his business, and far more—if she was to be entirely honest— with an overwhelming personality clash between herself and the man, whose name appeared to be Luke Cunningham.
‘This doesn’t mean a thing!’ she’d snorted, grimacing at the small white business card which he’d placed in her hand. ‘It wouldn’t take you more than five minutes to have one of these printed—with any name you chose to put on it. For all I know, you could be Jack the Ripper!’ she’d added belligerently, squinting down in the sunshine at the small print, which merely stated in capital letters ‘LUKE CUNNINGHAM’, and in the bottom left-hand corner the words ‘Cornhill Bank, Bishopsgate’.
‘Don’t be so stupid—of course that’s my real name!’ he snapped, clearly annoyed and put out by her temerity in suggesting otherwise.
‘Oh, yes?’ she queried sarcastically, before giving a bark of jeering, scornful laughter which she hoped he would find profoundly irritating. Although Angelica was well aware, from the sounds of general unrest in the group behind her, that she couldn’t afford to stand here arguing with this man for much longer, she was quite determined to fight Mr Luke Cunningham every inch of the way.
‘If you think that I’m likely to be impressed by the fact that you work in a bank, you couldn’t be more wrong!’ she added scathingly. ‘Bank managers, are definitely not my favourite people at the moment.’
‘Well, in that case you will be relieved to hear that I most certainly am not a bank manager!’ he told her grimly, a stormy glint of anger in his hooded grey eyes.
‘So, OK, you’re a lowly worm, slaving away behind the till. So who cares?’ she exclaimed, before deliberately tearing up his business card and tossing the bits high up into the air.
Almost laughing out loud at the expression of indignation and outrage on his handsome, tanned face as the little white pieces fluttered slowly down on to the pavement about his feet, Angelica nervously stood her ground as he took a threatening step forward.
‘It’s clearly time that someone gave you a good hiding!’ he growled. ‘And, believe me, I’d be happy to volunteer for the job!’
‘I just bet you would, you… you pervert!’
‘What did you say?’
‘I can see it all now,’ she ground out furiously, refusing to be intimidated by his tall, dominant figure, or the dark brows drawn together in a startled, angry frown. ‘That explains why you assaulted me the other day, right? I might have known that you’re the awful, disgusting sort of man who gets his kicks from attacking strange women. Well, you’d better not try it again, sunshine—not unless you want to be arrested and thrown into gaol! Because I must have at least twenty witnesses back there.’ She gestured behind her towards the group of walkers impatiently waiting for the tour to begin.
Angrily defiant, she was both astounded and totally confused when he suddenly threw back his head, and roared with laughter.
‘Oh, Angelica! What an amazingly funny girl you are!’ he declared, his broad shoulders shaking with amusement. ‘However, just before you clap me in prison,’ he added with a mocking grin, ‘I’d be fascinated to hear your explanation of just why you responded so enthusiastically to my—er—assault the other day?’
‘I did no such thing!’ she gasped, her face flaming with embarrassment as he gave a low, taunting laugh.
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