twisted her body around, his fingers falling away from her mouth as she pressed her lips to his. Firmly, but briefly. Too briefly to absorb the feeling adequately, before retreating far enough to focus on his face.

Her heart was pounding. "I'm not going to apologize," she stated, sounding more decisive than she felt.

"Didn't ask you to," he replied and closed the gap.

Chapter Text

Present time

Kissing Camille was like taking the very first sip of a long desired drink. It was like finding an extra jelly baby in the bottom of the tin or feeling a gentle spatter of rain on his face after a dry summer.

Why on earth had he not done this before now?

She tasted of sunshine and local beer, with a hint of saltiness on her upper lip from an afternoon playing on the beach.

She smelt of flowers and perfume; the scent he had previously only been granted hints of now and then but was currently surrounding him in a delicious haze.

Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his, their movement sending sparkles of sensation running through his body.

Her skin felt like silk beneath his hands; hands which had tentatively reached to cup her cheek, and then brushed around to bury themselves in her tightly wound curls, urging her head impossibly forward to deepen the kiss.

Not that she appeared to be complaining; a wonderful revelation in itself.

He had wondered and imagined her interest in him for a while. Every flirting gesture and tension filled argument. Every tourist attraction she had dragged him to, and evenings she had spent chatting through cases on his verandah instead of enjoying herself dancing in her mother's bar.

He hadn't been doing the maths.

Or rather he had, but had pushed the conclusions aside, burying them under years of low self-confidence, and a failed relationship or two. Hiding them beneath protocol, correct work procedure and the sure knowledge that he was only here temporarily had seemed like a good idea. It wouldn't do to become seduced by the island and it's people …. or one especially.

But in the here and now, this vivacious, feisty, impossibly beautiful woman was twining her arms around his neck, slipping dexterous fingers inside his collar in search of bare skin, and returning every kiss, and lick, and nip of teeth with added interest.

He wasn't close enough.

Shuffling around, not wanting to break the connection, he stumbled into the boats hull, banging his head. His muffled curse was lost against Camille's lips and she laughingly hushed him, her breath warm in his mouth, whilst urging his body around to face hers fully. Her urging and his scuffling effectively pinned her back firmly against the solid shed wall.

This time it was intentional.

8888888888888888888888888888 888888888888888888

Earlier

"I've thought of a compromise." Camille's voice broke through Richards's reverie. He was cross – again! He really disliked, no – hated to lose, even at childhood games, and if everyone; he shot a glance at Camille as she stretched to place her beer bottle by the sink, if everyone played by the damn rules then he would neither be losing, nor feeling grumpily at odds with himself.

This attempt to become more at ease with Island life and to show his colleagues – one in particular – that he was trying to relax a little was not going so well. And if he hadn't been so disconcerted by her following him then he might not have put his foot into the very large hole that was the subject of Camille's attire.

"Because…" Camille's hesitation drew Richard's attention away from his introspection and back towards the discussion. Hesitating or considering her words before speaking was not usually a trait he would associate with her. He mused back over the threads of conversation, piecing together whether he had committed to anything whilst distracted.

"Hang on! I haven't agreed to anything" he protested, then broke off sharply as he felt Camille move around behind him and slip cool, soft fingers inside the collar of his jacket, remaining still and silent to allow her to slip the sleeves down his arms. He was torn between enjoying the sensation and cursing as his body reacted with a frisson, but Camille moved away to lay the jacket neatly on his bed whilst continuing to chat. Perhaps she hadn't picked up on the tremor that had snaked its way up his spine.

"Go!" Fidel shouted as he shot through the door behind him startling Richard. He spotted the look on Camille's face as she moved quickly in the opposite direction and groaned. He knew that look; she wanted to win and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not this time.

Thinking fast, he turned and headed out of the same door Fidel had scurried through, then sharply right, away from civilization and towards the old boat storage shed that lay unused and uncared for a little ways away from his….his what? Home? He pushed the thought away.

He knew the boat that Camille, Dwayne and Fidel had rescued from dereliction was standing on her end against the shed after repainting the bottom of her hull last week and he would lay bets that he could not only squeeze through the gap into the concave space beneath but that would no-one think to look there.

Provided Dwayne couldn't hear the annoyingly squeaky shoes he was wearing.

Closing in on the boat, Richard frowned. The gap was smaller than he had remembered. It was going to be tight. Angling his shoulders he tried to shimmy through without disturbing the boat, hearing a surprised gasp from the darkness in front of him.

"Camille?"

"Shhh – Dwayne will hear you. Go find somewhere else to hide, there isn't enough room."

"No way," he argued, annoyed that his great idea for a hiding place was perhaps not so perfect after all. "This is my boat, and my idea."

"I was here first. And you don't even like boating – when was the last time you used her?"

The last time you came with me, was the immediate response that came to mind, but he quashed it.

"So?"

"So…"

"Dammit, I'm stuck." He interrupted her argument, trying to squirm back and forth to free his shoulders, then suddenly stilling and tensing as her warm hands made contact with his shirt-covered chest.

"Wha…..what are you doing?"

"I was going to give you a shove."

Of course she was. He shouldn't allow innocent physical contact to throw him off balance so much. "Right…, thank you."

"On the count of three, one, two…"

They both heard Dwayne's voice together, calling from Richards shack fifty yards away.

Camille grabbed a handful of his shirt, and before he had chance to formulate a plan or protest at the undoubted wrinkling of the fine brushed cotton, his shoulders were free and he was tumbling forwards through the gap and into her, pinning his attractive DS against the hut behind her.

He fought to catch his breath, and calm his rapidly beating heart; impossible given his position and the unbearable temptation to absorb every part of her with every sense he possessed. Dark, fragrant tresses surrounded his face, and he was aware of one hand grasping her hip, the other trapped between their bodies, awkwardly but not uncomfortably.

Far from it.

Her own hands appeared to have maintained hold of his shirt and his nipples puckered at the thought of her fingers shifting ever so slightly to caress them.

He wasn't sure how fast or slowly time was passing, but somehow didn't care. The darkness felt like an alternate universe. It gave him a confidence he was usually lacking and stripped away the layers he protected himself beneath. She hadn't shoved him off in disgust yet, and she must be aware by now of his body's rather obvious reaction to hers, so closely entwined as they were. Maybe they could just stand here like this all day. He would be content with that he thought, idly recognizing an Elaenia chirruping loudly somewhere close by.

More seconds passed. So entranced was Richard, he failed to hear the voices of his colleagues chattering further down the beach.

Camille shuddered, was she laughing?

Unsure now, he shuffled back away from her, hand pressing her hip a final time to help steady himself, before slowly repositioning himself alongside her. He wanted to question her, not understanding the mixed signals but his arm brushed the underside of her breast and the words got stuck, eyes flying to one another's.

Camille shook her head firmly at him, an unrecognizable expression on her face and touched his arm gently – letting her hand linger there. Her close fitting top clung to her body and his eyes were drawn downward away from her eyes, making him stumble over his words. Faux pars appeared to be his speciality.

"Just play the game Richard," Camille spoke quietly and quickly, pressing her message across and his doubt evaporated. She hadn't been laughing at him. And for whatever reason, she wasn't running. His earlier confidence surged back through him daring him to formulate a response.

"Actually I was having quite a lot of fun," he countered enjoying her abrupt lapse into silence.

"Was?"

"What?"

"Was…..past tense…."

He chuckled - he couldn't help it, it positively burst out of him in a rush of joy.

"Very well Detective Sergeant, the fun I am currently having." He nudged her, now clearly trying to get a reaction from her, but then hearing Dwayne's unmistakable voice, he moved in close and placed his fingers over her lips to quiet her. He didn't think she had heard the two officers coming.

Seconds ticked by as they waited for the two to move away; Richard tried not to caress her lips with his fingers, but didn't remove them.

The two men wandered away and Richard couldn't resist acknowledging the time and freedom that had been granted to them, hidden as they were. Her flirting reply was his gift, emboldening him.

"Surprise me," he murmured, and she did.

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Present time

He couldn't get enough of her. His kisses were greedy and demanding, tongues dueling and hands roaming. Her top had ridden up and his fingertips were now questing beneath, caressing her waist; stroking upwards to hover underneath her armpit, until she twisted her body enough to push her breast into his waiting palm.

Her hands clutched at his buttocks, and a long leg wound itself around his thighs trying to urge him closer still.

Barriers were stripped away as the shady quiet, circumstance and their close proximity combined to produce a heady mix, neither seemed able to dismiss.

His lungs crying out for air, Richard wrenched himself apologetically away from her mouth, taking in the much needed oxygen then scorching a trail with his lips around her jawline to the pulse point in her neck. Camille groaned, arching her head to increase his access.

"Fidel…..Fidel, Hang on!" Dwayne was shouting, sounding like he was running to catch his friend up. Richards brain was foggy; he had no wish to put a halt to anything that was happening, but tamped down on the thrumming desire vibrating through his body and stilled to listen.

"Look I know you believe in the Chief, but does it matter? Who cares if he is or isn't playing. My drink is calling me."

"Normally I would agree with you, but he was trying. I don't think he would be in his office when he put in such an effort to come and play. And we should respect that," Fidel hesitated. "Besides, I called Catherine and neither the Inspector nor Camille are with her so we should search a bit longer."

"Isn't calling Camille's mother cheating?"

"Well the sooner we find them, the sooner you get your drink."

"Good point," Dwayne returned. "Right, lets think then... I am not doing this for long though."

Richard drew his head back to look at Camille, inhaling long shaky breaths. God she was beautiful, her top rucked up, hair mussed and lips swollen.

"I think," he whispered. "I think that we need to give ourselves up."

"To what?" she replied temptingly, then backed down with a sigh. "Yes."

He gently pulled the thin top down, smoothing it across her stomach absently. "Would you… could we maybe?" he glanced up. She was watching him, waiting for him to finish, to ask the question.

"Would you consider having dinner with me?'

'Will you walk me home afterward?"

"Of course."

"And you won't leave early to feed your lizard or read up on a case?"

"Only if you want me to."

"Then yes." She reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling at him. "Especially if we get to repeat that." She added teasingly.

Richard flushed, caught between embarrassment and desire though he knew which was winning.

But now was not the time.

"Erm, we should," He gestured towards the light.

"Together?"

He glanced downward and quietly laughed. "No, I think I need a….ah, a minute or two."

He could see she understood.

"Don't get stuck again."

"Well you will rescue me," he replied. Certain.

"Yes I will," she replied and lithely shimmied through the gap and out onto the sand.

Richard patted the warm wood of the boats hull. Perfect hiding place he thought.