This is section taken from the first time Davina and Jack meet. It doesn’t go well. She thinks he’s breaking in to her house, so she hits him on the head and ties him up…

“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” Davina told Jack.

For a brief minute she wasn’t sure what she was explaining exactly – the fact she’d knocked him out and tied him up, or the fact she was rooting around in his trousers.

“I mean, I don’t usually hit people. Hardly ever. And not without provocation.”

Her fingers touched leather. She angled herself further over the gorilla’s body to get a grip on the wallet. Seriously. Who wore their jeans this tight?

“I hope I didn’t do any permanent damage. I just wanted you to stop breaking into my house.” She looked down at him. “You understand, right?”

His dark eyes stared up at her.

“Sweetheart, you have your cleavage in my face and your hand down my trousers. There is nothing about this I understand.”

Davina jerked back from him, pulling out the wallet. His face was as red as hers felt. The air between them seemed warmer and she was aware of every tiny movement he made.

“Got it,” she said triumphantly, and to her disgust, rather breathlessly.

“Look at the ID,” he said through gritted teeth.

She flicked the wallet open. There he was, strained and serious, glaring at her from his driver’s licence.

“This is a terrible picture,” she told him.

“Yeah, I was worried sick about what you’d think of my photo ID.”

“Jack Miller, thirty six, that’s all it tells me.”

She flicked through the rest of the wallet. Four credit cards, one library card, which surprised her as he didn’t look the type that read, and one video card. Twenty pounds and change, and a condom that expired in the 90’s.

“This is out of date,” she told him before she could stop herself.

“I don’t intend to use it. It’s my lucky condom.”

“How can it be lucky if you can’t get lucky with it?”

Honestly, the man was an idiot. She thought she heard him gnashing his teeth.

“How is this supposed to help me?” She waved the wallet in front of him. “There is nothing in here that says you own this house.”

His sharp jaw clenched as his head turned slowly on a neck that was thicker than her thigh.

“Get the phone. I want you to call Brighton Police and ask for a friend of mine, Andy Harper. He’ll tell you the truth.”

“You have a friend in the police?” Her voice went into high-pitched Betty Boop territory, which she knew wasn’t attractive.

His eyes narrowed.

“I was police. Eighteen years. Drug division. Brighton.”

Davina gulped as everything within her ran around in a panic. She flicked her eyes towards the house. He’d almost gotten in. She flicked her eyes back to him. She’d hit a policeman?

“It isn’t so entertaining now is it?” he asked drolly.


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