When He Was Bad.... Anne Oliver

frowned upon. ‘I need to get back to work.’

      He set his glass down, flicked an eye over his folder, then drew out his phone. ‘And I need to make a call.’

      She knew Matt was there, was conscious of his eyes following her for the next couple of hours, even though whenever she glanced his way he had his nose buried in his folder or was speaking into his mobile phone. At one point he was smiling while he talked and she just knew he wasn’t talking business—unless it was funny business. And that, she told herself, was none of her