‘So are you saying you can’t do relationships that last?’

‘I don’t know. No, wait. I’m trying to be honest here. It’s me that’s the problem, not you. I’ve failed three times. I know my own faults and I can’t see anyone caring enough for me, warts and all, to stay for the long haul.’

‘Couldn’t we at least start out by hoping for something permanent?’ She stretched out her free hand to caress his face. ‘That’s what I’m doing.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes, I am, Jez.’

The sadness was back in his eyes as he took hold of her hand again. ‘Then let’s hope and pray for that. If anyone can teach me how to love someone properly, it’s you. I’m quite sure of that.’

They stood quietly for a few moments then she broke the silence. ‘All right, we know where we stand and where we want to stand. Let’s forget the heavy stuff now and enjoy our evening. Come and chat to me while I finish getting the meal ready. I’ve made some non-alcoholic cocktails. I found the recipe on the Internet. They’re really nice, too.’ She put ice in a tall glass and poured some mango-coloured liquid into it, then laced the top with red syrup and a pair of maraschino cherries.

He sat at the counter, sipping – it was delicious – and watching her assemble their starters. Was it possible to find someone who really did think long-term, who could be faithful and honest … who could love him more than his money? A month ago he’d have laughed scornfully at the mere idea. Now … well, a man could hope, couldn’t he? Even without her prompting, he’d have been hoping.

‘It’s a very simple meal,’ she said. ‘I’m in the thick of writing so I didn’t have time to do anything elaborate. This is rice bread, oven-crisped with cheese on top, and my version of French onion soup.’

His mouth was watering already. ‘I remember how much I enjoyed your last simple meal, the risotto and cake. It tasted much better than the hotel chef’s offerings.’

‘You’ve a jaded palate, my lad.’

‘It comes with the territory, I think.’

‘And you’re intense, broody. Somehow I hadn’t expected that. It’s fascinating to peer behind the scenes and meet the real Jez Winter, compare him to the media image – and to his music – learn his secrets.’

‘What about the real Sophie Carr? Have you got secrets too?’

‘Yes, of course. There are things I need to tell you about myself. But not tonight. Let’s just enjoy ourselves now. Do you like to listen to music while you eat?’

‘I always enjoy music.’

‘Then go and find something to play while I ladle out the soup. My collection of CDs is in the living room.’

He chose Sting and she smiled to hear ‘Fields of Gold’, which was one of her own favourite tracks.

He ate every mouthful of the soup, to her delight.

The main course was casseroled steak, with vegetables and sweet potatoes. He ate two helpings, which filled her with even more satisfaction.