Abby looked her up and down. “Really? You look like the sort of person who goes to the gym all the time.”

Jordan shook her head. “Nope. Nervous energy. Pure and simple. Probably learned from childhood. I was a forces kid, always moving around. You learn to be on your toes, and be able to pack up and move in an instant. It’s why this job works for me. I’m organised and unflappable.”

Abby nodded. “From my professional bridesmaid, that’s great to hear.” She paused. “Plus, if you hate sport, golf might be the perfect one for you. It’s gentle, and involves nothing more than a walk and a swing. The driving range cuts down the walking to zero. All you have to do is focus, and hit.”

That didn’t sound so scary. “I can do that,” Jordan replied.

Abby selected a club with a thick head — had she called it a driver? — then turned to Jordan, fixing her with her conker-brown eyes. “I’ll show you how to grip the club and swing in a minute. First up, sit on that sofa, then watch and learn. Okay?”

Jordan nodded, and sat on the black wicker sofa at the back of the bay.

Satisfied, Abby licked her lips, flexed her back, then placed her feet wide apart. She rocked her hips from side to side as she settled her hands on the club, eyeing first the range, then the ball. The concentration was immense, and Jordan was transfixed. Abby’s hips were low and loose, and looked like they could knock out a figure eight and perhaps a samba, no problem. Jordan let that image settle in her brain, before nudging it aside. She was here to work. And impress with a golf swing.

A little more hip wiggling, then Abby raised her club, twisted her body and rotated her torso at speed, smacking the ball down the driving range. It sailed high and long, eventually hitting the right-side netting.

Jordan sat up and let out a low whistle. Damn. Not only did Abby know how to move her hips in a more than dangerous way, she could also put a golf ball in its place.

Next up was Jordan. Bugger.

“You’re good at this.”

Abby looked up. She gave her a louche grin. “Let’s just say, this is where I come to let off steam. If I’ve had a bad day, I pretend the golf balls are my clients. If I’ve had a good day, I pretend the golf balls are my mother-in-law. Works well every time.”