He instinctively covered the notes with his hand.

Sarah stepped back and narrowed her eyes. ‘Wow. You really do have trust issues, don’t you?’

It wasn’t the first time a woman had said something like that. ‘Force of habit. Sorry. I used to work for the Secret Service.’ He blinked a couple of times. Why had he said that?

‘Oh,’ said Sarah. ‘I see.’ She ran a hand through her hair and pulled it over one shoulder, smoothing it over her left breast. ‘That explains a lot.’ She stood still for a moment, as though taking it in, and then burst back to life. ‘Oh, I forgot,’ she said, ‘I have something for you.’ She walked through to his bedroom, returning a moment later with her coat and handbag. She placed the latter on the table and reached inside to remove a paper bag.

‘Here,’ she said.

‘A book?’ he said, opening the bag.

‘I have a friend at the publishers. It’s an advance copy. I know you like cycling and I really liked it.’

‘The Hardmen: Legends of the Cycling Gods,’ Jameson read aloud. Then he looked at her. ‘You’ve read this?’

Sarah nodded. ‘It’s about the craziest, bravest cyclists in history. I like my cycling too, you know. Maybe we could go for a ride some day?’

‘I thought we already had?’

‘All right, smutty mouth,’ she said, putting one arm and then the other into her coat. ‘Go be a hero, then. Call me when you’re ready to mix with mere mortals again.’

Jameson took her face in his hands. ‘I’m not a hero. And you’re the one who saves lives.’

‘Just a lowly researcher, you said.’

This woman was hot, intelligent, loved cycling and was more than a match for his wit. Could it get any better? For the first time in his life, he was in real danger of falling in love.

Bloom was back in her hometown of Harrogate, where the stresses of living and working in London simply ebbed away. She ran faster here, breathing in the fresh Yorkshire air and feeling younger and freer than she had in months.

The sensation was short-lived.

Her music was interrupted by her phone.

‘It’s me,’ said Jameson. ‘Are you still in Yorkshire visiting your mum?’

‘I am,’ said Bloom, wiping the sweat from her face with her sleeve.

‘Claire’s received a message from Jane. She’s locked in an attic somewhere near Leeds. I’m on my way to King’s Cross now. I arrive in Leeds at two thirty. Can you meet me?’

‘Jump on a train to Harrogate from Leeds. I’ll meet you at the station. There’s plenty of room at the house.’

‘Are you sure? I’m happy in a hotel.’

‘I’m rattling around this place. It’ll be good to have the company and we can set up a proper base.’