‘Are you the gentleman who was asking for me?’ she asked.

He glanced at the nameplate pinned to her white blouse. ‘I am.’

His voice was dark and deep, with an accent that coloured the words without obscuring them. Not like Lorenzo’s light, teasing tones.

‘You were recommended by a friend of mine whom you served-a Mr Charles Smith, but you won’t remember him among so many customers. I’m buying for several ladies, including my mother. She’s in her sixties, very respectable, but perhaps secretly wishing her life had been a little more exciting.’

‘I know what she’d like,’ Heather said, producing a fragrance that was a little daring, but not outrageous. She was touched and impressed by this man’s understanding of his mother.

‘That will suit her perfectly,’ he said. ‘But now we come to the more delicate part of the business. I have a lady-friend-beautiful, sensual, with very expensive tastes. Her name is Elena, and her personality is extravagant, mysterious and passionate.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I’m sure you understand.’

In a flash she found herself understanding all sorts of things. For instance, how Elena would be very drawn to this man who, despite his lack of conventional beauty, had an impressiveness that-she put a firm brake on her thoughts.

‘Perfectly, sir,’ she said crisply. ‘I’d suggest “Deep of the Night”.’

‘It sounds just like her,’ he agreed shamelessly.

She rubbed a drop of the perfume on her wrist and held it out to him. He inhaled slowly, then took her wrist between his fingers and brought it close to his face. She had a sudden impression of fierce, controlled power behind his civilised manner, as though she’d been strolling through a sedate garden and seen a tiger lurking behind the leaves, ready to spring. She resisted the impulse to snatch her hand back.