﻿‘I want you, and you want me. It’s mutual. So there’s a pretty logical conclusion here.’

He traced her lower lip with his thumb, and Sara’s lips automatically parted. ‘Oh, good. I’m so glad you agree with me,’ he said softly, and bent his head to kiss her. His mouth brushed against hers, the contact light and teasing and tempting her to respond. When she tipped her head back slightly, he deepened the kiss, offering and demanding at the same time.

Sara had kissed men before. Been to bed with men before. But this… This was something else…

TO TAME A PLAYBOY Hot, sexy, and double the pleasure! Modern Heat™ introduces Kate Hardy’s new playboy duet

About BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S, winner of the Romance Novelists’ Association Romance prize 2008:

‘BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S is simply terrific! Sexy, funny, tender, passionate and romantic, this engrossing tale features a loveable heroine and a gorgeous Italian hero who will make you swoon! Kate Hardy is a writer readers can count on in order to deliver an entertaining page-turner which they will devour in a single sitting, and BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S is certainly no exception!’

—www.cataromance.com

About ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY:

‘Hardy’s ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY is a terrific attraction-at-first-sight story. He’s hot, sexy and vulnerable, and she’s patient because in the end she knows he’ll be worth it.’

—RomanticTimesBOOKreviews.com

‘Romantic fiction does not get any better than this! Fresh, funny, heartwarming and absolutely unputdownable, ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY is vintage Kate Hardy! Featuring a lovely heroine, a gorgeous hero, sizzling sexual tension, an adorable cast of secondary characters and steamy romance, ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY is the perfect book to curl up with on a cold winter night!’

—www.cataromance.com

Kate Hardy lives on the outskirts of Norwich with her husband, two small children, a dog—and too many books to count! She wrote her first book at age six, when her parents gave her a typewriter for her birthday. She had the first of a series of sexy romances published at twenty-five, and swapped a job in marketing communications for freelance health journalism when her son was born, so she could spend more time with him. She’s wanted to write for Harlequin Mills & Boon since she was twelve—and when she was pregnant with her daughter, her husband pointed out that writing Medical™ Romances would be the perfect way to combine her interest in health issues with her love of good stories. Now Kate has also ventured into Modern Heat™ Romance too, and SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH is her ninth novel for this series.

Kate is always delighted to hear from readers—do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com

Also by this author:

SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH*

HOTLY BEDDED, CONVENIENTLY WEDDED

SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER

ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY

BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S

*To Tame a Playboy duet

Kate Hardy’s Medical™ Romance duet— The London Victoria :

THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL

THE GREEK DOCTOR’S NEW-YEAR BABY

PLAYBOY BOSS, PREGNANCY OF PASSION

BY

KATE HARDY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Michelle Styles—

good friend and fellow history aficionado—with love

PROLOGUE

‘SO WHAT’S her name, Luke?’ Karim asked as he and Luke left the squash court.

‘Whose?’

‘The woman who’s distracting you.’ Karim gave his best friend an appraising look. ‘Why else would I beat you by this much of a margin?’

Luke smiled despite himself, recognising his own question thrown back at him. The difference was, when he’d asked, there had been a woman distracting Karim—the woman who was now his wife. It wasn’t the same for Luke, who had no intention of letting anyone that close to him. ‘Not my social life. Work,’ he said economically.

‘Sounds as if you need some TLC, Lily-style. Come back with me and have dinner with us.’

‘What, tonight? It’s hardly fair, dumping a guest on Lily at the last minute.’

‘You’re not a guest.’ Before Luke had the chance to protest further, Karim had already speed-dialled home. Two minutes later, he hung up and, in his best attempt at Luke’s East London drawl instead of his own cut-glass accent, said, ‘Sorted.’

Luke, knowing that Karim was laughing with him rather than at him, gave in gracefully. It wasn’t as if he was going to find a replacement for Di tonight. The temp agency was sending someone first thing in the morning, and hopefully the temp would stay long enough for him to find proper maternity cover for his personal assistant.

Even though that was going to take time he’d prefer to use more profitably, he was just going to have to be patient.

Ha. Patient. A word that barely existed in his vocabulary. When Luke wanted something, he went for it. He didn’t waste time. And having to wait around on other people’s schedules was the quickest way to drive him crazy.

To his relief, Karim didn’t press him to talk on the way back to his home. Karim simply let them in, headed straight for the kitchen and kissed his wife lingeringly.

‘Put the girl down. For pity’s sake, you’ve been married for three months. You should be over this stage by now,’ Luke said from the doorway.

Lily just laughed. ‘You really are out of sorts, Luke. Here. These will keep you going until dinner.’ She gestured to a plate of canapés on the island unit.

Luke suddenly realised that he’d forgotten to eat lunch—he’d been too busy fixing things to think about food, and now he was ravenous. He needed no second invitation to grab a bar stool and work his way through the canapés. ‘Thanks, Lily.’

As always, her food was wonderful. Restorative. ‘Fabulous,’ he said after the first mouthful.

She inclined her head in thanks. ‘So are you going to tell us what’s bugging you?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘I just wish I understood why on earth women want babies in the first place. Di hasn’t stopped throwing up since the day she did the pregnancy test, and—’ He stopped abruptly as he caught the glance that Karim and Lily were sharing. The kind of glance that could mean only one thing.

He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I don’t have a shred of manners. I apologise—and of course what I just said doesn’t apply to you. I’m really pleased for you both.’

‘You’d better be,’ Karim said, ‘as you’re going to be an honorary uncle.’

For all Luke knew, he might already be an uncle.

He blocked the thought. The decision he’d made was harsh, but it was also the only one he could have made. If he’d stayed, he would’ve gone under and ended up like the rest of the men in his family.

Doing time.

‘Thank you,’ he said politely. ‘I’m very honoured. When’s the baby due?’

‘Six months.’ Lily laughed. ‘You’re really trying hard to say the right thing, aren’t you, honey?’ She ruffled his hair on her way to the fridge.

She was treating Luke as if he were her big brother and it made him feel odd. As if there were an empty space deep inside him. A space where he really wanted to be part of a big family.

Which was ridiculous. He was perfectly fine on his own. Much, much better than he had been as part of a family. Been there, done that, no intention of taking a backward step. ‘I’m only being nice because you’re cooking and I want to be fed,’ he retorted.

She laughed even more. ‘Don’t give me that. I know you’re just a pussycat.’

Karim was laughing, too; he’d scooped his wife onto his lap and he had both hands resting protectively round her abdomen.

Luke joined in the fun. ‘For you, Lily, I could be.’ Then he grinned. ‘But unfortunately you have a husband who might not be too happy about that, so I’ll settle for being fed.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ Lily teased back. ‘So what’s wrong? Your secretary’s got morning sickness?’

‘And lunchtime sickness. And afternoon sickness. My office is a mess, she hasn’t been there to do a proper handover to the temps—when they turn up, that is—and neither have I, and…’ He broke off and shook his head in exasperation. ‘I’ve had enough of the chaos. I’ve sent Di home for the rest of her pregnancy.’

Lily looked worried. ‘Luke, I don’t mean to interfere, but…is that legal?’

Luke knew exactly what she wasn’t asking. ‘Don’t worry, Lily,’ he said dryly. ‘She’s on full pay and her job’s open until she decides what she wants to do. But right now she’s not capable of doing her job properly and it’s unfair to expect her to keep up with me when she’s feeling so rough. And I need someone who can sort this mess out before I lose any more opportunities.’

‘Someone who’s a good organiser.’ Lily looked thoughtful. ‘I might just be able to help you out there. My favourite supplier, Louisa—her sister’s a freelance office troubleshooter.’

‘A what?’ Luke asked.

‘Organised, efficient, and good at sorting things out. You know those reality TV programmes about people who come to your house and make you sort out your clutter? Well, that’s apparently what Sara does in real life. Except in an office. And she does the sorting out for you.’

If the woman was no good, Lily wouldn’t have mentioned her. Luke knew that Lily realised the importance of business networking—that your recommendations reflected on you. And this sounded like the solution he needed. ‘Do you have her number?’

‘No, but I’ve got her sister’s, which is the next best thing.’ Lily disappeared for a couple of minutes, then returned with a card. ‘Here.’

Luke read the card. ‘Fleet Organics.’

‘They do apple juice, apple balsamic vinegar and—well, everything else you’d expect from an organic orchard,’ Lily explained. ‘Ask for Louisa, tell her I gave you the number and say that you need to talk to Sara.’

‘Thanks.’ He slid the card into his wallet. ‘And if this troubleshooting woman’s that good…’

‘She might be busy,’ Lily warned.

‘Hmm, that’s what someone told Karim about you. But he still charmed you into cooking for him,’ Luke reminded her with a grin. ‘I’ll call her. See what she can do for me. Thanks for the tip.’

Lily checked something in the oven. ‘OK, it’s done. Go through to the dining room, you two.’

Karim and Luke did her bidding.

Luke took a first mouthful of the food. ‘Lily, this is wonderful. If you ever decide you’re bored with being a princess, you can come and be my housekeeper.’

‘She won’t be bored,’ Karim informed him. ‘Find your own princess.’

‘I’m not a prince,’ Luke countered. ‘And I don’t need a princess.’ What he wanted was a good assistant at work, a part-time housekeeper who would sort things while he was out and wouldn’t nag him about being a slob, and a string of girlfriends who wanted to have fun and accepted the fact that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent.

Apart from the assistant problem—which, hopefully, this office troubleshooter would help him fix—that was exactly how his life was, at that moment.

And it suited him just fine.

CHAPTER ONE

SARA checked the address in her diary. Yes, this was the place. A former warehouse converted to a mixed-use residential, office and retail block, all sparkling clean brick and lots of glass. The ground floor was full of bijou shops and coffee bars—she made a mental note to check them out later, and drop in some of the family business cards—and she guessed that the top two floors were offices. It looked as if the architect had taken advantage of a partially collapsed roof at one end and had put up a tower with one wall of sheer glass—though it had been sympathetically done and looked in keeping with the building. That, she guessed, was the residential part of the building; the rooms on the side with the glass wall would have stunning views of the Thames.

You’d need a small fortune to be able to afford that sort of flat. But, hey, she was fine with the room she’d begged in her oldest brother’s flat. Just because she didn’t have a place of her own, it didn’t mean she was a failure. She had a family who loved her as much as she loved them, a great social life and a job she enjoyed. She didn’t need anything else.

She took the stairs to the first floor, where a receptionist sat behind a light wood desk.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I have an appointment to see Luke Holloway. Sara Fleet,’ she said.

‘Through the corridor, last door on the right,’ the receptionist said with a smile.

Luke Holloway. He’d sounded crisp on the phone, the kind of man who knew what he wanted and didn’t waste time. Which made it all the more surprising that he needed an office troubleshooter. She usually dealt with people who stuffed things into drawers and scribbled things on sticky notes which they promptly lost and didn’t have a clue what a filing system or diary was—and Luke hadn’t given her that impression when he’d asked her to meet him at his office. So what kind of man was he?

Well, she was about to find out for herself.

The last door on the right was closed. She knocked and waited.

‘Come in.’ The voice sounded slightly harassed.

She’d been expecting someone in a sharp suit and handmade shoes; the man leaning back in a chair, talking on the phone with his feet on the desk, looked more like a rock star. He was wearing a black round-necked sweater that she guessed was cashmere, teamed with black trousers, and his short dark hair was expensively tousled—the kind of haircut that made him look as if he’d just got out of bed. Teamed with eyes the colour of cornflowers and the most sensual mouth she’d ever seen, it was enough to make Sara’s libido sit up and beg.

Though she knew better than to mix business and pleasure. This man was her client. Well, potential client. They’d agreed to meet today and discuss the situation; she’d learned in the past that someone might sound reasonable enough on the phone, but in person they were a nightmare to work with, so it was easier to discuss things face to face. Particularly as she prided herself on her ability to judge people quickly yet fairly: in business, she’d never once been wrong.

Personally… Well, now wasn’t the time to start brooding over that.

He put his hand over the receiver. ‘Are you Sara?’ he asked quietly.

She nodded.

‘Good. I’m Luke. Sorry about this. I’ll be with you in two minutes—take a seat or a look round the office, whichever you prefer.’

And he was as good as his word; he’d wrapped up the call before she’d had time to absorb more than the fact there were two desks in the room, both with state-of-the-art computers and completely clear work surfaces, and a bank of filing cabinets. The view from the office window over the river was stunning; she could see ships sailing down the Thames, and on a sunny day like this the water sparkled.

‘Right—I’m all yours,’ he said.

The thoughts that put in her head… Very, very unprofessional thoughts. Thoughts of him lying naked on crisp cotton sheets that were just about to get seriously rumpled.

Sara pushed the idea away and really hoped that her face hadn’t turned as red and hot as it felt. What the hell was wrong with her? She never, but never, started fantasising about her clients. Even the good-looking ones.

Though Luke Holloway was a little more than good-looking. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. The sort whose smile would make any woman’s heart feel as if it had just done a somersault.

‘Can I get you a coffee?’ he asked.

‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’ Though what she really needed was a cold shower.

‘Bathroom’s over there, if you need it.’ Luke indicated the door in the far corner.

Oh, no. Please don’t let her have said that thing about cold showers out loud. Then her common sense kicked in. Obviously he meant if she needed the loo. ‘Thanks, I’m fine.’

He opened another door to a small galley kitchen. ‘Milk, sugar?’

‘Just milk, please.’

He added milk to one cup and sugar to another, then took a tin from the cupboard and removed the lid. ‘Help yourself.’

Extremely posh chocolate biscuits.

Clearly her amusement must have shown on her face because he laughed. ‘My only vice. Well, almost.’

She caught the gleam in his eyes and could guess the other one. It dovetailed with the thoughts she’d had when he’d told her he was all hers. And it made her mouth go suddenly dry. She had to make a real effort to force her mind back to business. He wanted a troubleshooter, not a lover.

She wasn’t in the market for a lover in any case. She liked her life as it was. Happy and single. Uncomplicated.

‘So what makes you think I can help you?’ she asked.

‘You come highly recommended,’ he said simply.

‘So,’ she countered, ‘do you.’

He inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Lily warned me that you might be busy.’

‘Usually, I am.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d planned to take the summer off to do a bit of travelling. Spend a month in Italy or Greece.’

‘Good food, decent weather and plenty of sandy beaches?’

‘Plenty of ruins,’ she corrected. A beach holiday, sitting still and doing nothing, was her idea of boredom. She liked exploring. ‘It’s one of the perks of being self-employed—I can choose when I want to take a holiday.’

He handed her a mug of coffee, then picked up his own mug and the tin of biscuits and ushered her back into the office. ‘Most self-employed people have to be forced to take time off.’

Was he talking about himself? She looked straight at him. ‘It’s important to take time off. If you don’t refill the well, you end up with burnout and you’re no good to anyone. Good time management helps a lot.’

He didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t try to argue with her. Which was good. After Hugh, Sara had had enough of workaholic men. Ha. After Hugh, Sara had had enough of men, full stop. She kept her relationships light, flirty—and absolutely not committed.

‘My office isn’t usually this disorganised,’ he said, shepherding her back into the main room and indicating a chair.

‘Disorganised?’ The place was spotless. Unless she was missing something huge.

‘As I said on the phone, my personal assistant’s pregnant and she’s been off sick a lot. I’ve had temps in, but Di—that’s my assistant—hasn’t been able to brief them properly, and I haven’t been here enough to do it myself.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Today’s temp didn’t even bother turning up. I was talking to the agency when you came in, asking them what had happened.’

Sara couldn’t resist the impulse to tease him. ‘Are you telling me you’re so scary that the temps have got your name on a blacklist and refuse to come and work for you?’

‘I’m not scary in the slightest. I just expect a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay. And if you can’t do basic things like answering the phone politely and taking a proper message, then you shouldn’t take a job as a PA.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Actually, one of the temps was excellent, but when I asked if I could have her back for a long-term assignment, the agency said she’d already been given a placing somewhere else and wasn’t available.’ He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his hands. ‘Which leaves me in a mess. I need someone to go through all the filing and put my office back into the order I’m used to, and to keep this office ticking over until Di decides whether she wants to come back after she’s had the baby.’

‘I can do the first bit,’ Sara said, ‘but I do short-term assignments only. Maternity cover—that’s way too long a time for me.’

‘Understood.’

‘So how much filing are we talking about? Because, unless I’m going mad, I can’t see any filing at all.’

Luke walked over to the other desk and removed a large cardboard box from underneath it. It was full of papers, stuffed in haphazardly. ‘This,’ he said. ‘I know, I know. Do the filing daily and it’s a small job. Leave it, and the next thing you know it’s overwhelming. But Di felt too rough to do it. She knows I hate clutter, so she put it all into this box out of the way, meaning to do it later.’

‘Except now she’s not here, and your temps have consistently ignored it.’

‘Exactly. And Di usually weeds the files. My guess is she hasn’t done that for a while, either.’

‘So would I get carte blanche to reorganise your filing system?’

‘If it’s a genuine time-saver, yes; if you’re trying to justify your bill, no.’

She liked the fact that Luke Holloway was this blunt. It meant she’d know exactly where she stood with him. No pussyfooting around, no hiding behind a façade of being a polite, bumbling upper-class Englishman, the way that Hugh had.

Not that Luke could pretend to be upper-class. Not with that accent.

‘So what exactly is it you do?’ she asked.

‘Are you telling me you didn’t look me up on the Internet?’

She flushed. Of course she had. ‘It didn’t tell me very much. You’re twenty-eight and a self-made millionaire.’ And his girlfriends were all the model type—tall, long legs, exotic looks and impossibly shiny dark hair. He dated a lot, was on the guest list at the best parties and changed his girlfriend frequently. Extremely frequently. ‘But newspaper stories and online gossip columns aren’t always accurate.’

‘It didn’t tell me much about you, either. Apart from the fact that you don’t have your own website.’

So he’d looked her up, too?

Well, of course he had. Even if she’d come recommended. Luke was the kind of man who’d pay attention to detail. ‘I don’t need a website. My clients come from word of mouth.’

‘Which is the best form of advertising. It’s accurate and it can’t be bought.’

How come they were discussing her business? She was meant to be finding out about his. ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she pointed out.

‘I buy and sell businesses.’

She blinked. ‘You’re an asset stripper?’ No way was she going to work for someone like that. Even if he did come highly recommended, and had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen. She had standards. Standards that, post-Hugh, she wasn’t going to compromise.

‘No. I get bored easily and I like a challenge.’ He shrugged. ‘So I buy failing businesses and turn them into going concerns. And, once they’re back on their feet, I normally manage to arrange a management buyout.’

So the people who put the work in with him to sort out the company reaped the rewards. A man with a conscience, then.

The complete opposite of Hugh.

Not that she was going to think about Hugh the Betrayer.

‘I’m good at solving problems.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Usually. This is the exception that proves the rule.’

‘What sort of businesses?’

‘Sport and leisure. Gyms, health clubs, spas…and I’m thinking about expanding a bit.’

‘And you do all this on your own?’

‘With a good PA. And decent managers in each business who are savvy enough to talk to me well before something becomes a major problem—and who come to me with solutions rather than expecting me to sort it all out.’

Luke liked the way Sara Fleet questioned him. The way she cut right to the nub of the problem. He could work with her.

‘So why are you freelance?’ he asked.

‘I guess it’s the same thing as you—I’m good at solving problems and I get bored easily.’

Better and better. He could definitely work with her.

‘And I like decluttering and sorting out mess.’

‘Are you mad?’ He slapped a hand against his head. ‘Sorry. That wasn’t meant to be an insult. I loathe filing, so I’m grateful to find someone who actually likes it. I don’t understand you at all but, believe me, I’m grateful.’

‘I like putting things into order. I suppose I’m a bit of a neat freak.’ She glanced round his minimalist office. ‘Looks as if you are, too.’

‘Look, I’m being rude here, but your sister tells me you had a first-class degree. How come you’re working as an office troubleshooter?’

‘A glorified filing clerk, you mean?’

He blinked. Had he been that obvious, or had she just heard the question too many times? ‘I wasn’t going to be quite that blunt, but yes.’

‘It’s information retrieval. I suppose I could’ve been a librarian or archivist,’ she mused, ‘but I like the challenge of sorting out new places. My family nag me about my degree, but frankly I’d had enough of academia and all the backbiting and I couldn’t face staying on to do my doctorate. So I temped for a bit, while I decided what I really wanted to do with my life.’ She shrugged. ‘Then Lou worked out that what I love doing most is a business asset, and I’d be better off working for myself than working for an agency.’

He ignored the mention of her family. It was irrelevant to his business. He didn’t care if she could trace her family back ten generations and was best friends with all her fourth cousins three times removed. If she could do the job, that was all that mattered. And so far she seemed pretty clued-up. ‘It sounds sensible to me.’ He paused. ‘So do you do other things, besides decluttering?’

‘Such as?’

The first thing that came into Luke’s head shocked him. He’d only just met the girl, for pity’s sake. Sara was the complete opposite of his normal type—well, apart from the fact that she had long legs. Her straight blonde hair was pinned into a neat chignon, whereas his girlfriends always had dark hair with that just-got-out-of-bed look, and her eyes were sharp and blue instead of a wide, soulful brown. She was dressed totally for business, in a little black suit teamed with a demure cream-coloured top; a choker of black pearls added a classy note.

But then there were the shoes.

Killer heels. Shiny. And bright pink.

A touch of the exotic.

He took a deep breath, willing his libido to go back to sleep. This wasn’t appropriate. Even if Sara Fleet did have a gorgeous mouth and legs he’d like to see more of. This was business. And he wasn’t going to act on the impulse to ask her out to dinner. Or the even stronger impulse to yank her into his arms, unpin her hair and kiss her stupid.

Focus, he warned himself.

‘I don’t know how long it’s going to take you to sort this lot out. Or how long it’s going to take me to find maternity cover.’ He gave her a speculative look. ‘I think your mind works the same way that mine does. You’re going to get bored sorting out my filing.’

‘Your information retrieval system.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t try to dress it up in fancy words. It’s a box of filing, and you know it.’

‘Plus a potential overhaul of your systems, if you show me what you already have in place. What else did you have in mind?’

Again, he thought of her body wrapped round his. Which was crazy. Apart from the fact that Sara Fleet wasn’t his type, he knew better than to mix business with pleasure. It always ended in tears.

Except for Karim and Lily. But again they were the exception that proved the rule.

And he knew he was going out on a limb here, but his hunches were usually right. ‘The kind of business I’m looking at—I could do with a female viewpoint. An honest one.’

She frowned. ‘What sort of business?’

‘A new venture, for me.’

‘Which tells me so much.’

He loved her sarcastic tone. It meant she’d speak her mind, rather than telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. And he valued honesty and straightforwardness. ‘I’m looking at buying a hotel. I have three or four options, and I want to check them out, so it means there’ll be some travelling involved. Would that be a problem?’

‘No. Justin won’t mind.’

Justin? Obviously her partner, he thought. Good. That made her very firmly off-limits. Because he only dated women who were single and who didn’t have wedding bells in their eyes. Sara was already spoken for, so he could lock away that instant attraction and simply work with her. ‘Fine. Right—systems.’ He took a swig of coffee, then talked her through the bank of filing cabinets, answering her questions as they went along. ‘That’s the paper side of things. Computer…’ He drew a chair round to his side of the desk, then tapped into the computer and flicked through the various programs. ‘Accounts, payroll, correspondence, past projects, current projects. All bog-standard stuff. I assume you can deal with spreadsheets and graphs.’

‘Yes.’ She asked a few more questions—sensible ones, and not just for the sake of it, he noticed—and then it was decision time.

He knew what he wanted. So he did what he always did and played it straight. ‘So that’s the set-up here.’ He paused. ‘Would you be prepared to sort out my office and act as my PA until I find maternity cover?’

‘Yes.’ She told him her hourly rate.

‘That’s less than the agency charges,’ he remarked.

‘Because agencies,’ she said dryly, ‘pay temps about half the rate that they bill the clients. To cover overheads and profit.’

‘True.’ And he liked the fact she was sharp enough to realise that. ‘Though you could get away with charging more than you do.’

‘I thought clients were supposed to haggle for a reduction in fees, not an increase?’

He spread his hands. ‘A fair day’s work deserves a fair day’s pay. If you’re as good as I hear you are, you’ll be worth it.’

She inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘When do you want me to start?’

He glanced at his watch. ‘How about…now?’

CHAPTER TWO

LUKE was surprised at how quickly Sara settled in. By the beginning of the following week, it felt as if she’d always worked with him. He’d persuaded her to man the office and take phone messages while he was out, and Sara turned out to be brilliantly organised. If he was out of the office she emailed the messages to him so he could act on them if they were urgent. Or she dealt with queries herself and sent him an email to tell him what she’d done.

He loved the fact that she used her initiative instead of running to him with questions.

And whenever Luke reached a point in his work when he was about to stop and make himself a mug of coffee, Sara was there before him. Just as he was about to look over to her desk and ask if she wanted a coffee, too, she’d place a mug on the coaster on his desk. Rich, smooth coffee, the exact strength he liked, with no milk and one spoonful of sugar. Perfect.

‘Have you been talking to Di or something?’ he asked when he’d finished his coffee.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Because you second-guess me, the way she did. It’s almost like having her back—and she had four years to get used to the way I work.’

Sara laughed. ‘No, I haven’t talked to her. Not about you, at any rate. She called the other day to see how everything was and I told her to put her feet up with a mug of ginger tea and stop feeling guilty.’

‘Good. That’s what I told her, last time she rang.’ He paused. ‘So how did you…?’

‘Know how you work? Observation,’ she said. ‘Most people have routines.’

‘So you’re saying I’m set in my ways?’

She spread her hands. ‘Work it out for yourself, boss,’ she teased.

‘You’re just as set in your ways,’ he retorted, slightly nettled.

‘Meaning?’

If she was going to be straight with him, then he’d be straight with her. ‘You’re here on the dot of nine, you always take exactly an hour’s lunch break and you leave at the dot of five. And you never, ever work late.’

‘Because I’m good at time management.’ She returned to her own desk. ‘Besides, the longer the hours you work, the more your productivity drops. By the third day of working late, you’re actually running behind.’

‘How do you work that out?’

‘Easy.’ She scribbled something on a piece of scrap paper, then walked over to his desk and put it in front of him. ‘One curve. The x axis is time, the y axis is your productivity rate. Now, would you agree that it’s higher in the morning, when you’re fresh, and lower at the end of the day, when you’re tired?’

‘Yes.’ Though he could see exactly where this was heading, and he had a nasty feeling that she’d boxed him neatly into a corner.

‘So if you’re not fresh, because you’re tired from the previous day, you’ll start further along the x axis, from a lower productivity point, as if you’ve already worked a couple of hours. And the more days you work late, the further along the x axis you start each morning.’ She folded her arms. ‘My point, I think.’

‘Hmm. And what about personal variables? Some people are best first thing in the morning, others are better later in the day.’

‘True.’

‘And some people thrive on working long hours. Point to me.’

‘Some people think they thrive on it,’ she countered. ‘I hate that culture where you have to be seen to be in early and work late. Presenteeism isn’t good for you. The way I see it, if you want to get more done, you need to work smarter, not harder.’ She frowned. ‘Do you ever take time to smell the roses, Luke?’

‘I don’t need to smell any roses.’

She looked at him over the edge of her rimless glasses—glasses, he’d noticed, she only used for computer work. ‘Yes, you do. Everyone needs to refresh themselves, or they’d burn out. So what do you do?’

He shrugged. ‘I go to the gym.’

‘You own several gyms. So that doesn’t count. It’s work.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Can you tell me, hand on heart, that whenever you go for a workout or what have you, you don’t start appraising the place and thinking about how to maximise the use of the gym?’

‘When I play squash or have a workout, I focus on what I’m doing. Otherwise,’ he said with a grin, ‘I’d be at the bottom of the squash ladder.’

‘Whereas you’re at the top?’

He spread his hands. ‘Top or second. Whatever.’

‘And the moment your workout or your match ends, you switch over to business, don’t you?’

‘It’s who I am.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s what you do. Who you are is…’ Her voice faded and for a second he caught an odd look in her eyes. Something that made his pulse skip a beat. But then it was gone, and he had to remind himself she was off-limits.

‘So aren’t these parties you go to any fun?’

‘They’re overrated,’ he admitted. ‘Or maybe I’m getting old. But, yeah, I’m starting to find them boring.’

‘Is that why you change your girlfriend so frequently, too?’

‘Probably.’

‘Maybe,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘you’re seeing the wrong kind of woman.’

He nearly asked what kind of woman she thought fitted the bill. But maybe it was better not to know. Better not to wonder if a certain bossy blonde would fill the empty spaces he almost never admitted were in his life.

Before he realised what he was doing, he asked, ‘How about you?’

‘I go to the theatre and the cinema with my friends. We might go out for a meal—anything from a pizza to tapas to Thai, as long as it’s good food. Or I’ll go home to be spoiled by my parents and play with my toddler niece and take the dogs for a long run in the orchard.’

Hmm. She hadn’t mentioned her partner. Or maybe the guy was so much part of the furniture that she didn’t bother mentioning him by name.

But there was a bigger danger area here. Even if she had been free, she was clearly very close to her family—a world away from his own life. So it was definitely better to keep things strictly business with her.

‘So I take it you don’t work weekends?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘That’s a pity,’ he said. ‘Because I could do with you this weekend.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I’m going to see a hotel,’ he explained. ‘And, as I think you have a gut feel for what needs fixing, I’d be interested to see what you thought of it.’ He spread his hands. ‘Of course I’d pay you for your time, because it’d mean an overnight stay, but if you came with me I’d respect your right to clock-watch—and I promise you can stop answering my phone and let it go to voice mail at five o’clock on the dot. And you can take a couple of days off next week—paid—to make up for the time.’

She gave him a speaking look at the phrase ‘clock-watch’, but when she spoke her tone was mild. ‘This weekend.’

‘Unless your partner will have a problem with it?’

‘Partner?’ She looked mystified.

‘Justin,’ he enunciated. Saying the man’s name helped him remember that she was spoken for. That she was off-limits.

Her face cleared. ‘Oh, Justin. He isn’t my partner. He’s my oldest brother. I share a flat with him.’

Luke’s heart missed a beat. He’d managed to keep his hands off Sara so far by telling himself that she was attached and therefore off-limits.

Now it turned out that might not be the case.

Given how blank she’d looked when he’d asked her about her partner…it made him pretty sure that she wasn’t attached at all.

All of a sudden the room seemed to shrink. Right now, Sara was close enough to touch.

And, oh, he wanted to touch.

Taking her to Scarborough would be a spectacularly bad idea. Way too full of temptation—temptation he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist.

Then he realised that she was speaking. ‘Sorry?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Pay attention.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Would you mind repeating that?’

‘Please,’ she prompted.

He’d like to hear her saying that word in other circumstances. In a different tone. All husky and sensual and on the edge of losing her control.

All the blood in his body went south, and he had to swallow hard and close his eyes for a moment to regain control. He just hoped she didn’t look down at his lap, because the evidence of his thoughts was pretty clear. ‘Please.’

‘I said, did you mean telling you honestly what I think?’

‘Given that half my clients will be female, I need a female point of view. Which, obviously, I don’t have. And you tell it like it is—which is what I want to hear. You don’t have a hidden agenda.’

‘You said the weekend,’ she said. ‘Would you want to leave on Friday?’

‘Yes. We’ll stay Friday evening and Saturday, and come back Sunday. And I’ll let you have Monday and Tuesday off to make up for the time, as well as paying you while we’re away.’

‘It’s not about the money.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘It should be. You’re running a business, not a charity.’

‘Staying in a hotel with you.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘That means separate rooms, yes?’

‘Of course it means separate rooms. I’m asking you to join me as my consultant. My colleague.’ Even though he would’ve liked to ask her for a different reason, he knew that mixing business and pleasure was a stupid idea. Besides, although it had turned out that Justin was her brother, not her partner, she hadn’t actually said she was unattached. ‘So your partner won’t mind?’

‘I already told you, Justin’s my brother.’

‘Which is why,’ he pointed out, ‘I didn’t ask you again if Justin would mind. I asked you if your partner would mind.’

‘I’m single, if that’s what you mean.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I could ask you the same. Will your partner mind me accompanying you?’

‘I’m not seeing anyone right now,’ he said, ‘so it’s not a relevant question. That’s why I asked you to come with me: to give me a female viewpoint.’

‘What about your mother? Your sister?’

‘I don’t have either.’

She flushed. ‘I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean to stamp on a sore spot.’

‘You weren’t to know,’ he said lightly. He knew Sara would assume that his mother was dead; he had no idea whether his mother was still alive or not, but he’d lost her a long time ago. Even before he’d walked out on his family, nearly half a lifetime before. ‘Let’s change the subject, hmm?’

‘Good idea.’ She looked relieved. ‘Um…what sort of dress code are we talking about?’

He shrugged. ‘Whatever you want. I should warn you now, it’s not a posh hotel. It might’ve been, once. But now it’s…’ He stopped, trying to think of a nice way to put it.

‘Shabby genteel?’ she suggested.

‘Pretty much.’

‘And you’re going to turn it around. Restore it to its former glory.’

‘If all the figures stack up and my gut feeling tells me to go for it—yes, that’s the idea.’ And he needed to get out of here. Before he did something utterly stupid. Like swivelling his chair round, taking Sara’s hands and pulling her off balance so she landed in his lap and he could kiss her until they were both dizzy. He glanced at his watch. ‘Right. I have a meeting. I’d better go.’

‘There isn’t a meeting in your diary.’

Well, of course she’d know his schedule. She was acting as his PA. ‘I forgot to put it in,’ he fibbed. ‘I’m going to see the temp agency. Interview a few potentials.’ And that was exactly what he was going to do. Even though they weren’t expecting him. Because right now he needed to put space between himself and Sara. For both their sakes.

Sara forced herself to concentrate on the task in hand when Luke had gone. Strange how the office felt empty without him.

And she still felt guilty. Not about the banter—she was pretty sure he enjoyed it just as much as she did, and she knew that he’d come up with a dozen valid reasons why working overtime was good for you, to counter her arguments—but about the fact she’d inadvertently hurt him. There had definitely been a flash of pain in his eyes when she’d mentioned his mother and he’d told her he didn’t have one. It was a fair bet that the rest of the men in his family were the sort who’d bury themselves in work rather than discuss their feelings, and Luke himself had admitted that he dated a different girl every couple of weeks. So he probably didn’t allow himself to get close to anyone in case he lost her, the way he’d lost his mother.

A man alone.

It made her want to put her arms round him, give him a hug and tell him that everything would be fine.

Not that she had any intention of doing that. Because she knew it wouldn’t stop at a hug. Several times in the last week she’d looked up and met Luke’s gaze; he’d quickly masked his expression, but not before she’d been aware of the flare of heat. Desire. Interest.

Exactly the same way she felt. And, the more time she spent with him, the stronger those feelings became.

Perhaps she should’ve refused to go to Scarborough. They’d be stuck in a car together for a long journey. They’d spend the whole weekend in each other’s company. And, even though it was business, it would be all too easy for it to slide into something else.

Uh. Slide. Bad analogy. Because now she had other pictures in her head. X-rated ones.

She dragged in a breath. ‘Don’t be so stupid. You’ve already been there, done that and got your heart broken,’ she told herself loudly. ‘Remember Hugh? He was just as much of a workaholic as Luke is. It didn’t work then and it won’t work now.’

Though Hugh’s mouth hadn’t had such a sensual curve as Luke’s.

And whereas she’d eventually been able to wipe Hugh’s kisses from her memory, she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be able to do the same with Luke’s. She’d get hurt. Badly.

She’d just better hope that he managed to find a PA to cover for Di, and she could finish this job before the temptation got too much for her.

CHAPTER THREE

SARA had managed to compose herself by the time Luke returned—literally five minutes before she was about to leave. ‘Any luck?’ she asked.

‘No. Clearly it’s not my week for finding new staff. So if I can ask you to stay just a little longer?’

‘Yes,’ she said, before her common sense had a chance to stop her.

‘Good.’ He sat on the edge of his desk. ‘Sara, I bulldozed you a bit about Scarborough.’

‘A bit?’ She arched an eyebrow.

‘OK, a lot,’ he admitted. ‘And I know it isn’t fair, giving you such short notice to rearrange your weekend. So don’t feel you have to do it.’

‘It’s all right. I wasn’t doing anything in particular,’ she said. ‘I had vague plans to go to the cinema with friends, but nothing definite.’ Nothing that couldn’t be changed. ‘Besides, it’d be nice to get out of London and go to the seaside.’

‘We’re going to Scarborough to work,’ he reminded her.

She smiled. ‘Maximum eight hours a day. Which means we’ll have time to smell the roses—well, the sea air, anyway.’

He didn’t take the bait. ‘As long as you’re sure it’s not a problem.’

‘It’s not. But I do insist on having a paddle in the sea. And one of those whippy ice creams with a chocolate flake stuck in it.’

He shrugged. ‘Do what you like in your lunch break.’

‘So you’re too chicken to paddle?’ she teased.

‘Too busy,’ he retorted.

‘A five-minute paddle isn’t going to take much out of your day. And the break will do you good.’

‘Refilling the well?’ There was a slight edge to his voice.

‘Good. The man’s learning,’ she said, resisting the urge to walk over to him and ruffle his hair. Touching would be a bad idea. She might not be able to stop at ruffling his hair. And she needed to be professional with him. She wasn’t looking for a relationship right now; even if she had been, Luke wasn’t the man for her. He kept too many barriers round himself. She wanted someone less complicated. ‘Right. I emailed your messages to you as they came in, there’s a report on your desk next to a pile of letters that need signing—and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘OK. And, Sara?’

She paused by the door.

‘Thanks. I do appreciate you. Even if I don’t say it.’

‘You know, that’s why you’re on the temps’ blacklist,’ she said with a grin. ‘You’re too grumpy, too uptight, and you grunt instead of talking.’

‘There isn’t a temps’ blacklist—and I don’t grunt.’

‘No?’ she teased.

‘No. Go home,’ he said, flapping a hand at her and going back to the proper side of his desk.

No doubt he was going to work late again tonight, Sara thought. From what she’d seen of Luke, she was beginning to wonder where on earth the press got those photographs of him at parties and why his name was linked with a string of women. As far as she could see, he didn’t have a social life. He just worked.

Maybe on the way to Scarborough she could start to draw him out a bit. Make him talk to her. Find out what made him tick.

* * *

On the Tuesday, to Sara’s surprise, Luke was actually in the office at lunchtime. ‘I’m going to call down to the sandwich bar and order something. Do you want anything?’

This was where she knew she ought to smile politely and say thanks for the offer, but she’d get something while she went out for her usual lunchtime walk.

Though she couldn’t resist the mad impulse to try to reform him. To teach Luke Holloway to smell the roses. To make the smile on his mouth reach his eyes. ‘Thanks, that’d be lovely. But I’ve got a better idea. Instead of having sandwiches delivered here, why don’t we pick up some lunch on the way?’

‘The way where?’ he asked.

‘Call it an experiment in boosting productivity. If you go for a walk at lunchtime, you get more done in the afternoon. It’s something to do with getting extra oxygen to your brain.’

‘This,’ he said, ‘sounds to me like one of your flaky ideas.’

‘I’m not flaky. I’m enlightened,’ she said loftily. ‘And you’re a workaholic.’

He held both hands up in the classic surrender pose. ‘Guilty as charged, m’lud.’ Except his grin was completely unrepentant.

‘Seriously, Luke, taking a complete break and doing a bit of exercise is good for you.’

‘Exercise.’

How did he do that? How did he manage to make her think of sex, whatever he said? She wasn’t sure if it was the glint in his eyes, or the fact that when he spoke she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. ‘Walking,’ she said, then immediately took a swig of water from the glass on her desk, hoping he’d think her voice was husky simply because she needed a drink. And she really, really hoped her thoughts hadn’t shown on her face.

He glanced out of the window. ‘You have a point. It’s a nice day. A walk would be good.’

She checked her watch. ‘Let’s leave in half an hour.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What happened to working smarter?’

‘Just trust me,’ she said. If they went now, the place she had in mind would be crammed with office workers. If they took a late lunch, it would be just how she liked it. How she wanted to share it with him.

‘You’re the boss. We’ll order the sandwiches anyway, to make sure they don’t run out. I recommend the crayfish wrap. Unless you’re allergic?’

‘No, that’ll be fine. I’d love to try the crayfish.’

Half an hour later, after they’d picked up their lunch, she ushered him towards the tube station.

‘I thought you said we were going for a walk?’

‘We are. Not here.’

‘We’re going to the Tower of London?’ he asked when they left the train at Tower Gateway and headed towards Tower Hill.

‘Not quite. Trust me,’ she said, leading him down a narrow path and surreptitiously glancing at his face to see his reaction when they arrived at their destination.

‘A church?’ Covered in ivy.

‘Not quite.’ And then she led him inside, gratified by the utter surprise on his face, followed quickly by an expression of disbelief and…was that delight?

‘Wow. I had no idea this place was here.’

‘St Dunstan in the East. It was bombed in the Blitz, but instead of knocking it down the authorities turned it into a garden.’

Instead of pews there were park benches, instead of a font there was a fountain, and instead of glass fronds climbing shrubs filled the arched window frames.

‘Refilling the well,’ she said softly, sitting on one of the empty benches and patting the seat next to her. ‘If I’m working in the city, this is where I come for lunch. Outside the lunch rush hour, that is.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘And so quiet. You’d never believe you were in the middle of the city.’

‘Exactly. It reminds me a bit of home,’ she said.

‘You miss the country?’

She nodded. ‘But I love the buzz of the city, too. So I suppose I have the best of both worlds—I live here in London, but I can go home to Kent whenever I want.’

‘The garden of England.’

‘Absolutely. We’re spoiled with castles and stately homes and gardens on our doorstep.’

‘I’ve always lived in London,’ he said reflectively.

‘So you’ve never spent any time in the country?’

‘The occasional weekend. Nothing much.’

She smiled at him. ‘You’ll have to come back with me some time. I’ll show you some of my favourite places.’

‘Are you asking me on a date, Sara?’

For a second, she couldn’t breathe. The air felt as if it were crackling with electricity—even though the sky was a clear blue and there wasn’t so much as a single wispy white cloud, let alone purple-grey storm clouds.

A date.

She’d meant it as a throwaway but genuine offer. To share some of her favourite places and spread a little sunshine into his life.

But it could be construed a different way. That she’d just asked him out.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Would he accept?

Another missed beat.

Did she want him to accept?

The world suddenly felt precarious, and she backtracked. Fast. ‘Not a date date. An offer to a friend—because I like you, and I think we could be friends.’

‘What, even though you boss me about?’

She was relieved that he’d slipped back into teasing banter. That, she could cope with. ‘Hey, I’ll have to be bossy if I’m navigating.’

‘What about sat nav?’ he countered.

‘You can’t beat local knowledge.’

‘True. Point to you.’ He regarded her seriously. ‘The way you see life…everyone’s a potential friend until proven otherwise, aren’t they?’

She thought about it. ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted. It was the way she’d been brought up—around people who loved her and always showed their affection.

‘Don’t you get disappointed?’ he asked.

‘Not often.’ She had with Hugh, but he was the exception that proved the rule. ‘Are you saying that you see everyone as a potential enemy, then?’

‘Hardly. I’m not the paranoid type.’

‘But you don’t let people close.’

He shrugged. ‘It makes life much less complicated.’

It also made life lonely, she thought. Not that there was any point in saying so. She had a feeling that Luke would claim he didn’t need anyone and that his life was just fine as it was. ‘You see the glass as half empty, then?’

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘It’s obvious you see it as half full. I’d say it’s simply half a glass. Telling it as it is, no flowery description.’

His words were light, but she could hear the warning signal: she might want to be friends, but he’d keep her at a distance. She kept the conversation completely impersonal for the rest of their lunch break, telling him what she knew about the history of the church, and he seemed to relax again with her. And, although Luke spent most of the afternoon either on the phone or in meetings, he was back at his desk just before she left the office for the evening.

‘Sara?’

‘Uh-huh?’ She glanced up from her computer and was rewarded with a smile that did actually reach his eyes. A smile that did seriously odd things to her insides.

‘I just wanted to say thanks. For sharing that garden with me today.’

‘Pleasure.’ And it warmed her that he’d enjoyed it. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah. Have a nice evening.’

‘You, too.’ On the surface, it was polite office chit-chat. Though Luke wasn’t the sort to do chit-chat. He was always charming, but she knew he hated wasting a single second. So the fact he’d bothered to thank her and wish her a nice evening… Maybe he was learning to trust her. Opening up to her just that little bit.

Though Sara was completely thrown the next morning, when she walked in to find a beautiful bouquet of roses on her desk, all pink and cream. ‘What’s this?’

‘You made me stop and smell the roses yesterday. I thought I’d do the same for you today,’ he said. His smile was just the wrong side of wicked. ‘A thanks for helping me out.’

She shrugged. ‘Strictly speaking, you’re my client. You’re paying me to help you out.’

‘If you had the builders in, you’d make them tea and bring them cake and make a fuss of them so they did a good job for you, yes?’

‘Ye-es.’ Where was he going with this?

‘Same thing,’ he said. ‘Except you’re not a builder. You’re a girl.’

‘You noticed?’ she deadpanned.

‘I noticed.’

There was a flare of heat in his expression that triggered a corresponding flare in her body. To the point where she really needed a cold shower. She took refuge in being sassy. ‘Basically, this is a business expense.’

‘No. It’s from me to you, to say I appreciate you.’

‘And so you should.’ No way was she going to let him know that his comment, even more than the flowers, had just turned her into mush. She buried her nose among the blooms. Their scent was sweet, yet heady. ‘Thank you. They’re beautiful. How did you know I’d like pink roses?’

He coughed and gestured to her shoes.

She smiled. ‘Busted. OK, so it’s my favourite colour.’ She breathed in their scent again. ‘Thank you, Luke. These really are lovely.’

And when she made them both a coffee and put a mug on his desk, she gave in to the impulse and kissed his cheek.

‘What was that for?’ he asked.

‘Just to say I appreciate the roses.’

‘Pleasure.’ But he was staring at her mouth.

Just as she was staring at his.

Wondering.

She was used to giving hugs and kissing cheeks and ruffling hair. It was how she’d grown up, in the middle of a close and noisy and affectionate family. But kissing Luke’s cheek just now, being close enough to smell his clean scent and feel the softness of his skin against her lips…that hadn’t been her best idea. Because it had made her all too aware of him: an awareness that could be dangerous.

An awareness that grew and grew over the morning. Luke had a lunchtime meeting—one that had been in his diary since before she’d started working with him, so she knew it wasn’t an excuse to avoid her. She had lunch on her own, sitting on a bench overlooking the river. Giving her time to think.

Things were definitely starting to change between her and Luke; although Sara still didn’t really know what made him tick, she liked the glimpses he’d allowed her to see so far. Liked them enough to want to know more. To get to know him properly. And…

She took a sip of her ice-cold water. If she let her thoughts go much further in that direction, she’d need to up-end the bottle over her head to cool her down.

* * *

‘I’m pulling rank,’ Luke said the next day. ‘We’re having a working lunch.’

She coughed. ‘Lunch is meant to be a break.’

‘Refilling the well. Yeah, yeah, you told me.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘But I need to brief you a little bit about this weekend.’

‘The operative word being “little”. I thought you wanted me to do it completely as a mystery shopping kind of thing?’

‘Even mystery shoppers need a brief. Look, it’s time for lunch. If you don’t have anything better planned, there’s a very good pizza place round the corner.’

He’d dressed it up as a business thing—but he knew full well that wasn’t what he was offering. This was the same as her offer to him the previous day of a weekend in the country: a date that wasn’t a date.

He’d enjoyed spending time with her in that tiny, perfect garden. And even though the alarm bells were ringing in his head, warning him that this was a dangerous game, he wanted more. Something about this woman made him want to break the rules. Get to know her better.

‘Sounds good to me. As long as we split the bill.’

‘You,’ he said, ‘are the boss.’

She laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’

He loved the way she laughed. It made him feel as if the sun had just come out after a dull, grey morning.

And why a beautiful, clever, warm woman with a sense of fun was still single was beyond him. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Sara Fleet had been snapped up the second she’d turned sixteen.

Or maybe that was it. Maybe she was a widow. True, she was very young to be a widow—but life wasn’t always fair, and if she’d loved her husband that much… Then again, she was using her maiden name.

And why was he speculating about something that was none of his business? He shook himself. ‘Let’s go so we can beat the rush.’

They arrived in time to grab a seat under one of the umbrellas on the terrace overlooking the river.

‘Do you recommend anything?’ Sara asked.

‘It’s all good. The pizzas are wood-fired, so they’re fabulous. Wine?’

‘Thanks, but I’ll stick to sparkling water. If I drink at lunchtime, it makes me want to curl up and go to sleep.’

Luke suppressed the thought that he’d like to watch her curled up and sleeping, satiated after making love. He was meant to be keeping this strictly business. But there was something about her that drew him.

They settled on pizza, and sharing focaccia bread and a simple salad. But when the waiter arrived, he was clearly struggling to write down their order.

‘Luke, would you mind if I ordered?’ Sara cut in gently.

He spread his hands. ‘Be my guest.’

She said a few words in what Luke guessed was Italian, and the waiter beamed at her before bursting into an absolute torrent of language. Sara was smiling back, speaking just as rapidly. Luke didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but he liked the lilting sound of the words from her mouth.

The waiter was clearly also charmed, because he disappeared into the kitchen and returned almost immediately with a rose in a vase.

A pink rose.

She thanked him, and he gave her a deep bow before disappearing to see to another customer.

Luke grinned. ‘Trust you to make sure we take time to smell the roses.’

She flushed. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t showing off, just then—Gianfranco was struggling and it’s hard enough dealing with customers without the language barrier. He’s only been in England for a week; he’s come over to work in his uncle’s business in his gap year.’

Luke was impressed that she’d found out so much information in such a short space of time. Then again, there was something about Sara that made you want to trust her.

Which made her dangerous.

He pushed the thought away. ‘It was kind of you to help out. So you speak Italian fluently.’ Then he remembered. ‘And I’ve stolen your week in Italy.’

She shrugged. ‘I hadn’t booked my ticket, so it wasn’t a problem. I can go to Sorrento some other time.’

‘Well, I feel guilty.’

‘Good.’ She grinned at him. ‘You can buy me pudding to make up for it.’

That zest for life, that love of food…and it was so refreshing, after the time he’d spent with women who nibbled on a lettuce leaf and made a fuss about counting carbs. ‘Deal. So do you speak any other languages?’

‘French. A bit of German. And I can scrape by in Greek, provided I have a dictionary.’

‘Impressive.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I never really learned languages at school. I haven’t needed to, for work.’

‘You can speak the universal language, though. Money.’

‘Well enough.’ He shrugged. ‘Have you been to Scarborough before?’

‘No—we always tended to go south, down to the coast at Sussex. You?’

‘A long time ago,’ he said. It was one of the few memories from his childhood that was happy.

‘You’re right. The pizza’s excellent,’ she said after her first mouthful. ‘And so’s the bread—I love it that they do it with rosemary here. It reminds me of Florence.’

‘So you like ruins?’ He remembered her degree was in history, so it was pretty obvious she’d be interested in that kind of thing.

‘It’s the way the past still echoes down through to the present, and the beauty never fades.’

When she talked about something she enjoyed, she was really animated, he noticed. And her enthusiasm was infectious. ‘You could’ve been a teacher. You would’ve really inspired your classes,’ he said.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I did think about it. But there’s so much red tape in education—it would just suck the joy out of it, for me. Besides, I like what I do now.’

And if she’d been a teacher, she wouldn’t have walked into his life.

Although Luke didn’t join her in having a pudding, he indulged in a rich, dark coffee, and when they returned to the office he was shocked to discover they’d been out for an hour and a half. Considering that lunch for him was usually just long enough to eat a sandwich… He made a mental note to put in the extra time that evening, and forced himself to concentrate on figures and phone calls for the rest of the afternoon.

He’d just replaced the receiver when she put a mug of coffee on his desk. ‘Problem?’

‘Nothing major. The guy I was playing in a league match tonight—he needs to reschedule because something important cropped up at work. Which means I have a court booked but no partner.’ He looked speculatively at her. ‘I don’t suppose you…?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘I thought you said exercise was good for you?’

She shook her head, laughing. ‘I’m hopeless at racquet sports. Justin tried to teach me, and I was so embarrassingly bad that he had to admit defeat.’

‘I could teach you.’

Her eyes met his and awareness zinged through him. Both knew he hadn’t been talking about just squash.

‘Thanks for the offer, but it’s not really me.’ This time, she was the one to give the speculative look. ‘Though if you’re at a loose end…’

‘What?’

‘You didn’t look that convinced at lunchtime when I told you why I loved ruins. Come and see something with me. And you don’t have an excuse—you just told me your squash match was cancelled.’

‘Has anyone told you that you’re a bulldozer in disguise?’

She laughed. ‘Yup. So are you game?’

He should say no. Use the time to work. But his mouth didn’t seem to be working in synch with his brain. ‘Sure.’

‘Something’turned out to be the British Museum. ‘I love the courtyard here,’ she said. ‘It’s the light and shade—just lovely.’

A big, wide open space with a glass ceiling, triangles radiating out from a central column. He could see exactly what she meant.

He’d never really spent any time in museums. But when she took him to see the Egyptian mummies and the Roman mosaics, he could see it through her eyes and was enchanted.

‘Haven’t you ever done this before?’ she asked, clearly surprised.

‘I guess when you live in a place, you take it for granted and don’t get round to doing the touristy things.’

‘True, and doing them on your own’s not such fun because you don’t get to share them and talk about them with someone.’ She reached out and took his hand for a moment, squeezing it. ‘Maybe we can come back together some time.’

‘That’d be nice.’

What really shocked him was that he meant it. He wanted to spend time with her. He liked the sound of her voice and could’ve listened to her all day when she told him about the things that clearly grabbed her attention. And he really liked the touch of her skin against his.

Ah, hell. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t do relationships. He always had brief and mutually satisfying affairs with women who knew the score. Women who moved in the same glittering social circles. Women who didn’t have wedding bells in their eyes or want him to meet their families.

Sara Fleet was a mass of contradictions. Efficient and businesslike, and yet warm and touchy-feely at the same time. He still hadn’t quite recovered from that kiss on the cheek earlier that afternoon. God only knew how he’d stopped himself turning his face to hers and capturing her mouth.

And right now her hand was curled round his.

It was oh, so tempting. All he had to do was raise her hand to his lips. Kiss the backs of her fingers. Turn her wrist over and press his mouth to the pulse point, see if it jumped as hard and fast as his own heart was beating right then.

It didn’t matter that they were standing in the middle of a public place. The rest of the world just faded away. He could pull her into his arms. Cup her face. Lower his mouth to hers. Taste the sweetness on offer…

‘Luke?’

Uh. He really was losing the plot. He never, but never, allowed himself to be distracted like this. ‘Yeah, fine,’ he said, not really sure what he was agreeing to, but the warmth of her smile promised him it was something good. ‘Listen, I’d better let you go. You’ll need to pack for tomorrow.’

‘And you, no doubt, are planning to squeeze in some work.’

‘A teensy bit.’ Which might just stop him thinking about kissing her.

‘You,’ she said, ‘are impossible.’

‘So I’ve been told.’ He disentangled his fingers from hers and was dismayed to find that he actually missed their warmth and pressure.

Not good at all.

He was twenty-eight, not thirteen. Time he remembered that and acted like it. ‘Come on. I’ll put you in a taxi.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of getting the Tube.’

‘I know. But humour me.’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘I’ll take a taxi,’ she said, ‘if you agree to paddle in the sea with me on Saturday.’

‘And you say I’m impossible?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Come on.’ He hailed a taxi, paid the driver and waved her goodbye.

And the worst thing was, he couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow.

‘You,’ he told himself loudly, ‘need your head examined. She’s a complication you don’t need.’

Though he had a nasty feeling that he was protesting just a little too much.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘IT’LL take us five hours to get there,’ Luke said when Sara walked into the office the next morning. ‘So we’ll leave at two, when you’re back from lunch. That way we’ll get there at seven, we’ll have time to unpack and have a quick shower and then we’ll have dinner.’

Sara looked surprised. ‘We’re not stopping on the way?’

‘Not unless you need a comfort break.’

‘What about you?’

He wrinkled his nose dismissively. ‘I’d rather just get there.’

‘You’re the boss.’

There was definite sass in her tone, but Luke didn’t rise to the bait. He spent the morning in meetings and his lunchtime reading reports. Sara was back at two o’clock precisely, as he’d expected.

‘Only one suitcase—and a small one at that?’ he queried.

‘We’re only away for two days. Why would I need more?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Clearly you mix with the wrong sort of woman.’

‘Meaning?’

‘High maintenance—the sort who can’t open a door without checking for damage to their nails. And whose top drawer is full of make-up and emergency hair spray, and who travel with six changes of clothes per day.’

He laughed. ‘Point taken. But it’s refreshing.’ Like her shoes, though he refrained from commenting. Today’s were suede, in a deep teal colour to match her camisole top.

Then he wished he hadn’t thought about matching shoes. Because it made him wonder if her underwear matched, too. And what she’d look like in just teal-coloured lacy underwear and those shoes and the black pearl choker, with her hair loose instead of worn up, and…

‘I’ll carry that. You can lock up behind us,’ he said gruffly.

‘I can carry my own case.’

‘As you say, I mix with the wrong sort of woman. I’ll carry the cases. And my laptop.’ He lobbed the bunch of keys at her; as he’d expected, she caught them automatically. She gave him a speaking look, but locked up and followed him down the stairs to his car.

‘Nice,’ she said, clearly appreciating the sleek lines of his car, then frowned as he opened the back door. ‘Aren’t you going to put the cases in the boot?’

‘There’s no room.’

‘What, you’re taking half a filing cabinet with you or something?’

‘It’s a hybrid car,’ he said. ‘The one downside is that the battery takes up most of the space in the boot.’

‘You’ve got an eco car?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d have expected you to go for a really flash sports car. A limited-edition thing.’

He laughed. ‘Absolutely. I have my name on the list for an eco sports car that’s going to be on sale in about…oh, seven years’ time. But this’ll do for the time being.’

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