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“Anyway, he spent the whole day swanning around the office, chatting to people. Even took us all for drinks across the road.” She tips her head, indicating the direction of the street, where a very upmarket wine bar is located. One we typically only go to on special occasions. Like beating the quarterly budget. So it’s been a while.

Another shiver goes up my spine. There’s something wrong with this picture.

“And then …” Her story is interrupted by Colin, who appears from the hallway.

“There you are, Louise. Good. I need to speak to you about your expenses.” His eyes widen, letting me know that’s not what he means at all, before he turns to Jodie. “You might like to answer that phone sometime, hmm?”

With a roll of her eyes, Jodie does indeed answer the ringing phone, giving us the opportunity to slip away.

“What’s going on?” I ask as Colin looks up and down the corridor like he’s in a comedy spy movie before closing his office door.

“I have no idea. But whatever it is, it’s gotta be big,” he hisses. “And you have a lot of explaining to do, missy.”

“Explaining?” For a brief moment I had thought the arrival of Tate Brown might be enough to distract Colin. No such luck. I didn’t even make it to my office before he was on the scent.

“The small matter of only one room being charged on the company card at someplace called Bullibingal? And someone being in the honeymoon suite at Mount Barker?”

It’s not just my cheeks that are burning. It’s my whole face. My neck. Even my chest but I give denial a try anyway. I really should have rehearsed an excuse before I arrived. I was clearly still sex-drunk.

“Oh, yes. That. Well. Umm. As you know, we got a shattered windscreen. And there was only one room available. So we had to share.”

Colin’s eyebrows jump into his hairline, suggesting he might be overdue for another shot of Botox.

“You expect me to believe there was only one room in a bumfuck nowhere little town like Bullibingal? I looked it up, sweets. It’s not exactly a tourist mecca.”

“Well, no. But it’s on the truckie route. And there’s not much accommodation available. Also, it’s a really nice little town. The locals are a hoot.” I shrug.

Colin makes a noise of disbelief.

“It’s true. But there were twin beds. So no only-one-bed scenario. Haha.” My attempt at a joke gets no reaction other than a look of scorn. “And then at Mount Barker, we’d missed our booking, and they had a corporate retreat booked. Which meant there was only one room and the honeymoon suite available. I gave it to Jasper …” I clamp my lips together to try and control my blurtigo.

“Hmm. And yet there was only one room service order. Quite a large one. With wine.”

Oops. I didn’t think of that. We ordered a mountain of food after our sexathon.

“We had a working dinner?” It annoys me that I sound like I’m asking a question, not making a statement.

“Interesting. Because the receipt on the room service bill says you ordered at, let me see …” He rifles through a small pile of papers on his desk. “Yes, here it is. 12:47am. Care to explain that?”

“I … umm. No?” I wander to the window so I can look at him in the reflection on the glass, rather than straight on and so avoid his gaze, because he looks like he’s trying to explode my brain with his laser beam glare.

“I’m going to need details later because in all those excuses I didn’t hear a denial that anything happened. You’re lucky that for now, we have more important shit to shovel.” He drops into his chair and scoots forward, elbows on the table.

“What?” I flick the hand on the little gold happy cat on his windowsill, sending it ticking back and forth,

“Like Jodie said, Tate Brown arrived yesterday. So what’s the story?”

“The story about what?”

He huffs out a frustrated breath at my feigned obliviousness.

“About why Tate Brown is here. You just spent ten—no, eleven—days alone on the road with Jasper McSexy-Jones. He didn’t spill the tea?”

“If he knew his boss was coming, he didn’t mention it.” Which is suspicious. Especially after we had that conversation about how long London would give us to turn things around. “You know as much as I do.” Which is to say, nothing. We’ve moved far enough from the subject of our road trip sleeping arrangements now for me to feel a little safer, so I take a seat opposite him.

“Well, that’s just rude. Tate Brown definitely has an agenda. He has the whole office eating out of his hand. He’s very charming. And hot. In an I’m-your-daddy kind of way.”

Eww. I scowl.