But the man wasn’t looking at her, he was staring down at the ground. ‘Sausages, MY SAUSAGES!’

McCartney might be deaf but there was nothing wrong with his sense of smell, and with his nose buried deep inside the man’s bag, he was currently enjoying the rich pickings he’d found. Ella tugged on his lead and gave the man an apologetic smile. ‘I’m so sorry! Really, I am.’

‘Foxglove Farm’s finest pork sausage with caramelised onions. That dog has taste!’

‘He might have taste but you’ve no dinner,’ exclaimed a mortified Ella, taking her first proper look at the man. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it – he was drop-dead gorgeous. His thick blond hair was wild on top, and at a guess he was mid to late thirties – her sort of age. She noticed a tiny scar at the side of his eyebrows, which were blond too. His eyelashes and deep-blue eyes were to die for. His face was tanned, and he had that unshaven thing going on, and a beaming smile that showed a perfect set of white teeth.

He gave her a wolfish grin and they stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

‘It’s okay, at least one of us will be fed today. Hi, I’m Roman.’

She scanned his outfit and approved: a very casual look, white T-shirt, cargo shorts, white trainers and a woven leather band around his wrist.

‘I’m Ella,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘And this is McCartney, aka Sausage Thief.’

‘McCartney, one of the Fab Four. Very cool name.’

‘And also not my dog, I’m just walking him.’ Ella handed the cake box to Roman while she fumbled inside her purse. ‘Let me pay for your sausages, it’s the least I can do.’

‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ he said, handing the box back, which forced Ella to shut her purse.

‘Are you sure? It’s all my fault, I really wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘Very sure,’ he replied, holding her gaze, causing her stomach to give a little flip. ‘With that accent, my guess is you aren’t local… Tourist?’

‘I think I’m classed as a temporary resident. I only arrived last night.’

‘Welcome!’ He smiled as he leant his bike against a wall and picked up the bag of half-eaten sausages, then climbed back on to his bike. ‘No doubt I’ll see you around, Ella…?’ He raised his eyebrow hopefully.

She cleared her throat. ‘Ella Johnson,’ she replied, liking the idea that he was going to see her around. Suddenly feeling a little shy, she felt a crimson blush on her cheeks and could have kicked herself. ‘And you are Roman…?’