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rudeness is unacceptable, Sarah. If he speaks to you like that again, you have my permission to hang up. Tell Pip and Andrew what I have said, and if there is any further trouble with him while I'm gone, refer him to them.'
    'OK.' Sarah's relief was obvious. 'Thanks, Ginger.'
    'No problem. Anything else while we're on?'
    'Nothing important. I'm really sorry for bothering you.'
    'You haven't bothered me.' Ginger smiled, knowing how efficient but sensitive the twenty-one-year-old was. 'It's not your fault, Sarah. You get off home on time and don't worry about it.'
    'I will. Good luck, again.'
    After hanging up, Ginger made a few more notes, very cross at the behaviour of Tess Carstairs's father, and concerned for the girl's well-being. She would review her notes carefully before talking to the parents. Whether Mr Carstairs wanted to believe it or not, his daughter needed help, and Ginger was determined to do all she could to make sure Tess received it.
    Concerned that her phone call had disturbed the man nearby, she glanced across, plucking up the nerve to speak to him. Before she could decide whether to say anything or leave it be, he seemed to sense her regard, turning to meet her gaze. Ginger swallowed, feeling the pull of attraction across the narrow distance that separated them.
    'I just wanted to apologise about the phone,' she explained, sounding uncharacteristically husky.
    'No problem.' His voice, deep and throaty, sent a shiver down her spine. 'One of the hazards of twenty-first-century living.'
    'Yes.'
    As if to illustrate the point, his own phone chose that moment to beep with an incoming text message. He raised an eyebrow at the irony, and Ginger was aware of an intense moment of shared amusement and connection before he turned away to read his text, frowning as he tapped a hasty reply, then returned his attention to his work.
    Thirsty and unsettled, and still with a long way to go, she took her bag, laptop and confidential papers, before manoeuvring out from behind the table to head for the on-train shop. Having missed lunch, she chose a chilled smoothie to drink, and selected an apple, before making her way back to the carriage. As she approached her seat, the train jolted, and she gave a cry of surprise as she missed her footing. Instantly, a hand was there to steady her. Firm and protective, masculine fingers closed on the bare skin of her arm, sending what felt like several million volts zinging through every nerve-ending in her body. She gasped in shock, unable to prevent herself looking at him, the answering awareness in his grey eyes blatant.
    Realising his fingers were still holding her, setting every atom of her being thrumming with sensation, Ginger moved away, breaking the unsettling contact. 'Thanks.' She hastened back behind her table with a distinct lack of elegance.
    'No problem,' the man repeated, a frown on his face.
    Conscious of the prickle of desire that continued to pulse through her, Ginger sipped her tangy cranberry and raspberry smoothie, and tried to re-focus her attention on her presentation. Reaching for her apple, she felt the man's gaze on her but she studiously tried to ignore him. She took a bite of the crisp, juicy fruit, wishing the train would hurry up and speed her to London.
     
    Cameron's frown deepened. He'd lost all concentration and motivation. First he had found himself listening to the woman's smoky voice when she'd taken her call, hearing her annoyance at whatever news had been imparted, but impressed with her handling of what he presumed was a disgruntled secretary. Then her husky apology to him, followed by the sympathetic and amused smile when his text had arrived, had tightened his stomach—and other notable places. He'd sucked in a breath when she'd stood up to get a drink, finding her taller and even more deliciously curvaceous than he had anticipated, but the charge of electricity that had shot through him like a lightning bolt when he had instinctively reached out