She wasn't surprised when he moved a little closer these days, almost tickling her ear with his breath at times. His tentativeness in approaching her was waning and little by little he inched closer. No doubt this was child's play to her as she manhandled his tie and pouted but for him, it was a dangerous game out on a ledge without a safety net. She herself lived on the wire, too close for comfort at times. But she was like a bolt of sunshine and lightening, fearlessly barging into the territory of his staid life and interrupting the plod of the rhythm he had become attuned to. She seemed to have a knack for knowing when he was hungry, when his bark was worse than his bite and wearing expensive French perfume in all the spots that tickled his nose when he stood too close.

He flicked back on the memory of those series of snapshots Hugh had taken, photographs which had made him look twice. She was striking, no doubt. He was going to keep those images seared into his brain long into old age because lord knew he needed something to keep him sane through the drearier aspects of his life. His heart leapt for a treacherous second and had to make himself focus on the pile of paperwork in front of him. But banishing Miss Fisher from his memory was a feat harder than most as he struggled to admit that she was taking over his thoughts, impetuous as a freight train and much more charming.