‘I understand,’ Tilly said. ‘You are only here for a few days. And…’
‘And…?’ Angus prompted.
And it was the same for her. Taking any kind of a detour into a road that was very clearly signposted as a dead end purely to have sex was something she would never have considered an acceptable thing to be doing.
Until now.
Now that she knew what she’d been missing out on.
She lifted her head. And smiled. ‘Ce qui se passe à Provence reste en Provence,’ she said.
Angus smiled back. ‘Quite.’ He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead that felt like a promise for what the rest of the day was going to bring. ‘Shall we get dressed?’ he asked. ‘Before Marie or Monique make an appearance?’
* * *
After the chaos of the previous day, Angus was pleasantly surprised to find things going very smoothly so far on this, the third day of his solo proposal holiday.
Okay… it couldn’t be considered solo at all. Especially after a night of the most extraordinary sex he’d ever experienced.
But that had been dealt with in the most satisfactory manner. Tilly was not only on the same page about casual sex being less than acceptable, she was also on board with them having a holiday fling that nobody else would ever know about. Not that it was likely the sex could be quite that good again but, if he didn’t find out, Angus had a feeling that not knowing could haunt him forever.
Almost as satisfying, his luxury rental car had remained undamaged overnight, a crew from a garage arrived promptly to reinflate the tyres and they were on the road again. Tilly had rung her mother to check Monique’s address, having suggested that a large bouquet of flowers would be an appropriate thank you for being rescued, and Angus had gone online to arrange that and to also make a generous donation to Henri Girard’s falcon sanctuary.
The drive, as they finally headed towards Vence, was on a pleasant rural road, with trees on either side at times and acresupon acres of lavender and sunflowers, wheat and a few small flocks of sheep here and there on the flat, arable lands of the Valensole Plateau.
There was an ease between them today that hadn’t been there yesterday, so there was no awkwardness about not talking but, just when Angus was going to ask her to stream some music through the speakers, she had a question.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘That you do for your work?’
‘I’m a risk consultant.’
‘Yes, I know that. I know that it is something to do with big companies or banks or very important people but I don’t really understand what it is that youdo.’
‘Ah… Let me give you an example of something I’ve done recently, shall I?’
‘Yes. Please.’
‘Well, a rather large international bank discovered that millions of pounds had been stolen in a case of internal fraud. It was imperative to deal with the problem before the news was leaked, which could potentially be catastrophic, so they called me.’
‘Why would people finding out the truth be catastrophic?’
Tilly’s accent, especially on a word like ‘catastrophic’ was so delightful that it was an effort to focus on what she wanted to know.
‘The trust people have in banks is fragile,’ he said. ‘If an issue like this was handled badly and too many people decided to pull their money out at the same time, it could be a disaster. It’s called a bank run and it’s a fundamental risk in banking. Not many people realise that banks don’t have that much money available all at once. They lend it out for mortgages and business loans or invest it – that’s how they make their money.’
Angus paused. Why would Tilly be remotely interested in how banks worked? Her next words were confirmation that she wasn’t.
‘But what doyoudo?’ she asked.
He wished he could make it sound exciting. Or even interesting.
‘A whole lot of boring stuff,’ he admitted. ‘Any ongoing damage has to be stopped, and that includes information leaks. I bring in the experts like forensic accountants and cyber forensic guys and find out the scale of the problem and then decide who gets told what and when they get told to try and prevent a bank run. When that’s sorted, I have to find out how it happened in the first place and make sure it doesn’t happen again, by putting in monitoring systems and checks and balances.’
A sideways glance showed him that Tilly was stifling a yawn and that felt like a slap in the face. He’d given her a glimpse of the real Angus McLeod, who was too boring for any woman toreallywant to be with him. Not that Tilly could be counted in that group, because she was being paid to be with him. That put her in a whole new category in his life, didn’t it? There was no reason for him not to be completely honest with her.
‘See? I told you it was boring. People thinkI’mboring.’
But Tilly was smiling as she shook her head. ‘You might be unromantic,’ she told him, ‘but you’re most definitelynotboring. It’s just that it’s warm. Maybe we could put the roof down again soon?’
