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businesslike as they went through his engagements for the day one by one, and he sipped strong black aromatic coffee from a Lalique glass in a silver holder.
    ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Have you got the briefs for the Fortune conference?’
    She nodded.
    ‘I’ll want you there. There’s quite a bit of paperwork to be passed around and collected, et cetera. And I’ll need you to drive me to and pick me up from theBromwich lunch. There’s no damn parking to be found for miles.’
    ‘Fine,’ she murmured, then hesitated.
    He looked up. ‘A problem?’
    ‘You want me to drive your car?’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘To be honest—’ Liz bit her lip ‘—I’d be petrified of putting a scratch on it.’
    He sat back. ‘Hadn’t thought of that. So would I—to be honest.’ He looked wry. ‘Uh—get a car from the car pool.’
    Liz relaxed. ‘I think that’s a much better idea.’
    His lips twitched, and she thought he was going to say something humorous, but the moment passed and he looked at her in the completely deadpan way he had that had a built-in annoyance factor for anyone on the receiving end of it.
    Liz was not immune to the annoyance as she found herself reduced to the status of a slightly troublesome employee. Then, if anything, she got more annoyed—but with herself. She had been distinctly frosty in the lift before they’d found themselves trapped in that curious moment of physical awareness, hadn’t she?
    She had told herself they would both be mad even to contemplate anything like a relationship—and she believed that. But some little part of her was obviously hankering to be treated… How? As a friend?
    If I were out on a beach I’d believe I’d got a touch of the sun, she thought grimly. This man doesn’t work that way, and there’s no reason why he should.
    She cleared her throat and said politely, ‘What time would you like to leave?’
    ‘Twelve-thirty.’ He turned away.
    The Fortune conference was scheduled for nine-thirty, and Liz and Molly worked together to prepare the conference room.
    It got underway on time and went relatively smoothly. Liz did her bit, distributing and retrieving documents, providing water and coffee—and coping with the over-effusive thanks she got from the short, dumpy, middle-aged vice-President of the Fortune Seafood Group.
    She only smiled coolly in return, but something—some prickling of her nervous system—caused her to look in Cam Hillier’s direction, to find his gaze on her, steadfast and disapproving. Until a faint tide of colour rose in her cheeks, and he looked away at last.
    Surely he couldn’t think she was courting masculine approval or something stupid like that?
    On the other hand, she reminded herself, she might find it stupid, but it could be an occupational hazard of being a single mother—men wondering if you were promiscuous…
    It became further apparent that her boss was not in a good mood when she drove him to the Bromwich lunch in a company Mercedes. The reasons for this were two-fold.
    ‘Hmm…’ he said. ‘You’re a very cautious driver, Ms Montrose.’
    Liz looked left and right and left again, and droveacross an intersection. ‘It’s not my car, your life is in my hands, Mr Hillier, and I have a certain respect for my own.’
    ‘Undue caution can be its own hazard,’ he commented. ‘Roger is a better driver.’
    Liz could feel her temper rising, but she held on to it. She said nothing.
    He went on, ‘Come to think of it, I don’t have to worry about Roger receiving indecent proposals from visiting old-enough-to-know-better seafood purveyors either. Uh—you could have driven a bus through that gap, Liz.’
    She lost it without any outward sign. She nosed the Mercedes carefully into the kerb, reversed it to a better angle, then switched off and handed him the keys.
    She didn’t shout, she didn’t bang anything, but she did say, ‘If you want to get to the Bromwich lunch in one piece,
you
drive. And don’t ever ask