She nodded, slightly surprised and a tiny bit disappointed that he was cooking something that didn’t sound that exciting and almost laughed at herself. Clearly she was getting too used to the good life. Once upon a time, someone else cooking for her would have been enough of a treat. But an Irish stew was probably just the thing, as it looked as if the clouds were gathering.

Almost as if he’d read her mind he said, ‘There’s a storm coming in.’

‘There is?’ She peered out of the window and saw that the sky had blackened, vanquishing the day’s earlier sunshine. That would put off any peeping Toms for the night, but even so she scanned all the areas outside before pulling the curtains. ‘Gosh, it’s changed quickly. We were lucky with the weather today.’ That explained why he’d lit the fire in here, she thought, settling into the little sofa and curling her feet around her, clutching the wide glass with both hands. The fire cast a warming golden glow as the flames coiled and curled in the glass window of the four-legged wood-burner. ‘Do you need any help?’

‘No, it’s an easy dish – the secret is in the cooking.’ He turned, his mouth twitching. ‘Long and slow.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I presume you’re talking about the cooking technique.’

‘Of course. It’s going to take a while. But I’m sure you like a slow build-up.’

‘Conor Byrne, are you being filthy?’

‘Not yet.’ He shot her that irresistible lopsided smile.

She sipped at her wine, concentrating hard as she tried to analyse the flavour – again, something she wouldn’t have done a few weeks ago. Black cherries. Leather? No that couldn’t be right.

Conor came over and tapped at the frown lines wrinkling her forehead. ‘What’s wrong?’

She sniffed at the glass. ‘Leather?’

‘Yes. That’s right. Definite aroma of leather.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He kissed her nose, as if in reward for her obvious delight. ‘It’s a Barolo from Italy. I get black tea and tobacco as well.’

‘Now you’re just showing off.’

‘Of course.’ He went back to the counter and she heard the sizzle of onions. With a sigh she settled back into the sofa, feeling the glow of her slightly windburned cheeks. It had been a lovely day and, she realised with a quick smile, she felt a little buzzed (OK, a lot) from the fantastic sex. The highlights kept popping into her mind and she hugged herself with smug satisfaction. Conor certainly knew what he was doing but he’d also expressed his appreciation in no uncertain terms. She could still hear his groans echoing in her head.

‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ asked Conor with a teasing lift of one eyebrow.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she said softly with a quick grin.