Curling some silken strands of hair round her ear, she shrugged. ‘I haven’t got company. I was just watching some television. You can come in if you like.’

 ‘I would like.’ He followed her into the living room and quirked a smile when he saw what was freeze-framed on the television. ‘You like that kind of thing, do you? I mean, swashbuckling dramas with plenty of sword-fighting and damsels in distress?’

 ‘I do. It’s pure escapism, but that’s no bad thing now and again.’

 ‘I agree.’ The magnetic blue eyes glinted. ‘We all feel like escaping the world from time to time. Although the world does have some very agreeable distractions...’

 ‘Like what, for instance?’

 ‘Most things Italian.’

 Intrigued, Imogen couldn’t resist asking, ‘Really? What do you like so much about Italy?’

 ‘For starters, the art, the music—and of course the cars.’

 ‘When you say music, do you mean the opera?’

 ‘Yes.’

 ‘I love it, too. Even though I don’t understand the words, the music speaks to me. How could it not? It’s so passionate.’

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 She hadn’t meant to tell her visitor something as personal as that. She hadn’t even shared that particular passion with her friends. They were all big fans of current music and would probably tease the life out of her if she told them she enjoyed listening to opera.

 Seth had gone very quiet. He studied her with all the intensity of a scientist on the potential discovery of a vital new specimen. His expression was indisputably fascinated.

 To break a silence that had suddenly become uncomfortable, Imogen nervously interjected, ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon—if at all. Is there any particular reason you’ve called round?’

 Breathing out an audible sigh, he replied, ‘Yes, there is. Something came to my mind that I want to talk to you about. Oh, and I’d like to invite you out to dinner tomorrow night.’

 He might just as well have invited her to NASA in order to fly to the moon with him. Imogen could hardly think straight over her racing heartbeat. And what did he want to talk to her about?

 The natural caution that had grown ever stronger after the debacle with her ex was never far away. ‘Why do you want to talk to me? You hardly know me. I wouldn’t have thought that someone like you would—’

 ‘What do you mean “someone like me”?’ His husky bass voice was both amused and vaguely mocking. ‘Do you mean someone that lives and works in a very different world from the one you do, Imogen?’

 Grimacing, she once again rearranged the slipping neckline of her sweater more securely over her shoulder. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I’m sure you could talk to any woman you wanted to, with your credentials. It hardly makes sense that you’d want to spend any time with me. I’m just an ordinary secretary, Seth. I don’t understand your world. I’d be hard pushed to even describe what a Lamborghini looks like, let alone have the opportunity to ride in one!’

 ‘If you harbour such a desire, that could soon be remedied.’

 The smile Seth gave her was melt-in-the-mouth irresistible. It had the same delicious effect as sitting in front of a crackling coal fire on a frosty winter’s day. It warmed her all over.

 ‘I don’t have any such desire,’ she snapped, feeling testy because she’d been caught off guard. ‘You see how different we are? I don’t even have a car!’

 The faint lines in his otherwise smooth brow crinkled. ‘Why don’t you have one?’

 ‘I sold it to get a little extra money to pay some bills. That’s why I walked to Evergreen yesterday. Not that I mind walking.’ Suddenly wary of having his too interested regard, she started to move towards the kitchen. ‘Would you like some coffee?’

 ‘Are you saying that you’ll agree to talk?’

 She should say no, she told herself. If she did, then that would probably be the end of it. But, as though swept away by an unexpected tide she didn’t have a hope of fighting, she found herself agreeing. ‘I don’t suppose it can do any harm...’

 ‘It won’t. I’m hoping that what I’m about to discuss might be of benefit to us both. And yes, I think I will have that coffee.’

 * * *

 Waiting for Imogen to return from making their drinks seemed interminable. As Seth sat on the sofa, resting his elbows against his thighs, he attested to having a serious amount of butterflies in his stomach. It wasn’t something that happened to him very often—if at all. But the step he was considering taking was momentous. It would change the way he lived his life completely if it came to fruition.




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