James bid goodbye to Rosseta, and they stepped out into the pleasant evening. The stars shone and a gentle breeze blew warm air from the south. He held out the crook of his arm for her to take.

Megan slipped her hand into the ‘V’ of his elbow and breathed in the night. The streets were quiet, the lamp posts haloed in the night air, and the scent of summer lingered—hot tarmac, sun lotion and car fumes.

“This way,” James said, heading deeper into the quiet, narrow street Bettino’s was set on.

The click of Megan’s heels on the pavement was the only sound for several minutes. She spotted a cat watching them from a garden wall, and overhead, a cloud crossed the moon, darkening their way momentarily.

“Here we are,” James said, fishing in his pocket for his keys.

Megan looked at the house they’d stopped at. It was an old Victorian-style terrace with a large bay window and a generous porch. Over the green door was a section of stained glass and there appeared to be at least two bedrooms upstairs and an attic room.

“It’s only rented,” James said, opening the door and flicking on a hall light. “I didn’t fancy staying in a hotel for several months as we made this documentary so it seemed like the best option.”

“It’s nice.” Megan stepped in. It was warmer than outside and smelt faintly of James’ aftershave.

“It does the job.” He shut the door and set his keys on the hall table. They tinkled on the wood. “This way. I’ll put the kettle on.” He took off his jacket and rested it on the newel.

Megan set her purse down next to his keys and followed him through a lounge that had a low, burgundy leather couch and a log-burning stove set beneath an ornate mantel. The wooden floor had a large oriental-style rug set over it, and a big mirror hung above the fireplace.

She stopped at the kitchen door and watched as James moved around, putting on the kettle, grabbing mugs, teabags then milk from the fridge. He looked big in the small space and damn, his suit trousers fitted him nicely.

“It’s got a bit of a garden,” James said, nodding at a dark window that looked out over the back of the house. “Not that I’ve used it much while I’ve been here.”

“Too busy.”

“Exactly.” He smiled. “Sugar?”

“No, just milk.”

He passed her a cup of tea. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

He picked up his own cup and moved past her to the lounge area. As he did so his arm brushed hers.

The tickle of his skin against Megan’s sent heat through her. She wanted more than just a brief connection. She wanted to get better acquainted with James’ skin, and not just on his arms.