Never Say No to a Caffarelli. Melanie Milburne

      ‘I’m sure you’re quite adept at getting yourself out of complicated situations.’

      He gave a little chuckle. ‘You’ve been reading up on me, haven’t you?’

      ‘If you find Chutney, please call me.’

      ‘I’ll do even better than that. I’ll deliver him to your door.’

      ‘I wouldn’t want to put you to any bother.’

      ‘Will he come to a stranger?’

      ‘He’s a shameless glutton,’ Poppy said. ‘He’ll do anything for food.’

      Her spine shivered again as he gave another deep chuckle. ‘I know the type.’

      * * *

      The doorbell rang a few minutes later. Poppy had only just come back inside after doing another round of the garden. She shushed Pickles and Relish, who were bouncing up and down on their back legs like string puppets being controlled by a hyperactive puppeteer. ‘Down, Pickles; you too, Relish. Sit. I said sit.’ She opened the door to find Rafe standing there with Chutney under one arm. ‘Oh, you found him! Where was he?’

      He handed the dog to her. ‘He was sitting at the back of the manor near the kitchen door.’

      Poppy put Chutney on the floor where his two friends immediately besieged him with frenzied licks and whimpers of delight, as if he’d been away for a month instead of an hour. She straightened to face Rafe. ‘I’m sorry about that. I think he still misses Lord Dalrymple. We used to go up to visit him every day.’

      ‘I noticed he seemed quite at home.’

      ‘Yes, well, I made a habit of wandering past with the dogs to check the place wasn’t vandalised while it was vacant,’ Poppy said. ‘I’m not going up there now, of course.’

      His eyes glinted knowingly. ‘Of course.’

      She straightened her shoulders. ‘Thank you for returning him. You didn’t have to. I would have come to collect him. All you had to do was call me.’

      ‘Have you thought about my dinner proposal?’

      Poppy felt that funny little shiver again as his dark eyes held hers. She wasn’t exactly dressed for visitors. She was wearing the oldest, shabbiest tracksuit she possessed and a pair of scruffy old trainers that had holes over her big toes where Pickles had chewed them. Her hair was tied up with a ribbon and her face bare of make-up. It made her feel at a distinct disadvantage. It made her feel about ten years old. Why, oh why hadn’t she changed into something a little less unsophisticated? ‘Um, I think you should ask someone else,’ she said.

      ‘I want you.’

      Heat flowed into her cheeks as that coal-black gaze smouldered against hers. ‘I’m not available.’ To her chagrin her voice sounded throaty and husky...sexy, even.

      ‘You know you want to say yes. I can see it in your eyes.’

      Poppy glowered at him. ‘I can see why you fly everywhere by private jet—you’d need all the extra cabin space for your ego.’

      A smile lurked around the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?’

      ‘I did warn you.’

      ‘Likewise.’ His black-as-pitch gaze held hers with a glint of implacable determination. ‘When I want something, I don’t give up until I have it.’

      ‘Thank you for bringing Chutney home,’ she said holding the door open for him. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’

      Those dark-as-night eyes lowered to her mouth for a moment before returning to mesh with her gaze. ‘Aren’t you going to do the neighbourly thing and invite me in for a nightcap since I so gallantly returned your dog?’

      Poppy knew it would appear churlish of her to refuse him entry. But wouldn’t inviting him in so late at night send him the message she actually wanted his company?

      Of course she didn’t want his company. She had plenty of company. She had her three little dogs, didn’t she? ‘I’m kind of busy right now.’

      ‘I’m house-trained, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ His hint of a smile was devastatingly attractive. ‘I won’t cock my leg on the furniture or try and bury bones in the backyard.’

      ‘I’m not in the habit of inviting men I barely know into my house late at night.’

      Was that a glimmer of respect she saw in his eyes? ‘Are you worried about what the neighbours will think?’ he asked.

      ‘You’re the only neighbour for miles,’ she pointed out.

      A more serious note entered his voice and was reflected in his gaze as it held hers. ‘You’re quite safe with me, Miss Silverton. I might have a reputation but I have the utmost respect for women and always have.’

      ‘How reassuring.’

      ‘You don’t believe me.’

      ‘Some of the comments your ex-mistress posted online about you were rather derogatory,’ Poppy said.

      ‘It’s not my best character reference, that’s for sure. But she was unhappy about being made redundant, so to speak. I’ll get my secretary to send her a parting gift to soften the blow. It was remiss of me not to think of it earlier. I bet once Zandra gets several thousand pounds’ worth of rubies or sapphires she’ll take the comments down.’

      Poppy arched her brow at him. ‘Why not diamonds?’

      ‘I never give diamonds.’

      ‘Why not? It’s not as if you can’t afford them.’

      ‘Diamonds are for ever,’ he said. ‘When I find the right girl to give them to, I’ll buy them, but not before.’

      Poppy gave him a sceptical look. ‘So you’re actually planning to give up your partying and playboy lifestyle at some point?’

      His shrug was noncommittal. ‘It’s not on my immediate agenda.’

      She couldn’t keep the derision from her tone or from the angle of her chin. ‘Too busy out there sowing your wild oats?’

      His eyes glinted as they held hers. ‘There are a few fresh fields I have yet to plough. After that, who knows? Don’t they say reformed rakes make the best husbands?’

      ‘What sort of wife will you require?’ Poppy asked. ‘A plaster saint with a blue-blooded background similar to your own?’

      A sparkle of playfulness entered his gaze. ‘Are you thinking of auditioning for the post?’

      She pulled her chin back in against her throat. ‘You must be joking. You’re the very last person I would ever think of marrying.’

      He gave her a mock bow before he turned to leave. ‘The feeling is mutual, Miss Silverton. Bonsoir.’

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘I JUST RAN into Mr Compton on my way to work,’ Chloe said the following morning. ‘He said Rafe Caffarelli came in again yesterday.’

      ‘He just had coffee.’ Poppy turned to put the cream she had just whipped back in the fridge. ‘Quite frankly, I don’t know why he bothers. What’s the point of going to a tearoom if you don’t drink tea and you don’t eat cake?’

      ‘Mr Compton also told me Rafe asked you to provide evening meals for him up at the manor.’ Chloe picked up her apron and began to tie it around her waist. ‘That’s exciting. The way to a man’s heart and all that. What are you going to cook for him?’

      ‘I’m not cooking for him.’

      Chloe blinked. ‘Are you crazy? He’s going to pay you, isn’t he?’