She was definitely looking agitated but the pink in her cheeks and the way she wasn’t quite meeting his eyes suggested any jitters weren’t from the caffeine. Did he make her nervous or was she as aware of the energy between them as he was?

‘You have to walk past the fire station. I’ll walk with you.’

‘You don’t want a coffee?’

‘I’m trying to cut down,’ he said, laughing, letting her know that wasn’t the slightest bit true, and the coffee had only been a reason to be with her. Walking would do just as well.

They turned right onto the street and headed up through the city. He automatically shortened his long strides so she could keep pace as he chatted to her about her work and answered her questions about the simulated exercise.

And all the while, he was working towards one thing: eroding whatever notion she’d got into her very appealing mind that she should keep her distance. Sure, she’d come along every time he’d suggested coffee or a drink but only once she’d been sure the others were going to be there, too. Why was that? He wanted her; he was confident now the interest was mutual. So why the hesitation to explore it?

There was a lot more to Sarah Richardson than looks and brains. If he didn’t figure out why he couldn’t get her out of his head, he was going to go crazy.

‘What does the rest of the day hold for you?’ Sarah asked as they came into sight of the station.

‘More paperwork for the CBR training and when that’s done I practise looking busy.’

‘How do you do that exactly?’ Sarah looked at him, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. Her question gave him the flash of inspiration he was waiting for. Genius!

‘Come in and I’ll show you. There’s a knack to it.’

They’d reached the station and were standing before the massive glass doors that were tall enough to allow the biggest of the engines to exit and enter. A row of shiny red fire engines was visible through the glass. ‘Can I?’

He did a mental punch of the air. He should have invited her for a private tour of the station weeks ago.

‘You can and you shall.’ He placed a hand on the small of her back, relishing the body warmth coming through her shirt, telling himself the desire kicking up and down his spine wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

It was all about the challenge.

Why, then, was he filled with a sudden urge to show her how good he was at his job and a rush of excitement that he was about to get the opportunity?

The equation was simple: if she wanted him and he wanted her, chemistry would take care of all the little details. He could sit back and enjoy letting the attraction unfold.

The niggling sense of pressure to make a good impression didn’t mean anything.

It was craziness, pure and simple, but she could have clapped her hands with glee when he’d asked her to see the station. She resisted giving such a physical demonstration of her pleasure. Just. She didn’t manage to disguise it completely, though. The cool, calm and collected woman she’d intended to present herself as wouldn’t have said quite so excitedly, ‘What can I see first?’

‘Enthusiastic tour groups, that’s the sort we like.’ He led her through one of the open doors, between two huge fire engines, until they were standing in the central area of the station, looking past the vehicles out to the city street.

‘The fire trucks are all different,’ she said, waving a hand along the row of vehicles while mentally giving her fears about men a swift kick into submission. It was just a visit to the fire station, something she’d be keen to do with or without Ned playing tour guide, she tried to convince herself.

‘Appliances,’ Ned said.

She must have looked confused. For a moment she had almost looked around for a white-goods section.

‘They’re called appliances, not trucks.’

She thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

‘You’re not going to make a crack about us driving around in toasters and washing machines?’

‘The thought never crossed my mind,’ she lied, as she smiled innocently at him.

‘In that case, it’s settled. You get the extra-special tour reserved for extra-special people who don’t make cracks about firemen. The burden we bear for the good of the city,’ he added on a dramatic note.

‘A thespian in a fireman’s pants?’

‘You’d be surprised what you’d find inside a fireman’s pants.’ The sparkle in his eyes told her he was fully aware of the innuendo in his comment.

Who could blame her if her cheeks flamed to match the appliances?

‘Get your mind out of the gutter,’ he teased. ‘I’m speaking figuratively.’

‘Like I should know that. But you can’t stop now. Titillate me with tales of firemen’s pants.’

‘There you go again,’ he said, shaking his head at her as they walked to the largest of the engines and he leant against it with a casual air, perfectly in his element and posing more danger by the minute to her already wobbly equilibrium. ‘But since you really want to know, I’ll let you inside just a few of the pairs of pants around this joint. We have an artist, a nurse…’ he held up a hand and counted them off on his fingers ‘…a carpenter, several professional footballers…’ He started the count again with his right hand. ‘A builder and a chef.’