Dennis’s attractions always seemed to be for the wrong women.

At the age of six, there’d been Sister Mary-Rose. She was the first of a string of unsustainable affections. Even the impression left by the officer who’d booked him speeding last spring had lingered until summer.

He’d been single so long the women in his office had ceased regarding him as eligible for anything other than a chat. Some thought there might be more than met the eye to his friendship with Matt in the CEO’s office.

Half-way through Elizabeth’s interview for the publicist position, Dennis noticed her expressive hands. They matched an animated face. Her hair was a gorgeous honey brown. Her voice mellifluous. But why had she stopped? Why was she looking at him so expectantly? Why were Rob and Janine staring too?

‘Oh, sorry. Now, um, Elizabeth,’ he recovered his composure, ‘can you describe a project you’ve been particularly proud of?’

He would later argue, rather too vigorously, for another candidate. In the end the panel decided to sleep on it and reconvene in the morning.

That night, in the pub, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘No decision yet?’ Out of her interview clothes Elizabeth was even lovelier than he remembered.

No doubt remained. At the morning’s meeting he’d be pushing for her selection.

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