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‘Sounds like you hit the jackpot. It’s so depressing when you see five acts in a row and they’re all meh. Do you want to speak to both bands and make the arrangements to sign them up?’

‘Love to. I’ll make coffee.’

Zennor sent an email to both bands, crossing her fingers that she would be able to snap them up before another agency spotted them.

Later that week, Zennor found herself alone in the office with Matt. She flicked the switch on the desk fan to full and the air stirred to life but it did nothing to cool down the real source of the heat.

Her eyes kept fixating on those tanned calves and it was almost impossible not to sneak a peek over her laptop at his muscular butt in the board shorts or admire the way his muscles shifted and flexed.

Worried he’d turn suddenly and notice her watching him, she hammered away at the keys, typing a string of gobbledegook in her email just to look busy.

Her thoughts turned over his comment about never singing again and how sad that was. At one time, she would have thought it served him right that he’d never sung again. Now? That felt small and petty.

She had been trying – without even realising it herself at the time – to tell him she’d forgiven him.

He strode into the office with a screwdriver in his hand. ‘Is it OK to test the circuit breakers? It means the power will be interrupted momentarily so you might want to save what you’re doing.’

Zennor hastily closed down the email with VSlakdlwlfiwfoewpgofeofe/fo typed in the middle of an offer to the Driftstones.

‘It’s fine but shouldn’t the electrician be doing stuff like that?’

‘Yeah, but I always like to double check just to make sure everything’s OK and the tenant’s happy. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon.’ He drank deeply from his water bottle.

She wasn’t completely convinced by his reason for being at the office but she let it pass and decided to use the opportunity to get a weight off her mind. ‘OK. Matt. The other day at the club. There’s something I need to say.’

He pulled the bottle away from his lips and took a second before replying. ‘Why do I think I’m not going to like this?’

Her hackles began to rise. ‘Then maybe I won’t bother.’

‘No, no. Look, sorry, go ahead.’ He walked close to the desk, peering over the top of her laptop like some blond god. ‘I’m an arse. Speak up.’

She twisted her lips and sighed. It was high risk to say what she thought but now she had to go for it. ‘It took a while for me to come to terms with you turning up and accusing Trev at the wedding. Obviously, I was angry for a long time.’

‘You don’t say?’

‘Hear me out, please. You said those days are behind you. Well, they are for me too. I want to say that I – I am sorry if you decided to stop singing only because of what happened that day. I wish you would go back to doing what you used to love.’ You were so good at it …

‘Thanks,’ he said a little spikily before softening his tone. ‘I appreciate you’re being kind, but I don’t want to sing any more. It’s part of the past. I have another life now. I’m a—’

Was he going to say different person?

‘Like I said, that part of my life is behind me.’

Zennor felt her olive branch had been politely but firmly pushed away. Perhaps he was still bruised after she’d walked away from him so abruptly at the painting party.

‘Is it OK if I cut the power now?’

‘Give me a minute,’ she said.

Matt went back through to the kitchenette and a short while later, the fan came to a sudden halt. The sun’s rays fell directly on her desk, and without the cooling effect of the fan, the air was instantly oppressive.

A few moments later, the fan started up again but Zennor was already overheated. Sweat trickled down the small of her back. She opened her laptop and was about to move it to Roo’s desk in the shady part of the room when a shadow fell across the keyboard.

It was Matt blocking out the sun.

‘Look, I didn’t mean to be such an arsehole about the singing. This – everything lately – has been a difficult time for both of us.’

Zennor stared at him.