'enough pretense' she started a little surprised that the voice that came out of his mouth was a clipped British tone and not the New York twang that she had been expecting. Not that that had deterred her from her belief - her former husband had likely reinvented himself much as she had - and goodness only knows who he was hiding from.

Anger overrode her discretion and she took an agitated step towards him, the small blade still clutched in her fist, less than 6ft between them now. 'Whatever you think you are doing here you bastard you had best be moving on' she hissed in her own southern drawl.

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