Again, startled, Sebastian's eyes flashed momentarily like a small child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. Fear, shock? Jocelyn couldn't put her finger on it. When he replied she detected a hint of defensiveness.

'Me? I'm fine. Lot on my mind I suppose. New York's tricky; I'm sure Jackson's got it all under control but we can't afford any c.o.c.k-ups.'

Jocelyn nodded knowingly, hoping she was giving the impression that she was satisfied by his response, her multi-tiered candelabra earrings jangling with each movement of her head. Then, thinking a change of subject was in order she said, 'I'm looking forward to seeing Alex's ideas, aren't you? I think she's going to be very good for us. A whole new look.'

A whole new look. Sebastian ran his pen through his fingers again, then, as if coming to some sort of decision in his head, tapped the end of it hard on his desk. The sharp rap it produced seemed to signal a change in his mood, as grinning broadly at Jocelyn, shaking off whatever was on his mind, he nodded his agreement.

'High time we had a change, don't you think? It'll sharpen everyone up. We'll see what she has for the office and you can sort out the stuff for that shopping centre while I brief her on the apartment. Then we'll be all set for the Minister when he finally turns up. I want you in on that meeting though, and we'll tape it. I don't want him pulling some sort of fast one.'

Jocelyn's eyebrows rose in mock surprise, 'As if an elected member might try to bribe you...'

Sebastian grinned broadly, feeling back on form for the first time in days, 'G.o.d forbid...' Before he could say any more, the buzzer went on his desk and a female voice said, 'Ms Ryan's on her way up Mr Wingfield.'

In the lift, Alex had her eyes shut and was counting to one hundred in sevens. Anything to keep her mind off walking through the doors of his office. Anything to calm the swarm of bees trying to escape from her stomach. Her briefcase over her shoulder, she could feel her palms beginning to sweat. She had wedged the A3 laminated mood boards she'd spent the weekend working on under her arm, large sheets of thick cream cardboard crowded with colour patches, fabric samples and shots of sculpture and architecture that summarised the looks she thought best met the brief. In her clear, flowing handwriting, rounded and generous, she had summarised the various images that Venture Capital could achieve, had taped a spread-sheet of the projected costs to the back of each board and had another copy in her briefcase. She was as ready as she could hope to be. But some things she would never be ready for.

As the lift pinged upwards from the ground floor, she looked down at her heeled crocodile pumps, trying to focus on something solid, mundane, trying to clear her head for the meeting Her shoes were golden brown to match her chocolate tweed suit and ruffled champagne silk blouse, the top b.u.t.tons open to reveal her tan, it had taken her ages to decide what to wear. Her black trouser suit had seemed the obvious choice, but, when she had thought about it last night, half her wardrobe spread across her double bed, it had seemed too defensive somehow. And the last thing she wanted to be was defensive. Whatever about the past, whatever about that kiss, she had a job to do and needed to look like she was in control, even if she was shrivelling inside like an autumn leaf, a leaf about to fall off the tree and plummet to earth.

Finished with her shoes, she had closed her eyes again, was trying to focus instead on images of success before she arrived on the top floor. Ellen MacArthur bringing Kingfisher across the finish line at Les Sables d'Olonne after 94 days single-handed circ.u.mnavigation in the Vendee Globe race; Ernest Shackleton travelling 800 miles through the ice and snow with four of his shipmates to get help for his stranded crew; the last American Idol X-Factor guy, whatever his name was, hearing the news that he had won the five million dollar deal. So absorbed in her thoughts she'd missed hearing the lift ping and the doors glide open. Jocelyn's greeting almost made her drop her briefcase with fright.

'Ah Alex, how lovely to see you.'

Eyes flying open, Alex did an Oscar-winning job of turning her expression of shock into one of delighted surprise. 'Jocelyn! So good of you to meet me.' It sounded a bit thin, even to Alex. Stepping out of the lift, she continued conspiratorially, 'I was just visualising some of the options for your new look. It helps so much to be on site and get a feel for the schemes that will work best.'

Grinning broadly, obviously thrilled with this insider trick, Jocelyn could hardly contain her excitement, her eyes bright, earrings jangling like alarm bells.

'Super, super. I just KNEW you were perfect for the job. I can't wait to see your ideas. Come this way, Sebastian's inside and the coffee's hot.'

It took all the composure Alex could muster to cross the hall to the double doors of Sebastian's office. She could feel the colour in her cheeks rising and prayed that her makeup and tan would be enough to hide her blush. But there was nothing she could do about her heart, thundering in her chest so loudly that she was sure Jocelyn could hear it. Thankfully, Jocelyn didn't seem to notice, but swept on ahead, holding the door open and ushering Alex through like a film star arriving at a premiere. And just like a premiere, the lights inside were dazzling, every bulb in the tangled chandelier reflecting off the polished surfaces, the marble floor, the gla.s.s of the conference table, the white sofas. Beyond the huge windows the storm had darkened the sky so much it could have been midnight, heavy black clouds crowding around the huge windows like paparazzi after a story. But Alex hardly noticed.

Sitting on the sofa, relaxed, loose-limbed, one elbow resting on his knee, absentmindedly holding a mug of coffee was Sebastian. Despite the sound of her heels on the floor, he didn't look up, was apparently lost in concentration, scanning a pile of doc.u.ments in front of him, his forehead creased. Just like the last time they had met, he had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar unb.u.t.toned, tie loose, but today his shirt was pale pink, thick woven cotton, his trousers a fine wool navy pinstripe. Smart and s.e.xy. Very s.e.xy. Unconsciously, her eyes were drawn to his shirt straining across the breadth of his shoulders, to the strength in his muscular forearms, and Alex felt that long forgotten kick in the pit of her stomach. Just like when she was seventeen, just like the time she landed in his arms in the tumbledown Mill House, so close she could feel the heat of his body through her thin t-shirt, smell the scent of his soap, feel his hands hot on her back.

For a split second the room swam before her.

Taking a sharp intake of breath Alex drew on the aroma of fresh coffee that pervaded the office as if it were smelling salts. It seemed to do the trick, temporarily at least. Behind her, the door closed, an ominously deep, gentle click, and then she felt rather than saw Jocelyn swish past her, heading straight for the gla.s.s-topped table between the sofas, picking up the coffee pot before she said, smiling, 'Come and sit down. He won't be a minute.'

Come and sit down...panic rose before Alex had a chance to quell it, her emotions raging like the water tumbling through the mill wheel. Whatever about facing him across the desk, the solid lump of wood a physical barrier between them, she hadn't bargained for a meeting across the coffee table, for sinking back into a soft sofa, where her knee-length skirt would inevitably ride up her stockinged legs. Why hadn't she worn her trouser suit? If she perched on the edge, would she look prissy and uptight? She had so wanted to look like he didn't faze her, like she was in control.

Grasping at what was left of her courage, she smiled sweetly at Jocelyn, and mouthed 'thanks' for her discretion in not interrupting the great Sebastian. Jocelyn responded with an appreciative nod. Thank G.o.d he wasn't looking at her. Feeling like she really was on the red carpet heading into a premiere, exposed and vulnerable, cameras flashing at her heels, trying to catch her at the worst possible angle, Alex closed the gap between them and slipped her briefcase onto the floor, leaning the mood boards upright on the back of the sofa. Giving the soft leather sofa a quick appraisal, almost sighing with relief that it looked more substantial than she had first thought, she sat down, her knees tightly together, ankles locked, like Princess Diana in front of the Taj Mahal.

He still didn't acknowledge her.

Leaning across the table, Jocelyn silently pa.s.sed Alex a mug of coffee acting as if it was completely normal for Sebastian to ignore someone he was about to have a meeting with. Taking the mug and hiding behind the rim as she took a sip, Alex had a sneaky look at him.

He was still reading.

How could he ignore her like this? Irrespective of what had happened between them, how could he be so rude? Alex mentally kicked herself. Why had she got so worked up about this meeting? Worrying about what to wear, almost having heart failure in the lift. And here he was behaving as if she was the hired help, some insignificant...some insignificant...

Then he looked up.

'h.e.l.lo Alex, how are you?'

It was a universal Irish greeting, used by people everywhere. But after all these years, coming from him, it seemed to carry so much more weight. And just a touch of sarcasm.

TWELVE.

Lying back in a bath liberally sprinkled with jasmine-scented oil, Caroline rested her elbows on the edges of the porcelain roll-top tub and switched on her BlackBerry, careful to keep the pale pink rose gold case out of the water. All around her, Jo Malone white jasmine and mint candles flickered, their warm glow captured and magnified by the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall tiles, their aroma magnifying the scent rising from the bath. The bathroom was huge, one of the things she'd loved the first time she saw the apartment, and so warm...

Checking her screen, Caroline flicked straight to Twitter. As she expected, the first direct message in her stream was from Tiffany. They'd had some fun setting up their Twitter IDs, Tiffany convincing her that @onlychampers was perfect for her. Tiffany's own Twitter ID was the distinctive @5thAve. Caroline couldn't resist a grin as she read the private message.

@onlychampers What happened? Why didn't you answer the phone? Was frantic.

The grin turned into a giggle as memories of the night before made Caroline squirm in the warm water, flowing like satin around her as she moved. Phew, what a night. She'd been much too busy to answer the phone...but could she tell Tiffany that? Could she tell her that Peter had reached for her across the back seat as soon as the doors of the Mercedes had closed, that his kiss had been deep, amazing, had made her desperate for him? Could she say that he'd suggested they drop the driver off in a village on the way to the Sally Gap, that Peter had driven the huge car up to the most amazing vantage point above Luggala, that they hadn't even got around to opening the hamper, that the zip on her dress had stuck, and oh boy.....

Maybe she should leave out the details...

But Caroline knew she'd have to tell Tiffany something.

Caroline looked at her BlackBerry for a moment, speculatively, a plan forming in her mind. Sebastian thought Twitter was a complete waste of time, so there was no chance of him seeing her messages, but just in case someone he knew was following her, she'd better start with the right story. She clicked to reply to Tiffany, but using the public stream so that anyone following her could see it. Just in case. For a second, a feeling of guilt tweaked at her conscience, but it was fleeting. It was only a bit of fun after all. Une liaison dangereuse. Peter knew she was engaged, knew the score. He wasn't looking for a lifetime commitment. So what should she say to Tiffany? She thought for a moment, then started typing with manicured thumbs.

@5thAve Private view was fabulous little gallery in Wicklow. Battery fully charged but had 2 switch 2 silent She clicked send.

Ha! Would Tiff pick up the double entendre? Caroline adjusted her position in the bath, feeling the silky oil and warm water ma.s.sage her thighs and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her mind immediately back in the moment of the previous evening, to the tiny sample of wild fig and ca.s.sis bath oil she'd tossed into her bag with her lipstick. Now hadn't that come in useful...She wasn't sure why she'd slipped it in it had just been sitting there on the basin as she took that final look in the mirror, her stomach dancing like fireflies over the Dordogne. Between the oil and his hands it had been b.l.o.o.d.y difficult to switch the phone to silent. Goodness, she was surprised she didn't have bruises.

Tiff was probably in bed now, wouldn't see the message until she got up. Caroline flicked through the rest of the stream, relaxing. G.o.d, Twitter was great. She was following @indiaknight and @LibertyLndnGirl who had all the absolutely top celeb and London fashion gossip. It was like boarding school, having a gang of girls to chat to the whole time. As she scrolled down, another message caught her eye.

@onlychampers what sort of pictures did they have at that gallery? I need a gift.

Caroline clicked to reply, giggling again: @moonwalker Oils, spectacular Moonwalker, some banker type, had only recently started following her the bio displayed was a bit brief but they'd had some great chats, knew a load of the same people. And anyone who said their time zone was 'Right here, right now,' had to have a sense of humour. Moonwalker came back to her straightaway: @onlychampers Heard the views are fabulous in Wicklow @moonwalker Absolutely superb, best ever.

She couldn't resist another giggle as she hit send.

@onlychampers Excellent, will make a point of checking them out next time I'm there.

@moonwalker u should.

@onlychampers Did you buy anything?

@moonwalker Much more than I expected.

@onlychampers Really? Do they deliver?

@moonwalker They *definitely* deliver.

@onlychampers Sounds like you had fun.

She'd had fun alright. The memory of Peter's broad chest slick with oil, of him teasing her, gently coaxing her, infuriatingly bringing her almost to the edge and then, just as she was about to scream, letting her go again sent a thrill up from her groin, spreading out across her body with deft fingers. Good G.o.d, the memory of his tongue was going to make her come all over again.

@moonwalker 4sure. More fun 2day shopping in BTs, u must go there whn u cme 2 Dub.

She didn't wait for a reply. That was the fun thing about Twitter, the people you followed and who followed you logged in whenever they could, so it was constantly changing. And there was no pressure to have a conversation so if someone didn't reply it was no problem.

Caroline switched off her BlackBerry and slipped it over the edge of the bath and onto the Italian marble floor. It landed with a clatter, but she hardly noticed, was already lying back with her eyes closed revelling in last night's every glorious detail.

THIRTEEN.

Sitting on the sofa in Sebastian's office, Alex froze, her irritation at being ignored fizzling out like a damp sparkler. With the bone china mug that Jocelyn had handed her hovering in front of her lips, her eyes met Sebastian's through the gentle movement of steam above it. Today, his eyes were an impossibly deep shade of blue-grey, like the colour the sea goes when a storm is threatening, like the clouds now darkening the window behind him. And they were trained on her, penetrating deep. Looking for answers.

Alex opened her mouth to reply, realised with a jolt that, yet again, it had gone dry. Fumbling for something sensible to say, she felt the intensity of his gaze, as blue as the gas jet from a propane torch, blistering hot, accusing, consuming the oxygen in the room. This was mad she felt like she was locked in some sort of vacuum, couldn't breathe, couldn't escape, couldn't find the words to switch off the heat. This was way worse than she had ever imagined it was going to be.

Apparently completely unaware of the tension in the room, and having poured her own coffee, Jocelyn put the coffee pot down with a clunk on the gla.s.s table, the sound reverberating like someone had aimed a fire extinguisher at them both and pulled the pin. Jocelyn spoke half to herself as she settled back heavily into the sofa, elbows jutting out as she brought her mug to her lips, bracelets jangling.

'My goodness, can't function without good coffee in the morning, can you?'

Her comment drew Sebastian's attention, an acknowledgement in the form of a tilt of his head, a twitch of his lips. He had always wondered about Jocelyn's ability to pick up the undercurrents at a meeting, had been concerned how he would handle this one with her sitting on his shoulder like his mother, huffing and puffing and getting all effusive about the colour schemes. But now, with Alex sitting in front of him, her long slim legs crossed demurely like a virgin at a prayer meeting, her blouse straining across her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the silk catching the light where the lace on her bra undulated beneath it, he knew for sure Jocelyn wasn't getting all the signals. Which was just as well. He felt like someone had plugged him in to an electrical socket, like every hair on his body was live, and if Alex moved too much on that sofa his imagination was going to leap over there and rip open that blouse...

Seizing the moment, Alex concealed her confusion by nodding her agreement and taking a very large, unladylike slug of her coffee. It was strong and black, exactly what she needed to kick her back on track. Putting her mug down carefully, she focused on it, breathing deeply, trying to calm her racing heart, preparing to meet Sebastian's eye.

'Very well thank you. And thank you for giving us the contract. I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results.' Calm, controlled, smiling, professional. Whew!

He interrupted before she could continue.

'I hope so. You certainly come very highly recommended. But tell me a bit more about Impromptu. You're based in Barcelona?'

The inclination at the end of his sentence spoke for itself. Why Barcelona? Alex felt herself chill. It was a leading question and they both knew it.

Conscious of her every movement, poised as she was with her back straight, knees clamped together, Alex forced herself to try and relax before she answered. She really needed to look like this didn't bother her. Like the timbre of his voice wasn't sending messages around her body like an express train, a train finding its way along old tracks, well worn but gone rusty with time. She moved as she spoke, relaxing her back, uncrossing her ankles, trying to blend moving and speaking so that the whole thing appeared completely natural. She felt like she was doing an exam, like he was a.s.sessing her on her dress, her presentation, the way she sat, what she said. She replied with a smile, forcing herself to sound light, relaxed.

'Yes, we're based in Barcelona; our office is in the centre of the city on Las Ramblas.'

'We?' It was like a bullet, the word fired from point-blank range, explosive and deadly. Even Jocelyn raised an eyebrow momentarily, but then she was used to his unorthodox boardroom style, had learned long ago not to question it. Alex however, felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. Why was he reacting so aggressively to such a simple statement? Her irritation began to splutter into life again, lick at the embers of the past. It wasn't like any of this was her fault! Forcing herself to sound matter of fact, like it was a perfectly normal question, she said.

'I have a business partner, Marina Delgado.'

A woman. For a split second Sebastian cursed himself for his lack of control. How could he have been so transparent? And what did it matter anyway who her partner was?

'I see.' In an effort to draw attention away from his question, he flipped his tie, clearing his throat before continuing deceptively innocently, 'but you're Irish aren't you?'

As if he didn't know she was Irish. Alex would have scowled if Jocelyn hadn't been sitting opposite her, hanging on her every word. Then the bombsh.e.l.l came. 'So why Barcelona?'

Alex drew in a sharp breath, knew she was standing on the edge of a minefield. What should she say? Because I had to get away, a long way away? She reached for her mug, took another sip of her coffee, buying time.

'Actually, I'm half-Spanish, my Mother's family are from Cataluna, so it made sense for me to go to college there.' Matter of fact. Keep it simple. Pinp.r.i.c.ks of perspiration stung the small of her back, each breath taut, shallow.

This was painful, like water torture, slow and steady, but Alex knew she had to keep the front up, had to react like this was a normal business interview. After all, he was awarding them a contract, had every right to know their background, to find out if they were able to handle the job. And with Jocelyn sitting there, Alex knew she could hardly start getting sarcastic. But, she was finding it harder and harder to concentrate, to continue this seemingly impersonal conversation when his every movement, every nuance took her straight back to that summer...Desperate to fill the silence growing, pregnant with expectation, she continued, 'Marina and I met at the Inst.i.tuto Europeo di Deseo. When we graduated, an opportunity came up to renovate Marina's father's offices in Barcelona, so we took it and the work just kept coming in. We haven't looked back.' Oh G.o.d why did she say that we haven't looked back she could feel him bristling, the air suddenly electric.

'Really?'

Needing to move on, desperate to shout I didn't mean it that way! I didn't mean that I've never looked back, never regretted leaving! Alex said hastily, 'We've been lucky enough to win some big contracts. Like the Spanish Government contract. We've redesigned every government department from the letterheads to their staff uniform. And Iberia liked what we did, so we have done their offices and corporate livery as well as re-vamping the crew uniforms and on-board interiors.'

'Impressive.' But he didn't look impressed, just annoyed, his blue eyes shuttered, hiding his emotions. Taking a sip of his coffee he glanced at the paperwork in front of him again and then sat back, his foot thrown over his knee. Casual, relaxed, in control.

'And you live in Barcelona?'

What had that got to do with anything?

'No, just outside, in a town called Tarragona.'

He nodded, 'with the bullring, and the medieval cathedral.'

Alex nodded, unable to conceal her surprise, a hint of panic welling up how did he know? Tarragona was beautiful, but it was hardly big enough to warrant his attention. Jocelyn too looked surprised, raising her eyebrows. By way of explanation he turned to her, 'Wingfield Media pitched for the Spanish Tourist Board's advertising contract. It was one of the towns they chose to represent cultural Spain.'

Whew, Alex's sigh of relief was almost audible. But he knew where she lived now, knew where she worked, so even if she chickened out and ran back to Spain, he'd know where to find her...

Shooting Alex a conspiratorial look, her eyes raised to heaven, Jocelyn made a show of swishing back her bell-shaped sleeves and rattling her diamante bracelet watch down her arm so that she could look at it properly.

'Oh look at the time!'

Alex's lips twitched at the corners as she fought back a smile. Jocelyn really deserved an Oscar for her performance in managing her boss. 'You've got that conference call at eleven. If you're happy with Alex's credentials, could we have a look at the ideas she brought with her perhaps?'

Alex smiled, her relief that the interrogation was over making her stomach ache there was no way she'd be able to say it, but she owed Jocelyn a big one. Turning to pull out the mood boards beside her, she forced herself to relax, became aware of the soft tick of a clock somewhere behind her, the feel of the leather beneath her knees. She'd done hundreds of presentations before, should be able to deflect the focus away from herself for a few moments at least. And she knew the concepts she'd come up with were excellent.

'I've worked up some ideas using your corporate colours, as you suggested. The aubergine is ideal, it's a good, strong generic colour that has no negative connotations or a.s.sociations. It suggests a surety and capability that emphasises your corporate message.' Alex flipped over the first of the boards, 'I've come up with three different looks. The first one uses the aubergine as the main colour, with this rich b.u.t.ter and gold. The fabrics are a bold geometric print for blinds and curtains, and I'd suggest a series of printed panels that continue the design story for the walls. You can use the aubergine and b.u.t.ter as a wall colour throughout perhaps b.u.t.ter in the communal areas, with more aubergine in meeting areas such as the main conference room.'

Settling back into the sofa, leaning his elbow on the arm, chin cupped in one hand, his face blank, like he was embroiled in a game of poker, Sebastian nodded slowly. He shifted slightly in his seat, and catching a waft of his aftershave as he moved, Alex felt that kick to her stomach again, and moved on quickly.

'The next one is the same purple with a paler cream, and navy as a highlight colour. The print is floral, combining all three colours.'

'I like that one.' Matter of fact, emotionless.

She nodded, concentrating on the board, making sure she didn't make eye contact with him. Ridiculously, she thanked her lucky stars that she'd taken the time to paint her nails last night. It had been a last-ditch attempt to relax, take her mind off the following morning's meeting, but now, sitting so close to him, she knew her nails were on full view and right now, she was grateful for every little boost to her confidence. Alex cleared her throat and continued, 'I like the florals. They are much more organic than the geometric prints, they suggest growth, like the business. I think they're easier to live with, they create an environment rather than just making a statement, are less likely to date.'

In her peripheral vision, she could see him nodding. Jocelyn cut in before she could say more.

'Those fabrics are gorgeous aren't they? And she's quite right, the florals will be much easier on the eye, seem to suggest a nurturing environment. But they're confident too. So many companies resort to dreadful abstracts, patterns that don't mean anything to anyone. I always think they look like they're trying to be too clever, don't you? It doesn't work for me at all.'

Alex nodded, 'I'd have to agree with you. It's different if you get an artist to produce something that you feel summarises your business and then use it to link your whole corporate image, but more often than not imitations of abstract art get tired very quickly.'