Kitabı oku: «The Italian's Passionate Proposal», sayfa 2

‘Well, you can come in as you’re here, but you might as well know that I hate doctors and I’m not having one of them near my woman. Zan’s the only one I’ll let look at her.’

‘No problem.’ Careful to be non-confrontational, Carlo strolled into the flat after Zan, trying not to show his shock as they walked into the tiny sitting room.

The room was filthy and stacked high with old newspapers and half-eaten plates of food. In the middle of the carpet a German shepherd dog lay with its head on one paw, eyes fixed warily on Carlo.

The place was damp and freezing, and in the corner was a thin wisp of a girl with a rounded stomach and skinny legs.

‘Hi, Kelly.’ Clearing a space on the sofa, Zan sat down and opened the bin bag. ‘How are you feeling?’

Kelly glanced nervously at Mike, who gave a nod. ‘I’m doing OK,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but I’m pretty tired. Well, very tired, actually.’

And he would have bet half his fortune that she was anaemic, Carlo thought, running a professional eye over the patient and her surroundings. Judging from the remains of the food on the plate, she wasn’t eating properly.

‘I think it’s possible that you may be anaemic,’ Zan was saying as she delved into the bag for a blood-pressure cuff. ‘That basically means that your blood isn’t carrying enough oxygen. It can happen very easily when you’re pregnant, especially if you don’t eat properly.’

Carlo blinked with admiration. So she’d homed in on the same problem immediately.

She checked Kelly’s blood pressure and then glanced at Mike. ‘I really want to take a blood sample, Mike.’

‘No way.’ His tone was unfriendly. ‘I’m not having you sticking needles in her. Just do what you have to do and leave.’

Zan’s expression was understanding. ‘I’m just trying to help her, Mike. She’s thirty-four weeks pregnant. If she is anaemic then that could be the reason she’s so tired, and we need to get it sorted out before she has the baby. I want to check the iron levels in her blood.’

‘No needles.’ Mike moved towards Zan and Carlo took a step forward, ready to intervene.

No way was that thug going any nearer to Zan.

‘If you’ve got iron in your bag then just give it to her,’ Carlo said smoothly, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

‘There’s a strong chance that you are anaemic, and obviously we’d like to check that out.’ He spoke directly to Kelly. ‘But if you’d rather we didn’t then the next best thing is to just give you the iron.’

‘Will it hurt the baby?’

‘It could hurt you if you don’t have it,’ Carlo said gently. ‘Being pregnant and giving birth to a child place huge demands on your body. We need to correct it or you could have problems during your delivery and you’ll be exhausted afterwards. When you come into the hospital we—’

‘She ain’t coming into the hospital!’ Mike growled, and Zan cleared her throat.

‘Don’t let’s worry about that now. You’ve got my number, and you know that I’ll deliver Kelly any time you want me to, anywhere you want me to, but we really do need her to take some iron.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of tablets. ‘Will you take one a day for me?’

Kelly glanced at Mike for approval before taking the bottle, and he gave a brief nod.

‘And now can I just check the position of the baby?’

‘Not with him in the room.’ Mike glared at Carlo, who strolled towards the living-room door immediately.

‘I’ll wait in the hallway.’

Whatever had happened to the man to make him so suspicious?

Five minutes later Zan called him back in.

Her eyes were troubled as they met his. ‘I don’t think the baby is growing quite as fast as it should—She’s small for thirty-four weeks.’

Carlo lifted his eyes to Mike. ‘Can I examine her?’

‘No!’

‘Mike, please?’ Zan’s voice was soft and reassuring and Mike hesitated, his jaw set.

Finally he nodded. ‘All right.’ He glared at Carlo. ‘But I’m watching you.’

‘That’s fine.’ Carlo moved his hands skilfully over the mother’s abdomen, thinking that he’d never seen such a half-starved waif in his life. Normally he dealt with the pampered wives of the hideously wealthy, and the contrast was extreme. As he examined the girl he realised just how bored he’d become, working in his world-famous Women’s Unit in Milan. The case he was seeing now presented so much more of a challenge, both medically and socially.

‘Well?’

Mike was looking at him threateningly and Carlo picked up the tape measure that Zan had used and measured Kelly from the top of the bump to her pelvic bone. The measurement was supposed to correlate roughly to the number of weeks of pregnancy, but in this case Zan was right. The baby seemed small.

‘Do you smoke?’

Kelly shook her head, but her eyes slid nervously to Mike and Carlo deduced that the man probably smoked heavily and that she was therefore subjecting the baby to passive smoking.

‘The baby does seem slightly smaller than we would like,’ he said gently, talking directly to Kelly. ‘Ideally I’d like to get you to come to the hospital for a series of scans. Nothing scary. We just slide a clever device that’s basically a camera over your stomach and we’re able to measure the size of the baby’s head. That gives us an indication of what size the baby should be, and we can then take a look at the rest of him.’

Kelly glanced at Mike, who shook his head.

‘She’s not going to hospital.’

Carlo frowned. ‘But—’

‘That’s fine,’ Zan interrupted quickly, shooting Carlo a warning look. ‘But if you change your mind then come and see us any time. I brought you some clothes, Kelly.’

She delved into the bin bag again and pulled out another bag full of tiny baby clothes, vests and a gorgeous blanket.

Carlo’s eyes narrowed.

If those clothes were second-hand then he was an Englishman.

Kelly gave a gasp and her face suddenly shone like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

‘Someone was giving this away?’ She fingered one of the outfits in disbelief and Zan smiled.

‘They were no use to her.’

Oh, sure.

‘But they’re like new.’ Kelly looked at Mike, her expression pleading. ‘Can I keep them—please?’

Carlo found himself holding his breath and finally Mike nodded. ‘I suppose so,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, and I’ve had a word with the council,’ Zan said casually, ‘and they’re trying to rehouse you in a flat on the first floor.’

Kelly looked at her with hope in her eyes. ‘Really?’ Her slim shoulders sagged slightly. ‘I just can’t let myself get excited in case it doesn’t happen.’

‘It will happen, Kelly,’ Zan said firmly. ‘There’s no way you can stay here. The weather is getting colder, the flat is damp and there’s fourteen flights of stairs between you and the ground floor. How are you going to manage that with a baby when the lift’s out of order? I’ve been talking to Social Services about rehousing you and they’re doing their best.’

Carlo listened to her and wondered if the couple had any idea how lucky they were to have Zan to fight their corner.

‘She can take the tablets, but she ain’t coming to hospital for that scan thing,’ Mike said, and Zan looked him in the eye.

‘The baby isn’t big enough, Mike. We really need to—’

‘Get out!’

Kelly flinched and shrank back into her chair.

Carlo’s eyes narrowed slightly and he drew himself up to his full height, preparing himself for trouble.

‘We’re leaving,’ Zan said calmly, smiling at Mike as though he hadn’t just yelled at her in the rudest way possible. ‘We’ll talk about it again next time.’

‘She ain’t going to the hospital and that’s final.’

Zan stood up. ‘That’s fine, Mike.’ She turned to look at Kelly, her gaze direct. ‘Any problems, call me.’

With that she looked meaningfully at Carlo and walked out of the flat with him following close behind.

CHAPTER TWO

‘DOES he hit her?’ Carlo followed her down the dark staircase and back onto the streets.

‘I don’t think so.’ Zan turned sharp left and then right down a wide road that stretched along the river. ‘I think he’s just very controlling.’

‘And why does he hate hospitals so much?’

‘He’s never told me, and I don’t push it or I won’t get to see Kelly at all.’ She glanced sideways and tried not to stare.

She’d never met anyone as strikingly good-looking as Carlo before. Tall, dark-haired and loaded with sex appeal, he exuded a strength and confidence that was magnetic. If she’d had to pick one word to describe him, it would have been male. Carlo was very, very male.

And he had good shoulders.

She remembered the weight of his body when he’d lain on top of her and smiled slightly. For once she could walk home without worrying.

Who in their right mind would pick a fight with him?

Carlo was frowning. ‘Do you have to visit them?’

‘Well, if I don’t then she gets no antenatal care whatsoever,’ Zan told him, crossing over the road so that they could walk next to the river. Fairy lights had been strung between the trees and their reflection danced over the surface of the water. ‘Social Services first told me that she was pregnant, but she hasn’t seen a doctor once in her whole pregnancy. To start with Mike wouldn’t let me in, but I’ve worked on him and now I get to see her. I’m hoping that if she sees enough of me I’ll be able to get her to trust me.’

‘She needs a biophysical assessment,’ Carlo said, and Zan nodded.

He was referring to an established technique using ultrasound to look at the baby and to measure the heart-rate.

‘I know. The truth is she needs a lot of things she isn’t getting. It’s very worrying, but we can only do the best we can. It’s hard enough getting access at all.’

She felt his eyes slide over her. ‘Presumably that’s why you dress like that? Because they’re suspicious of authority?’

He was smart; she’d give him that.

‘That’s true, but I also hate walking around this area at night,’ she confessed. ‘I might be a black belt in judo but I’m not stupid. If I have to do it then I dress down and I wear trainers. If anyone suspected I was medical they’d be attacking me for drugs.’

‘It isn’t a suitable place for a woman to be working.’ His gaze darkened ominously and she chuckled.

‘Are you always this macho?’

‘Of course.’ Carlo’s arrogant dark head lifted and a wry smile touched his handsome face. ‘I’m Italian, remember? Despite our efforts to be politically correct, deep down we still expect our women to stay at home and warm the bed for us.’

The mention of bed brought a faint colour to her cheeks. Whoever warmed his bed would be a very lucky woman, but she wasn’t telling him that. ‘Someone must have forgotten to tell you that this is the twenty-first century.’

He didn’t smile, his gaze disturbingly direct. ‘It’s not a safe area for you to work in.’

He was breathtakingly good-looking and Zan was finding it hard to peel her eyes away from him.

‘I work here because it’s challenging and I’m really doing some good.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘This isn’t what you’re used to, is it? You looked pretty shocked when you saw the flat.’

He pulled a face and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. ‘Was it that obvious?’

‘Only to me. Don’t worry about it. I was pretty shocked myself when I first came here after twenty years of middle-class upbringing. It’s a real eye-opener. Lots of teenage pregnancies, lots of unmarried mothers with several children by different men, and every flat you visit has a German shepherd dog the size of a wolf.’ She stepped gingerly over a patch of ice. ‘I suppose I’d have one, too, if I lived in this area. The dogs used to be the worst part of the job for me, but generally I’ve got used to them. Do you have dogs at home?’

He hesitated and then nodded. ‘Yes, dogs don’t bother me. So, why did you learn judo?’

Zan smiled and huddled more deeply into her coat to keep out the cold. ‘I have four older brothers. My father was going for a five-a-side rugby team but then they had me.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, they all decided that I needed to know how to take care of myself just in case they weren’t around to do it for me.’

‘Sensible.’

‘No, massively over-protective,’ she said dryly. ‘They’ve scared off every boyfriend I’ve ever had.’

Carlo looked at her curiously. ‘But you’re close?’

‘I adore them,’ she said simply. ‘Growing up with four big brothers was just the best thing in the world. We had such fun.’

‘But they’ve taught you to be wary of men?’

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, they have. I may love my brothers but I’d hate to be anything other than their baby sister. They’re rogues, and when they were growing up they treated women appallingly. I’ve learned lots about men by watching them. And because they know exactly how men think and act, they scare off anyone male who shows an interest in me.’

‘Ouch.’ Carlo gave a rueful smile and glanced around him at the dark shadows. ‘So can I expect to be pounced on any moment?’

Zan looked at his shoulders and laughed. ‘I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about. So, now you know about me, how about you? All I know is that you’re part-Italian. What I want to know is, which part?’

He shot her a suggestive smile that was so sexy she almost stopped breathing.

‘If you’re good, I’ll show you later.’

His teasing drawl made her blush, but she couldn’t help smiling. There was something so good-humoured and honest about him.

‘Well, judging from your slight accent and the fact that you were muttering something incomprehensible when you were lying on top of me, I assume that Italian is your first language. Which must mean that you live over there usually. So what are you doing in London?’

‘Having a change from Italy.’ His answer was so smooth and glib that she looked at him closely, wondering if he was hiding something. He caught her look and smiled. ‘Plenty of doctors from EC countries come and work in England. It isn’t unusual.’

‘So where were you working last?’

‘In a private clinic outside Milan.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Most of my patients were nothing like Kelly, I’m afraid.’

‘Too posh to push?’

He smiled in appreciation. ‘Something like that.’

‘Well, it was decent of you to take a look at Kelly for me.’ She glanced at him. ‘Don’t think I don’t know that most doctors would have refused. Too worried about litigation.’

Carlo looked unconcerned. ‘I’m well insured.’

And very experienced and self-confident. She also suspected that he would never refuse to help a patient. He was that type of man.

‘This is where I live.’ Zan stopped outside a block of flats and Carlo leaned against the wall, his eyes watchful.

‘So…’ he drawled softly. ‘Are you going to invite me up?’

She stared at him, caught by the intensity of his gaze. Excitement curled in the pit of her stomach and she struggled to be sensible.

‘I don’t usually invite strangers up to my flat.’

His smile had a peculiar effect on her knees and she felt them wobble alarmingly. ‘I’m very glad to hear that.’ He moved fractionally closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘But we’ve already kissed twice and spent an evening together so we’re not exactly strangers.’

She laughed to disguise her awareness of him.

‘We spent the evening in a filthy flat with a man who wanted to hit both of us. Is that your idea of a perfect first date?’

‘It was different,’ he admitted, his gaze dropping to her mouth and lingering there. ‘You can trust me, Zan.’

She hesitated, common sense wrestling with temptation.

‘I don’t know anything about you.’

Except that he was strong, clever and stunningly good-looking.

‘What do you want to know?’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’m Italian, I’m an obstetrician, I have one older brother and one younger sister. I also have a black eye.’

She smiled back and then looked at him cautiously. ‘You’re not married?’

His gaze didn’t shift from hers. ‘No wife. No kids.’

She bit her lip. Would it be such a big mistake to invite him up?

She paused a moment longer and then made up her mind. She pushed open the swing doors and led him into the deserted entrance hall. ‘I’m on the top floor.’

They walked towards the lift and she pressed the button, watching the lift doors close and wondering what on earth she was doing, taking a total stranger back to her flat.

Was she mad?

Her brothers would have thrown a fit.

But then she’d spent most of the past twenty-four years being cautious, and frankly she was getting impatient with herself. It was time she lived a little. Time she trusted her own instincts.

And her instincts about Carlo were all good.

She loved his wicked sense of humour, the way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled, and she loved his easy confidence. There was something about him that was tough and kind and, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, the fact that he’d stepped in and rescued her made her insides squishy. It might not be politically correct to have a tough man looking after you but the truth was it had felt good.

Better than good.

It would be a long time before she forgot the feel of that hard muscle pressing her down onto the snowy pavement or the taste of his warm lips as he’d kissed her.

She shivered slightly with nerves and excitement as she remembered that kiss. Until tonight she’d always thought that kissing was a very overrated pastime.

She’d obviously been kissing the wrong men.

She sneaked a sideways look at him, still finding it hard to believe that he was a doctor. All the doctors she’d ever met were mild-mannered and academic or just plain arrogant. Carlo was none of those things. He was all muscle and strength, mixed with a wickedly sexy sense of humour.

He intercepted her look and gave her a smile that reminded her of his kiss. Hot and exciting.

She dragged some air into her lungs and leaned against the wall of the lift for support. If all Italian men looked like him she was moving to Italy.

The lift pinged as it arrived at her floor and she made an effort to stand upright.

‘You’d better prepare yourself,’ she warned him as she scrabbled in her pocket for the key. ‘I call it the penthouse because it’s on the top floor and the view are great, but trust me when I say that the resemblance ends there. When I win the Lottery I’m buying something bigger. You can’t swing a cat in here…’

She pushed the key in the lock and then paused, aware that he was staring at her oddly. ‘What? What have I said?’

‘Why would you want to swing a cat?’ His accent was marked as he repeated her words. ‘I thought you English were supposed to like animals?’

‘We do. Well, some of us do.’ Zan grinned. ‘It’s just an expression.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Totally incomprehensible language. I thought my English was good, but evidently I still have a lot to learn.’

Carlo had gorgeous eyes—very dark brown and fringed with sinfully thick, dark lashes that he used to hide his expression when it suited him. And it suited him often. She suspected that he wasn’t an easy man to read.

‘Don’t worry—I’ll teach you.’ Zan opened the door and walked into her flat, flicking on the light.

The pale wooden floor was covered in plastic packets and bags from various shops, and she shot him an embarrassed look as she started to scoop them all up.

‘You needn’t hide the packaging from me,’ he said, his tone amused. ‘I was well aware that all that baby stuff you gave her was brand-new.’

She clutched the evidence to her chest and looked at him in dismay. ‘Oh, no! I tried to rumple them and make them look old. Do you think they guessed?’

‘I think Kelly was too pleased to notice.’ He moved closer to her and removed one of the plastic wrappers from her grasp, lifting an eyebrow as he saw the price. ‘Do you always spend your money on your patients?’

She blushed and snatched the wrapper back. ‘No. Well, sometimes. I like Kelly and I feel sorry for her.’

He looked at her for a long moment and she felt the breath jam in her throat. Just looking at him made her legs shaky.

As if he’d guessed her thoughts, he gave a lopsided smile and strolled over to the huge windows that made up one wall of her tiny flat.

‘Fantastic view.’

‘Thanks.’ She tugged the hat off her head and shook her dark hair like a kitten in a rainstorm. Typical. She had a man to die for in her flat and she looked as though she’d been dunked in a puddle. ‘I’ve never bothered with curtains. No one can see in so it didn’t seem worth it.’

‘It’s a nice flat.’

She smiled. ‘Well, like I said, it’s the penthouse, but when I win the Lottery I’m buying a bigger version.’

For a moment he didn’t respond, and then he turned, a strange light in his eyes. ‘You do the Lottery? Is money important to you?’

‘No.’ She tossed the rubbish into the bin and smiled cheerfully. ‘Just what it buys. I love to dream, don’t you?’

He sucked in a breath and looked taken aback. ‘Well, I…’

‘Oh, come on!’ She tugged off her boots and coat and dropped onto the sofa, cross-legged. ‘Everyone dreams of winning the Lottery. Even people who never remember to do it!’

He was looking at her curiously, arms folded across his broad chest. ‘So what would you buy?’

‘I don’t know, the usual things…’ She shrugged. ‘A house in a better area, a car so that I don’t have to walk around at night.’

‘Would you give up your job?’

‘Oh, no!’ Her expression was horrified. ‘I love my job. And just think, if I won money I’d be able to rehouse Kelly and Mike without having to bow and scrape to Social Services all the time.’

Carlo turned back to the window. ‘You’d have a job to beat this view.’

‘Nice, isn’t it? They’ve converted so much of the Docklands area into housing and it’s a pretty good place to live.’ She glanced round her with satisfaction. She liked her flat. It was small, but it was cosy and homely and all hers. ‘Make the most of it. It’s pretty small now, but after tomorrow it’s going to get even smaller.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ He moved away from the window and strolled towards her.

‘I’m buying my Christmas tree,’ she said proudly, ‘and it’s going to be big.’

‘Ah.’ He folded his arms across his chest and his sexy dark eyes twinkled at her. ‘So size matters to you?’

‘In Christmas trees, definitely.’ Zan was laughing at the innuendo and trying to control the frantic fluttering in her stomach. ‘I love everything about Christmas. I used to buy my tree on the first day of December, but the needles always fell off by Christmas Day and I got fed up with staring at decorated twigs so now I make myself wait. It’s an exercise in self-discipline. What about you? Do you like Christmas?’

He hesitated and then nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

‘But you’re sad because you won’t be at home this year?’ She tilted her head on one side and looked at him. ‘I know the feeling. I’m working this Christmas so I won’t be able to get home until New Year. But I’ve written my letter to Santa and he knows I’m here so all my presents should still arrive.’

He leaned broad shoulders against the wall and watched her, and she was breathlessly aware of how big he seemed in her tiny flat.

Big and male.

‘You’ve written to Santa?’

‘Of course! I’ve sent him my list. How else will he know what I want?’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Diamond earrings, cashmere jumper, silky underwear—you know the sort of thing.’

‘Diamond earrings?’ His gaze slid down to her torn jeans. ‘You don’t strike me as a diamond earrings sort of girl.’

‘Don’t judge by appearances. I’ve never been given the chance,’ she told him gloomily. ‘With four brothers my childhood was all rugby boots and Action Man. Every single Christmas I’d get the same stuff as them. Don’t get me wrong. My parents are great and I love them. But somewhere along the line they forgot I was a girl. I would have given anything for something pink and girly.’

He blinked. ‘Pink and girly?’

‘You know, something feminine. What about you? What do you want for Christmas?’

There was a long silence, and when he finally spoke his gaze was disturbingly direct. ‘You.’ He spoke the word softly and then paused, his dark eyes holding hers. ‘I want you, Zan.’

There was a hot, pulsing silence and she stared at him, her heart in her mouth and her palms damp.

His words shocked and excited her and for a moment she had no idea how to respond. The truth was she wanted him too, but the feeling scared her.

She’d only known him for one evening.

‘I don’t do one-night stands.’

‘Good.’ His dark eyes didn’t shift from hers. ‘I’m not interested in just one night.’

She looked into those stunning dark eyes and felt her insides tumble. Suddenly overwhelmed by his directness and the intensity of her own feelings, she jumped to her feet and looked at him nervously.

He was so different from the men she normally mixed with. They seemed younger somehow. More boyish. But there was nothing boyish about Carlo. He was all man. A man who knew exactly what he wanted and went straight for it.

And she couldn’t forget the way he kissed.

‘Where did you come from?’ She wrapped her arms around her middle defensively. ‘I mean, one minute my life is thoroughly predictable and full of men who bore me to tears and then the next…’

He lifted a dark eyebrow and prompted her gently, his Italian accent suddenly pronounced, ‘The next?’

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She didn’t know which was sexier, the tone of his voice or the look in his eyes. ‘The next I find myself lying on the pavement, kissing a total stranger.’

‘Is that a complaint?’ His dark eyes teased her and her breath came in little pants.

‘Not exactly. I’m just not used to kissing in the street in front of an audience.’

‘But now we have no audience.’ He gave a smile that sent her pulse racing and she lost her nerve and took a step backwards.

‘Do you want coffee?’

‘No.’ He moved towards her, standing so close she could feel the warmth from his body against hers.

Zan’s heart was pounding frantically. Just remembering what his kiss had felt like was enough to make her knees start to tremble. He was breathtakingly attractive.

But she shouldn’t be kissing men she didn’t know.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth and her lips parted in breathless anticipation.

Or maybe she should.

Still unsure, she gave him a nervous smile. ‘I still haven’t put ice on your eye.’

‘Right now it isn’t my eye that needs the ice.’ He pulled her against him and lowered his head, their breath mingling as his mouth hovered above hers.

She shivered with expectation, waiting for him to kiss her, the excitement and anticipation stealing every breath from her body. His lips brushed hers, teasing her lightly, and he gave her a wicked smile, fully aware of the tension he was creating between them.

And then finally he kissed her properly.

And this time the kiss was different.

What they’d shared on the pavement had been exploratory and fun, but this—this was a purposeful seduction, and Zan realised immediately that if this was how kissing could feel then she’d never been kissed before.

Carlo kissed as though he’d invented excitement. The touch of his mouth was a wholly sexual experience that swamped her inexperienced body with unfamiliar sensations of such intensity that she squirmed against him in a purely female plea for satisfaction.

His mouth still on hers, he lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck and then pulled her hard against him, his tongue delving into her mouth with devastating thoroughness, encouraging her more hesitant response.

It was the most intimate experience of her life. The skilled sweep of his tongue, the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her and the pounding of her heart against her breastbone.

She breathed in his scent, felt the roughness of his jaw against her, tasted his maleness and felt overwhelmed by a fevered desperation that defied logic.

His touch was totally addictive and when he finally dragged his mouth away from hers she sucked in some air, so shaken by her own reaction that she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye.

She’d never been kissed by anyone as skilled as him before.

He slid his strong fingers through her hair and tilted her head so that she was forced to look at him.

His dark eyes shimmered with raw hunger, but he veiled it quickly and gave a lopsided smile.

‘I don’t think we’d better do that for too long, cara mia,’ he said dryly. ‘We might both explode.’

Totally blown away by his kiss, Zan tried to speak and failed.

He touched her cheek with a gentle finger. ‘You know what?’ He was totally relaxed and easy with himself. ‘I could really do with taking a shower. My jeans are soaked because someone threw me on my back in a puddle.’

She loved the way he took the seriousness out of every situation. ‘You’re joking! Who would do an evil thing like that?’

‘I can’t imagine, but when I track them down they’re going to be punished.’ He pulled her against him and gave her another lingering kiss. ‘Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes before we both freeze. Can I put my jeans in your tumble-drier and take a shower?’

She nodded and gestured towards the kitchen. ‘It’s through there. Help yourself.’

His eyes were very dark. ‘Are you going to join me?’

No.

Resolving to be more daring was all very well, but you couldn’t change the habit of a lifetime in an hour!

It was all too fast.

Zan shook her head and he gave her a warm smile and strolled into her kitchen, emerging moments later with an apologetic look on his face and his jeans dangling from one hand.

‘I don’t know how to use a tumble-drier.’