‘He has…what?’
Amy’s lips quirked into a smile – an action that had Tad wanting to kiss her. Not that there wasn’t much Amy didn’t do that had that effect on him, but that surprised smile had to top the list.
‘Indigestion. Apparently if it’s bad enough it presents as chest pains, can often be mistaken for a heart attack.’
‘I bet Kathleen is livid with him.’ Amy’s grin gave way to amused laughter.
‘I bet she’s giving him hell right now,’ Tad said. ‘Although they are keeping him in overnight to be absolutely sure.’
Amy nodded, her relief at Hugh’s diagnosis palpable.
‘I wonder if we shouldn’t make him some of your nanna’s chocolate mousse cake to welcome him back tomorrow?’
‘Not sure chocolate mousse cake is particularly good for indigestion, to be honest,’ she said.
‘I’m not sure Hugh will be too worried about that.’
‘No, you’re probably right. Can I help?’
‘No, Amy. It’s your nonna’s recipe, so you’re in charge. And when I say that I mean it. I’m yours to do whatever you need. Or want…’
Tad hoped she’d take the comment in the way he’d intended it, and was rewarded when she bit at the edge of her lip as a smile blossomed across her face.
‘What, you mean…?’ Colour followed the smile, then she picked up a large wooden spoon and smacked it softly against her hand. ‘Right then, Taddeo. We need to melt 175 grams of butter and don’t make me ask again.’
Tad did his best to dampen his growing ardour but failed. ‘Never call me by any other name… ever.’
The words came out as a growl, and the butter was forgotten as he swept her up into a hug and kissed her until he forgot entirely what his name was. When she smacked him with the wooden spoon, he wanted to forget all about the cake, too, but Amy had taken him at his word.
‘Butter, Taddeo,’ she said, her lips bee-stung from the kissing and more beautiful than ever as she lodged a hip on a high stool and watched his progress.
It wasn’t long before Tad was busy measuring out the rest of the ingredients. Chocolate in its open wrappings, a bag of flour and what was left of a block of butter littered the work surface.
He watched her checking the saucepan beneath the clear glass dish, then brought the butter and chocolate across.
‘The quicker we get these melted and cooled, the quicker we can get on with the rest of it,’ she said.
Amy poked at the ingredients in the clear bowl, moving them around as the butter began to melt. Then she paused. ‘I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. But if I still have a job when I get home, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to get a positive write-up for this place.’
The thought that Amy was still leaving the following day, especially after everything they’d been through, had Tad rubbing at his forehead. He didn’t want her to go, even though logic dictated she would have to. She would have to get back to her real life – a life within which he hoped she would make room for him.
‘I don’t want you to stay working with that woman simply to get this place a decent write-up in a newspaper article, no way – and if Billie doesn’t value you regardless of everything that’s happened this week, she’s insane – but whatever you decide to do, you have my full support. And if it doesn’t work out with the newspaper article?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not the end of the world.’ Determined to stay in the here and now, he brightened and pointed to a springform cake tin. ‘Anyway – let’s focus on the cooking. Can you line that with some foil, please?’
They worked in unison, and it reminded him of that first evening, when they’d made the improvised peach tart dessert. Although everything had changed since then, and this evening there was far more flirting, touching and kissing in the warm, ambient atmosphere of the Casa del Cibo kitchen.
‘You don’t even have to cook it. Sometimes Nanna just chilled it and we ate it as a mousse,’ Amy said as she spread the last of the mixture into the foil-lined tin, then beckoned him to lick the spoon.
Tad stepped closer, fully prepared for her to smear some of the chocolate across his face – hoping she would. Instead, she drew him closer, and they both licked from the same spoon, before she wiped her finger across the remnants of the chocolate, holding it out to him. He took her finger in his mouth, licking, then sucking at it. He heard the spoon clatter onto the work surface as Amy abandoned it, and their kisses became fuelled by chocolate and a level of desire Tad struggled to contain.
‘Need to put it in the oven,’ Amy said. ‘For about an hour…’
As quickly as possible, Tad twirled the cake tin into a baking tray and poured hot water around it, then slid the whole thing into the oven. Amy’s expression as he turned around had his stomach fluttering.
‘An hour you say…’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Should be enough time,’ he added.
