“But you went out some of the time?” Megan felt alarmed at the thought of James walking where landmines were buried and snipers hid in the hills. “Where people get shot and blown up?”

“It was necessary for making the documentary. It wasn’t a soft, cuddly programme for kids—it was to show people sitting at home on their comfy sofas sipping tea what was going on out there.” He turned left and slowed as he drove down a narrower street.

“And what was going on out there?”

A frown tugged at his forehead. “A lot of brutality. What those guys are risking for our freedom is breathtakingly selfless. Many of them pay the ultimate price.”

Megan was quiet. She’d seen enough sadness on the news to know what had been happening in the Middle East, but seeing it first-hand, the way James had, that must have been be harrowing.

“How long were you there for?”

“Two months the first time.”

“You went back?”

“Yes, we made another documentary about weapon malfunction. But we were only there three weeks for that one.” He shook his head and pulled into a parking space. “Made me rather unpopular with a few ammunition companies.”

“And was that a problem?”

“Not for me.” He smiled. “Here we are.”

Megan turned. They were outside a small restaurant called Bettino’s. It was housed in an old Tudor building with black beams, white paintwork and with wrought-iron railings separating it from the pavement. “It looks nice.”

“It is.” James turned off the engine and got out of the car.

Megan was just about to open her door but he beat her to it.

“Thank you,” she said again.

He held his hand out for her to take.

His palm was warm and steady as she stepped onto the pavement, and a fizz of sensation tickled up her arm.

If just one small touch makes me feel like that…?

He shut the door and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Rosseta.”

“Rosseta?”

“Yes, she’s the owner and a friend too.” He pushed open the door.

Instantly the seductive scents of basil and thyme, garlic and sweet onions filled her nose. Her stomach rumbled and she realised it had been hours since she’d eaten.

“Ah, bella, my James, here you are.” An older woman, short and slightly hunched, bustled forward, her arms outstretched.

“Rosseta, how are you?” James smiled and kissed her on both cheeks.

The scarf she had wrapped around her head jiggled as she moved and when she smiled a row of creases concertinaed on her cheeks and around her eyes.

“I am good, better for seeing you here,” she said then looked at Megan. “And finally you have brought a beautiful lady with you. Ah, bella, molto bella.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin and nodded approvingly.

Megan fidgeted with her purse and smiled. “Thank you.”