LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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