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Dominic’s voice. ‘Carry her out, if you have to.’
    Max shot him a sardonic look. ‘What about the neighbours?’
    ‘Fuck the neighbours.’
    That was pretty clear. ‘It might take a while.’
    ‘Fine,’ Dominic grunted. ‘Go do your magic.’
    *
    As personal agent for Dominic Knight the past five years, Max’s diplomatic and persuasive skills were honed to a fine pitch. Fifteen minutes later, when he and Kate walked out of the house, Kate was not only smiling, she was wearing the jade-green cashmere sweats and hoodie Dominic had purchased for her.
    A perfect colour with her hair
, Dominic thought, pleased on any number of levels – personally, professionally, aesthetically. Miss Hart looked stunning – and happy.
    As she entered the car, her smile faded.
    Not that Dominic’s pleasure was in any way quashed now that he had what he wanted. ‘I’m pleased you could join us, Miss Hart.’ Gracious, cordial, he was on his best behaviour.
    She looked at him, squinty eyed. ‘I wish I could say the same.’
    His smile was bland. ‘Nevertheless, you should find Singapore interesting. Did Max mention we have a house there? One of the original trading stations. There’s only a few left.’
    ‘I told her.’ Max spoke over his shoulder as the car pulled away from the kerb. ‘I’m taking Miss Hart on a tour of the town tomorrow.’
    ‘Don’t forget to show her The Pigeonhole.’ Dominic flicked a glance at Kate. ‘A popular coffeehouse for techies. You’ll like it.’ Then he leaned over, held her gaze and grinned. ‘It’s only eight days, Miss Hart. Surely you won’t pout the entire time.’
    ‘I might.’ But she couldn’t entirely repress her smile with that boyish grin so close. And let’s face it, all the glorious rest of him, too, was cranking up her body into overdrive. It was like living in a hurricane, her emotions swirling every which way, alternately pissed off and not pissed off depending on her wayward desires or Dominic Knight’s insolence.
    He sat back. ‘There, that’s better. Did you let your grandmother know where you were going?’
    Her surprise showed. The heat in her eyes did too.
    ‘We wouldn’t want Nana to worry,’ he smoothly said, liking the heat.
    ‘How do you know about Nana?’
What else did he know? Hopefully, he wasn’t a mind-reader.
    ‘Tell her, Max, how you vet our prospective employees. How your intelligence contacts get you anything you need.’
    ‘Tell her yourself,’ Max muttered, busy texting.
    ‘I get no respect,’ Dominic said with mock chagrin. ‘The short version, Miss Hart, is that you did your homework before your interview and we did ours. I’ve never lived in a small town. Is small-town living as idyllic as the movies suggest?’
    ‘Do you really care?’
    ‘When it comes to you, I do.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Curiosity, I suppose.’
    ‘Then you must tell me about growing up in San Francisco.’ She gave him a brittle smile. ‘Just curiosity.’
    ‘Christ, you’re prickly.’
    ‘Look, I know there’s no privacy left in the world, but I don’t have to like it. No more than I have to like being forced to accommodate you when I thought I was done. Couldn’t Werner do this?’
    Dominic saw Max’s shoulder twitch and almost told her the truth just to see her reaction. He tamped down the impulse and spoke a half-truth instead. ‘You’re more familiar with the methodology. And I’m sure Max told you, you’ll be well paid for this extra task.’
    ‘Everything’s
not
about money.’
    ‘I find it generally is.’ She reminded him of some intrepid heroine, like Joan of Arc. But then, as now, there were always men who felt the need to chastise women like that.
    ‘You must know the wrong people,’ she muttered, his bland coercion annoying.
    ‘That’s probably true. In the case of the Bucharest plant, I certainly do know the wrong people. As soon as the Singapore bank cooperates, we’ll replace the management in Bucharest. But until the bank