As business resumed, Stella managed to continue a professional conversation, all the while wondering if she was mad. He was a client. Well, no, he wasn’t actually her client and if Jerry hadn’t been ill, she never would have met him. But he was a man she knew nothing about, apart from the fact that he needed to sort out a property issue for his elderly mother. He could be married with ten kids for all she knew.

      Stella cast a suspicious glance at his left hand. There was no ring but that meant nothing. She’d have to ask.

      ‘Jerry’s so very sorry and I’m sure he’ll be in for your next appointment,’ apologised Melvyn as Nick was leaving.

      ‘That’s good,’ said Nick, a faint smile hovering about his mouth. ‘Prawn vindaloo poisoning can be fatal.’

      Stella smothered a snigger. She would have to have several words with Lori. So much for saying Jerry had been unavoidably kept out of the office.

      ‘I’ll show Mr Cavaletto out,’ she added smoothly.

      She walked him to the lift, ignoring the looks Lori shot at them.

      ‘Just one question,’ Stella said, pitching her voice low so nobody could overhear. ‘Are you married?’

      ‘Divorced with two children,’ he replied, just as seriously. He held up his left hand. ‘Look, no ring.’

      ‘Did you wear one when you were married?’ Stella inquired.

      Nick threw back his head and laughed. ‘No. And did you ever think of becoming a barrister? Your skills at interrogation are wasted here. About dinner, how about Figaro’s?’

      Stella decided it was time to reassert her independence. Nick was calling all the shots here and she refused to be a pushover. ‘Figaro’s, I don’t think so,’ she said. She’d never been to Figaro’s but that wasn’t the point. Surely there was some modern rule of dating that said only pushovers cooed yes to the first suggestion.

      ‘You pick somewhere you like,’ he offered. ‘I’ve been out of the country for so long that I don’t know the good spots.’

      Stella thought hard, storing away that snippet of information about his time out of the country. The only restaurants she knew were ones suitable for business lunches, girls-only get-togethers or meals with seven-year-olds. It had been a long time since she’d done the eyes-meeting-over-the-candlelight-at-a-table-for-two thing. Years, in fact.

      Casting around wildly for an intelligent suggestion, a snippet of something she’d heard about a review of a new restaurant came to mind. Something about The Flying Carpet, a new restaurant on the quays. She hadn’t seen the review herself but from the bit of the conversation she remembered, the place sounded good, she was sure of it. ‘Mussels to die for’ or something.

      ‘The Flying Carpet,’ she said confidently. ‘At eight.’

      ‘May I pick you up or would you prefer to meet me there?’ Nick asked solicitously.

      You’ve already picked me up, Stella thought mischievously.

      ‘I’ll meet you there,’ she said. ‘If there’s a problem, I’ll phone you. Your number is on the file.’ And it was a land line, she remembered. If he was married, he’d instantly give her a mobile number to phone instead. But Nick just nodded in agreement.

      ‘Till tomorrow,’ he said.

      He turned to go.

      ‘Oh, Mr Cavaletto, you forgot something,’ Stella called.

      ‘Yes?’

      Stella whispered so her voice wasn’t audible to the receptionist. ‘Divorced, one daughter. Just so you know.’

      Again, the intense green eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Goodbye, Ms Miller, it’s been a pleasure.’

      A pleasure, thought Stella dreamily as she took the stairs up to the fourth floor. She certainly hoped so. After six years on her own, well, longer really, as you could hardly count the last year with Glenn as actually being with anybody, she was utterly unprepared for the prospect of going on a date.

      She went back to her office.

      ‘Isn’t he lovely?’ said Lori dreamily. ‘Sort of Sean Connery-esque with a hint of Michael Douglas in there somewhere.’

      ‘You’ve got to stop reading Movieline,’ Stella said, biting her lip to stop herself beaming idiotically.

      ‘He was gorgeous, though. Come on, Stella, even you can see that.’

      Stella felt a quiver of electricity shoot through her at the thought of Nick’s smile. ‘I suppose you could call him attractive,’ she said.

      ‘Who?’ demanded Vicki, appearing at her door. ‘Have I missed something?’

      ‘Vicki, can I talk to you for a moment?’ Stella asked. She had to tell someone and if she told Lori, there was a fair possibility of being stabbed with Lori’s trademark silver-ink pen.

      Vicki’s jaw dropped when she heard the news.

      ‘Lucky you,’ she sighed. ‘They say that lots of love stories begin at work, but it’s never happened to me.’ Vicki suddenly looked thoughtful. ‘Can we search through Jerry’s client list and see if there’s anyone else gorgeous coming in today?’

      By half twelve, Stella had raced through her workload at twice her normal speed. She felt inspired and excited, as though she’d had ten espressos and no breakfast. She’d been asked out on a date and she’d said yes! What would she wear, what would they talk about…?

      Her phone rang and she switched into work mode instantly.

      ‘Hello, Stella?’ said a woman’s voice. ‘It’s Jackie Hess.’

      Even through the phone lines, Stella could hear her client’s anxiety.

      Without giving her lawyer a chance to speak, Jackie rattled through her problems.

      ‘If we don’t get the contracts signed by tomorrow, I’ll lose the new house and I can’t do that. I can’t. This is a new start for me and I love that house…’ Her voice rose almost hysterically.

      Stella had heard enough. Calming people was one of her many skills, a vital one in the business of legal conveyancing, although nobody had mentioned it in college. There hadn’t been any lectures on dealing with real, agitated clients who were splitting up with their husbands and hoping to buy new (smaller) houses in order to start again.

      ‘Jackie,’ soothed Stella, ‘we’ll sort it out, I promise. Please leave it with me.’

      Jackie was quiet, as Stella knew she would be. When Stella Miller told you she’d sort everything out, you believed her.

      There was something about the low, measured voice that calmed even the most highly-strung client; something about her serene, smiling face with its kind dark eyes that made anxiety seem silly. More than one person had seriously considered taking up yoga after learning that the tranquil Stella was a devotee.

      ‘Are you sure everything will work out…?’ Jackie asked more quietly.

      ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

      Once Jackie was gone, Stella made a firm decision to stop thinking about Nick Cavaletto. It was ridiculous for a grown woman to get so excited about dinner with a man. This dreaming and staring out the window had to stop. She worked steadily for the next half an hour, making phone calls and trying to sort out Jackie’s