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kind of sense.

      ‘No one would believe that I was really your girlfriend,’ I said. ‘You’re used to going out with actresses and models.’

      ‘Which is why they’ll think I’m serious if they see me with you.’

      My, this was doing wonders for my ego.

      ‘It would only be for a few weeks,’ Phin was saying. ‘You wouldn’t have to do much. Just be seen out at a few parties with me and hang around looking like a girlfriend for the interview. Then we can seem to break it off later, so I can carry on avoiding commitment while you walk off into the sunset with Jonathan.’

      ‘Do you really think it would make a difference with Jonathan?’ I asked wistfully.

      ‘Listen, do you really want him back or not?’

      ‘I really do.’

      ‘Even though he’s made you feel boring and unlovable?’

      ‘I love him,’ I said, dangerously close to getting weepy again.

      ‘OK,’ said Phin, ‘if Jonathan is what you really want, then I think you deserve what you want. The first thing is to make him realise that you’re not boring at all, that you’re quite capable of being spontaneous when you’ve got the right incentive. Make him think that it’s his fault you never had much fun with him—which it probably is, by the way. We’re going to convince him that we’re having a raging affair, and he’s sure to sit up and take notice.’

      ‘How do we go about having an affair?’ I said doubtfully. I couldn’t see myself being convincing as someone in the throes of a raging affair somehow. It wasn’t the kind of thing I would do. It wasn’t the kind of thing I liked, to be honest. It smacked too much of losing control and abandoning yourself. I liked things calm and steady and safe.

      ‘Well, let’s see,’ said Phin with a grin. ‘I could take you back to my place. We’ll say it’s just for a drink, but we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other. The moment we’re through the front door I’ll start kissing you, and you’ll kiss me back. You’ll fall back against the door and pull me with you—’

      ‘I don’t mean really have an affair,’ I interrupted, scarlet. I was horrified at how vividly I could imagine it, and there was a strange thumping deep inside me. Jonathan had never lost control like that. I was beginning to feel very odd, but I hoped very much that was down to the martinis. ‘I meant…how would we make everyone believe it? We can hardly send round an e-mail announcement that we’re sleeping together.’

      Phin didn’t seem to think that would be a problem. ‘We’ll go to a couple of parties, maybe leave work together—or even better arrive together—and word will get round in no time. If you can contrive to blush whenever my name is mentioned in the Ladies’, or wherever you girls all congregate, so much the better. And remember how besotted I’m going to be with you,’ he went on. ‘I won’t be able to keep my hands off you—especially when Jonathan is around. I don’t think it will take long before he gets the point.’

      I buried my nose in my martini, trying not to wonder what it would be like to have Phin putting his arm around me, sliding his hand down my back. Would he twine his fingers around mine? Would he stroke my hair?

      Would he kiss me?

      The breath rushed out of my lungs at the thought. Would he? And if he did what would it be like?

      My heart was thudding painfully—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—and I had to moisten my lips before I could speak. This was about Jonathan, remember?

      ‘But if Jonathan thinks I’m with you, he’ll assume I’m not interested in him any more,’ I objected.

      ‘Once he starts paying attention—and he will—you’ll have to let him know that you just might be tempted away from me. If you can do it without seeming too keen. You might have to spend some time alone together…’ Phin snapped his fingers. ‘Of course! Jonathan can come to Cameroon. If you can’t seduce him back on a steamy tropical night, Summer, I wash my hands of you!’

      I thought about it as I sucked on the long curl of orange peel which was all that was left at the bottom of my glass. Apart from the reminder of Cameroon, which I’d been rather hoping he’d forgotten about, I was struggling to think of a good argument as to why Phin’s idea wouldn’t work.

      The third martini wasn’t helping. I was feeling distinctly fuzzy by now, and finding it hard to concentrate.

      Phin followed my gaze to the empty glass. ‘Had enough?’ he asked, and I bridled at the humorous understanding in his voice.

      A sensible girl would say yes at this point, but being sensible hadn’t got me anywhere, had it?

      ‘No,’ I said clearly. Well, it was meant to sound clear. Whether it did is doubtful. ‘I’d love another one.’

      One of Phin’s brows lifted. ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘Absho—absolutely sure.’

      ‘It’s your hangover,’ he said, the corner of his mouth quirking in that lop-sided smile of his. He beckoned the waitress over. ‘Another pomegranate martini for my little lush here, and I’ll have another half.’

      I waited until she had set the glasses on the table. Part of me knew quite well that Phin’s plan was madness, but I hadn’t been able to come up with a single argument to convince him how ridiculous the idea was.

      ‘Do you really think it would work?’ I asked, almost shyly.

      ‘What’s the worst that could happen if it doesn’t?’ Phin countered. ‘You’d be in the same situation you are now, but at least you’ll know you did everything you could to make your dream come true. That has to be better than just sitting and watching it disappear, doesn’t it? And, if nothing else, we’ll have promoted the family image of Gibson & Grieve with this interview. As a good company girl, I know you’ll be glad to have done your bit!’

      He was watching my face.

      ‘It’s a risk,’ he said in a different voice, ‘but you don’t get what you really want without taking chances.’

      I looked back at him, biting my lip.

      ‘So,’ he said, lifting his glass, ‘do we have a deal?’

      And I, God help me, chinked my glass against his. ‘Deal,’ I said.

      ‘Good morning, Summer!’ Phin’s cheery greeting scraped across my thumping head.

      ‘Not so loud,’ I whispered, without even lifting my head from the desk, where I’d been resting it ever since I’d staggered into work twenty minutes earlier. Late, for the first time in my life. I would have been mortified if I had had any feelings to spare. As it was, I had to save my energy for basic survival. Breathing was about all I could manage right then, and even that hurt.

      ‘Oh, dear, dear, dear.’ I could picture him standing over me, blue eyes alight with laughter, lips pursed in mock reproach. ‘Is it possible you’re regretting that last martini?’

      I groaned. ‘Go away and leave me to die in peace!’

      ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ Phin enquired solicitously.

      ‘How could you possibly have guessed that?’ I mumbled, still afraid to move my head in case it fell off.

      ‘I’m famed for my powers of deduction. The FBI are always calling me up and asking me to help them out.’

      I didn’t even have the energy to roll my eyes. ‘How many martinis did you make me drink last night?’

      ‘Me? It wasn’t me that insisted on another round, or the next, or the next…I asked you if you were sure, and you said that you were. Absolutely sure, you said,’ he reminded me virtuously, and I hated the laughter in his voice.

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