For The Sake Of His Child. Lucy Gordon

do I get in?’ Harry demanded.

      ‘Through the back,’ Gina said through gritted teeth.

      He squeezed into the little car and eased it gingerly out, only just managing not to graze the Rolls again. The man cast Gina a speaking look but maintained a tactful silence.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly.

      ‘It’s not your day, is it? Where can we sit down and swap details in comfort?’

      ‘There’s a little place over there.’

      He looked wildly out of place in Bob’s Café, a cramped greasy spoon that catered for people with little money and less time. He must have been a good six foot two, with long legs, broad shoulders and a set to his head that suggested authority. His suit was pure Savile Row, as befitted a man with a Rolls, but his air of confidence was his own.

      She cast a disparaging glance down at her own clothes. Her grey business suit was neat and appropriate to her job, but it had been the least expensive in the store. She kept it varied with the clever use of scarves and jewellery, but this man looked as though his normal companions wore haute couture.

      She tried to remind herself that he was the villain of the piece, but that was hard when he’d offered to pay all the bills.

      It was lunchtime and the place was just filling up, but he found them a window table. He was the sort of man, Gina realised, who would always be able to find a window table in a crowded place.

      ‘Let me buy you a coffee,’ she suggested. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

      ‘Forget it. I’d rather heap coals of fire on your head.’ He studied the menu. ‘I’m hungry and I don’t like to eat alone. Choose something.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      He grimaced. ‘Sorry. It’s my way. I’m used to giving orders, and it’s a hard habit to break.’

      His voice was deep and resonant, making her realise that most voices were flat.

      She made her choice and he hailed a waitress without trouble. When he’d given the order he said, ‘My name’s Carson Page.’

      ‘And mine is Gina Tennison. I’m really grateful to you, Mr Page. You were right about my steering. And it shouldn’t have been like that because I’ve just had the car repaired—’

      ‘You should sue the garage. Get yourself a good lawyer.’

      ‘Actually, I am a lawyer.’

      ‘Good grief!’

      ‘Well, it’s hard to be a convincing lawyer in a garage full of male mechanics,’ she said defensively. ‘It doesn’t matter how many legal qualifications you have, they still do what they like because they think you’re just a silly woman who knows nothing about cars.’

      He didn’t answer, but his lips twitched.

      ‘Go on, say it,’ she challenged.

      ‘Do I need to?’

      She broke into laughter, and he joined her. Laughing transformed him, softening the harsh lines of his face. But it vanished quickly. It was almost as though cheerfulness made him uneasy, and he needed to protect himself against it.

      In repose, his face was full of tension. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and there were lines of strain around his mouth. This was a man who lived on his nerves, she realised, and she had a sudden feeling those nerves were at breaking point.

      It was hard to guess his age. Somewhere in the thirties was as close as she could get. He had a lean body that moved easily, suggesting youth. But he carried an air of gravity as though life had piled cares on to him. It made his brief smile an unexpected pleasure.

      ‘So you’re a lawyer?’ he said. ‘Where do you work? Around here?’

      ‘Yes, I’m with Renshaw Baines.’

      ‘Renshaw Baines? I’m one of their clients. At least, I shall be after a meeting this afternoon.’

      ‘Oh, heavens, I’ve offended a client!’

      ‘That’s a little unfair when I’ve been at pains not to be offended.’

      ‘But I scratched your Rolls,’ she said, aghast.

      ‘Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Anyway, you can make up for it by putting me in the picture about Philip Hale, who’s going to handle my affairs. I’ve never met him before. Describe him.’

      ‘Philip Hale,’ she echoed carefully. ‘Well, he’s the most recent partner—everyone says he’s brilliant—you couldn’t have a better man—’

      ‘You really do dislike him, don’t you?’ he asked, easily reading between the lines.

      She gave up. ‘Yes—no—it’s more that he dislikes me—disapproves of me. He thinks I’m a lightweight, and he didn’t want to employ me. Mr Page, I’m really not the person you should ask.’

      He smiled again, becoming delightful for a moment. ‘I wish you could see your face this minute. All right. I’ll spare you. Why does he think you’re a lightweight?’

      ‘By his standards, I suppose I am. But he can’t fault my paperwork. I’ve done jobs for him that even he had to admit were up to scratch.’

      ‘Paperwork? No dramatic courtroom appearances?’

      ‘No, thank you,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m quite happy beavering away in the background.’

      ‘Isn’t that a bit dull for a young woman?’

      ‘Not for me,’ she said earnestly. ‘You see, for years I—’

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘No, I’m just burbling away about myself, and I don’t know why. I don’t normally go on like that.’

      ‘But I’m interested. What happened, “for years”?’

      ‘I was—ill, that’s all. And it didn’t seem as though I could live a normal life. But now I do. I’ve got a good job, and my own modest little bit of success, and it’s all like a dream to me. You said it must be dull, but I don’t find anything in my life dull, because it’s more than I ever hoped for.’

      He looked at her, intrigued by the light that had come into her face, wondering if he’d really found that rarest of creatures, someone who was contented with her lot.

      ‘What kind of illness?’ he asked gently.

      But she shook her head. ‘That’s enough about me. Please, I don’t want to say any more.’

      To her relief he didn’t press the matter. It made her nervous to be talking to Philip Hale’s client, even if he had promised to keep her secret.

      Gina had fought to study for her legal exams and passed them well. Renshaw Baines wasn’t the biggest legal firm in London, but it had a first-class name and could take its pick of applicants. She was proud of her value to her employers.

      At twenty-six she was modestly pretty, with reddish hair, a pale skin and a slim, elegant figure. Her one real beauty was a pair of thrilling eyes, with the colour and depth of emeralds.

      But few people had seen how lovely she could be. The circumstances of her life had taught her the value of caution and keeping a low profile. At work she dressed quietly, and even at play she didn’t splash out. She had a job which gave her a sense of self-worth, plus a boyfriend who was like an old slipper. And she was content.

      His mobile rang and he answered it. It was Harry, at the garage.

      ‘They say it’s going to take a whole new engine to make that heap of junk roadworthy. And that’ll cost.’

      ‘Tell them to do whatever’s necessary,’ Carson said, without