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herself to be alone, had her jerking upright and away from the door. She looked through the dividing door into the room that had been Mr Gillett’s. There, leaning negligently back in his chair, the desk before him housing a pile of papers that told her he must have been hard at it for at least an hour, sat Crawford Arrowsmith. As though compelled Gerry was drawn to step towards that door, stopping at the threshold between the two offices.
    ‘Advice?' she queried, striving for her practised unflappable front. It would never do for him to see how easily he could disconcert her.
    ‘I advised you to curtail your love life,’ he said with cool insolence, and without waiting for any sort of answer to that, went on, ‘Late nights don’t suit you, Miss Barton.’ His tone was cold, causing her to wonder if he really meant her to fed the wreck she must so obviously look. ‘Or is it the effort of getting to your place of business at the appointed time that has you yawning even before you start your day?’
    She knew for certain he was trying to get a rise out of her, but if he was waiting to see the sparks fly out of her eyes as he had done yesterday when she had momentarily lost control, he was in for a very long wait.
    ‘You’re wrong,’ she said, marvelling that her words sounded so cool when she was so churned up inside.
    ‘On which count?’
    ‘I’m sorry?’ She feigned not to know what he was talking about.
    ‘Are you telling me it isn’t your love life that makes you all bleary-eyed in the morning—or that you didn’t get up extra early to be here on time?’
    ‘My love life is no concern of yours.’ She wondered how she dared to say that as she saw his lips tighten at her detached tone. ‘And since I have every intention of being here on the stroke of nine in future,’ she hoped she was going to be able to stick to that, ‘I see no point in this catechism.’
    ‘You cheeky ...’ he stopped. She knew he had bitten off something very uncomplimentary, then was staggered to see the tight line of his lips disappear and what could pass for a smile cross his mouth. He couldn’t be admiring her stand against him, she knew that, and for one awful moment she had a dreadful feeling he was going to dismiss her on the spot. She waited with tension mounting for the ace she was suddenly convinced he had up his sleeve. ‘Since you and I will be working closely together for some time, I shall be able to see for myself what time you arrive and depart , won’t I?’ he said, with a return to the coolness he had shown earlier.
    ‘Working together?’ The cloak of calmness she had adopted since she’d seen him sitting there threatened to fly away from her. She took a deep breath, striving to bring its escaping folds closer around her.
    ‘The whole set-up of this office needs looking into.’ His eyes were boring into her, threatening to break her composure at any second. ‘I have decided before I can hand over the reins of Company Secretary to anyone, the whole running of this section needs looking into—I shall do the job myself.’
    Gerry took hold of herself as his words sank in. She didn’t want him telling her again to ‘Sit down, Miss Barton, before you fall down’. She moistened suddenly dry lips and cursed herself for that dead giveaway of her nervousness.
    ‘Er—is it likely to take long—I mean, how long will you be here?'
    The smile she had thought had been hovering broke through, revealing perfect strong white teeth. Fascinated for a moment, she stared at his mouth. It was a warm mouth when he smiled, she thought absently, until she discerned that there was no humour in his smile, just pure satisfaction that he had all but unseated her calm.
    ‘I’ll be here for as long as it takes, Miss Barton—for as long as it takes.'
    Then there was no time for her to have any clear thoughts on what he had just told her. The feeling of disquiet that she was going to have to put up with him—not only put up