But he couldn’t just leave this kid here.

He lifted his cellphone. ‘Ruby?’ he snapped as his assistant answered.

‘Marcus.’ This was a busy day, even for the super-efficient Ruby, and his assistant sounded worried. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m on the fire-escape. Can you come up, please? I have a situation.’

As he tucked his phone back into his jacket he found himself suppressing a grin. A situation on the fire-escape. That’d have Ruby having kittens all the way up. Ruby was efficient but things like…well, situations on fire-escapes were unusual, even for Ruby.

She’d cope, he thought. Ruby always coped. But until the cavalry arrived he needed to focus on the girl.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, and found she was staring straight up at him now, both her eyes fully open. She’d rolled over on to her back. There was a dollop of jelly wedged under her curls near one ear, and he had the weirdest desire to wipe it away…

Heck, cut it out, Benson, he told himself. This was getting personal. He didn’t do personal. That was what Ruby was for.

But apparently the waif didn’t want his attention just as much as he didn’t wish to offer it. ‘Thank you for asking,’ she said politely. ‘But I’m fine. You can go away now.’

He blinked. ‘I can go away?’

‘You’re in a rush. I sat in your way. You’ve squashed my bagel, you’ve spilled my milkshake and you’ve hurt my ankle, but hey, it’s my fault. I’m-’

‘You’ve hurt your ankle?’

‘It appears,’ she said with cautious dignity, ‘to be hurt.’

He checked her out. Her legs were long and tanned and smooth. Really long, in fact, and really tanned, and really smooth. They were great legs. It was incongruous that they ended up with shabby leather sandals that looked as if they came from a welfare shop.

The shoes weren’t the only jarring note. One ankle was puffing while he watched.