middle of winter.’
He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Well. Food doesn’t have to be hot. It’s fuel.’
‘It’s much more than that,’ she told him. ‘You don’t just shovel down calories like a Ferrari taking on petrol at a pit stop. Food is a pleasure. Something to be enjoyed.’
Since Melinda had been in his life, Dragan was beginning to appreciate that. Not only because she was a fantastic cook: her enjoyment of food had taught him to notice flavour. Texture. Aroma. Things he’d blocked out in the dark days and that he’d more or less trained himself to ignore since then. ‘Are you on call tonight?’ he asked.
‘No. It’s the turn of the other practice to cover tonight. What about you?’
‘No. And I’m not on late surgery, either.’
‘So we have the whole evening to ourselves. Bene.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘I’ll pick up something at the Trevellyans’ farm shop and bring it over to cook when I’ve finished surgery, yes?’
Recently she’d spent more nights at his little terraced cottage in Fisherman’s Row than at her own flat above the veterinary surgery, just round the corner. Maybe, Dragan thought, it was time that he gave Melinda her own key. Time that they took their relationship to the next level. Time that he asked her to move in with him.
Though it was taking one hell of a risk. Since his family had been killed during the war in Croatia, he’d kept people at a distance—just close enough to be polite and pleasant and easy to work with, but far enough away to keep his heart safe. He reasoned that if he didn’t let people too close, he wouldn’t get hurt if he lost them, or if they walked away.
He’d kept his private life extremely private—until Melinda Fortesque had entered his life. With just one smile, the Italian vet had cracked the fortress round his heart wide open, and she’d walked straight in.
But although part of him wanted it so badly—to ask her to live with him, be his love, make a new family with him—the fear flooded in and stopped the words before he could say them. What if it all went wrong? What if he lost her? He didn’t think he’d be able to pick up the pieces again. Not this time.
He shivered.
‘Dragan? You are cold?’
On a sunny spring day like this? Hardly. He summoned a smile. ‘No. I’m…’ No. This wasn’t the right time or the right place for that particular discussion. ‘Late for my appointment,’ he finished wryly. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘OK. Ciao.’ She blew him a kiss. ‘Zlato.’
His mouth must have dropped open, because she laughed. ‘You’re not the only one who can speak several languages, you know.’
Italian was Melinda’s native tongue and he knew she also spoke French and Spanish as well as English, albeit with a slight Italian accent.
But she’d just called him ‘darling’ in his own tongue.
Croatian.
How many years had it been since he’d heard that word spoken?
‘Dragan?’ She was looking worried. ‘What’s the matter? I said it wrong—it doesn’t mean what I think it means and I’ve just mortally insulted you?’
‘No.’ He forced himself to smile. ‘You said it perfectly. I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.’ And it had brought back memories he usually kept locked away.
She shook her head. ‘I can see it in your eyes. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to—’
‘Hey.’ He got out of the car and slid his arms round her, held her close. Rested his cheek against her soft, silky hair and breathed in the sweet scent he always associated with her. ‘I know you didn’t, piccola mia. It’s all right.’
‘I looked it up on the internet. How to say “amore mio” in Croatian. I just wanted to…well, to please you,’ she said softly.
‘You did. You do.’ He was so close to telling her how much she meant to him. How he really felt about her. Just how much he loved her. But the first time he said those words, he wanted it to be perfect. Romantic. At the top of the cliffs, with moonlight shining over the Atlantic—or maybe at sunrise. A new dawn, a new beginning. He hadn’t quite worked out the details. But the middle of the car park of the local boarding kennels really wasn’t the right place for a declaration of love.
Especially when he was supposed to be working. And so was she.
He let her go. ‘I’ll see you later. Have a nice afternoon.’
She lifted herself on tiptoe and kissed him. ‘You, too.’
The touch of her mouth against his made him forget his good intentions. He wrapped his arms round her again, let the kiss deepen. Lost himself in the warmth and sweetness of her mouth.
Until a polite cough interrupted them.
‘My apologies,’ he said to Lizzie Chamberlain, the owner of the boarding kennels. ‘I, um…’ What could he say? He was meant to be here to check on her mother and talk about the consultant’s report she’d just received. Yet here he was, kissing the vet stupid in the middle of the car park.
Lizzie just smiled. ‘It’s nice to see you both looking so happy.’
Melinda’s face was bright red and his felt as if it were a matching shade. And he couldn’t think of a single word to say.
Luckily Melinda’s brain cells seemed to snap in a little more quickly than his. ‘Grazie,’ she said.
‘We’ve thought for a while that you two were more than just good friends,’ Lizzie commented. ‘But you kept everyone guessing.’
Melinda’s fingers twined around Dragan’s. ‘It’s very new,’ she said softly. ‘Dragan and I…we both like a quiet life.’
‘And you want time to get to know each other properly without the village grapevine interfering and people asking you when we’re going to hear the bells at St Mark’s,’ Lizzie guessed.
‘Essattamente.’ Melinda beamed at her. ‘I knew you would understand. Thank you, Lizzie. We appreciate your kindness in keeping it to yourself.’ Her fingers tightened briefly round Dragan’s, and then she let his hand go. ‘I need to go and see a man about a dog.’
She meant it literally as well, Dragan knew; he liked her sense of humour.
Melinda smiled. ‘Ciao.’ And then she was gone.
‘She’s such a lovely girl,’ Lizzie said as Melinda drove out of the car park. ‘And a brilliant vet. She’s got such an affinity with animals.’
‘So she was here because you’re worried about one of your rescue dogs?’ Dragan asked.
‘A kitten, actually.’
He blinked. ‘A kitten—here?’
‘You
