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kind. Has Lynne never mentioned that?’
    She said too quickly, ‘She doesn’t talk about you.’
    ‘What a paragon.’ His tone was ironic. ‘I must raise her salary.’ He finished the rest of his brandy. ‘So, what about it, sweetheart? What’s your final answer? I’m offering honest pay for a couple of days of dishonest work, and you can’t pretend you don’t need the money.’
    It galled her to acknowledge inwardly that he was right. ‘I’m going to have you fired, you treacherous little slut,’ had been Adela Mason’s parting threat; if she succeeded, Marin would be in real trouble. The Ingram Organisation was built on trust; it had to be, when its staff spent so much time travelling with clients or staying in their homes. If Wendy Ingram believed she’d betrayed that trust so deeply and fundamentally, then Marin would be out in the cold with heaven only knew what kind of a reference.
    And the search for another job could be long and arduous.
    So could she really afford to turn down this offer, however loaded? And knew what her answer must be.
    She gave a small, defeated sigh. ‘Yes,’ she muttered unwillingly. ‘We have a deal.’
    ‘Good.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’ll be in touch during the week about the final arrangements. But before I go…’ Reaching for his jacket, he took a cheque book and pen from an inside pocket. He wrote swiftly, signed his name and handed the cheque to her.
    ‘For services already rendered,’ he said.
    She looked down at it. She said numbly, ‘Five hundred pounds?’
    ‘Isn’t that enough?’
    ‘More than enough.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘All I did was stand there.’
    ‘But you did it very decoratively,’ he said. ‘No one in the room would have dreamed it was just a business transaction.’ He smiled at her. ‘At times, I found it hard to remember that myself.’
    So, Marin thought with sudden breathlessness, had she. Just once, and only for a moment when standing in the curve of his arm, she’d found herself fighting the temptation to lean back and rest her head against the strength of his shoulder. A brief battle he was totally unaware of and which, thankfully, she’d won.
    And something she could not allow to happen again.
    He shrugged on his coat and walked to the door. ‘Until next weekend,’ he said. His faint smile seemed to graze her skin. ‘Goodnight, Miss Wade.’ And went.
    Leaving her staring after him, his cheque still clutched in her hand.
    ‘So,’ Lynne said, smiling, ‘You’ve heard all about my weekend. How did yours go? I’m sorry I had to leave you in the lurch, honey, but if you had to be miserable at least it was in comfort.’
    She gave Marin a long look. ‘But you don’t seem to have found your surroundings particularly restful,’ she added candidly. ‘On the contrary, you look as if you’ve barely slept. Are you still brooding over the sudden demise of the dream job?’
    Marin bit her lip. ‘And its possible repercussions,’ she admitted.
    ‘Come and tell me all about it while I get supper.’ Lynne got to her feet. ‘Mike’s mother, the lovely Denise, sent me back with one of her home-made chicken and mushroom pies.’
    ‘Don’t you want to keep it to share with Mike?’ Marin asked as she trailed after her into the kitchen.
    ‘Certainly not,’ said Lynne. ‘He didn’t offer me any of the leftover joint of beef she gave him.’ She handed Marin a pack of French beans, a colander and a knife. ‘Sort these out while I peel some potatoes.’
    They worked for a few minutes in silence, then Lynne said gently, ‘I’m listening, my lamb, so start talking.’
    Marin bent her head. ‘At first everything was fine. The weather was glorious and the house was beautiful, right on the edge of the village, with its own swimming pool. She—Ms Mason—told me to call her Adela, and even though she set quite a pace with the work I could cope easily. I was in seventh heaven.’
    ‘But then?’ Lynne prompted