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bloke to work for.’

    ‘Unfortunately I’l never be in a position to judge the truth of that statement.’ Briony stared down at the polished surface of their table.

    ‘Meaning?’

    ‘Meaning I asked Mr Mackenzie for a job, and he turned me down flat-not half an hour ago, as a matter of fact.’

    ‘You wanted to work on the Courier?’ Logan set down his glass so sharply that some of the liquid splashed out of it.

    ‘Is it so surprising?’ she enquired defensively.

    ‘Amazing would be a better word.’ He gave her a long speculative look. ‘Now what could have put such an unlikely idea into your
    decorative head, Miss Trevor?’

    ‘Kindly don’t patronise me,’ she said unevenly. ‘And don’t reduce me to the level of another mantelpiece ornament either.’ _

    ‘Is that what I was doing?’ He smiled drily. ‘I can assure you it’s a very different item of furniture which suggests itself when I look at you.’

    ‘Oh !’ A faint flush rose in her cheeks as she absorbed the implication of what he had said, and she hated herself for blushing like a fool at his teasing. She said hastily, ‘Nevertheless I did apply for a job on the Courier, but Mr. Mackenzie unfortunately seemed to share your incredulity.’ Logan said cooly, ‘He also possesses a wel-developed sense of self-preservation-an excelent asset for anyone hoping to make progress on one of your father’s newspapers. Apart from your youth, and your total inexperience, I imagine that went a long way towards your rejection by him.’

    ‘I realy don’t see what my father has to do with it,’ Briony said, nettled.

    ‘Oh, come on, love.’ His eyebrows rose. ‘You’re surely not trying to make me believe you’re that naive? Your father tends to shed his newspaper personnel like autumn leaves, and you know it, or you should do. Besides, if Mac had given you a job, he’d probably have had trouble with the union to face, as wel as your father. The Courier isn’t a training school for beginners.’

    She said in a stifled tone, ‘Wel, he didn’t give me a job, so there’s very little point in discussing it.’

    ‘Yet it stil rankles.’ He shot her a look. ‘Was it this job that was so important to you, or any job?’

    ‘I wanted to work―to be of some use.’ She shrugged. ‘I thought journalism would suit me, that’s al.’

    He gave her an amused glance. ‘And to start at the top would suit you even better? Nice try, sweetheart. But if you realy wanted a job, why didn’t you apply to Vic Hargreaves in Personnel? There are usualy vacancies of sorts somewhere in the group.’

    ‘I didn’t think of it,’ she admitted. ‘You see, I’d met Mr. Mackenzie, and he seemed kind, so I thought I’d take a chance . . .’ Her voice tailed off a little as she saw he was laughing quite openly now. ‘What have I said?’

    ‘Your reference to Mac’s apparent kindness. I doubt if it’s the image he has of himself. Anyway, here comes the food. I hope you’re
    hungry.’

    At that particular moment, Briony felt as if she could not have forced a morsel past the tightness in her throat, but it was odd when the steaming plate was placed in front of her, how her appetite suddenly returned. The shepherd’s pie was deliciously savoury, flanked by lavish spoonfuls of carrots and peas, and she finished every forkful with real appreciation.

    ‘Would you like something to folow?’ asked Logan.

    ‘I couldn’t eat another thing.’ She leaned back with a little sigh of satisfaction. ‘Some coffee, maybe, that’s al. I don’t want to get fat.’

    ‘I don’t think there’s much danger of that.’ His cool gaze wandered over her, lingering deliberately on her slender waist and the flatness of her stomach. ‘A few pounds wouldn’t hurt you.’

    She laughed, finishing off the, wine left in her glass.

    ‘This must be my day for being put down! I hoped you’d say I was perfect as I was.’

    ‘But perfection doesn’t appeal to