There was a long way to go. She knew that. But today had been a resounding success and as she propped her feet up on the lounge, McKenzie tucked up safely in bed, Peyton could honestly say she was content. She sighed and shut her eyes, weary beyond belief but with a smile on her face.
This had been an absolutely fantastic day!
The sharp peal of the doorbell startled her. Who on earth could that be at – she checked her watch – eight o’clock? She groaned. It was only eight o’clock? It felt like three in the morning.
Peyton struggled out of the chair, a feeling deep down in her gut intensifying the closer she got to the door. It couldn’t be? Could it?
She eyed her standard trackpants and baggy top and briefly wished she was wearing something different. More… feminine. But a spurt of irritation entirely rooted in her exhaustion overrode it. She wasn’t dressing to please him. And if he was going to keep turning up on her doorstep unannounced then he could take her as he found her. At least she had showered. She yanked open the door.
‘Minestrone!’ Valentino announced with a flourish, and her irritation dissipated instantly.
She couldn’t be cranky with him. Not after today. And he was wearing blue jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt, his damp hair curling on his nape. ‘Are you trying to fatten me up?’ she grouched.
He lifted the lid off the bowl and brought it close to her face. Mouth-watering aromas wafted her way. ‘Yes,tesoro. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.’
Peyton’s stomach grumbled as the smell enveloped her in a warm cocoon. Every day for the last three weeks some sumptuous dish or other had been delivered to her doorstep. It seemed tonight was to be no different.
Except this time it had been personally delivered.
‘Let me guess. Mrs Agostino at the deli?’
He gasped and clutched at his chest, feigning injured pride. ‘Made it myself. One of my mamma’s recipes.’
A man who could cook? Arnie had been the laziest man on the planet. Charming but utterly useless. She hadn’t noticed itin the beginning, too swept up in his charisma and good looks, but when their lives had taken a dive, Arnie hadnotrisen to the occasion.
Just when she thought all men were like her ex, Valentino went and did something that surprised her.
Opening the door wider, she bade him inside. ‘In that case, you’d better come in.’
Leading him to the kitchen, she reached high for two bowls. When she turned, he was pouring two glasses of red wine the colour of ripe mulberries. Picking one up, he offered it to her. Peyton hesitated. McKenzie would no doubt wake at some stage during the night, as was her usual pattern, and be up bright as a button early tomorrow morning.
And she was really out of practice with drinking wine.
But today he’d performed a miracle and she would have drunk out of a poisoned chalice right now if he’d offered it to her. So, she took it.
Valentino smiled and lifted his glass. ‘To McKenzie.’
Peyton shook her head. ‘To you.’ And she clinked her glass against his.
They ate their bowls of soup sitting on the couch. She only half filled hers, giving Valentino the lion’s share. But when she’d finished she’d wished she’d kept a little more for herself.
Valentino had been tempting her palate so much these last few weeks she was actually noticing flavours and textures again. Her appetite was hardly normal but instead of ignoring her stomach when it grumbled she actually went looking for something to put in it.
Luckily for her, Valentino had provisioned her well.
She looked longingly at Valentino’s bowl but lowered her gaze quickly when he caught her out. A mistake, because now she noticed how his jeans moulded to powerful quads and sheremembered how they’d felt beneath her hands on that night all those months ago.
Looking quickly away, she thanked the universe she’d had the sense to sit on the cushion furthest away from him on the three-seater after he’d chosen the single chair.
‘Would you like some,bella?’
Startled, Peyton glanced at him. The look on his face was one of pure innocence, the soup bowl thrust in her direction. But his eyes and the slight lift of his mouth told her he was perfectly aware of the double meaning.
‘No. I’m full.’
Her stomach growled at her loudly as if in protest and she blushed as he chuckled.
She was never hungry. Or at least hunger was so inconsequential in her life, she’d learned to pay it no heed.
