Kate stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket and smiled at Serena. `My mother thinks I'm being wonderful, Veronique and Alain think I'm being wonderful, but really I'm just being selfish. I never really settled in Dijon; I only stayed because I didn't think Maman would be able to cope by herself-you know how impractical she is! -and once I had a good job it seemed so silly to give it up. But Maman's got Thierry to look after her now, and if the truth was known she'd probably much rather I wasn't around looking quite so grown up!' Kate gazed reflectively at the huge poster on the other side of the tracks urging her to throw caution to the winds and jump on the next plane to the Caribbean. `It's all worked out very well. I've missed England these last few years. I should have come back before.'

"Well, I hope you stay.' Serena squeezed her arm affectionately. `It's good to have you back. All you need now is that job!'

CHAPTER TWO

The lift was lined with mirrors. Kate checked her reflection, tugging her jacket down and smoothing an invisible strand of hair from her cheek.

She was reluctant to admit to herself how much she needed this job. Living in London was proving a lot more expensive than she had envisaged, and the rent was due on her flat soon. Besides, she was tired of trailing round agencies. Friends like Serena teased her, but she was an orderly person and missed the routine of work.

The girl in the mirror looked back at her critically. She was trim and neat in a grey suit and high-necked white blouse, and her thick brown hair was twisted up and held away from her face by a tortoiseshell clasp.

She looked crisp and efficient-and dull, Kate decided as clear eyes gazed back at her a little wistfully. No wonder Luke Hardman hadn't remembered her! It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with her, but there was nothing very special either. She was just Kate: cool, capable Kate. An ideal secretary, in fact, she reminded herself sensibly as the doors slid open on to a thickly carpeted corridor. Stepping out, Kate was met by a harassed-looking girl with wavy red hair.

`Miss Finch? I'm Paula Stephens. We spoke on the phone.' She seemed relieved by Kate's businesslike air. `I had hoped to explain a bit about this job before you met the managing director, but he's in a tearing hurry today, so would you mind if I introduced you to him first and then we had a word later?'

'Of course not,' Kate said politely, wondering if it was the managing director who had reduced her to such a jittery state.

Paula led her along the corridor and into an office. It was a large, bright room, equipped with all the latest technology. `This would be your room,' she said, and then lowered her voice. `That's his office in there,' she said in a conspiratorial whisper, nodding her head at a door on the far side of the room.

With a visible attempt to steel herself Paula went over and knocked. `Miss Finch is here to see you,' she said nervously.

Kate heard an impatient voice say, `Ail right, all right. Tell her to come in,' before Paula stood back and, with a look that was suspiciously sympathetic, gestured her inside and shut the door behind her.

She found herself in a vast, high-ceilinged room with a window that looked out over the elegant Knightsbridge street below. For a moment she hesitated, confused by the fact that she seemed to be alone in the room, and then the voice spoke again, deep and abrupt.

`Sit down, if you're staying. I've just got to finish this.'

It came from a high-backed revolving chair, which had been turned away from the desk to face the window. Kate raised one eyebrow at the man's rudeness and chose an upright chair set against the wall. Lifting it forward, she set it in front of the desk and sat down composedly, smoothing her skirt over her knees and folding her hands calmly in her lap. The squashy leather chairs looked inviting, but she would be at a distinct disadvantage if she sank into one of them, f and she had a strong feeling that she was going to need all the advantages she could get in dealing with this man.

Minutes passed. The only indication of another presence in the room was the sound of turning pages from behind the chair. Kate waited, but her lips tightened disapprovingly. She was tempted to get up and leave, but a stern, sensible voice inside her reminded her about the fat salary, and the rent due, and the imprudence of chucking in her chances of a good job by storming out, and no doubt causing an embarrassing scene.

Eventually he spoke. `I gather from my personnel manager that you claim to speak French?'

'I do speak French,' Kate corrected him with frosty emphasis.

`I've seen a succession of girls who say they speak French, but in fact can barely muster an O level between them. They're all just a little rusty.' He mimicked the feminine tones contemptuously. `Frankly, I don't want to waste any more time on you unless you can speak French fluently.'

'I. wasn't aware that you'd wasted any time on me. Kate said with a slight edge to her voice. 'However, I can assure that I can speak French. I'm bilingual.'

'Prove it.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I said, prove it. Say something in French!'

`Well…, what would you like me to say?' Kate asked carefully.

`What does it matter?' he retorted, impatient and irritable. `Anything. N'importe quoi.'

His French was pronounced with such an appalling accent that Kate's tawny eyes gleamed suddenly gold.

'N'importe quoi?' she repeated. He obviously didn't speak French himself, so she could allow herself free rein! `It's a little hard to know what *.o say to a chair,' she continued in fluent French and with a deceptively calm intonation. `I've never had to address one before. In France we have the courtesy to get up and greet people when they come into the room, but obviously things are a little different here! Frankly, if it weren't for the fact that I'd really rather like this job I would have got up and left ten minutes ago! Not that I'm sure now that I would like it if it means working for someone who can't even be bothered to turn round when I talk to him,' she went on reflectively. `I can't see that there's any excuse for those kind of sheer bad manners-'

She broke off abruptly as the chair swung round.

`That's fine, thank you,' he said in such a noncommittal tone that Kate was convinced, not without some relief, that he hadn't understood a word.

She still couldn't see his face. His dark head was bent over a report and he was making neat notes in the margin with a pencil. Kate's eyes narrowed at the sheer arrogance of the gesture. However this man had got to be managing director, it certainly hadn't been through charm!

Then he laid his pencil very neatly beside the report and looked up.

It was Luke Hardman.

Kate's heart stopped. For that long, shocked moment as she stared incredulously into the flat blue-grey eyes all she could think about was whether it would ever start beating again.

It seemed an age, but was probably no more than a few seconds before the sharpening of

Luke's unnerving gaze jerked her heart back into action.

'Is something the matter?' he demanded, brusque suspicion in his voice as he took in her expression of stunned disbelief.

Kate struggled to regain her composure. There was absolutely no recognition in his eyes; she could see that now. It was just that he had occupied her thoughts so much since she had seen '":m at the theatre that it seemed incredible that he had not been just as aware of her, and as astonished to find the gauche, clumsy girl who had stumbled away from his kiss sitting in front of him now. As astonished as she was to find that the village rebel had somehow transformed himself into a successful businessman! It was the last thing she would have expected.

But the awareness was one-sided now, just as it had been last night, just as it had been ten years ago. Kate should have been glad, but a quite irrational feeling of pique at finding herself so utterly unmemorable helped her to pull herself together.

'I'm sorry if I was staring. I was merely surprised to find myself addressing a man instead of a chair,' she said, pleased at the cool way she was able to meet his eyes. Preoccupied with the shock of coming face to face with him again so unexpectedly, Kate had forgotten that she was here for an interview, but Luke evidently had not.

`Doesn't take much to surprise you, does it?' Luke said with something of a sneer. He reached out and pulled a sheet of paper off the pile in front of him; Kate recognised it as the CV she had sent to Paula Stephens and wondered if anything about her name would jog his memory.

He was frowning as he scrutinised her details. Kate sat, outwardly calm, dreading the moment when he would look up and recognise her, but he only grunted non-committally as he tossed her

CV back dismissively on to the pile.

Sitting back in his chair, he twirled a pen between his fingers and studied her with opaque slate eyes narrowed appraisingly. Kate forced herself to return his look with composure, and her chin tilted in instinctive response to the challenge in his silence.

`Well, you can speak French, I'll give you that… what's your name?' Luke leant forward and turned over the CV. 'Kate… yes, I'll give you that, Kate,' he said at last. His voice was as hard as his expression. `But speaking French doesn't make you a good secretary. What about typing and shorthand? Can you do all that?'

'It says there that I can,' Kate said, nodding at the CV. She had recovered from those first few moments of shocked disbelief and was fast losing her temper. He obviously had no idea how to treat people! The cynical indifference that had so intimidated her ten years ago still had the power to affect her, but now her reaction was one of annoyance instead of mortification. She wasn't a shy sixteen-year-old any longer, and Luke would find out, surprise or no surprise, that she wasn't prepared to put up with it.