And at last, we were alone.

Well, as alone as you can be, when driving main roads alongside other traffic in a rather cramped convertible. Still, the stereo was no longer belching jazz-composites, there was no audience observing our every interaction, and Daphne Moon was sitting not six inches away from me.

"So," I offered, after we'd been on the road a few minutes, already having left the Winnebago far behind and my brother in Maggie's tender clutches. "Do I owe you an apology for the seat thing?"

Daphne smiled at the road ahead. She moves past life's banana skins with enviable alacrity, does my angel. "Depends how sorry you are," she teased.

"I am contrition personified," I stated grandly.

"In that case of course you don't owe me an apology."

Such was the female grasp of logic. I let it go. "And did you accept my invitation to dinner? I lost track."

"I accepted. But I did that last night."

Ah yes. Last night.

"Speaking of which, do I owe you an apology for ...?"

Daphne refused to fill in the blank I proffered, and I watched her smirk trying to play hide and seek on her face. "For what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, we're playing this again, are we?"

"Niles, you don't have to be so coy."

"I'm not being coy, I'm being sensitive," I corrected.

"You're being incomprehensible, is what you're being," decided Daphne. "Start at the top. Say the words. Fire away."

"Okay. Well, let's start with our little woodland adventure. Do I owe you an apology for putting you through that?"

"Given that you hardly did it on purpose, and given that it had a definite up-side - no, I don't need you to apologise for that."

I smiled happily. "I'm an up-side?"

"We've already established that you're an accident waiting to happen." She shot me a sideways glance, eyes twinkling with her teasing, and I pretended to sulk. "Don't pout, it doesn't become you," she admonished. "Yes, you're an up-side." Her voice adopted a passionate burr. "And you kiss like a whirling dervish."

"Actually, dervishes were Muslim monks who had taken a vow of poverty."

"Let's try that one again," Daphne suggested mildly to the road. Deliberately, she repeated, "And you *kiss* ... like ... a ... whirling ... dervish!"

Oops. I was going to have to work at this 'playful' thing. "Umm ... thank you?"

"Better. Could be better still."

I made a final attempt, turning in my seat as much as the safety belt would allow before it completely constricted my air passages. The breathy strain in my voice that this position provoked, worked in my favour. "And you, Daphne, kiss like a thousand tongues of fire, making my heart glow molten and leaving my body aflame. So if my poor dervish can even begin to compete, please feel free to pull over at your convenience and I'll demonstrate."

"Smashing," she grinned. "We can make char-grilled monk."

Being overcome with the giggles whilst tied up in a twisted seatbelt is not the easiest of situations to control. Fortunately I managed, hiding my narrow avoidance of suffocation admirably.

"Are you all right?" Daphne asked, shooting me suddenly concerned looks.

Or not.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, recovering my breath. "You shouldn't make me laugh like that."

"I shouldn't?"

"Well, not unless you have a defibrillator standing by." And I waited till she looked at me, and I tried - hard though it might be to believe - a wink. And I pulled it off. Really. Okay fine, don't believe me. But Daphne smiled at me, and as she returned her attention to traffic, an arm slipped out to whack me affectionately on the thigh.

My ankle may have been hurting like hell, but I was having a pretty great day.

"So was there anything else you wanted to say sorry about?" Daphne asked, after we'd settled back down.

"Oh. Ummm ... I'm sorry I leaned on a pinecone," I offered.

"Mmm, so am I." She didn't look at me, but her eyes were kind of far away for a moment."

"You are?"

"Course I am. I was jumpy enough as things were, without you letting out such a yelp. You sounded like Eddie, that time your brother sat down on his head."

"Frasier sat on Eddie's head?"

"No, he sat on his own head, Eddie was just alarmed at the sight. Of course he sat on Eddie's head, you dolt!"

"Does Dad know?" I pressed, seeing the opportunity to gain ammunition.

"Yes he does, he was there, so you can stop thinking those thoughts right now."

"Damn."

"You're impossible."

"But is it a good impossible?"

She grinned. "It'll do."

Without giving myself chance to think and panic, I decided this would be a good time to ask what I'd intended to ask when the conversation had begun. "And do I owe you an apology for the way we spent last night?"

Daphne breathed deeply, once, then said, "Why on earth would you think that?"

"I'm being sensitive, remember?"

"You're being Victorian now. Honestly, Niles, are you going to beg my forgiveness, each time you take me to bed?"

"I'll take that as a 'no'." I was a little indignant. Okay, more than a little. There I was, trying to give Daphne every opportunity to dictate the pace of our developing relationship, trying to show an understanding for her feelings, and I was being belittled.

"Niles." I turned at the sound of her voice, and she looked at me quickly, then reached for my hand. "I'm sorry, that was mean, and I didn't intend it like that. In answer to your question, no, you don't owe me any apology. I was glad to stay close to you last night. And I was glad to wake up in your arms, this morning. After all we went through yesterday, I think we'd earned it."

I breathed out in relief, and said, "I'm glad you were glad."

"Just ... please don't feel you have to tread on eggshells, Niles. Any time I'm not happy, I'll let you know. Believe me. I'd like to think you'd do the same for me."

"Deal." Our eyes met fleetingly again, and we smiled, drawing a line underneath the conversation.

"Okay then. Here's the plan," announced Daphne. "We'll go back to Elliot Bay, you can have a chat with your Dad while I sort myself out. Then I'll take your car and we'll drive to The Montana." She smiled to herself. "Had you given any thought about how you might get to work, tomorrow?"

Which was what was known as a 'loaded question'.

I hedged my bets, not wanting to be presumptuous. "My first appointment isn't until after lunch. I always keep Monday mornings and Friday afternoons free for paperwork."

"Was that just random information on the structure of your working week?"

"No, it was intended quite specifically."

"Then consider it duly noted." She was grinning out the windshield, and a slight flush was upon her cheeks. She was making my heart feel like a burning coal.

Then I got to thinking.

Maybe Daphne thought I had told her I had no need to hurry into work on Monday, in order to let her know that she could simply come and pick me up at her convenience. Maybe my subtle 'we could have a lie-in' undercurrent had gone unnoticed.

Suddenly, I didn't know what her plans were for that night. And oh, boy, did I *need* to know.

I fidgeted restlessly, trying to come up with a way of asking her straight out which didn't seem overtly demanding and libidinous. I drew breath to form the question a couple of times, but had to let it out again. In the end, my attention was claimed by the way Daphne turned in to a service stop and pulled up.

I glanced at the gas tank gauge. We had plenty of fuel. So I looked at Daphne.

"Niles, leave those eggshells alone and ask me what you want to ask me," she said.

I frowned, objecting to the way she'd seen right through me. "Why do *I* have to do the asking?"

"Because you're the bloke, and I'm an old-fashioned girl."

She smiled warmly, with just a hint of shyness, and I was on fire. Rushing the words before inhibition could step in, I asked, "Daphne, will you stay with me tonight?"

She said she would.

Then we proceeded to make char-grilled monk. I didn't even stop when I impaled myself on the hand-brake.