‘Thank you,’ she said as his breath fluttered against her neck. Instinctively she inhaled, leaning back just the barest centimetre as the sharp punch of desire bathed her.

The silence in the room weighed heavy for a moment. ‘No problem.’ He dropped her hand and stepped back smartly, as if she were contaminated all of a sudden.

Hannah wanted to roll her eyes. Instead, she said lightly as if it were of no account, ‘I’m not going to bite you.’

‘That wasn’t what I was worried about.’ She turned to face him finding his eyes straying to her lips.

‘I wasn’t going to kiss you either,’ she said, unable to help the twitch of her lips.

Now he rolled his eyes and snatched up a carrot and tossed it on the chopping board.

This time it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘Unfortunate choice.’ They both looked at the rather obscenely shaped vegetable and with one quick swipe of devilment, she chopped it clean in it two.

Conor sniggered and quick amusement danced in his eyes as he winced dramatically. ‘Ouch, that’s me told.’ He laughed, shaking his head. ‘What was it you were saying about serial killers?’

It was hard to resist his spontaneous grin.

‘Sorry, couldn’t resist.’

‘That poor carrot, whatever had it done to you. I’ve unleashed a monster.’

There was altogether too much of that smiley eye contact going on and Hannah could feel herself growing warm. Relaxed, amused Conor made her heart beat that little bit faster and it needed to back right off. He’d made his feelings quite clear. With a force of will she hadn’t known she was capable of, she turned back to the chopping board, steadied her hand, and began slicing the poor savaged carrot into equal slices. Already, using this technique she had more control of the knife and could chop in even pieces.

‘That’s much better,’ said Conor, who had stepped right back and was now leaning onto the corner of the counter as far from her as was possible in the small space.

‘Thank you.’ She kept her head down, not wanting him to see her flushed face and bright eyes. Why did he have such a damn effect on her? Honestly it was worse than being a teenager all over again.

‘Have you got any plans for dinner?’ he asked.

‘No, I was just going to have a quick sandwich.’ She wasn’t about to admit that she couldn’t face cooking and especially not when he was around. It was bad enough that he’d witnessed today’s incompetence; she didn’t need to give him a repeat performance. ‘And then I was planning, if you don’t mind, to put my feet up and read a book this evening or watch some rubbish television.’