Flushing to the roots of her hair, she put down the half-eaten cake and rose to her feet, wondering why the ground beneath them suddenly felt as if it were shifting, the way she’d always imagined standing on quicksand might feel. ‘I’m...’ She blinked at him before trying again. ‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone...’

His voice was sardonic as his gaze met hers for one heart-stopping moment, before dropping briefly to the crumb-laden plate. ‘Clearly not.’

‘You must be...’ A dark angel who has suddenly fallen into my kitchen?The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen? Her chest felt tight. ‘You must be Signor De Gennaro?’

‘Indeed I am. Forgive me.’ Jet eyebrows were raised as he unknotted the warm top from his hips and pulled it over his head before shaking out his damp, dark curls. ‘I seem to have disturbed your snack.’

Her snack? Although his English was faultless, his richly accented voice was nearly as distracting as his body and Molly opened her mouth to say it was actually a late lunch because she’d been rushing around all morning preparing for his arrival, but something stopped her. As if someone like Salvio De Gennaro would be interested in her defence! As if he would believe her making out she was a stranger to cake when her curvy body told an entirely different story. Smoothing her uniform down over her generous hips, she tried to adopt an expression of professional interest, rather than the shame of being caught out doing something she shouldn’t. And he was still staring at her. Making her aware of every pulsing atom of her body in a way which was making her feel extremely self-conscious...but strangely enough, in a good way.

‘Can I get you anything, Signor De Gennaro?’ she questioned politely. ‘I’m afraid Lord and Lady Avery have gone to the village pantomime and won’t be back until later.’

‘I know,’ he said coolly. ‘Perhaps some water. And a coffee, if you have one.’

‘Of course. How do you take your coffee?’

He flickered her a smile. ‘Black, short, no sugar. Grazie.’

Of course not, thought Molly. No sugar for someone like him. He looked as if he’d never been near anything sweet in his life. She wished he’d go. Before he noticed that her brow had grown clammy, or that her nipples had started to push distractingly against the unflattering navy-blue uniform Lady Avery insisted she wore. ‘I’ll do that right away,’ she said briskly. ‘And bring them up to your room.’

‘No need for that. I’ll wait here,’ he said.

She wanted to tell him he was making her feel awkward by standing there, like some kind of brooding, dark statue—just staring at her. As if he had read her thoughts, he strolled over towards the window and she became aware of an almost imperceptible limp in his right leg. Had he injured himself when out running and should she ask him whether he needed a bandage or something? Perhaps not. Someone with his confidence would be bound to ask for one.

She could feel a stray strand of hair tickling the back of her neck and wished she’d had time to fix it. Or had been sitting reading some novel which might have made her look interesting, instead of scoffing cake and emphasising the fact that she was heavy and ungainly.

‘I’ll try to be as quick as I can,’ she said, reaching up into one of the cupboards for a clean glass.

‘I’m in no hurry,’ he said lazily.

Because that much was true. Salvio had decided that he was enjoying himself though he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the novelty factor of being with the kind of woman he didn’t come across very often—at least, not any more. Not since he’d left behind the backstreets of Naples, along with those women whose curves defined fecundity and into whose generous flesh a man could sink after a long, hard day. Women like this one, who blushed alluringly if they caught you looking at them.