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‘Who said anything about baked beans?’ he drawled softly, walking towards her with a distinct air of purpose. ‘Ring your mum and cancel.’

‘Cancel?’

He was so close now she could hardly breathe, and he gave her that smile that always made her insides tumble.

‘Yes, cancel.’ He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face to his. ‘I’ll cook dinner and you can wear the dress. You don’t need a babysitter.’

Her heart was pumping in her chest and her whole body throbbed with a sexual awareness that was totally unfamiliar. ‘You hate this dress.’

‘I never said I hated the dress.’

Their eyes locked and suddenly all she could think about was that kiss. The way it had felt when his mouth had claimed hers.

She wanted him to kiss her again.

‘You two are looking all funny.’ Lizzie was staring at them curiously. ‘Are you going to kiss?’

Bryony gasped and pulled away from Jack, her face flaming. She’d forgotten that Lizzie was still sitting at the table. ‘No!’ She was suddenly flustered. ‘We’re not going to kiss.’

‘I don’t mind if you do,’ Lizzie said generously, sliding off her chair and carrying her plate to the dishwasher. ‘Sally says it’s yucky when her parents do it, but I think it would be nice.’

‘Lizzie, we’re not going to kiss,’ Bryony muttered, not daring to look at Jack but feeling his gaze on her. She always knew when he was looking at her and he was looking at her now.

‘You blush easily, Blondie, do you know that?’ His voice was a soft, teasing drawl and Lizzie clapped her hands.

‘Mummy only ever goes that colour when you’re here, Jack.’

Deciding that the conversation had gone far enough, Bryony glanced at her watch. ‘And you should be getting ready for bed, Lizzie,’ she said quickly. ‘Do you want Jack to read you a story?’

‘Only if he doesn’t skip bits.’

Bryony risked a look at Jack. ‘Is that OK with you, or do you need to get going?’

‘That depends…’

‘On what?’

He winked at her. ‘What you’re cooking me for dinner—’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you ever go home and cook for yourself, Jack?’

‘Why would I want to when I’ve got you to cook for me?’ He smiled and held up a hand. ‘Only joking. As it happens, I’m cooking for you tonight.’

‘You’re cooking for me?’

Jack never cooked. He lounged at her table, watching while she cooked. And actually she liked it that way. She found cooking relaxing and there was nothing she enjoyed more than an evening chatting with Jack.

‘I’m cooking for you. A gourmet creation right under your very nose. It’s your turn to be impressed, Blondie.’

‘But I was going out. How can you have the ingredients for a gourmet creation?’

He stooped to pick up Lizzie. ‘I just picked up a few things on my way home, in case I was hungry later.’

‘But you don’t even know where the supermarket is.’ Her eyes teased him. ‘Or are you telling me you finally asked for directions?’

‘No need.’ He displayed his muscles, flexing his shoulders and his biceps. ‘Man is a natural hunter.’

She lifted an eyebrow. ‘You went to the supermarket in your loin cloth?’