As paralegals go, I proved reasonably competent. I can read quickly, so it didn’t take me too long to review the lengthy contracts that came across my desk and pick out the problem clauses among the thousands of meaningless words of lawyerspeak. I didn’t exactly enjoy it, but at least I was bored in a whole new way.

My colleagues all worked hard, chilled out with family or friends, and were invariably proficient at one – no less, but no more – hobby that was totally unrelated to work, like rock-climbing or playing the cello. All of which created a completely false impression of the firm’s employees’ lifestyles for their recruiting brochures. But my workmates were certainly intelligent, and pretty good company. I often found myself having lunch or coffee with some of the other young lawyers in my section, and was surprised by how much I enjoyed all the joking around.

A few weeks in, our Friday after-work drinks went so late that it might have counted as a proper night out if we hadn’t been lugging around our laptops and talking incessantly about work. We were at Café Sydney, a swanky rooftop joint with great views of the harbour. It was the kind of place I wouldn’t have been seen dead in – or without Nige in, anyway – a week earlier.

Felicity and I spent most of the night talking to each other. It was very natural, very easy. My nerves had been melted away by the beers, and the things I was saying might not have been funny if we were sober, and weren’t even intended to be half the time. But I was glad to have her laughing – at my expense, hell, at anything as long as she was having a good time in my company. Zoë is usually a great judge of character, but I was certain she was wrong about Felicity.

She’d had some bad boyfriends, she told me, chewing her long dark hair pensively. So she was just extremely careful when it came to guys.

‘So am I,’ I told her. ‘I don’t want to lead them on, you know? Give them the wrong idea with my incredibly toned body.’

‘Oh, so you’re straight?’ she said, grinning. ‘Damn, lost the bet.’

‘I can’t help being devilishly attractive to both sexes.’ She laughed. ‘It’s just one of the crosses you have to bear when the Lord Almighty makes you a hottie. Did you ever ask to be gorgeous?’

A flutter of eyelids to acknowledge the compliment. On a roll with the self-deprecating humour, I continued.

‘I know I sure as hell didn’t ask to look this good. So people like us can’t be held responsible.’

‘And who’s holding you responsible?’

‘Well, a lot of people seem to think that this awesome body was put on earth for the enjoyment of everyone, you know? But I’m forced to apologise, and tell them access to my hotness is strictly limited to a very exclusive group. Some people call it not getting any, but I call it being selective.’

‘Oh, you’re very selective, I saw that the night I met you.’

‘Hey, Emily is a reigning president, I’ll have you know. A respected leader of her people.’

She laughed. ‘So where do you draw the line? What do people have to do to gain access to Paul?’

‘Oh, the door policy’s tough.’

‘What about me? Would I get past the velvet rope?’

This was so unsubtle, it registered even on my rusty antennae.

‘It’s too early to say, but don’t worry, you definitely haven’t ruled yourself out yet.’

She grinned, flashing those flawless white teeth again.

‘Even though I’m not an office-holder in any teenybopper fan clubs?’

‘Well, that’s why you haven’t ruled yourself in yet, either.’

‘So the jury’s still deliberating?’

‘Very much so, I’m afraid. Even if you’d once been, say, honorary secretary of the Bananarama fan club, we could have worked something out. But don’t worry, you’ll be formally notified when a determination’s been made.’

‘Gee, you know, that’s such a pity because there I was, about to invite you back to my place.’ She giggled. ‘Bummer, I’ll just have to wait for the jury’s verdict.’

Her words had a sarcastic tone, but her grin coated everything in lashings of ambiguity. There was no way she could actually be serious, was there? Years of experience told me she couldn’t, that the world simply didn’t work like that for me. So I responded accordingly.

‘The jury doesn’t react well to sarcasm, young Felicity.’

I figured that had to be a safe response – keeping it humorous.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘But was Felicity being sarcastic? Or was she offering a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, never to be repeated because of her own extraordinarily high standards? I guess you’ll never know now. And after Emily had given you such glowing reviews …’

‘And thus do two extraordinary hotties pass like ships in the night on account of their overly rigorous quality control,’ I said, mopping my brow theatrically. ‘The tragedy doth exceed Shakespearian proportions.’

‘Paul, you are so magnificently, gloriously full of it,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’ve come back to the law. Those bullshitting capabilities were wasted on DJing.’

‘Why thank you. To the extent that was a compliment.’

‘I’m going to get a drink, do you want one?’

I nodded, and she took off to the bar, leaving me wondering whether we’d had a moment there.

When she came back, she did that thing where you get into another conversation on your way back to the person you were talking to, and then briefly hand over the drink, allowing you to avoid continuing your initial conversation without being rude. So, to minimise the impression that I’d just been barred, I took myself off to the bathroom.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I splashed water on my face and told myself it was OK. Felicity was cautious. If I was going to actually land her, it was going to be a long game. A one-night thing wasn’t a sensible option with a workmate, if that was all it was going to be. But all the logic I could muster couldn’t dispel the gnawing sense that flippancy had cost me my moment.

Still, at least we were flirting. Normally I’d be stammering and failing to successfully make even the most inane conversation, not trading innuendoes. Even the fact I’d spoken in complete sentences was, frankly, a little bit of a surprise. Besides, she probably wanted to punish me a little for the Emily thing, and prove she was considerably harder to get. I didn’t doubt it.

Still, her barbecue was the following day. Wild passionate love until dawn may not have been on offer, but I did nevertheless have an invitation to her home.