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Which wasn’t unusual, thought Debra. Hardly a day had passed since she’d met him that he hadn’t been in a mood of some sort.

On an impulse she went to Vanoli’s despatch department and enquired if anyone knew what had happened to the consignment that should have gone back to Yam Ling Kee.

Mr Brown, the manager, looked at her strangely. ‘Mr Oliver’s asked us the same question a dozen times. What’s wrong, doesn’t he believe us?’

‘He doesn’t know I’m here,’ explained Debra. ‘I'm trying to help, a new line of thought, you know.’

Mr Brown shook his head as though he thought her out of her mind. ‘It went to the airport so far as I know. I can’t tell you more.’

‘Do you have a copy of the despatch note?’ she persisted.

Grumbling beneath his breath, Mr Brown eventually produced the required document. Debra thanked him profusely and then rashly hired a taxi to take her to the airport.

But here she met with a blank. No one, it appeared, knew anything about it. Their lists had been checked thoroughly following visits by Mr Oliver himself, the consignment had never reached them.

In her role of private detective Debra now deduced that the dresses must have gone missing somewhere between Vanoli and the airport. That could involve only one man—the driver of the vehicle who had collected them.

Intuitively she decided that he had keenly summed up the situation; perhaps he’d been talking to some of the workers in Vanoli’s despatch department, and decided that he could make himself a pretty packet out of selling the dresses somewhere on the black market.

By now it was long past lunchtime and Debra was starving. She ate a sandwich and drank coffee in the airport cafeteria, at the same time studying the piece of paper Mr Brown had given to her.

The driver’s signature was far from decipherable, but in the end she decided it was Hampshire. Finding her way to the unloading bay and by making a few discreet enquiries amongst the drivers themselves, she discovered that they did have a driver by the name of Lancashire, but that he had left and no one knew where he was now working.

‘How about his address, doesn’t anyone know where he lives?’ she insisted.

The drivers smiled amongst themselves. ‘Persistent young lady, aren’t you?’ said one of them, ‘Friend of yours, is he?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. He picked up a parcel for me and it never arrived at the other end. I thought he might remember it, that’s all.’

The man frowned. ‘You a copper, by any chance?’

Debra laughed. ‘Do I look like one?’

He seemed relieved. ‘No, you’re too tiny, I suppose. Let me give you a bit of advice, miss. If I was you I wouldn’t probe too deeply, you know what I mean?’

‘No, I don’t,’ returned Debra sharply. ‘Are you trying to tell me that this man Lancashire has been in trouble with the police?’

His face shuttered. ‘I’m saying no more. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, we have work to do.’

Debra was left alone, but as she walked slowly back to the taxi rank she began to feel that she was getting somewhere.

If this man really was a criminal oughtn’t she to go to the police with her suspicions? Or had Vane already done that? Best to go back to his apartment, they could pool their information and see what they came up with.

She had a long wait before he returned and he did not look too pleased to see her still there. ‘Why did you go without me this morning?’ she snapped; hanging around had done nothing for her temper.

He inserted his key into the lock, shaking his head savagely. ‘I decided I could sort things out better on my own.’

‘Thanks for thinking I couldn’t help,’ she said icily.

He looked sceptical. ‘You think a slip of a thing like you can succeed where I’ve failed?’

‘What has stature got to do with it?’ she demanded haughtily. ‘As a matter of fact I’ve found out something that might interest you—assuming your enquiries have so far revealed nothing.’

‘Not a thing,’ he said tersely. ‘The dresses disappeared somewhere between my works and the airport, that’s all I know. Every line of enquiry has drawn a blank. Even the people who are selling the dresses seem unable to tell me where they bought them from, not that that’s surprising. They must have thought they were on to a good thing.’

It did not seem to register that she had said she could help. She looked at him coolly. ‘I know who did it.’

‘You what?’ He took her shoulders and shook her. ‘You know, yet you’re standing there as though it’s of the least importance? For God's sake tell me quickly!’

The pressure from his fingers hurt. She shrugged free. ‘It’s a man by the name of Lancashire.’

Vane looked suspicious. ‘Where does he live? How do you know? Why didn't you tell me straight away?’

‘You didn’t give me a chance,’ she said, attempting to laugh.

Impatiently he backed away, at the same time watching her closely, fingers curled in his palms.

‘He’s the driver who picked up the goods.’

‘How the hell?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been to the airport myself, and they had no trace of the consignment.’

‘I know,’ said Debra, ‘but I used my feminine wiles and had a word with some of the other drivers. I think they're shielding him. He’s left the company now, but they mentioned the police. It’s my guess he’s done this sort of thing before. They told me not to probe.’

Vane’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where does he live?’

‘That’s the trouble,’ admitted Debra. ‘No one knows, or at least they’re not talking. I think we ought to go to the police.’

‘You’re dead right,’ said Vane immediately. ‘I’ll phone them at once—no, better still, I’ll go and see them.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No, it’s too much, you look all in. Wait here, I won’t be long.’

He was gone before she could argue and she slumped back into her chair, too tired to insist. She fell asleep almost immediately.

When she awoke she was in bed—and completely naked! She went hot with embarrassment.

Her clothes were nowhere in sight, so draping a sheet about her limbs, she went in search of both them and Vane.

She found him in the kitchen, a pot of coffee before him, a much more relaxed expression on his face.

Almost afraid to look at him, she said, ‘It wasn’t necessary to undress me completely, Vane. My top clothes would have done.’

He smiled insolently. ‘The pleasure was all mine, dear lady.’

I bet it was, she thought, saying angrily, ‘And I hope that’s all you did do, Vane Oliver. I’m not sure that I trust you.’

His smile widened. ‘You mean you can’t remember?’

So he had done something else! Had they made love? Her face flamed at the thought and she shook her head slowly.

‘You have a beautiful body,’ he said deliberately.

She flung away, sickened. ‘You’re disgusting and I hate you! I wish I’d never come here.’

‘You do?’ Amusement lightened his eyes. ‘I can’t think why. I’m certainly glad you came, you’ve done me a power of good.’

She preferred to ignore him. ‘Where are my clothes?’

‘Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.’ Devilish humour softened his face.

‘Keep your hands off!’ she snapped. ‘I’m here to help, not to ’

‘But you have helped,’ he cut in wickedly. ‘Here, have a cup of coffee and I’ll tell you all about it.’ Debra had no intention of listening to what had happened during her hours of sleep, it was something she preferred not to dwell on. ‘I’d like to get dressed,’ she said tightly.

‘As the lady wishes. Your clothes are in the bathroom. Need any help?’

She flashed him a look of hot anger, forgot the sheet, and tripped. In her haste to save herself she let go and found herself once again without covering.

In a split second Vane was helping her up.

‘I can manage,’ she said quickly, loudly. ‘Don’t touch me.’

‘That isn’t what you said last night,’ he said quietly.

‘What I did in my sleep I can’t be responsible for,’ she snapped. ‘But as I’m now very much awake and know exactly what I’m doing, I’d thank you to leave me alone!’

In actual fact her skin tingled at his touch and she wanted nothing more than to be held close, to feel the vibrant beating of his heart, the virile strength in those lean limbs.

He had a power over her that was difficult to control. Her love, which she tried to forget, went so deep she was in grave danger of giving herself away.

Only by struggling and fighting her own inner feelings could she hold on to her self-respect. If she admitted her love there was no way that she would ever hold up her head in front of him again.

But despite her insistence Vane would not let her go. He pulled her carefully to her feet, his arms curving gently about her body, holding her firmly against him. His breath was warm in her hair and she closed her eyes, willing him to let go, fighting her instincts to respond.

When one hand cupped her chin, tilting her face towards him, her eyes flickered open, saw the desire flaring, and was afraid. They studied each other for several long seconds, each wanting but both hesitant to make the first move.

Debra, licked her suddenly dry lips and it was like an invitation. With a groan Vane lowered his head and his mouth possessed hers, gently at first, but as he realised her response, his passion increased.

She pressed closer, arching her body convulsively. It was not until he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom that she realised precisely where all this was leading.

‘No, Vane,’ she said in anguish. ‘Please, no!’

He looked at her, silver eyes pained. ‘But you want me as much as I want you. Why deny yourself the pleasure?’

‘Because it wouldn’t be right. You’re merely taking advantage of the situation. It’s a chemical reaction, no more.’

His eyes shuttered, his face became masklike. ‘You could be right,’ he said bluntly. ‘Just bear in mind, Debra, that a man with less self-control than I have wouldn’t stop now, especially knowing that deep down you want to make love.’

He swung round and left the room, and a few seconds later she heard the door of his apartment open and close.

She showered and dressed quickly, and it was not until she had made herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast that she realised he had not told her what had happened as a result of his visit to the police.

He had seemed in a better mood, that was for sure. Perhaps good had resulted.

She had taken only one bite out of her toast when he returned. His face was coolly remote, but not angry.

He joined her at the table and she poured him a cup of tea. ‘What happened at the police station?’

she ventured, when it became evident he was not going to volunteer the information.

‘They’re looking into it,’ he said. ‘They know the man, he’s apparently done this sort of thing before. But even if they catch him it won’t help me. It’s too late.’

‘We could try and find out which shops have the dresses,’ she said, ‘and prevail on them to cut out the labels.’

Vane raised his brows. ‘Theoretically a good idea, but think how many shops could be stocking them by now. It’s not only London we have to think about.’

She nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps it won’t do as much harm as you think.
You
know they’re not your particular style, but other people might not.’

He snorted derisively. ‘If they have any intelligence they’ll know. I’ll put a notice in the trade press, it might help, but I doubt it.’

He swallowed his tea quickly and stood up. ‘I’ll book you on a flight back to Hong Kong. There’s no point in you remaining now matters are solved. I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but there’s no need to neglect your job.’

In other words, while she was here she was not earning the money to pay off her debt. She swallowed the sudden constricting lump in her throat, determined not to let him see her frustration. ‘I’m glad I could help,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll go and get my things together.’

In no time at all, it seemed, she was back at the villa, only to discover to her horror that Liz had grown tired of waiting for news and flown over to London herself. They must have crossed in midair.

Panic took over. Liz wasn’t used to organising things for herself. She could land in trouble. Frantically Debra telephoned Vane.

‘Liz is on her way,’ she told him desperately. ‘You must do something, she’s never travelled alone before. Her flight’s due in at Gatwick at any time now.’

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Women!’ and then said, ‘I’ll check. If I’m not too late I’ll go and meet her.’

The line went dead and the day passed slowly after that. Debra was afraid to go to sleep, tired as she was, and even Lin Dai’s assurance that she would wake her if the phone rang made no difference.

It was after midnight when she heard. It was Liz herself on the line. ‘Deb!’ she cried. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m all right, I’m at Vane’s flat.’

‘Why did you do it? Why didn’t you stay here?’ demanded Debra more sharply than she intended. ‘I’ve been so worried!’

‘How do you think I felt?’ returned Liz. ‘You never let me know what was going on. I had no idea where you were or anything, I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m sorry if I’ve been a nuisance.’

‘It’s my fault,’ admitted Debra. ‘I should have phoned you, but things were so hectic I never thought. What are you doing now, coming back?’ There was a slight pause before Liz said. ‘I’m staying with Vane for a while. It’s all right, there’s nothing like that now. We’re friends, good friends, like you said we would be.’

And with that Debra had to be content.

A day or two later Lin Dai said excitedly, 'It is the Cheung Yung festival on Saturday. Will Mr Oliver be back? He usually allows us to use the courtyard for feasting and drinking.’

‘Cheung Yung?’ frowned Debra, trying to remember. ‘Isn’t that when everyone takes to the hills to fly kites?’

The housekeeper nodded enthusiastically. ‘The Peak will be crowded, it’s great fun. Oh, I do hope Mr Oliver will be back in time.’

‘Even if he’s not,’ said Debra, ‘I’m sure he won’t mind you doing whatever it is you usually do. Carry on, I’ll take the blame if he objects.’

She could vaguely recollect from her childhood the excitement of this one of the many festivals celebrated by the Chinese.