Passionate Chef, Ice Queen Boss / Rescued in a Wedding Dress: Passionate Chef, Ice Queen Boss / Rescued in a Wedding Dress

Lorenzo got out of the van to stride around the front and open Scarlett’s door with a bow and a flourish. ‘Shall we go?’

For a moment she froze, but then a smile came over her face and she held out her hand and lifted her nose into the air at such a haughty angle it was a wonder it didn’t catch on the top of the doorframe. ‘By all means let us go, but you should know, I’m not carrying the basket for you.’

‘Actually, I have string bags, and I’ll be doing the carrying myself.’ He gripped her hand and helped her out, and their hands slid away from each other with a slow glide of fingers.

They went shopping. Lorenzo made his choices as carefully as he always did. These were ingredients and items he couldn’t get for the kitchen locally in Monta Correnti.

Scarlett observed, questioned his brand choices, and nodded her approval as he carefully explained how each item would be used.

When they’d finished the shopping for Rosa, he gestured towards another small shop. ‘If you don’t mind me taking the time, I’d like a few things from in there for my home stores. They can wait if you’d prefer.’

‘No, that’s fine.’ Her eyes had lit up as she realised what they were looking at. It was a chocolate wholesaler. She turned to glance at him with her brows raised. ‘I know you make fabulous desserts. You were working on some the first day I started at Rosa, but I wouldn’t have pictured you with a sweet tooth for it.’

‘Then picture again.’ He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I occasionally make them at home. Partly to keep my hand in and my capabilities sharp, but mostly—’ he smiled ‘—so I can eat the results. Maybe one day I could cook a dessert for you.’

‘Maybe.’

A little silence fell. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, just both of them realising that they’d let their conversation drift into something it perhaps hadn’t started out to be.

That perhaps wasn’t particularly appropriate, and Lorenzo tried to remind himself of this as he gathered up his purchases and the items were tallied.

He managed, sort of. Well, except for his imagination taking him to making chocolate desserts for Scarlett and feeding portions to her somewhere quiet and romantic.

You’ve managed not to feel romantic about anyone else for five years.

Lorenzo hadn’t been celibate, but those encounters had been occasional, and emotionally meaningless.

‘Lunch.’ He needed to shift his thoughts away from the concepts of Scarlett and romance. ‘We, ah, we agreed that we’d eat at the most popular restaurant, check out the competition.’

‘My guess would be that one.’ Scarlett gestured to a small, cosy restaurant tucked into the corner of the square. It wasn’t the largest, but it was clearly busy. ‘Shall we go there?’

Lorenzo tucked their purchases into coolers in the back of the van, and they made their way on foot to the restaurant.

‘The demographic they’re getting is different here from Rosa.’ Scarlett leaned forward to say the words quietly, so they wouldn’t be overheard by other diners. So no one would know they were being studied and picked apart. ‘We get some tourists, but not as many as we have locals.’

To be fair, she and Lorenzo were picking apart the food, table service, ambiance and everything else as well. That was why they were here. To examine all of it.

She took a small sip of her wine. ‘It’s a decent red. Nothing outstanding, but I don’t think you’d do better for a table-wine price.’

‘Yes. The wine is good value.’ Lorenzo’s lids drooped and his gaze stilled on her lips.

Scarlett was trying hard not to be too aware of him, too conscious. And yet with each moment that passed, her awareness seemed to increase.

They’d laughed together this morning as they drove here. Played silly old music in the van and let themselves relax. Scarlett had let her guards down. She couldn’t seem to get them back up again.

‘They’re catering to at least a fifty-per-cent tourist clientele here.’ Lorenzo leaned in a little closer. ‘These are people who won’t be back again and again. They just want to eat and leave.’

‘It can be a tricky one, the tourist versus locals issue.’ Scarlett tried to give the issue the most careful thought she could manage.

That wasn’t a full hundred per cent, she had to admit. How could she fully concentrate on business when all she could hear was his voice? When all she could feel was the fact he was so close she could raise her hand and touch his face?

And he was looking at her as though, regardless of their purpose here, he saw only her.

Scarlett cleared her throat. ‘You, ah, with your shopping earlier—the Rosa part of it.’ Yes, that was good. Rosa was what they needed to speak about, even if Scarlett now had an almost compulsive need to be in a kitchen with him somewhere and watch him create a chocolate masterpiece.

For her?

No. Of course not.

Well, it would be rather special.

I repeat, Scarlett, no, of course not!

It would not be special. It would be dangerously intimate.

‘Um, where were we?’

The liquid brown of his eyes darkened as he gazed at her through a screen of silky black lashes. ‘We were discussing my shopping for Rosa.’

‘That’s right. We were.’ Scarlett forced a nod, but all that did was make her ponytail bounce and the forest-green ribbon brush against the skin of her back. A sleeveless sundress in a matching green had seemed a good choice this morning, but now Scarlett wondered if maybe she should have dressed in something more workmanlike. Well, workwomanlike, if she wanted to be exact about it.

Maybe a suit that buttoned up to the neck. With tights. Boring, sensible ones. And low-heeled pumps. And no ribbon in her hair. Definitely no ribbon from her collection of ribbons that Scarlett anticipated wearing each day now for that moment when Lorenzo let his gaze wander to her hair.

‘I’ve studied the way you run your kitchen, Lorenzo.’ She drew a breath that she hoped would help to steady her before she forced herself to go on. ‘From this morning’s shopping, the only noteworthy issue was that we could purchase a lot of our goods from here on a regular basis and get them for less than we’re paying to local producers from Monta Correnti and its surrounds.’

His fingers lifted as though he might attempt to smooth the puckered expression from her lips, but he dropped them back to the table and instead gave a nod of agreement. ‘You’re quite right, but Luca’s policy has been to support local business.’

‘Yet recently I saw you in a heated discussion with a local olive supplier when he brought a case of olives to the restaurant.’ Scarlett had meant to follow up on that, but had become immersed again in account records and, truthfully, had forgotten. She shouldn’t allow issues to slip away from her that way. Everything counted!

It was Lorenzo’s turn to frown. ‘The olives that grower brought wouldn’t be fit to put on a cheap mass-produced pizza from some foreign country that doesn’t have a clue!’

Scarlett grinned. She couldn’t help herself. ‘Are you having a go at my country’s food-chain pizza makers? I’m sure the last time I had an olive on one of those pizzas, it was quite satisfactory. But then, Australia produces some good olives.’

She was teasing him.

And he was looking all affronted but with a twinkle in his eyes, letting her.

Scarlett was shocked at her own behaviour, and thrilled and happy and a little giddy from his company, all at once.

Oh, she had allowed herself to relax too much with him today. That was the problem. Relax and unwind and for a little while, though the entire purpose of her presence with him was to dig into yet another aspect of Rosa’s doings in hopes of finding another edge she could trim off their bottom line, she’d simply had fun.

‘Why can’t I still loathe you, ’Renz?’ The old pet name for him slipped out without her even realising it. The question slipped out, too, straight from her confusion and interest in him. It also came from a degree of caution and the belated realisation that she really had let this day get out of her control. ‘You hurt me so much.’

‘That is something I have regretted every day for five years.’ He didn’t say that he wished he could have fixed the situation, made it better. That he wished he could have done things differently back then.

Scarlett noted that. Oh, she heard that fact loud and clear. And even then, she still couldn’t.

Had she ever hated him? Or had she only thought that she did, because being angry had been easier to deal with than the pain of losing him? The pain of him not caring for her enough to leave his wife and give Scarlett the future with him that she had hoped for?