`Well, you can speak French, I'll give you that… what's your name?' Luke leant forward and turned over the CV. 'Kate… yes, I'll give you that, Kate,' he said at last. His voice was as hard as his expression. `But speaking French doesn't make you a good secretary. What about typing and shorthand? Can you do all that?'

'It says there that I can,' Kate said, nodding at the CV. She had recovered from those first few moments of shocked disbelief and was fast losing her temper. He obviously had no idea how to treat people! The cynical indifference that had so intimidated her ten years ago still had the power to affect her, but now her reaction was one of annoyance instead of mortification. She wasn't a shy sixteen-year-old any longer, and Luke would find out, surprise or no surprise, that she wasn't prepared to put up with it.

`I know it says you can,' Luke was saying. `It says you've got all sorts of impressive-looking skills to boast about.' He tapped the CV with a sneer. `Bilingual shorthand, bilingual typing, exceptional speeds… It all looks very good on paper, but I want to know if you can actually do any of it!'

I wouldn't have put them down if I couldn't,' She said, keeping a tight rein on her temper with some difficulty.

'Oh, really? In my experience, women have a fine disregard for the truth when it suits them! I'm sure you can type, I'm just not convinced that you haven't increased your speeds-oh, just an extra ten or twenty words a minute! -to make your CV look more impressive.'

I have done nothing of the sort!' Kate said icily. Looking up from her CV, Luke was in time to catch the flash of fury in her eyes, brightening their brown depths to a fierce gold and making the quiet face suddenly vivid. He frowned, the strong brows drawing together as if a chord had been struck, but Kate was too angry to notice.