She cast a disparaging glance down at her own clothes. Her grey business suit was neat and appropriate to her job, but it had been the least expensive in the store. She kept it varied with the clever use of scarves and jewellery, but this man looked as though his normal companions wore haute couture.

She tried to remind herself that he was the villain of the piece, but that was hard when he’d offered to pay all the bills.

It was lunchtime and the place was just filling up, but he found them a window table. He was the sort of man, Gina realised, who would always be able to find a window table in a crowded place.

‘Let me buy you a coffee,’ she suggested. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

‘Forget it. I’d rather heap coals of fire on your head.’ He studied the menu. ‘I’m hungry and I don’t like to eat alone. Choose something.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He grimaced. ‘Sorry. It’s my way. I’m used to giving orders, and it’s a hard habit to break.’

His voice was deep and resonant, making her realise that most voices were flat.

She made her choice and he hailed a waitress without trouble. When he’d given the order he said, ‘My name’s Carson Page.’

‘And mine is Gina Tennison. I’m really grateful to you, Mr Page. You were right about my steering. And it shouldn’t have been like that because I’ve just had the car repaired-’

‘You should sue the garage. Get yourself a good lawyer.’

‘Actually, I am a lawyer.’

‘Good grief!’

‘Well, it’s hard to be a convincing lawyer in a garage full of male mechanics,’ she said defensively. ‘It doesn’t matter how many legal qualifications you have, they still do what they like because they think you’re just a silly woman who knows nothing about cars.’