LITMIR.BIZ

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the colour had faded until it was a faint spotty pink. The letters were blurred and indistinct, the paper inside yellow and fragile.

      Replacing the booklet on top of another like it on the desk, Toni looked around at the chaos and swallowed down a lump of cold concern.

      ‘Have you been burgled?’

      ‘Burgled? No.’ He laughed. ‘This is my dad’s private office. Sorry. Was my dad’s office. Mine now. And it has been like this ever since I can remember.’

      ‘You’re kidding me. Seriously? He ran the company from this room?’

      ‘He knows where everything is. Every invoice, every receipt, and every letter he has ever written or received is in this room. You’re looking at forty years of his accumulated paperwork plus everything he inherited from my uncle, who had this office before he did.’

      ‘Wow. It’s really quite remarkable. Do you mind if I take some photographs?’

      ‘Of what?’

      ‘This room. I had no idea that places like this exist any more.’

      ‘They don’t—’ he coughed ‘—not if they want to run as a business. Somewhere in that heap of unopened mail are bills which need to be paid so that the telephones and lights still work. Somewhere. I’ve been here two hours and I’ve hardly touched the surface.’

      Toni whistled out loud as she took several pictures with her digital camera.

      ‘Good luck with that little challenge.’

      Then she snuggled deeper inside her padded coat and looked from side to side. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start,’ she whispered. ‘And this office is freezing; any chance you could turn the heating on—’ she cupped her hands and rubbed her palms together ‘—or is that bad for the documents?’

      ‘Leather and paper like the humidity. It keeps them soft. As for the heating? The temperature seems fine to me, but I haven’t had time to check the boiler and the electrics. A building this old has its quirks.’

      Toni peeked around Scott and nodded towards the desk.

      ‘How can you not feel cold? I’m standing here shivering.’

      He frowned. ‘Your hand did feel cool.’

      ‘It’s a cold day. By London standards, anyway. Is there a tea room? Kettle? Cups? Anything?’

      ‘Yes. But here’s a suggestion.’

      Scott grabbed a light padded jacket from the back of a chair stacked with unopened packages. ‘Before I set out on a survey I always check that I have the equipment and essential supplies that I need. Food and drink are up there on the top five. As it happens, there are a few things about the city that I do miss when I’m working in the field.’

      ‘Soap and hot water?’

      ‘No. Although those things can be few and far between. But right now I was thinking about real coffee made from ground coffee beans. And something laden with fat and sugar to help me get through this jet lag.’

      ‘Well, I know the local terrain fairly well. Willing to risk having a local guide?’

      ‘Let’s get out of here.’

      * * *

      ‘Two-shot Americano,’ they both said at the same time as the barista took their order and then jumped back at the sound of each other’s voice.

      ‘Seriously?’ He turned and peered at her, arms folded. ‘I would have thought that some elegant green tea would be a more suitable hot beverage for a portrait painter. All elegance and refinement and artistic expression.’

      Toni snorted out loud. ‘Ah, you’re back to the stereotypes again. I think it’s my solemn duty to flip that illusion and pronto.’

      She pressed her right forefinger to her chest. ‘A two shot Americano is perfect for a part-time portrait painter who has a day job as a commercial photographer. You get the instant hit from the caffeine but it’s not quite enough to bring on a bad case of the jitters. And, believe me, there are some days I’m run so ragged that one coffee has to keep me going for a long time.’

      ‘Aha. So you don’t paint portraits full-time. Interesting. Well, that explains a few things.’

      ‘Really. Such as? Please carry on. I would hate for you to keep all of that valuable insight to yourself. What gave the game away?’

      To her astonishment, Scott reached across the table and picked up her hand and looked at it, fascinated. Then turned it over and brought it up to his lips.

      That simple movement was bad enough, but Toni wasn’t prepared for the rush of heat she got from the touch of his full lips on the sensitive skin at the centre of her palm which had nothing to do with the fact that she had chosen a table right next to the radiator.

      It was so unexpected that she took a second before reflex action kicked in and she tried to slide her hand back. No luck. It was locked solidly in his grip of iron.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she muttered between locked teeth. ‘Stop that right now. People. Are. Looking. At us.’

      She smiled over to a group of girls who were giggling at her on another table while she tried to tug her hand away without making it look too obvious.

      ‘Answering your question. So stop struggling. You see, I like hands too. And yours tell me so much about you. No paint under the fingernails or ink or charcoal ground into your palms.’

      He pressed his lips to her knuckles and then lowered her hand to the table. ‘Your skin smells of shower gel. Not linseed oil or acrylics and it is certainly not used to outside work. A studio photographer. Now, that makes sense.’

      ‘How very observant. I like to think I am creating portraits of a different sort. But—’ she took a sip of the scalding-hot fragrant coffee ‘—you have a point. My first sketches can be taken from a photograph rather than a live sitting straight onto the canvas. That’s the way I work. I think about how I want the sitter to look in the final piece. Not always easy.’

      He coughed just once and picked up his drink when one of the waitresses nudged him accidentally and the hot coffee splashed on to his bandaged hand, which was resting on the table.

      ‘I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’

      ‘No harm done,’ Scott reassured the young girl.

      Toni waited until she was gone before looking up at Scott over the top of her cup. ‘Do you mind if I ask—how did you hurt yourself?’

      ‘For a girl, of course! Why else would a man throw himself on to frozen sea ice and let his fingers go anywhere near ice water?’

      ‘Wow. Sea ice. That’s astonishing. Scary. Wild. And a bit mad’.

      ‘It’s my life. And Dallas does have the most amazing blue eyes.’

      ‘Well, she must have to make you go to those sorts of lengths. Is she okay now? Your Dallas?’

      ‘My Dallas is having the time of her life being pampered and well fed by a whole survey team of boys. Probably not missing me one bit.’

      ‘Not missing you? After what you did for her! That’s a bit ungrateful.’

      ‘Probably. Doesn’t stop me from missing her. She’s been a good friend.’

      ‘Well, in that case the lady is forgiven. Good friends are hard to find. And I hope you finish your business here soon so that you can get back to her charms.’

      ‘I’ll drink to that. To Dallas. See you in six months, girl.’

      Six months. Interesting.

      Toni lifted her cup of steaming coffee. ‘Six months—is that how long you have to turn the business around?’

      ‘Less. That’s how

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