by Kate Hardy
She looked pleased by the idea. ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’
‘Good. Is there anything you don’t eat?’
‘I like everything,’ she said. ‘Except maybe not lasagne, because my sister’s lasagne is the best in the world—and, yes, I know your cousin has a Michelin star, but I still stand by my opinion and I reckon her lasagne could hold its own against his.’
For a moment, he wondered if she was going to suggest meeting her family. But this was still very early days. He wasn’t sure he was ready for her to meet his family yet, either. ‘Fair enough.’ He kissed her again, then told her his address. ‘Is seven o’clock OK?’
‘That’s fine. See you then. And thank you again for a really lovely evening.’
‘My pleasure.’ He stole a last kiss. ‘See you tomorrow.’
* * *
‘I think I’ve made the right decision, Charlie,’ Jenna told the dog when they went to the park the next morning. ‘Lorenzo’s really lovely—and yes, he does make the room feel different when he walks in.’ She ruffled the dog’s fur. ‘But we’re taking it slowly, just getting to know each other. I know I have to tell him about Ava, but...’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Maybe not just yet.’
Once she’d delivered Charlie back home and made Evelyn a cup of tea, she headed to the shops to find something nice to take with her that evening. She browsed in the local chocolatier’s and found something she hoped would be perfect, then bought a couple of bottles of wine from the posher shelves at the supermarket. After giving Charlie his second, shorter walk of the day, she went home to shower, wash her hair and change into a dress.
At seven precisely, she stood on Lorenzo’s doorstep and rang the bell.
He answered immediately. ‘Hello.’
He was wearing a smart casual shirt and chinos, and looked utterly edible. Her pulse speeded up a notch.
Though he’d invited her for dinner and she couldn’t actually smell anything cooking...
The doubts must’ve shown in her face, because he said, ‘I’ve done all the prep for dinner, but it takes just ten minutes to cook, and I’ve cheated with the bread and bought the sort you just heat through in the oven—because my bread-making is on about a par with my dancing.’
Jenna liked his honesty. Danny would’ve bluffed his way through it and made out that he’d been slaving away in the kitchen all day. Danny liked to impress; ‘my girlfriend, the doctor’ brought him kudos, in his eyes, whereas ‘my girlfriend, the surrogate mum’ most definitely hadn’t.
She pushed the thought away and smiled. ‘You’re still one up on me, because I can burn water, remember?’
‘Hmm.’
Lorenzo kissed her hello, and even though it was a relatively chaste kiss it still made her knees go weak. She hadn’t felt like this about anyone since she was a teenager, and it was scary and exciting at the same time.
‘I forgot to ask you if I should bring red or white wine, so I played it safe.’ She handed him a bottle of each.
‘You really didn’t need to do that.’
‘Yes, I did—it’s my contribution to tonight. Oh. And this.’ She handed him a box of gianduja. ‘Though it kind of feels a bit cheeky, giving Italian chocolates to an Italian.’
‘Not at all. These are my absolute favourites. Mille grazie. Thank you very much.’
Oh, she loved it when he spoke Italian. So sexy.
He kissed her again. ‘I hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen, but I don’t have a separate dining room.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘And I get to watch you cook, so it counts as dinner and a show, right?’
He laughed. ‘Now you’ve said that, I can definitely do you a show. I have a whole range of terrible jokes, half of which were taught to me by seven-year-olds.’
She laughed back. ‘I bet they’re very similar to the ones that some seven-year-old patients taught me. Which means they’re really terrible.’
‘Let’s see. Why did the bicycle lean against the wall?’ he asked.
She grinned. ‘Because it was two-tyred. Actually, that’s one of my favourites.’ She paused. ‘I have one for you. Knock, knock.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Cows go.’
‘Cows go who?’ he asked.
‘No, silly. Cows go moo.’
He groaned. ‘That’s absolutely awful!’ Then his gorgeous brown eyes crinkled at the corners and her knees went weak again. ‘I’ll remember that, next time I have a patient who’s scared of needles and needs distracting. Thank you.’ He ushered her into the kitchen. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Yes, please. Whatever’s open,’ she said.
He took a bottle from the fridge, poured her a glass, and gestured to her to sit at the table.
‘This is really nice,’ she said after the first sip. ‘I assume it’s a Conti family wine?’
‘Yes. It’s the chiaretto. Actually, I helped pick the grapes for this particular vintage.’
‘There aren’t many people who can say that about the wine they drink,’ she said.
There were two chopping boards on the worktop next to the cooker, one with a pile of chopped vegetables and one with a pile of what looked like chopped scallops. There were a couple of saucepans on the hob, a jug of stock and a couple of bowls with ingredients in.
‘Are you hungry? Is it OK for me to start cooking?’ he asked.
‘Sounds perfect,’ she said with a smile. ‘I would ask if there was anything I can do, but it’s probably safer for me to sit here and let you do the magical stuff.’
‘No problem.’ He glanced at his watch, then poured boiling water over the pasta; next, he switched on the oven and put the bread in to heat through; and finally he heated butter and began to sauté the chopped garlic and onions. Within two minutes, the kitchen smelled heavenly. Lorenzo was a very deft cook, but Jenna had already seen the way he’d worked in her own kitchen, so she knew what to expect.
‘So is this one of your cousin’s recipes?’ she asked.
‘It’s the family version,’ he said. ‘The one Matteo would cook in his restaurant is a bit more complicated, plus he’d do all the flashy plating with pretty dabs of sauce. Which, by the way, you won’t get from me.’
‘That’s fine. I already know from what you did in my kitchen that you’re a good cook. You don’t need to pretty up the food on my behalf,’ she said. She watched Lorenzo sauté the chopped courgettes and scallops; then he added stock, saffron and sun-dried tomatoes.
‘That smells amazing,’ she said.
‘It’s one of my favourite sauces,’ he said.
He checked his watch, then added a spoonful of crème fraîche to the sauce. Then he drained the pasta, mixed in the sauce and divided it between two bowls, took the bread from the oven, and served up.
‘I’ve never seen pasta like this before,’ she said, looking at the short, fat, ridged tubes. ‘Lucy likes messing about with different pasta shapes, but even she hasn’t cooked me this before.’
‘It’s pacchieri,’ he said. ‘The shape and the ridges mean it holds the sauce better.’
‘Right.’ She took a mouthful. ‘Wow. This tastes even better than it smells.’
‘Thank you—but you saw for yourself, it really wasn’t that difficult to make. All you do is follow a recipe, just like you follow the procedures for treating a medical condition.’
‘Nope, not convinced,’ she said. ‘This is wonderful. Between you and Lucy, I’ve eaten really well this week.’
‘What, no bowls of cereal for dinner?’ he teased.
‘Twice, this week,’ she said. ‘After salsa and ballroom class. But I’ll have you know it’s seriously good granola, and I added blueberries and banana and Greek yoghurt—so it was pretty healthy.’
‘I’ll teach you a couple of easy recipes,’ he said.
&
nbsp; ‘Thanks for the offer, but Lu’s already tried and failed. I’m much better at appreciating food than cooking it, and I’m happy to stay that way,’ she said.
‘Fair enough.’
After they’d finished the pasta, he cleared their empty plates away and brought over a bowl of strawberries, then a plate of shortbread and a tub of premium vanilla ice cream.
‘The strawberries look nice,’ she said.
‘I’ve done them the Italian way, sliced thickly and marinated in balsamic vinegar, sugar and black pepper for thirty minutes at room temperature.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Black pepper, with strawberries? Seriously?’
‘Seriously. It brings out the flavour. Give it a try.’
She did. ‘You’re right. It really brings out the flavour. And that shortbread is fantastic. If you make some of that for the ward kitchen, you’ll have everyone worshipping you.’
He laughed. ‘It’s not that difficult to make. Maybe we can cook some together, at some point.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, her tone making it clear that she was volunteering for washing-up duties rather than actual cooking.
When they’d finished, he said, ‘Shall we have our coffee in the living room?’
‘That’d be nice. Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No, it’s fine. But thank you for the offer.’
‘Can I at least wash up?’
He shook his head. ‘I have a dishwasher. No need.’
He did at least let her carry her own mug of coffee into the living room. It was very plain, with a sofa, a state-of-the-art audio-visual system, and a large bookcase. But there were masses of framed photographs on the mantelpiece, just as there were on her own.
‘May I?’ she asked, gesturing to the photographs.
‘Sure.’
She put her mug down on the coffee table and went to take a closer look. There was a graduation photograph of him with an older couple who were clearly his parents, plus wedding and christening photographs.
‘My brother, Riccardo, and sister-in-law, Helen, on their wedding day,’ he said as she picked up the frames one by one, ‘and with their daughter Emily on her christening day. And my sister, Chiara, and her husband, Mark, on their wedding day, and with their son Jack at his christening.’
They looked a warm, close family, she thought.
The photo she really liked was the family portrait of them all in front of a Christmas tree with an elderly golden retriever.
‘That’s such a gorgeous photo,’ she said.
‘My parents are at the stage of life where it’s almost impossible to get them something for Christmas, so we get together and do a family portrait for them every year,’ he explained.
‘Including the dog.’
‘Suki’s part of the family,’ he said simply. ‘That’s obviously last year’s family photo. And actually it’s lovely seeing Emily and Jack change every year, from babes in arms, to toddlers, to how they are now.’
Again, there was sudden sadness in his face, as if he was remembering something painful. She knew about his ex, but she was growing more and more convinced that he’d also lost a young child and that was why his ex had found consolation elsewhere—but she really didn’t want to trample on a sore spot by asking him.
‘It’s lovely seeing children grow up,’ she agreed instead. ‘Lu gets an official portrait done of Ava every three months, and I’ve got all mine in a special album.’
‘I have one of those, too,’ he said. ‘It’s one of the perks of being an uncle—well, aunt, in your case.’
It was slightly more complicated, in her case. But she still hadn’t found the right way to explain to him about Ava.
They curled up together on his sofa, just enjoying each other’s company. But then Lorenzo stroked her cheek. ‘Jenna.’
She turned to face him. ‘Yes?’
He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against hers. Asking, rather than demanding; and she found herself kissing him back, sliding her arms round his neck and letting him deepen the kiss.
‘I know this is maybe rushing things,’ Lorenzo said, his voice low and husky, ‘but you’re irresistible—and right now I want to do more than just kiss you.’
Desire surged through her. ‘I feel the same,’ she admitted.
‘Then maybe we should just go with our feelings,’ he said softly.
This was it. Decision time. She knew if she said no, he’d give her space and take it more slowly.
But actually, she didn’t want to take it slowly any more. She wanted Lorenzo. All of him.
‘That,’ she said, ‘is a very good idea.’
He smiled, and she let him draw her to her feet and lead her to his bedroom.
* * *
Afterwards, curled up in bed with him, she said, ‘I guess I shouldn’t overstay my welcome. I ought to head for home.’
‘You don’t have to go. Stay tonight, if you like.’ He paused. ‘Though I’m due at my parents’ tomorrow. Every other Sunday we all gather there.’
So he was a real family man. That was reassuring. Danny hadn’t been close to his family, and he hadn’t been that keen on coming to Harris family gatherings, either.
‘I know we said we’d take it slowly, but you’d be very welcome to come with me tomorrow,’ he said.
She scoffed. ‘That’s not quite what your face is saying.’
He stole a kiss. ‘I’m not doing you down. My family would adore you.’
‘Mine would really like you, too,’ she admitted. ‘Lu’s already asked me to bring you over for dinner.’
‘It just feels too early to...’ He tailed off.
‘To let everyone else in just yet,’ she finished. That was exactly how she felt. ‘My family would interrogate you horribly.’
‘Try growing up in an Italian family where everyone wants to know everything and there’s this weird osmosis where you tell one person and then everyone seems to know it simultaneously,’ he said. ‘My family would interrogate you horribly, too.’
‘So shall we just keep this between you and me, for now?’ she asked.
‘I think that would be a good idea.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll go home tonight.’
‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, keeping his arms wrapped round her. ‘This is comfortable.’
‘But you’re busy tomorrow—plus I need to be back at my place before nine so I can walk Charlie.’
He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘That’s not a problem. We’re both used to waking up early for work. And I have a washer-dryer, so I can put your clothes through the washing machine tonight.’
‘Actually, I changed before I came out, so maybe if I can just wash my underwear and it’ll dry overnight in your bathroom?’ she suggested.
‘That’s fine. I’ll show you where my laundry stuff is.’ He stole another kiss. ‘And I’ll make us hot chocolate while you’re sorting out your washing.’
Lorenzo really was lovely, she thought, warm and sweet and kind. So very different from Danny, thinking of others instead of putting himself first, middle and last.
But she still hadn’t told Lorenzo the truth about Ava.
She really had to find the right words. And soon.
* * *
The next morning, Jenna woke to find Lorenzo curled round her. It made her feel warm and safe and cherished, and part of her wanted to stay right where she was for the rest of the day. But that wasn’t the deal. He needed to go to see his family, and she needed to get up and walk Charlie for Evelyn.
She wriggled round to face him and woke him with a kiss. ‘Good morning,’ she said softly.
‘Good morning.’ He stroked her face. ‘I’m glad you stayed.’
‘Me, too.’
‘What’s the time?’ he asked.
‘Half-past seven.’
‘And you have to go right now?’
She nodded. ‘Sorry.’
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom. There are fresh towels in the airing cupboard. And I’ll make coffee and breakfast.’
‘You really don’t have to make me breakfast.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re seriously turning down a bacon sandwich and good coffee, on a Sunday morning?’
‘Ah. In that case, thank you, I’ll happily stay for breakfast,’ she said with a smile.
Her underwear had dried overnight; she showered and dressed swiftly.
‘Perfect timing,’ Lorenzo said, and handed her a plate holding what turned to be the best bacon sandwich she’d ever eaten in her life.
‘Thank you, this is fabulous.’
‘My pleasure.’
He wouldn’t let her do the washing up. ‘It’s fine. It’ll go in the dishwasher. Besides, if you’re late, Evelyn will worry about you, and that isn’t fair.’
‘That’s true. Thank you.’
‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow,’ he said, and kissed her lightly.
‘Enjoy your family day,’ she said.
‘Enjoy your day, too.’
CHAPTER SIX
ON FRIDAY NIGHT, Lorenzo stayed over at Jenna’s and joined her in taking Charlie for a walk on Saturday morning.
‘He’s gorgeous. A big fluffy teddy bear of a dog,’ he said, ruffling the dog’s fur.
‘He’s a cockapoo—a cross between a cocker spaniel and a poodle,’ Jenna explained. ‘And he’s got such a sweet nature. I think he’d make a fabulous therapy dog, but obviously Evelyn wouldn’t be able to manage taking him round to schools or nursing homes or what have you.’
Charlie was on his best behaviour, walking nicely beside them rather than pulling, and sitting nicely while waiting for Jenna and Lorenzo to throw the tennis ball for him in turn.
‘He’s a great dog,’ Lorenzo said.
‘Have you ever thought about having a dog of your own?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not with the hours I work. I’d have to leave the dog home alone for too long.’