She was waiting for his return, smiling up at once, her thick manila envelope sealed. It was automatic for Jordan to try to read the address but it was very positively turned against him, which would have made his interest too obvious if he’d tried harder. ‘My book is untouched, as I left it,’ he said and smiled. The spectacles were back in their case now, along with everything else on the chair beside her.

‘I misunderstood. I’m sorry…’

‘I’m not,’ said Jordan, maintaining the momentum. ‘Now we’re talking instead of being on the opposite sides of the room from each other.’ Standing above her he could see the dark beginning of a deep and enticing cleavage.

‘I didn’t intend to intrude, but…’ she began again.

‘I didn’t think that you did,’ Jordan stopped her. ‘I think it was a fortunate misunderstanding.’

She shifted uncertainly, looking down at the only available chair full of her belongings.

Gesturing to where he had been sitting earlier, Jordan said, ‘There’s more room where I am. Let’s have an aperitif there.’

‘My things?’ she said, making her own gesture.

‘They can stay where they are. Or be brought to us if you want them.’

She hesitated. ‘They can stay here.’

It was going to work, as it invariably did, Jordan decided.

Harvey Jordan, whose vocation was seduction in every sense and definition of the word, didn’t hurry. He never did once the first barrier was breached. The initial isolation and pursuit of a victim was as much an orgasmic pleasure as its culmination, either sexual or financial, and he had a lot of mental foreplay to savour here. Remembering her half glass abstinence the previous lunchtime he chose a single glass – not even a half bottle – of champagne for their aperitif and distanced himself from her at the furthest end of the couch.