typing into manuscript Mr Salvador's latest historical novel and it's an enthralling piece of work,' she said warmly.
'D'you like being enthralled?' A suggestive note entered his voice and his blue eyes roamed her face. 'Y'know, you're not such a bad-looking chick when you take off those glasses, and I have to tell you that I go for the colour of your hair—what d'you call that shade of hair?'
'I'm sure I wouldn't know.' She perched her spectacles back on her nose and ruffled some pages of notes on the desk.
'It's called chestnut-brown, isn't it?' He smiled and showed a good set of teeth. 'After those big nuts that fall off the trees in autumntime.'
'I've heard of a mouse being chestnut-brown.' She drily let him know that she had overheard his description of her.
'Aw, don't hold that against me.' He leant forward to take a folio out of the tray and received a smart slap on the wrist.
'Don't you dare touch any of those pages!' Debra gave him a severe look. 'I shall report you to Mrs Salvador if you tamper with her son's book. The book is confidential and not open to the public until the day of publication.'
'Is that a fact?' He looked quite unrepentant. 'I was just curious to see what sort of a typist you are—I might want a letter typed.'
'Then get one of your girl-friends to do it,' Debra rejoined.
'Does that mean you're exclusive to the brilliant writer?' He quirked an eyebrow. 'I must say you look an exclusive sort of chick.'
'Is that meant to be a compliment, Mr Coltan?'
'It sure is.' He looked quizzical, as if not often did he find himself in the company of a girl who wasn't prepared to react to him. 'I believe your name's Debbie?'
'It's Debra, and I don't let people use it unless I—like them.'
'Don't you get the feeling that you're going to like me?' He spoke with the brash confidence of a young man who had always found himself attractive to the female sex. 'I've been told that I'm appealing.'
'How good for your ego.' She gave the frame of her spectacles a push and hoped they would turn him off, well aware that men with a basic lack of sophistication were put off by girls in glasses. When at the office, she used them as a form of protection against the office wolves on the prowl. They definitely seemed to cool the libido in men who regarded girls as playthings, with not a thought in their heads beyond being the sport of the sex hunters.
'Haven't you ever tried contact lenses?' Stuart Coltan deliberately took the horn-rims off Debra's nose. 'It's a crying shame covering up those big eyes with old-maid glasses.'
'Give them back to me!' Debra felt a flash of anger. 'If you don't do so this minute I—I'll go and tell Senor Salvador that you're interrupting my work!'
'Am I supposed to quake at the knees?' he mocked, and looking undisturbed by her threat he perched her glasses on his own nose and peered at her. 'Take a letter, Miss Hartway—Dear Debra, how do you feel about letting me wine and dine you one of these evenings?'
'Are you going to believe that I'm not interested, Mr Coltan?'
'You've got to be.' He took off her horn-rims. 'I've an unbroken track record.'
'Congratulations.' She held out her hand for the return of her glasses. 'I don't wish to break my own record, which is that I never go out with wolves.'
'You can't imagine that I'm a wolf?' He looked mock astonished. 'Here, you had better have these back—you're not seeing straight.'
'I see through you even without them.' She accepted her glasses and replaced them. 'Now be a good boy and run away to your games, I have work to do.'
'Prim as a pussy in a collar, aren't you?' He laughed and glanced around the den, with its rather forbidding leather-stamped walls. 'Who used to reside here, the head of the Inquisition?'
'Back in the mists of time an abbey was built on this site and a Jesuit priest was attached to the Sisterhood. This was his cell.'
'Is that a fact?' Stuart looked genuinely interested. 'It sure feels like a great place
'D'you like being enthralled?' A suggestive note entered his voice and his blue eyes roamed her face. 'Y'know, you're not such a bad-looking chick when you take off those glasses, and I have to tell you that I go for the colour of your hair—what d'you call that shade of hair?'
'I'm sure I wouldn't know.' She perched her spectacles back on her nose and ruffled some pages of notes on the desk.
'It's called chestnut-brown, isn't it?' He smiled and showed a good set of teeth. 'After those big nuts that fall off the trees in autumntime.'
'I've heard of a mouse being chestnut-brown.' She drily let him know that she had overheard his description of her.
'Aw, don't hold that against me.' He leant forward to take a folio out of the tray and received a smart slap on the wrist.
'Don't you dare touch any of those pages!' Debra gave him a severe look. 'I shall report you to Mrs Salvador if you tamper with her son's book. The book is confidential and not open to the public until the day of publication.'
'Is that a fact?' He looked quite unrepentant. 'I was just curious to see what sort of a typist you are—I might want a letter typed.'
'Then get one of your girl-friends to do it,' Debra rejoined.
'Does that mean you're exclusive to the brilliant writer?' He quirked an eyebrow. 'I must say you look an exclusive sort of chick.'
'Is that meant to be a compliment, Mr Coltan?'
'It sure is.' He looked quizzical, as if not often did he find himself in the company of a girl who wasn't prepared to react to him. 'I believe your name's Debbie?'
'It's Debra, and I don't let people use it unless I—like them.'
'Don't you get the feeling that you're going to like me?' He spoke with the brash confidence of a young man who had always found himself attractive to the female sex. 'I've been told that I'm appealing.'
'How good for your ego.' She gave the frame of her spectacles a push and hoped they would turn him off, well aware that men with a basic lack of sophistication were put off by girls in glasses. When at the office, she used them as a form of protection against the office wolves on the prowl. They definitely seemed to cool the libido in men who regarded girls as playthings, with not a thought in their heads beyond being the sport of the sex hunters.
'Haven't you ever tried contact lenses?' Stuart Coltan deliberately took the horn-rims off Debra's nose. 'It's a crying shame covering up those big eyes with old-maid glasses.'
'Give them back to me!' Debra felt a flash of anger. 'If you don't do so this minute I—I'll go and tell Senor Salvador that you're interrupting my work!'
'Am I supposed to quake at the knees?' he mocked, and looking undisturbed by her threat he perched her glasses on his own nose and peered at her. 'Take a letter, Miss Hartway—Dear Debra, how do you feel about letting me wine and dine you one of these evenings?'
'Are you going to believe that I'm not interested, Mr Coltan?'
'You've got to be.' He took off her horn-rims. 'I've an unbroken track record.'
'Congratulations.' She held out her hand for the return of her glasses. 'I don't wish to break my own record, which is that I never go out with wolves.'
'You can't imagine that I'm a wolf?' He looked mock astonished. 'Here, you had better have these back—you're not seeing straight.'
'I see through you even without them.' She accepted her glasses and replaced them. 'Now be a good boy and run away to your games, I have work to do.'
'Prim as a pussy in a collar, aren't you?' He laughed and glanced around the den, with its rather forbidding leather-stamped walls. 'Who used to reside here, the head of the Inquisition?'
'Back in the mists of time an abbey was built on this site and a Jesuit priest was attached to the Sisterhood. This was his cell.'
'Is that a fact?' Stuart looked genuinely interested. 'It sure feels like a great place
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