‘We make documentaries mostly,’ she told Gib.
‘What are you working on at the moment?’ he asked politely.
You never show any interest in my job, Mallory had complained. You have no idea how to talk to a woman as a person in her own right. You only ever think about one thing.
Which was absolute rubbish, of course, thought Gib. He was perfectly capable of talking to a woman seriously. Look at him now, asking Phoebe about her job and listening to her answer and not even thinking about the curve of her mouth or the silky sheen of her hair as she pushed it impatiently behind her ear.
Suddenly realising that he had lost track of what she was saying, Gib tuned in again to hear something about banking.
‘You’re making a programme about a bank?’
‘I thought it was a pretty dull idea too,’ said Phoebe, unsurprised by his reaction, ‘but actually, it’s more interesting than you’d expect. This isn’t an ordinary bank. It was set up by some guy who made a fortune on the currency markets then took everyone by surprise by setting up an ethical bank.’
Gib put down his mug. ‘What?’
‘I know, it sounds like a contradiction in terms, doesn’t it?’ Phoebe had relaxed a bit in talking about her job. ‘I think it just means that it only invests in community-based projects in developing countries. I’ve done some research on the internet, and it sounds really good. It should make an interesting programme.’
‘Is that right?’ said Gib in an odd voice.
‘The only trouble is that my boss is insisting that the focus of the programme should be on the guy who set it all up.’
‘Really? Who’s that?’
‘J.G. Grieve,’ she told him. ‘Everyone refers to him as JGG, and he’s famous for not giving interviews to the media.’ Picking up a printout from a website, she studied it ruefully. ‘I’ve tried all these contact numbers, but I always get the same message: the bank is happy to support any publicity about the projects, but not about JGG himself.’
‘So what else do you know about this guy?’
Preoccupied with her own problems, she failed to notice the oddly grim look around Gib’s mouth. ‘Not much,’ she said. ‘Just that he’s very rich.’
‘He’s not that interesting then, is he?’
‘That’s what I think,’ she agreed, ‘but Celia—my boss—is insistent that I’ve got to arrange an interview somehow. Working on this programme is my big break, so I’ve got to track him down somehow. I’m just not quite sure how I’m going to go about it,’ she confessed.
Gib looked at her across the table and suddenly his expression relaxed and his mouth quirked. ‘Well, I’ve been in the States for a while,’ he said. ‘I know some people. Maybe I could ask around and see if anyone knows anything else about him?’
Phoebe looked back doubtfully. She couldn’t imagine that someone like Gib would have the kind of contacts she needed, but she supposed it was kind of him to offer.
‘Well, thanks,’ she said awkwardly, ‘but I’m sure I’ll get through to someone in the bank eventually.’
Gib grinned at her as he picked up his mug once more. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said.
There was a silence. Phoebe sipped her tea and tried not to feel rattled by the way he was sitting at her table, looking as if he had always sat there. His presence filled the kitchen, which seemed to have shrunk around them alarmingly.
‘I gather from Josh that you’re my landlady,’ said Gib after a while. ‘Thanks for letting me stay.’
When he smiled his eyes looked bluer than ever. Phoebe was more than ever convinced that they couldn’t possibly be real. She looked away from them with an effort.
‘That’s all right,’ she muttered.
‘Are there any rules I should know about?’
Phoebe considered the question. ‘Not really,’ she said at last, ‘but don’t, whatever you do, tell Kate about any stray animal you’ve noticed unless you want to find it sleeping on your bed.’
‘Is that it?’
‘It’s not a good idea to talk to me before I’ve had a cup of coffee in the morning, but that’s advice rather than a rule,’ she admitted. ‘Kate and Bella don’t take any notice of it.’
‘Well, that seems easy enough,’ said Gib. ‘I ought to be able to manage that.’
He produced another of those unnervingly attractive smiles that seemed to linger in the air long after he had stopped, and Phoebe found herself getting to her feet abruptly. ‘Shall I show you to your room?’
‘It’s not very big, I’m afraid,’ she told him, opening a door off the upstairs landing.
‘Not very big’ was something of an understatement, reflected Gib, squeezing into the room behind Phoebe. It was not very big in the way the Sahara was not very wet, or the South Pole was not very hot.
An average cupboard might have been a better description, or possibly a large box. It had a four-foot bed, a built-in wardrobe, and a couple of shelves fixed to the wall. With the two of them standing on the only available floor space, there was absolutely no room for anything else.
‘Out of interest, how long did your last room-mate live here?’ asked Gib dryly.
‘About a year. She was the last to move in, so she got the smallest room.’
Gib was glad to hear it. He would hate to think that anyone was sleeping in anything smaller!
‘Caro didn’t care,’ said Phoebe a little defensively She could tell from his expression that he was less than overwhelmed with the room. ‘She spent most of the time at her boyfriend’s flat. They’ve just got married, which is why we’re looking for someone to take her place.
‘Obviously the rent is lower because you wouldn’t have so much space,’ she went on stiffly, ‘but of course you don’t have to take the room if it’s too small.’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Gib reassured her, perceiving that he had got off on the wrong foot. ‘I haven’t got much stuff. I travel light.’
Phoebe could believe it. He didn’t look like the kind of man who bothered with baggage in any shape or form.
Part of her envied people like Gib who drifted carelessly through life avoiding commitment and responsibility and leaving others to clear up the broken hearts and disappointment they inevitably left in their wake, but another part was intimidated and more than a little irritated by them too.
‘Yes, well, it’s not as if you’re staying for ever, is it?’ she said briskly, wishing that Gib would move. The room was small enough at the best of times without him standing there vibrating with energy.
Short of climbing on the bed, which risked looking suggestive, let alone ridiculous, there was no way she could get past him without pressing intimately against him. The thought made Phoebe tense and shiver at the same time.
It was a sinful waste from one point of view, because it was a very long time since she had been this close to an attractive man, but there was something about the way he seemed constantly on the verge of exploding into action that made Phoebe nervous and edgy. Touching him, however inadvertently, seemed an action that would be downright rash.
She was just going to have wait until he moved.
Concentrating on breathing shallowly, she stood as close to the window as she could while Gib looked round. Given