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discovered that she wasn’t as content as I thought just to have a good time. Pretty soon, she...she...’
    â€˜Wanted more?’ Jessica said helpfully.
    â€˜Oh, you’re aware of the phenomenon, are you?’
    â€˜Not personally.’
    â€˜Well...’ he shrugged and adopted a hangdog expression ‘...what can a man do?’
    The blue eyes scoured her face with boyish bewilderment.
    â€˜Oh, please!’ Jessica told him awkwardly, recognising that this was the essence of true charm. Bruno Carr, arrogant and self-confident that he was, would never veer into the arena of cruelty, because he genuinely liked women. His natural instincts were to persuade, even when seduction played no part in a hidden agenda. The ability to flirt was as inherent with him as the ability to breathe. He did it without thinking, which was why he was so adept at it
    â€˜Women.’ He raised both shoulders expressively. ‘Sometimes I don’t think I understand them at all.’
    â€˜Really. Now I wonder why I find that so hard to believe.’
    â€˜Rachel started talking about the importance of families, of having children, the benefits of settling down.’
    â€˜Poor, misguided girl,’ Jessica said without a trace of sympathy in her voice for him. ‘And what a dreadful predicament for you, I’m sure. One minute, you have a willing, vivacious partner, the next minute she’s gazing into jeweller shops and dropping hints about permanence.’
    â€˜I’m not the marrying sort,’ he said. ‘Some men are and some men aren’t.’
    â€˜You mean it’s all in the genes?’
    â€˜Whereas all women are. Eventually.’
    â€˜Ah. I see.’ She nodded slowly. In a strange, masochistic way, and even though she still resented his high-handed behaviour and was appalled by his train of thought, she found that she was enjoying this conversation. She must be mad.
    â€˜I mean,’ he said, ‘you come across as being the archetypal career woman, but, if you were to be brutally honest with yourself, wouldn’t you agree that when you see the odd pram being pushed you get a certain pang?’
    â€˜What kind of pang?’
    â€˜A pang of longing. Something to do with a biological clock, I gather.’ He poured another glass of wine for them both.
    â€˜Well, not that I’ve ever recognised, but I suppose if your theory’s true then I must subconsciously have that pang lurking in there somewhere.’ How come the conversation was suddenly featuring her in the starring role? Her mind was feeling a little unreliable from the wine.
    â€˜And you don’t?’
    Jessica shook her head and frowned. ‘I thought we were talking about you,’ she said, thinking furiously.
    â€˜We were, but then somehow we’ve ended up talking about you. I think it’s important to have some insight into the people who work with me.’
    â€˜You mean you enjoy prying into their lives?’
    He grinned, and then laughed, and she gave him a wry smile in return.
    This was beginning to feel just a little too dangerous for her liking, although she had no idea why. They were simply, at least for the moment, getting along. She got along with lots of people. Most of the human race, in fact. So why did this make her feel uneasy? When he raised the bottle to her glass, she shook her head and covered it with the palm of her hand.
    â€˜I’ve drunk enough already,’ she told him honestly. ‘Any more and I’ll be fit for nothing in the morning. I don’t have much of a head for alcohol.’
    â€˜Lack of practice?’
    â€˜Something like that.’
    â€˜You mean you don’t spend the occasional night seeing the dawn rise with a glass of champagne in your hand?’
    â€˜Not routinely, no,’ she said. Her hand slipped from round the rim of the glass to the stern, and she curled her fingers lightly around it, not meeting