`Well…, what would you like me to say?' Kate asked carefully.

`What does it matter?' he retorted, impatient and irritable. `Anything. N'importe quoi.'

His French was pronounced with such an appalling accent that Kate's tawny eyes gleamed suddenly gold.

'N'importe quoi?' she repeated. He obviously didn't speak French himself, so she could allow herself free rein! `It's a little hard to know what *.o say to a chair,' she continued in fluent French and with a deceptively calm intonation. `I've never had to address one before. In France we have the courtesy to get up and greet people when they come into the room, but obviously things are a little different here! Frankly, if it weren't for the fact that I'd really rather like this job I would have got up and left ten minutes ago! Not that I'm sure now that I would like it if it means working for someone who can't even be bothered to turn round when I talk to him,' she went on reflectively. `I can't see that there's any excuse for those kind of sheer bad manners-'

She broke off abruptly as the chair swung round.

`That's fine, thank you,' he said in such a noncommittal tone that Kate was convinced, not without some relief, that he hadn't understood a word.

She still couldn't see his face. His dark head was bent over a report and he was making neat notes in the margin with a pencil. Kate's eyes narrowed at the sheer arrogance of the gesture. However this man had got to be managing director, it certainly hadn't been through charm!

Then he laid his pencil very neatly beside the report and looked up.

It was Luke Hardman.

Kate's heart stopped. For that long, shocked moment as she stared incredulously into the flat blue-grey eyes all she could think about was whether it would ever start beating again.

It seemed an age, but was probably no more than a few seconds before the sharpening of