‘Hang on now, I didn’t mean there was no room for negotiation!’

Laura turned. She hadn’t meant to be clever, and bluff him into changing his mind, but by some fluke that had been the effect of her reaction.

‘You mean, as we’ve gone some little way towards having sex, you’ll take that part into consideration?’ She smiled, aware that she was flirting again and enjoying the sensation. She hadn’t done much of it herself, but had read enough about how it was done to realise what was happening. She felt on surer ground now that he hadn’t dismissed coming to the festival outright.

‘I don’t mean I’ll cross the Irish Sea and reach England but not actually go all the way to the venue, which is more or less what happened last night.’ His eyes twinkled with wickedness and sex appeal.

‘Oh good,’ she quipped, feeling her confidence grow. ‘I don’t think that would help me convince the sponsors that as you’d come that far, they should still give us money. Not as much as they would have done though, obviously.’

‘Oh, so it was to get sponsorship you were so keen to get me to your festival. I thought you “really admired my work”.’ He put on an irritating imitation of a female voice that didn’t sound a bit like her. He wasn’t flirting any more.

‘I do – did – admire your work,’ snapped Laura, no longer wanting to flirt back. ‘That bit is absolutely genuine. But there hasn’t been much of it lately, has there?’

The twinkle was more speculative now. For a moment she wondered if she’d overstepped the mark. ‘You are very cruel,’ he said, fortunately still amused, ‘but perhaps I deserved it.’

Laura was aware that a woman who’d had more practice with real men rather than literary heroes would have had something clever to say now. Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, or one of the younger writers of chick lit would have had this man begging to come to her literary festival in a few terse lines. She said nothing.

‘Tell you what,’ he went on, obviously having come to some kind of decision, ‘let me show you a bit of the countryside. Come for a walk with me tomorrow morning. Then perhaps you’ll understand why I’m not eager to leave, even for a short time.’

Laura thought about it. There’d be time: they weren’t due to go back to England until tomorrow evening. Monica wouldn’t mind. ‘Actually, Monica and I went cycling yesterday. I’ve seen the countryside.’ Why did she say that? she admonished herself. He was offering her an olive branch.

‘It’ll look quite different through my eyes, I’m telling you,’ he persisted.