‘I don’t want you to make it,’ said Phin. ‘I want to go out.’

‘But you’ve just arrived,’ I objected.

‘I know, and I’m feeling claustrophobic already.’ He looked around the office without enthusiasm. ‘It’s all so…sterile. Doesn’t it make you want to shout obscenities and throw rubbish everywhere?’

I actually winced at the thought.

‘No,’ I said. Gibson & Grieve had always been noted for its style and up-market image. The offices were all beautifully designed and gleamed with the latest technology. I loved the fact that this one was light and spacious, and free as yet of any of the clutter that inevitably accumulated in a working office. ‘I like everything neat and tidy,’ I told Phin.

‘You know, I should have been able to guess that,’ he said in a dry voice, and I suddenly saw myself through his eyes: crisp and restrained in my grey suit, my hair fastened neatly back from my face. In comparison, he looked faintly unkempt, in jeans, a black T-shirt and a battered old leather jacket. He might look appropriate for a media meeting, but it was hardly appropriate for an executive director of a company like Gibson & Grieve, I thought disapprovingly.

Still, I had no doubt he was even less impressed by me. I would have bet on the fact that he thought me smart, but dull.

But then maybe all men thought that when they looked at me. Jonathan had, too, in the end.

I pushed the thought of Jonathan aside. ‘We can go out if you’d rather,’ I said. ‘But don’t you at least want to check your messages first?’

Phin’s brows rose. ‘I have messages?’

‘Of course. You’re a director and a board member,’ I pointed out. ‘We set up a new e-mail address for you last week, and you’ve been getting messages ever since. I’m able to filter them for you, and you have another address which only you will be able to access.’