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office. She thought of all the beautifully sarcastic answers she could have come up with, had he given her time. It was maddening to think that she had let him take complete control of the conversation. But she did want to know why he came to sec her, and where the letter came into it, and who wrote it. Oh, he was so wrong, she was not only a tiny bit curious ... she was eaten up with curiosity.
    ‘Mr Drummond said for you to change this figure, Katriona, then post it off. He said sorry that he gave you the wrong amount.’ Morag dropped the letter back on the desk. ‘Hey! He’s gone. Wasn’t he fantastic?’
    ‘I presume you mean Mr Grant? Yes, he’s gone.’
    ‘You’re not at all excited about having a man like that calling on you? You must be made of ice. Talk about impact ! Honestly, if I’d been you I wouldn’t have let him out of the office until I’d kidded him into making a date ... even if it meant blackmailing him. You’ll never get another chance like that.’
    ‘I think Miss Jamieson will make an impact on you too, Morag, if you don’t get back to your work.’ Katriona started to sort through some papers on her desk. She really must concentrate on finishing these quotations today. That Morgan Grant was having the most peculiar effect on her. She had almost boasted to Morag that she did have a date with him tonight, if only to prove that she was human after all.
    At ten to six she covered her typewriter and went through to the cloakroom to freshen up. After she had made some hasty repairs to her make-up and added a touch of perfume, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror with utter dissatisfaction. She wished she had time to go home and change. Her suit was neat and functional ... an office suit, nothing more, nothing less ... If only she had time to get her hair trimmed ...
    Shocked, she realised that she was wanting to make a good impression on Morgan Grant. How ridiculous ! After tonight she would never see him again. What did it matter how she looked?
    She marched out through the office building switching the lights off as she went, checking to see if all the windows were shut. She carefully locked the outside door behind her and dropped the keys in her bag before turning to face Morgan Grant.
    ‘Good evening, Katriona.’ He seemed amused about something. ‘I have a taxi waiting. I’ve ordered dinner early at my hotel. I think you’ll enjoy the meal, they have an excellent chef.’
    ‘Good evening,’ Katriona replied, annoyed to hear her voice wobble nervously. She wasn’t frightened of him, it was just that she had trouble breathing when she got too close to him. And it was a bit difficult to know how to behave when they had been shouting insults at each other the last time they were together on the Island.
    She sat silent during their taxi ride and then followed him meekly into the very elegant hotel. Seated primly at the table she studied the menu as if it was a matter of life and death what she chose to eat. Then she become aware that the large menu was shaking badly as her hands trembled and she knew it was a dead giveaway. She put it down stiffly and told him she was happy to have whatever he ordered.
    Throughout the well-chosen, beautifully cooked and presented meal, she hardly spoke one word. She couldn’t. It was all she could do to give an appearance of normality by concentrating fully on the food and wine. Once, only once she had looked directly at Morgan Grant in answer to a question and found him watching her with such intensity that it left her breathless. She had not repeated that error. She knew he was completely relaxed and enjoying himself, and that burned her up.
    No man should be as handsome as he was. She could hear the laughter in his voice as he spoke of his trip to the Island. He did not seem to notice that she only answered in monosyllables, or if he did notice he did not care. He talked of everything under the sun except the things she wanted to know. She