LITMIR.BIZ

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face and hands and brushed his black hair back, staring at himself in the mirror. His grey eyes had a wintry look. Would he call Fiona sexy? Not a word he would have chosen to describe her, no. Beautiful, yes. Elegant, yes. But sexy? No, she was far too cold.

      A shiver ran down his spine. Was that what he really thought about her? Dismay filled him. Of course she wasn’t cold. Cool, maybe, but not cold.

      Yet the grey eyes reflected in the mirror had a distinctly uneasy look. This was being a very unsettling day so far. He hurriedly turned from the mirror, collected his coat, shrugged into it, tipped the cloakroom attendant and went out of the hotel to find Barny just pulling up outside.

      ‘I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, Mr James. Traffic a bit heavy the other side of the park today.’

      James smiled at him. ‘No, I just left the hotel. Perfect timing, Barny, as always. Back to the office, now. Did Enid give you a good lunch?’

      ‘Her oxtail stew and mashed potatoes, and then I had an apple.’

      ‘Lucky Barny. One of my favourites. What is she making tonight?’

      ‘Thought you were going out for dinner this evening, sir.’ Barny looked anxiously into the driving mirror. ‘We booked to see the new musical, Mr James—will you need us, after all?’

      ‘No, no, I’d forgotten. Of course I’m eating out.’ James did not want to ruin their evening just because his own had been cancelled. He might as well still eat at the new restaurant as he had a table booked.

      Barny relaxed with a barely audible sigh of relief. ‘You had me worried there—Enid is really looking forward to seeing this show. You know how she loves a good musical. She’s such a romantic, my Enid.’

      Eyes warming, James smiled back at him. ‘Always was, I remember. How many Sunday afternoons did I spend with Enid watching weepie films on TV, feeding her paper tissues to mop her eyes with? Well, have a lovely evening. Could you pick me up at five and drop me at my club? Then you’ll be free. I’ll get a taxi back home tonight.’

      ‘Right, Mr James, thanks.’ Barny drew up outside the bank; James looked around hurriedly before getting out, but there was still no sign of Patience Kirby’s bright red head. He felt a queer little niggle inside his chest; he told himself it was relief. She was the last thing he wanted to see. Crazy girl. But he was surprised—had she really given up and gone home?

      He had a much busier afternoon and hardly had time to think about anything except work. At five o’clock precisely he went down in his lift and walked out of the bank to where Barny was waiting.

      By then he had forgotten Patience Kirby. He got into the back of the Daimler; Barny walked round to get into the driver’s seat. The window beside James was half-open. A little hand came through it suddenly and grabbed his shoulder. Startled, he looked out into those large, luminous hazel eyes. Stupidly, for a second all he could think about was the tiny golden flecks around her dark pupil, like rays of sunlight fading into the soft hazel iris.

      ‘Won’t you please change your mind? Surely you could spare an hour to drive over and see her? Just once, that isn’t too much to ask, is it? If you could only see how frail she is, you wouldn’t refuse. She looks as if a breath of wind would blow her away.’

      ‘Can’t you understand English? As far as I’m concerned she’s dead. I’m not interested in renewing our acquaintance. Now, let go of me, will you? Drive on, Barny!’

      He was hot with temper, partly because for a second he had felt his heart lift as if with delight, and that was disturbing, and partly because some of his employees were coming out of the bank, shamelessly eavesdropping and staring. This would be all round the bank tomorrow morning. In all his time at the bank James had never been the centre of scandal and he was furious at the prospect of all the gossip he could be sure would follow.

      ‘How can you be so hard-hearted?’ Patience Kirby hurled at him, her eyes glittering. ‘Your own mother!’

      James heard an intake of breath from Barny, felt him swivel in his seat to stare with clearly shocked eyes. Damn her! What was she going to do next? Ring the national newspapers and give them the story, spread it right across the country?

      ‘I’m going to shut this window; get your hand out of it!’ he muttered, his hand reaching for the button.

      The window began to slide upward. She snatched her hand away only at the last moment.

      ‘Drive off, Barny!’ snapped James.

      Barny automatically obeyed, accelerating away fast just as James realised that the window had shut on Patience Kirby’s sleeve. To his horror he also realised that she was being dragged along with the car, her red hair blowing around the pale, frightened face he could still see outside his window.

      ‘Stop! For God’s sake, stop!’ he yelled at Barny, who slammed on his brakes. The Daimler came to a shuddering halt.

      It was at that point that James made a stupid, overhasty move. He operated the electric switch, the window slid down, releasing her sleeve, and the red hair disappeared from his view. It was only at that second that he realised he should have waited, got out on the other side of the car and held her while Barny opened the window. As it was, she tumbled to the pavement with a crash that made his heart crash in echo. Jumping out, he found her lying face down; he hurriedly knelt down beside her, white-faced in shock. By then a crowd was beginning to gather, staring with a mixture of curiosity and hostility.

      ‘What’s happened?’ one woman asked another, who shrugged.

      ‘Think he knocked her down.’

      ‘Poor girl! Looks bad to me. Dead, I’d say.’

      Barny had got out too. ‘How is she, sir?’ he asked, and James noted the slight frost in his tone and knew Barny was now as disapproving as Miss Roper. What was happening to everyone in his life? They were all starting to look at him as if he was a monster.

      He had a strange suspicion that if he looked in a mirror right now he would find his own eyes held a similar expression.

      Patience Kirby sat up shakily. ‘Are you okay?’ James asked. ‘You’d better not move until we get an ambulance.’

      She put a hand to her head; James saw blood on both.

      ‘You’re bleeding! Barny, ring for an ambulance!’

      Patience Kirby hurriedly staggered to her feet, using James’s arm for support.

      ‘No, really, I don’t want to go to hospital. They are bound to be busy. It will mean spending hours in Casualty waiting to be seen and all that’s wrong with me is a few cuts and bruises.’

      ‘You don’t know that! You could have some broken bones.’

      She flexed a slim ankle, took a couple of swaying steps. ‘See, I can walk; I haven’t broken anything.’

      ‘What about your head? That hit the pavement with an almighty crack.’

      ‘Oh, I’ve got a tough skull.’ But she did not seem to James to be too steady on her feet, all the same.

      ‘Was she trying to snatch something out of your car?’ a man in the crowd hissed next to him. ‘I saw her grabbing at you through the window. Don’t know what the City’s coming to, street girls hanging about in broad daylight! You expect them up West, but not around here. You be careful, mister, I don’t think she’s hurt at all—just a bit of blackmail. I’ll be a witness for you if the cops come. I saw it was an accident; don’t you let her trap you.’

      James gave him such a ferocious sideways glance that the man backed off hurriedly, muttering. ‘Oh, well, if you want to make a fool of yourself, don’t let me stop you.’

      ‘You should be X-rayed to make sure there are no fractures,’ James told Patience, who shook her head, grimacing.

      ‘I hate hospitals.’

      ‘Nevertheless

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