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‘Of course.’ Henri, too, snapped back to life and scrabbled on his desk for the requested stationery. ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been inconvenienced. Angelique takes no prisoners, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s all right. What kind of person would I be to leave the birthday boy without a dinosaur cake? Anyway, I should think this makes us even now. I hit your car—I bake you a cake. Debt repaid.’
After this there was no reason for either of them to venture into each other’s social territory, or for her to ogle her registrar again. The image of him stripped to the waist was imprinted on her brain for ever anyway.
She handed him the piece of paper with her hastily scribbled address. ‘I’ll need a couple of hours after work to get it done. Shall we say eight o’clock?’
Her steady voice belied her insides as they danced a jig at the thought of him waiting on her doorstep. She wasn’t particularly relishing explaining it all to Jules, either.
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