‘Don’t you feel bad lying like that? I mean, she seemed nice.’

‘No,’ Oli replies. ‘I know what I’m using the information for, I know my intentions are good. As long as that’s always clear in my head, I don’t feel bad.’

He stares straight ahead.

‘What, you don’t like that answer?’ She glances at his profile, sees his jaw set at a stubborn tilt.

‘I thought only cops went undercover,’ he says after a few moments.

‘Cops conduct extensive undercover operations. I just throw a fake name around now and then in exchange for information. Sometimes making yourself part of the story is the best way to get the facts.’

When Oli first met Dean eleven years ago, she was going by Sarah Finlayson. She had parked herself at a bar, eyes ringed with dark liner, tight white singlet exposing her tanned cleavage, when Dean came to her rescue. He firmly removed the sweaty arm of a man she’d been talking to who had started to blatantly grope her.

Oli was after the scoop on some high-flying lawyers allegedly involved in wide-reaching fraud that involved one of the big four banks, and she knew that two of the key players frequented this bar every Friday. So, she had tarted herself up three weeks in a row, but all she’d learned so far was that rich professional men could be just as creepy as poor uni students, and that drinking too many lemon, lime and bitters gave her mouth ulcers.

Dean Yardley was different. ‘I’m sorry that dickhead was harassing you. Guys like that give men a bad name.’ Dean proceeded to study her face so intently, she felt like she was being examined under white light. ‘Do you want me to sit with you while you wait for whoever it is you’re waiting for?’ His wedding ring glinted, and his cologne filled her nostrils, reminding her of crafted wooden furniture and old movies. She could tell he was older than she was, but he was very good-looking—of course, he was also very married.

‘It’s just me,’ she said. ‘But I’m fine, thanks.’

His hand on the small of her bare back felt protective, not predatory. She didn’t want him to stop touching her. ‘I’m sure you know this,’ he said, ‘but you have the most incredible voice.’

‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

He smiled. ‘I’m Dean.’

‘I’m Sarah.’

‘And how do I contact you, Sarah?’

‘You don’t.’

He pinched the skin between his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. ‘Fair enough.’

She discreetly pulled in her stomach, stuck out her chest.