‘I’ve had worse said about me. So? Dinner?’

‘Yes. Go, go,’ I said, shooing him out as I returned to my task.

‘I meant together,’ he said, moving around behind me, his hand creeping towards the power button on my computer.

‘Touch that before I’ve saved my document and that letter opener is coming your way, sod the blood.’

Lorcan’s hand shot back into his pocket but soft laughter filled my ears and the faint scent of aftershave wrapped itself around my senses. There was never enough to overpower, but just enough to make you want to get closer and—

‘You know what? You’re absolutely right. I definitely need food,’ I said, hitting save and then shutting down my screen. ‘I think I’m feeling a bit light-headed.’

‘Are you?’ he asked, moving my office chair round gently so that I was facing him. Oh, great. Well, that rather backfired. Now sight has joined its mates, scent and hearing, in the game of ‘let’s see how attractive we can make this entirely inappropriate man appear to Maddie today’.

‘Look at me.’ His words were gentle and held a note of solicitude, the coal-black brows knitting together as he studied me. What was it about that accent? I’d never really thought I’d been one to be affected by accents before. Of course, I would find out to the contrary at the most inconvenient time possible.

‘Lorcan, I’m fine, really,’ I said. ‘I’m sure, as you say, I just need some food.’

His hand caught mine, the long, strong fingers gently wrapping around my wrist.

‘Your hands are clammy.’

‘Maybe don’t lead with that on your next date.’

He flicked a glance to me, amusement in the blue eyes as they focused on mine. I was steaming ahead with four of the senses and the only one left now was taste… Oh, hell.

‘Your pulse is racing.’

You don’t say…

‘We need to get some food in you. What’s in that dinner box for tonight?’

I glanced at the calendar. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind and half the time I didn’t know what day it was.

‘It’s Friday,’ Lorcan said, having worked out why I’d paused.

‘Yes. Right. So that would be chicken salad.’

He looked up from where he’d been gathering my things for me.

‘For your information, it’s curry tomorrow, and shepherd’s pie the day after that.’ I drew myself up as I stood, glad that my leg had now healed, albeit having left a bit of a scar, but at least I was once again able to wear my beloved heels and thereby gain a bit of height when I needed it. ‘Go on. Have a good laugh.’

‘I’m not laughing.’

And, despite my expectations, he wasn’t.

‘Why not?’ I asked, suspicious now.