Page 16 of 2 Books in One Bundle

‘There’s a gym and a pool in the basement.’

‘You must be incredibly disciplined.’

‘I am.’

And hadn’t she reaped the benefit of it, she reflected as she added some beans and potatoes to the fish. From what she could recall of the night they’d spent together—and she could recall every single minute as if it were yesterday—his muscles really were something else: hard and defined, as if he’d been sculpted from warm marble.

And his strength, his power... That first time, in the nightclub cloakroom, he’d picked her up as if she’d weighed nothing and then held her against the wall with only his hands and the thrust of his hips. Once at her flat, there’d been sweat and breathlessness aplenty, but not from the effort of moving her into and keeping her in the positions they’d achieved.

His stamina had been impressive. His mouth a deliciously wicked thing that had instantly turned her into a puddle of need every time he put it on her. And she just had tolookat his hands to remember them slowly and sensuously sliding over her skin.

The faultlessness of her memory was why she’d babbled on about the views from her room earlier, which she couldn’t even see because it was dark. All she’d been able to think about was the enormous bed and the magical things he’d once done to her in hers. She’d had to move to the window before she’d forgotten she was only here because of the scare they’d had this afternoon, lost control and given in to the tidal wave of need that had rushed through her.

Even now, with him leaning forward to help himself, which sent a wave of his scent in her direction, it was a struggle to focus. In her mind’s eye, she could see him pushing aside the crockery. Slowly getting to his feet and drawing her up and onto the table, where he’d gently push her back and feast on her until she was trembling all over and crying out and—

‘What would you like to drink?’

His question shattered the silence like a shot and she jumped. She went hot. Her gaze flew up and collided with his, but his expression gave no indication that he knew what she’d been thinking, which was a relief because if he did she’d be mortified.

‘Some sparkling water would be great,’ she said, thinking that the next couple of weeks were going to be a lot tougher than she’d imagined if she couldn’t get a handle on her response to him.

Zander got up and headed to the fridge. Mia flapped out her napkin to cool herself down, then laid it across her lap and took the opportunity to remind herself that the only context in which she should be thinking of her host was as the father of her child.

When he returned to the table, she took a much-needed sip of water and turned her attention to the food. The beautifully cooked cod flaked beneath the barest pressure of her knife. The beans were as bright green as they had been on the vine. Someone downstairs definitely knew what they were doing.

‘What do you think of the food?’ he asked, and as the heat whipping around inside her dissipated Mia sent up a little prayer of thanks to the god of conversation.

‘Delicious,’ she said, using her fork to prod a potato that was neither too soft nor too hard but just perfect. ‘The combination of chicory and seaweed with the cod is an interesting one. I might see if I can add something similar to the menus I offer. I’m always looking for new dishes.’

‘You’re exceptionally good at what you do.’

A ripple of pride shimmered through her. ‘Thank you.’

‘How did you get into it?’

‘I left school at sixteen and went to catering college,’ she said, figuring there was no time like the present for getting to know one another and they had to talk aboutsomething. ‘I was there for two years and then took up an apprenticeship as achef de partie. Six years ago, with eight years’ training and experience under my belt, I set up my own business, which has gone from strength to strength ever since.’

He arched one dark eyebrow. ‘That simple?’

If only. ‘It’s been anything but simple,’ she said wryly. ‘It’s taken a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get where I am. It can be a brutal industry. The hours are horrendous and some of the chefs I worked for wouldn’t last five minutes in an office. But I started cooking properly at the age of twelve and it’s all I’ve wanted to do ever since.’

‘Twelve is young.’

‘My mother fell ill,’ she said. ‘She ended up needing a lot of care and because it was always just the two of us, it all fell on me. Cooking was my happy place when I didn’t know what was going on but was terrified nonetheless.’

Zander twirled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, the picture of casual interest. ‘What happened?’

Abandoning her plate for a moment, Mia braced herself since it was still so difficult to talk about. ‘The first sign that something was wrong was when she sent me into school on a Saturday, convinced it was a Friday,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Soon after that, her memory started failing and she couldn’t find the words she wanted. She lost her job and once nearly set fire to the kitchen. I took over the cooking after that. I took over everything so that social services wouldn’t find out about the situation and take me into care.’

‘That must have been tough.’

‘It was. Massively. Every day was a worry. I missed so much school. Money was impossibly tight. But the worst of it was seeing the mother I adored, who’d always fought my corner, disappear. We were so intense. It was always us against the world. And then it wasn’t. As time went on, more often than not it became her against me and that was so devastating. Her mood swings were unpredictable and merciless. Some of the things she said cut through me like a knife and I was too young to fully understand what was going on.’

‘Didn’t anybody else?’

She shook her head. ‘I got very good at lying and hiding to keep us together. I didn’t want to be taken into care. Anyway. She was eventually diagnosed with rapid onset dementia. Whether the progression of the disease could have been slowed if she had had help is something I’ll never know. I’ve learned to live with the guilt of that, but it was hard for a while.’

‘You talk about her in the past.’

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