‘Good for you.’ Fiona smiled. ‘Anyway, I’ve kept the rent nice and low.’
She mentioned a sum which seemed outrageously modest. ‘I can’t possibly let you charge me something like that,’ said Lily shakily.
‘Oh, yes, you can,’ said her boss, sounding quite fierce for once. ‘You’re a hard worker, Lily—and it’s your cakes which keep the customers coming back for more.’
On an impulse, Lily reached out to hug the kindly woman who had given her flexible working hours since the village tearooms had opened. The undemanding job had provided refuge during the dark days of her mother’s illness and her father’s rapid remarriage. Hadn’t it been a kind of release for Lily, to be able to lose he
rself in the simple routine of serving people cups of tea and slices of cake? And hadn’t the reassuring routine helped numb the horrible reality of the district nurse arriving daily, to give Mum another pain-killing injection?
From working on Saturdays and during school holidays, Lily had gone full time at the age of eighteen and had never really looked back. She’d started as a waitress—and when Fiona had discovered that she had a gift for baking, she’d asked Lily to supply the cakes, which she’d done ever since. For a non-academic girl who needed to be there for her brother, the job had been a gift.
Turning away from the window, Lily smiled. ‘Well, if that’s all settled, I’d better get to work or we’ll have some very discontented customers on our hands. And we can’t have that.’
‘No, we can’t!’ Fiona laughed as the two women went downstairs.
Pleased at having made a decision which seemed to be the only bright light on the horizon, Lily changed into her pink uniform and slipped on a pair of sensible shoes. But as she tidied her hair in front of the mirror she was horribly aware of the feverish glitter in her eyes and the two spots of colour which highlighted her pale cheeks.
She looked different.
Unsettled.
A little bit wild.
But it wasn’t just shock at her changed circumstances which was responsible for her altered appearance. It was the reawakening of sexual desire, too, and she knew very well who was responsible for that.
The afternoon shift was hectic, but she was on duty with her friend Danielle, whom she’d known for ever. The tearoom’s proximity to a church reputed to be the birthplace of a famous saint meant that there was always a steady stream of customers, but on a glorious sunny day like today the place was packed. The new ice-cream range was popular, they ran out of lemon drizzle cake—and Fiona had to drive to the cash-and-carry to stock up on strawberry jam. Yet Lily was grateful to be busy, because it stopped her from wondering just where her life was heading and what the future was going to be like now that the house had been sold.
Just before closing time, the last customer had wandered out and Danielle had disappeared to start the washing up, when the tinkling of a bell announced a new arrival. Stifling a sigh, which she quickly turned into a smile, Lily looked up from rearranging some cakes on a stand and looked straight into the dark eyes of Ciro D’Angelo.
Her smile froze to her lips as a shiver begin to skate over her skin. It didn’t seem to matter that she was still angry with him—he seemed capable of creating a powerful reaction just by being in the same room. When he looked at her like that, she could feel the prickling of her skin in response.
‘We close in ten minutes,’ she said.
‘I’ll wait.’
Lily raised her eyebrows. ‘Wait for what?’
‘For you to finish.’
‘Excuse me, but I think you might have mistaken me for somebody else.’
‘I don’t think you’re easy to mistake for anyone else, Lily,’ he said softly, making no attempt to hide the appreciative gaze which lingered on the luscious curve of her breasts. ‘I’ve certainly never met anyone quite like you before.’
Angrily, Lily shook her head. There it was—another of those meaningless compliments which seemed to flow from his lips like honey. How many of those did he trot out on a daily basis, she wondered—and how many women ended up falling for them? She found herself lowering her voice, even though Danielle was well out of earshot and any sounds were drowned by the clatter of washing up. ‘Didn’t we just have a huge row?’ she asked. ‘And didn’t I imply that I didn’t want to see you again?’
Ciro shrugged. ‘Things sometimes get said in the heat of the moment.’
‘Things do—but I meant every word of them,’ she insisted.
‘Well, I’m here now—and the sign on the door says you’re still open,’ he said, pulling out a chair and lowering his powerful frame into it. ‘So I’m afraid you’re going to have to serve me.’
Lily shot an anxious glance at the door—longing for Fiona to return and yet dreading it at the same time. She wanted him to go and yet she wanted to feast her eyes on him. In a place filled with paper doilies and flower-sprigged cake stands, he made the tearoom look completely unsubstantial. It was as if a giant had walked into a model village and taken up residence there.
‘I want you to leave,’ she said breathlessly.
His eyes sent her a mocking challenge. ‘No, you don’t.’
His silken taunt had an alarming effect on her and so did the sensual message which underpinned it and Lily could feel the distracting tightening of her breasts. She sucked in a deep breath. ‘Obviously, I can’t physically eject you.’