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one day I’ll be able to afford to pay someone to take care of her, when she’s not at school,’ said Antonia, voicing her own private thoughts on the matter. ‘Or perhaps, when she’s older, and can take care of herself until I get home she can live with me.’

      ‘Men never have these problems, do they?’ Heather remarked drily. ‘If they did, they’d soon find a way to deal with it.’

      Antonia smiled. ‘You sound aggressive. Have you had another row with Peter?’

      ‘Not another row!’ Heather laughed. ‘Just the same one. He wants me to agree to give up my work if we have a baby.’

      ‘And is that likely?’

      ‘What? My giving up work? Not on your …’

      ‘No. I mean the baby,’ said Antonia gently. ‘How long have you been married?’

      ‘Two years,’ Heather grimaced. ‘And the answer is no, on both counts. Not so long as Peter insists on being such a chauvinist!’

      By lunchtime, Antonia felt as if she had done a full day’s work. There were certain letters that had to be attended to, and with Heather’s incapacity, Antonia took it upon herself to do the typing. It wasn’t easy. It was years since she had played about on an old typewriter of her father’s, and Heather’s sophisticated electric machine was unfamiliar to her. To begin with, she pressed too hard on the keys and had rows of letters appearing instead of just one, and when she did succeed in producing an acceptable copy, she discovered she had forgotten to put a carbon between the sheets.

      With shopping to do in her lunch hour, she decided to miss out on the salad in the dining hall. Instead, she put on the jacket of her dark grey suit, ran a hasty comb through her hair, and emerged into the pale sunshine flooding the Edgware Road.

      The sight of the black sports car, parked carelessly on the double yellow lines outside, would have alerted her, without the added identification of the man leaning casually against the bonnet. Reed Gallagher, for she had no difficulty in discerning his lean, sinuous frame, straightened abruptly at her appearance, and although she started swiftly away along the pavement, he had no problem in overtaking her.

      ‘Hey,’ he exclaimed, his hand on her sleeve barely slowing her progress. ‘I was waiting for you.’

      ‘Were you?’ Taking a deep breath, Antonia halted and turned to face him. ‘Why?’

      His dark features were surprisingly sombre. ‘Why do you think?’

      ‘I really can’t imagine.’ Antonia tried to quell her rapidly accelerating heart. ‘But I’d be glad if you could make it brief. I don’t have a lot of time.’

      ‘You do eat lunch, don’t you?’ he enquired tensely, the errant breeze lifting the collar of the black silk shirt he was wearing. In an equally sombre black leather jacket and black denims, he looked as disruptively attractive as ever, and Antonia’s eyes were unwillingly drawn to the brown column of his throat rising from the unbuttoned neckline. ‘I was beginning to wonder.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Dragging her eyes away, Antonia endeavoured to maintain an offhand manner, forcing herself to think of Celia, and what this might mean to her.

      ‘I mean I waited yesterday, without any success,’ he responded, glancing impatiently up and down the street.

      Antonia’s lips parted. ‘You waited yesterday!’ she echoed.

      ‘That’s what I said,’ he conceded drily.

      She shook her head. ‘I generally eat lunch in the dining hall.’

      ‘Really.’ His tone was sardonic now, and he cast another doubtful look around him. ‘I should have thought of that.’

      Antonia strove to retain her indifference. ‘I don’t see why,’ she remarked, observing out of the corner of her eye a traffic warden just turning the corner. ‘Do you know you’re parked on yellow lines?’

      ‘As I collected a couple of tickets yesterday, I should,’ he responded briefly. ‘Antonia …’

      ‘Then I should warn you, there’s a traffic warden coming this way,’ she interrupted him crisply, closing her ears to the explicit oath he uttered. ‘I think you’d better move your car, Mr Gallagher. Unless you enjoy contributing to the Greater London authority.’

      Reed’s mouth compressed. ‘Will you have lunch with me?’ he demanded, quickly measuring the distance between himself, the traffic warden, and the car, but Antonia had to refuse him.

      ‘I can’t,’ she denied swiftly, already moving away from him, and with a gesture of frustration, he turned and strode back to the Lamborghini.

      There was an arcade just a few yards further along the street where Antonia generally did her shopping, and resisting the impulse to look back and see whether Reed had succeeded in his bid to avoid another fine, she turned into the covered walkway. Her heart was still beating much faster than it should, notwithstanding the speed with which she had put some distance between herself and temptation, and she stood for several minutes looking into the window of a newsagent, without actually seeing any of the display.

      Why was he doing this? she asked herself over and over. It didn’t make sense. He had a beautiful fiancée, who cared about him, and doubtless other opportunities for diversion, should he so desire them, so why was he picking on her? If he wanted sexual excitement, why didn’t he simply find another girl of his own kind to feed his ego? A girl who would be flattered by his attentions, and perfectly willing to keep their liaison a secret. Or was it the fact that she was different, that she came from a different sort of background, that provided the stimulation, Antonia wondered. Perhaps he thought she might be easier to cajole, or unlikely to put up too much opposition, so long as she was compensated in other ways. Like … with a gift of flowers, for example …

      The idea was so abhorrent to her, Antonia had walked out of the arcade again and into the street before she realised she had bought none of the things she had come out for. She was trembling so badly, it was almost an effort to put one foot in front of the other, and she decided to abandon her expedition and go back to work.

      ‘Are you feeling all right?’

      The kindly male voice startled her, and she swayed a little unsteadily as an elderly gentleman touched her arm. ‘I … oh … yes, I’m fine,’ she managed, hoping he would not think her stricken expression was the result of his considerate enquiry. Just for a moment, she had thought it was Reed speaking to her, and she didn’t feel capable of coping with him right now.

      ‘Are you sure?’ The old gentleman was evidently concerned about her, and Antonia struggled to reassure him.

      ‘I must be hungry,’ she said, summoning a thin smile, and then her breath caught in her throat as she saw the lean dark figure making straight for them. She should have known Reed wouldn’t give up that easily, she thought unsteadily, wondering if she dared ask the old man to protect her. But the circumstances were such, she could not involve anyone else.

      Reed reached them seconds later, his keen grey eyes raking Antonia’s face with growing concern. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, his hand beneath her elbow that much more demanding than the older man’s had been, and her erstwhile knight-errant turned to him with relief.

      ‘Your young lady’s feeling a little faint,’ he declared, clearly identifying Reed as someone he could relinquish his responsibilities to. ‘She says she’s hungry. Perhaps you should see she gets something to eat right away.’

      ‘I’ll do that,’ said Reed smoothly, the pressure of his fingers on her arm warning her not to contradict him. He looked down at her with apparent indulgence. ‘Sorry I’m late, Antonia. I had some difficulty in parking the car.’

      Antonia’s jaw quivered with a mixture of impotence and frustration, but when Reed’s fingers compelled her to move on, she had little choice but to go with him. She was not strong enough to fight with him, not right now,

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