But then he was hardly going to refuse, was he? P.J. thought, shifting uncomfortably at the memory of Janey’s comments about his so-called flunkies who said, ‘Yes, sir,’ and, ‘No, sir,’ and jumped whenever he snapped his fingers. ‘You think you can have whatever you want,’ she had accused him.

Now, P.J. looked at Nell and knew that his sister was right. He couldn’t have Nell for a snap of his fingers. The exultance he had felt when he’d seen that fate had put her in his way once more evaporated. She looked so lovely, so cool and professional, that his confidence faltered. This Nell wasn’t the girl he remembered. She was a woman, who would have to be wooed and won anew, and she wasn’t going to be impressed by his position here, no matter how obsequious his staff were.

Belatedly, P.J. became aware that Lester and Eve were looking at him, evidently waiting for him to finish greeting Nell so that they could get on with their meeting. He glanced back at Nell, and her expression was so appalled that his ready sense of the ridiculous came to his rescue.

If she wanted to pretend that this was a business meeting like any other, so be it.

‘Ms Shea,’ he said formally as he shook her hand.

Nell pulled her hand out of his as if it were scalded, muttering something in reply. She was totally unprepared to see P.J. here, and her heart, which had lurched into her throat at the sight of him, now seemed to be stuck there, beating so frantically that it was all she could do to stay upright.

How could it be P.J., here? Again? Meeting him once had been a bizarre enough coincidence, but twice…!

And he was just behaving as if he had never met her before. Completely thrown, Nell turned and headed blindly after Eve, who was settling down with Lester at the end of a long boardroom table at the other end of the room. So blindly, in fact, that she only just avoided bumping into a massive leather sofa.

Nell was so relieved by her narrow escape that she didn’t see the granite coffee-table that some fool had put in front of the sofa, and stubbed her toe so painfully on it that she was only just able to bite back an extremely rude exclamation in time.

‘Are you all right?’ P.J. asked in concern, and Nell forced back tears of pain.

‘I’m fine,’ she said grittily, aware that Eve was watching her and clearly wondering what she was doing drawing attention to herself like that.

So much for punchy, positive and professional.

Fixing on a smile, Nell limped on to the table and barely restrained a sigh as she sank down next to Eve, and eased off her shoe so that she could rub her poor foot surreptitiously on her calf. Surely this day would start going right soon?

Although obviously not yet, she sighed inwardly as P.J. sat down opposite her, the one place where it would be impossible for her to avoid noticing him.

He pushed his chair back and turned slightly sideways so that his arm rested on the table. ‘Lester’s going to take the meeting,’ he told Eve pleasantly. ‘I’m just here to observe and comment as I think it necessary.’

Yes, and to make things more tense for everybody, thought Nell crossly. Doing her best to ignore the way he sat so lazily relaxed across the table, she put her briefcase on her lap and pulled out a notepad and pen. Placing them neatly in front of her, she put her briefcase down, but as she straightened she made the mistake of catching P.J.’s eye.

He sent her a swift, wicked smile that set her blood tingling in her cheeks and made her poor heart jolt anew. Wrenching her gaze away, Nell straightened her notepad unnecessarily and forced herself to look composed.

Punchy, positive, professional, right?

‘Well, if we’re all ready…’ Lester began.

Nell did her best to look alert and engaged in the discussion between Eve and Lester, but it was very hard with P.J. right there. He was listening with apparent interest, and occasionally turning a pen pensively on the table, but something about the way he sat there was incredibly distracting. No matter how hard Nell tried to focus on Lester, every nerve in her body strained to turn her attention back to P.J., so that even when she was almost cross-eyed with the effort of looking at the other two, it was his image that danced in front of her eyes.

He had taken his jacket off, and his tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up casually, and as her gaze drifted surreptitiously from the hard, exciting line of his cheek to his jaw and the edge of his mouth Nell felt herself submerged beneath another frightening wave of what could only be called lust. She wanted to crawl across the table and into his lap, to run her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, to bury her face into his throat and taste his skin.

She felt hot and feverish, and desperate to get out of the room, and away from him. One part of her was jittery and trembling with the need to touch him, but the other couldn’t help resenting P.J. for doing this to her now. Why did he have to turn up and turn over her life today of all days?

This was an important meeting. Eve had intimated that her future with the firm might hinge on it, and she needed to concentrate, but how could she concentrate on career profiles and shortlists when P.J.’s smile was burning behind her eyelids, when his hand and his forearm were within reach and it was all she could do not to stretch out and let fingers slip over the broad male wrist and curl around his, palm against palm?

Stop thinking like that. Focus.

Nell dragged her attention back to the meeting. It seemed to be going well, judging by the way Eve was nodding thoughtfully.

‘Yes, that’s a good point,’ she told Lester crisply. ‘We’ll bear that in mind. Make a note of it, will you, Nell?’

At the sound of her name, Nell started, and fumbled for her pen, glad of something to do at last, and to take her mind off P.J.

The pen wouldn’t work.

Nell looked at it in disbelief. It had been working perfectly before. She had checked it deliberately. As discreetly as she could, she scribbled on the pad, but the ink wouldn’t flow.

Did she have another pen? Nell wondered desperately. And by the time she had found it, would she remember the point Eve was so anxious for her to note?

Biting her lip, Nell started to bend towards her briefcase very slowly and carefully so that Eve wouldn’t notice what she was doing, but before she could feel around for the handle P.J. had leant across the table and was offering her his pen.

‘Take mine,’ he said.

Of course, at the sound of his voice Eve and Lester paused in mid-conversation and both turned to look disapprovingly at Nell, whose incompetence on the pen front had caused the interruption.

Mortified, Nell had little choice but to take P.J.’s pen with a gritted word of thanks. He couldn’t have drawn more attention to her if he had tried. Why didn’t he go the whole hog and point out to the other two that she wasn’t even professional enough to bring along a pen that worked?

Things weren’t improved by Eve repeating the point very slowly and clearly, so that Nell couldn’t miss it, although actually this was just as well, as otherwise Nell wouldn’t have had a clue what she was supposed to write by that stage. Still, it was humiliating, and it was clear that Eve was not pleased after everything she had had to say about the need to appear the epitome of cool professionalism.

Nell’s cheeks were hot as she made the note, and after that she kept her eyes on Eve and Lester, rigidly ignoring P.J. It was an uncomfortable position, though, with her head turned to one side, and it was impossible after a while not to let her eyes slide back to the other side of the table, where P.J. sat, evidently absorbed in the intricacies of board profiles and fee structures. He had found another no doubt perfectly functioning pen from somewhere, and was twisting it absently between his fingers as he listened.

Nell knew what those fingers felt like. She knew how firmly they could grasp her hand, how safe they had made her feel. She knew how warm and strong they were, and how sure they had been as they slid over her skin.

She wished she didn’t.

She wished the meeting would end. Nell stole a glance at her watch. They had been in there over an hour, and it felt like a lifetime. Surely there was a limit to how much they could find to talk about? It was only a job, for heaven’s sake.

Looking up from her watch, she saw that P.J. was watching her, and their eyes met for another fleeting moment. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking, and Nell coloured, lifted her chin and turned deliberately away from him.

‘I think we’ve covered pretty much everything by now, don’t you?’ P.J. said to Eve and Lester, who immediately nodded their agreement. Perversely, Nell wished that they would disagree with him, even if it did mean that she would be late getting home to Clara. At least it would show him that he couldn’t always have his own way.

But, no. Of course they were too busy kowtowing to him and sycophantically asking for his comments.

‘I thought it was a very interesting discussion,’ he said blandly. The blue gaze went back to Nell. ‘What do you think, Ms Shea? You’ve been looking very enigmatic!’

Nell glared at him. What was it she had said that morning? Something about looking enigmatic when she didn’t have a clue what was going on. And P.J. had laughed and made a joke out of it. It wasn’t fair of him to put her on the spot when he must know quite well how hard she had found it to concentrate.

They were all waiting for her to say something. Nell glanced at Eve, who was telegraphing the need to say exactly the right thing or she could blow it all now, while Lester was waiting courteously enough but obviously wondering why her opinion suddenly mattered so much to his president.

She cleared her throat. ‘I hope I’ve been looking interested rather than enigmatic,’ she said with a cool smile. ‘I think it’s been an extremely useful meeting, that has clarified a number of issues-on both sides,’ she added looking directly at P.J.

There. If he wanted to challenge her on exactly what she had found so interesting, or which issues had been clarified, he could. She could always go back to her old job.

But P.J. only smiled his appreciation of the vagueness of her answer, and Eve visibly relaxed.

‘We’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve drawn up a list of potential candidates,’ she promised as she began to get to her feet.

‘Perhaps it might be useful if you both met some of the other senior members of the team?’ P.J. suggested, standing as well. ‘As you may know, Sygma are sponsoring an exhibition of contemporary British art at the Westruther Gallery, and there’s a reception to mark the opening this evening at six-thirty. We’ll all be there, and it might be a good opportunity for you to meet them socially and get a feel for the kind of organisation we are. What do you think, Lester?’

‘It sounds an excellent idea,’ said Lester predictably, and Eve, equally predictably, was delighted.

‘We’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Nell?’

No, she would not love to come, Nell wanted to shout. She had other things to do this evening, as P.J. knew, and she hated modern art, which he also knew perfectly well. They had spent a weekend in Paris once arguing heatedly about what they had seen in the Beaubourg, and then made up over coffee and calvados in a tiny little café in Montmartre. He had only issued the invitation to throw out her evening.

But she couldn’t say that, could she? Eve’s lips were thinning dangerously, and the look she sent Nell was so steely that she might as well have observed in a loud voice that Nell’s job was on the line. Nell had no option but to force a smile.

‘That sounds lovely,’ she said through clenched teeth, and P.J.’s smile broadened at her obvious reluctance.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I’ll get your names put on the guest list. You never know, you might even enjoy it!’

‘I’m sure we will,’ said Eve warmly, with another warning glance at Nell, but by now Nell was too fed up to care. She had had enough of today.

She put her notepad and pen away in her briefcase and pointedly said nothing as Eve turned back to say goodbye to Lester.

‘Please, do keep my pen, Ms Shea,’ P.J. murmured over Nell’s shoulder, and she actually slapped her forehead with an exclamation of frustration.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly, making to open her briefcase. ‘I wasn’t intending to steal it. I wasn’t thinking.’

P.J.’s voice changed. ‘Nell, it’s only a pen,’ he said in an undertone so that Eve and Lester couldn’t hear. ‘I was just teasing. Of course, it doesn’t matter.’