‘Now that was below the belt.’ Daniel subsided into the chair behind him and sighed. ‘Do you really mean that, Keira? The newspaper man bit?’

‘Yes, I do. And don’t pull the insecure young person performance on me,’ she said levelly. ‘You know exactly who and what you are.’

At nineteen Daniel Cassidy had more maturity than a lot of thirty-year-olds possessed, Keira knew. Certainly more than Dennis had had. She sighed and pushed her ex-husband out of her mind.

‘And for what it’s worth,’ Keira continued, ‘I find that admirable.’

Daniel pursed his lips. ‘Then why won’t you come with me on Saturday? It’s only until after lunch on Sunday and I promise you’ll have your own room. With a lock. And a chain. Should any lecherous intentions arise,’ he added with an impertinent twinkle in his eyes.

With no little difficulty Keira controlled the blush that threatened to colour her cheeks. Fair skin had more disadvantages than the fact that it was susceptible to the sun. She had just turned twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake. She had married at twenty, been divorced at twenty-five, so one would expect she’d be long past being embarrassed by a teasing innuendo.

Usually she could handle it. But just occasionally the naïve little nobody who’d fallen for a handsome face and the thoughts of babies and a pretty little suburban cottage sprang out to remind her.

‘I can’t understand why you don’t ask one of the hordes of dead gorgeous girls of a socially acceptable age for a nineteen-year-old male. They’d all be more than willing and would rush to spend the weekend at the Cassidy mansion,’ Keira remarked, and added quickly in defiance of her old self, ‘If you did there could be an added bonus and, dare I voice the indelicate, you could get lucky.’

Daniel feigned shock. ‘Bawdiness doesn’t become you, my dear.’ He grimaced and shook his head. ‘I hate casual sex. I told you. I want a meaningful relationship.’