CHAPTER EIGHT

      SOMETHING WARM AND heavy and very noisy pressed against Matteo’s chest. Gingerly opening one eye, he came nose to nose with a fat cat that was purring so loudly it sounded like a dentist’s drill. ‘Hugo? Ma, che sei grullo. Eh? You are joking? A beautiful woman next door and this is the only offer of bedtime action that I get?’

      Matteo wiggled and jiggled his torso but the cat didn’t move. He just stretched a lazy leg, gave it a lick, then resumed the loud drill noise. ‘Go, cat. Go.’

      Purr. Purr. Another lazy lick.

      ‘Okay. Stay there. See if I care. Because I don’t.’ It was six-thirteen in the morning. He was in bed with a cat. At Ivy’s house. She, however, was sleeping elsewhere. That cross mouth and taut, hot body under covers in another room in a house that felt like it was the furthest thing from a home that he’d ever known. There were few pictures on the walls, nothing to say that a family lived here. Or a proud mother. Nothing like the chaos of his home, where you couldn’t move for people and things. And the comparison made his heart ache for Ivy and what she hadn’t had, growing up.

      It had been a mistake to come here, that he knew with certainty.

      He’d been so close last night to suggesting things that would have taken them way beyond this strange relationship they had right now. But just because he’d kept silent didn’t mean he was happy about it. Or that he wanted her any less. But he was stuck here for the next few hours at least—he’d promised to take her back to the hospital to see her mum, which meant he had a period of being here … alone with Ivy. He could manage a few hours. Just. Then he would get the hell out and back to the sanitised sanity of his chaotic but uncomplicated life.

      In the meantime, he had to make the most of this unexpected downtime. Inching his way from underneath the soggy furball, crawling out of bed and shrugging on some running gear, he left the house in silence to explore what wonders York had to offer. A leafy path opposite the front door headed off next to a slow flowing river, towards what looked like the business centre. What better way to put a woman out of your mind than by sprinting through a new city?

      The air was fresh and crisp and rich with something sweet—something delicious, like sugar candy. It made his gut curl with hunger. But again, as with thoughts of Ivy, he put everything aside and focused his effort into each footfall. Few people were out and about this early so he was able to up his pace and circumnavigate what appeared to be an old city surrounded by ancient, crumbling walls and lush greenery.

      Weak sunshine fought its way through light grey clouds. It was quiet, the cobbled streets were deserted, and his mind began to settle a little with the rhythmic thud of each step.

      An hour later, and much calmer, he found her in the lounge curled up on a window seat that overlooked a typical country garden filled with the fragrant blooms of spring flowers. Her laptop was open and files were scattered around her feet. She was wearing dark blue pyjamas and had wrapped a thick cream woollen cardigan around herself, and his heart clutched a little to see her working so early. Seemed the woman had so much to prove. Too much.

      Even though she’d been out of his head briefly while he’d pondered some historical ruins likely put there by some old Roman ancestor of his, she settled firmly back into it the moment he set eyes on her again.

      She jumped a little as she realised he was watching her, her eyes narrowing, breath quickening. ‘Matteo! Gosh, you must have been up early.’

      ‘Buongiorno. I had a strange companion with his own quirky alarm.’ If he went to her he might just kiss her good morning. So he stayed exactly where he was, at the door.

      ‘Ah. Yes. Hugo. Sorry about him. He’s a freeloader and body heat is his catnip. You should have just kicked him off and turned over.’

      ‘The cat wasn’t for kicking.’

      ‘No, you’re probably right. He’s like you. Stubborn and wilful. Now, there’s coffee in the press. Just put a light under it. Actually …’ She slapped the lid of her laptop down and swivelled to a stand. Her toes were painted a bright pink that matched her cheeks. And why he noticed such a small, innocuous detail he couldn’t say. ‘I can finish up for a few minutes if you like. Make you some breakfast. It’s the least I can do for you. Where did you get to on your run?’

      Sticking firmly to the wall, he tried to remember a route that he hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to. ‘I stuck to the river path into town, took a detour to see some of the old black and white buildings with the overhanging top storeys and the sagging middles, had a look at the ruined walls, and went down past the railway museum. Pretty place all in all.’

      ‘Well, that at least means I don’t have to worry about showing you round, apart from the Minster and a proper walk through the Shambles—you’ve got to go see them, everyone else does. You can’t come here and not see all the most famous bits.’ She smiled and it was like sunshine, warming and welcome. He cringed internally at that thought. He was getting too soft. All that work at hardening his heart and she had to start melting it.

      No.

      It wasn’t going to happen. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. You’re here for your mum. I’ve got calls to make as it is—I need to check up on Joey.’

      Busily stacking her files into a pile, she looked up at him. ‘Oh, yes. Let me know how he’s doing. And you’re going to miss your game. I feel very guilty.’

      ‘Don’t waste your energy. Stay where you are, you’re working. I can fix myself something.’

      ‘I feel guilty about that too. And about not getting enough work done. I’d planned to get through so much this weekend. I’ve just phoned the ward to see how Mum’s doing and the nurse said she was comfortable and asking for some breakfast.’ She walked through to the kitchen, flicked the heat under a stovetop coffeepot. Then turned to him, biting her bottom lip.

      ‘Matteo, how am I going to manage to work while I’m here? I know this sounds really mean and very selfish, but I need to be in London. And I need to be here for my mum. I can’t do both. How do people juggle these things?’