‘Mum!’ Holly said. ‘What—’

But her mother interrupted her. ‘There you are, darling! And I see you’ve met Mr Wyndham.’ Sylvia turned to Brett. ‘How do you do? I’m Sylvia Harding, Holly’s mother—yes, her real name is Holly, that’s why we thought of Holly Golightly!’ Sylvia paused and took a very deep breath. ‘But I feel sure there was some misunderstanding at the shelter lunch, and she didn’t have the opportunity to tell you that she’s a journalist and would love to interview you.’

There was dead silence on the balcony but Sylvia went on, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents. ‘I also know she’d do a great job; she’s not her father’s daughter for nothing. He was Richard Harding, incidentally—perhaps you’ve heard of him?’

‘Yes, I have. How do you do, Mrs Harding?’ Brett said courteously.

‘I’m fine, thank you. You may be wondering how I recognized you, but as soon as I saw you with Sue it clicked. She’s such a lovely person, your sister. Well, I’ll leave you two together.’ She hesitated then walked back inside.

Holly let out a long breath then finished the champagne with a gulp. ‘Don’t say a word,’ she warned Brett, once again presented him with her glass. ‘I did not arrange that, and anyway I don’t believe leopards change their spots, so I have no desire to interview you.’

‘Leopards?’ he queried gravely but she could see he was struggling not to laugh. ‘On top of camels, asses, Mexicans and sheikhs?’

‘Yes,’ she said through her teeth. ‘I believe they can be cunning, highly dangerous and thoroughly bad-minded into the bargain. If anyone should know that, you should.’

‘I do,’ he agreed. ‘Uh—where is this analogy leading?’

‘I have no faith in you not making any more passes at me, that’s where.’

‘I’d be demolished,’ he said. ‘But I’m pretty sure it isn’t all one-sided.’

Another deadly little silence enveloped the balcony.

Holly opened her mouth but had to close it as no inspiration came to her. In all honesty, how could she deny the claim? On the other hand, every bit of good sense she possessed told her that to acknowledge it would be foolhardy in the extreme.

So, in the end, she did the only thing available to her: she swung on her heel and walked away from him.

‘How was the ball?’ Mike Rafferty enquired of his boss the next morning.

Brett lay back in his chair and appeared to meditate for a moment. ‘Interesting,’ he said at last.

‘Well, that’s got to be better than you expected,’ Mike replied and placed some papers on the desk. ‘The lead up to the wedding,’ he said simply.

Brett grimaced and pulled the details of Mark’s pre-wedding festivities towards him. ‘I just hope it’s not a three-ring circus. Oh hell, another ball!’

‘But this one’s just a normal ball,’ Mike pointed out.

Brett did not look mollified as he read on. ‘A soir'ee, a beach barbecue, a trip to the reef—da-da, da-da.’ Brett waved a hand. ‘All right. I presume they’ve got someone in to organize it all properly?’

Mike hesitated and then coughed nervously.

Brett stared narrowly at him. ‘Who? Not…? Not Natasha?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Brett swore.

‘She is the best—at this kind of thing,’ Mike offered.

‘But I believe they had someone else to start with who made a real hash of things, so they called on Ms Hewson and she saved the day, apparently. She and Aria are friends,’ he added.

‘I see.’ Brett drummed his fingers on the desk then looked to have made a decision. ‘Mike, find out all you can about a girl called Holly Harding. She’s Richard Harding’s daughter—the well-known writer—and I believe she’s a journalist herself. Do it now, please.’

Mike stared at his boss for a moment as he tried to tie this in with Mark Wyndham’s wedding.

‘What?’ Brett queried.

‘Nothing,’ Mike said hastily. ‘Just going.’

On Monday afternoon Glenn Shepherd called Holly into his office, and hugged her. ‘You’re such a clever girl,’ he enthused. ‘I might have known I was laying down the gauntlet to you when I mentioned his name, but how on earth did you pull it off? And why keep it such a secret?’ He released her and went back behind his desk.

Holly, looking dazed and confused, sank into a chair across the desk. ‘What are you talking about, Glenn?’

‘Getting an interview with Brett Wyndham, of course. What else?’

Holly stared at him, transfixed, then she cleared her throat. ‘I—wasn’t aware that I had.’

Glenn gestured. ‘Well, there are a few details he wants to sort out with you before he gives his final consent, so I made an appointment for you with him for five-thirty this afternoon.’ He passed a slip of paper to her over the desk. ‘If you’ve got anything on, cancel it. This could be your big break, Holly, and it won’t do us any harm, either. Uh—there may be some travel involved.’