I pulled half of my clothes onto the bed the next morning before finally settling on a pair of jeans and a soft V-neck jumper. Anything smarter would have looked out of place. Dammit, Nye had seen me in my pyjamas! And not even one of the classy silk pairs Edward had bought me with their lace trim and fancy buttons. Why hadn't I been wearing those? Because they were uncomfortable, that was why. For years, I'd sacrificed comfort for style to please him.

Nye looked depressingly awake as I tripped over the cat and fell into the kitchen. My gawky entrance made him glance up from his computer and smile faintly as he gave his head a barely perceptible shake.

Yes, I was an idiot. I already knew that, okay?

"I made coffee," he said.

"My hero."

"Don't get too excited. I can't make anything else."

"I'll cook." Making him breakfast was the least I could do. And lunch. And dinner. "What do you fancy?"

He looked at me for a full ten seconds before answering, and his scrutiny reduced me to the size of a Barbie doll, minus the tiny waist and long legs.

"I'm not fussy. Not when it comes to food, anyway."

Good to know. "And what about the men outside?"

I'd seen the Jeep parked outside next to a new BMW I assumed was Nye's.

"I've already taken them coffee, and they'll eat anything you care to make."

If I'd known I'd have extra mouths to feed, I'd have stocked up on food. The cupboards were almost bare, but I found a packet of part-baked baguettes, a few rashers of bacon, and a box of eggs—enough to make breakfast rolls all around.

"Where are you going?" Nye stopped me halfway to the door with a tray in my hand.

"Taking breakfast to the men in the car."

"I'll take it."

"But—"

He'd already gone, leaving me empty-handed in the middle of the kitchen, so I set his plate on the table with a napkin and orange juice instead, smiling as I did so. Edward would have thrown a fit at a breakfast roll. He only ate organic muesli in the mornings.

But Nye tucked in the moment he got back without a murmur of complaint.

"Babe, a man could get used to this."

A blush spread across my cheeks. "It's nothing."

"To you, maybe."

Surely plenty of women must have cooked for him in the past? He probably had them queueing around the block, aprons on and recipe books in hand. He gave me a strange look as I giggled, and I hastily banished that vision.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked once we'd finished eating.

"I need to package up anything I've sold on eBay and take it to the post office, do some work on the computer, and buy groceries."

He glanced at his watch. "I've got a video conference at eleven, but I'm yours after that. Call me when you want to go out, and I'll come with you."

"I'm sure I'll be fine on my own. I mean, it's daylight now."

"Liv, until we catch this guy, you don't set foot outside by yourself. I'm your shadow, got it?"

A big sexy shadow wearing a T-shirt that stretched across his pecs and a pair of jeans made to hug the curves of his ass. I could think of worse things.

Stop it, Olivia!

I shouldn't be thinking like that at all, but it was so hard with temptation sitting right in front of me.

"Yes, got it."

When I opened the laptop to distract myself, I found I'd sold six items on eBay. Another eighty pounds, and the pesky foot spa with seventeen attachments was finally on its way to a new home. It didn't take long to pack everything, and Nye insisted on carrying the parcels as we walked into the village. He'd wanted to drive, but I begged to walk in the sunshine. I'd got fitter since moving to Upper Foxford—one of the few advantages of living there.

In the post office, Nye dumped everything on the counter, and Betty looked up at him with undisguised awe.

"Recorded delivery for the two big parcels, please, and second class for the rest," I said.

Nothing. Today, I didn't exist.

Nye tried instead. "Olivia would like to send the two big parcels recorded delivery, and the rest can go second class."

"Right away, Mr... I didn't catch your name?"

"Nye Holmes."

"Are you new in the village?"

She knew damn well he was.

"I'm helping to keep Olivia safe from the man who keeps breaking into her house."

"You're a bodyguard?"

"More of an investigator."

"Now I come to think about it, I've been hearing strange noises in the night myself."

"Probably her bones creaking," I muttered as Betty turned to weigh the foot spa. Or that strange son of hers. I wondered whether Nye would ask about Larry, but he didn't.

Instead, he choked back a laugh. "I could ask a colleague to look into the matter, if you like. Shall I get someone to call with details of our rates?"

Betty hastily shook her head. "No, no, dear. I'm sure it's just my imagination."

She barely took her eyes off Nye the whole time we were in there, and when he asked if she sold chewing gum, I thought she was about to vault the counter and show him where it was herself. At least I wasn't the only woman he caused to act crazy around him.

"Do many old ladies flirt with you?" I asked when we got outside.

He shifted from foot to foot. "A few," he admitted, clearly uncomfortable. "Do you want to get groceries before we go back?"

Not really. I couldn't deal with Floyd's sullenness at the moment, or his prices. "Could we head into town later? There's more choice."

"Whatever you want."

Tate phoned just as we walked in the door, and I glanced at my watch. Eleven thirty.

"Good morning, darling. You left a message?"

"I did."

"You said it was urgent, so I slotted you in right after my third meeting. What's wrong?"

Well, at least I'd found out where I lay in Tate's list of priorities. "The urgency's gone out of it now. I got broken into again last night."

"That's awful. Did they take much?"

And his first question was about my belongings rather than me. "Nothing that I could see. He got disturbed by a patrol car."

"At least the police made a bit more effort this time. Good to know my chat with Graham had the desired effect."

"It wasn't the police. Nye sent someone."

"That cowboy? What did he do, round up a gang of vigilantes?"

"Not at all. They seemed very professional."

"And the Mafia wear suits. Olivia, your cottage clearly isn't safe. Why don't you come and stay at the manor until the police get to the bottom of this? My housekeeper can cater to your every need."

A month ago, I'd have leapt at that invitation. The chance to be taken care of rather than fending for myself. I'd grown used to being on a rich man's arm when I was with Edward. But had I truly enjoyed it? Now that I had the chance to fall back into that lifestyle again, I found I didn't want to.

Despite the difficulties at Lilac Cottage, I'd achieved something for myself and experienced a freedom I'd never had living under Edward's thumb in a rented flat.

And then there was Nye. An added complication. He made me feel things I shouldn't, and it wouldn't be fair to stay with Tate with another man at the forefront of my mind.

"I appreciate the offer, Tate, really I do. But I'll have to decline."

"But you're in danger. Who knows what that man will do next? And there's your burglar on the loose too."

And so jealousy reared its ugly head. Tate was more worried about Nye's presence than my damn stalker.

"I'm not going to be scared out of my own house."

"For the record, I think you're making a terrible decision." And there was the lawyer in Tate making an appearance.

"Noted. But it's still my decision to make."

"Well, call me when you come to your senses."

And with those words, it hit me. Maddie had been absolutely right—Tate was Edward all over again. My whole life, I'd gravitated towards men my mother would have rated A+. She'd ingrained a mental checklist in me.

- Does he have a pretentious job? Check.

- Is he reasonably handsome? Check.

- Does he have enough money to look after me? Check.

- Is he well-connected socially? Check.

Tate met every one of those criteria, and so had Edward, and I didn't want to waste another two years of my life on a man who'd hurt me without a second thought when he moved on to a new model. Quite literally, in Edward's case.

No, I needed to start a new list, my own this time. One that would most likely leave my mother's ghost tutting in the background every time I added an item. What should I start with?

- Does he make my heart pound?

- Does every nerve ending burn at his merest touch?

- Does the timbre of his voice send shivers through me?

- Do I want to push him onto the nearest flat surface and ride him until I'm screaming?

Freaking hell, Olivia! My own thoughts shocked me.

They scared me too. Because right now, there was one man in my life who ticked all of those boxes, and he wasn't Tate.

Those thoughts weighed on my mind all afternoon as I tried to get some work done. "Tried" being the operative word. With Nye sitting opposite me, I couldn't even remember the password for my own website.

"Can we go out for groceries now?" I asked. "My concentration's shot to pieces."

"Something to do with that phone call earlier?"

Damn him for being so perceptive. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you bit your bottom lip so hard while you were listening that you still had tooth dents in it five minutes later."

My finger came up to feel automatically, and Nye tracked it with eyes that missed nothing. I'd never known a man to make me feel quite so nervous—fear and lust and intimidation made my insides feel like a termite nest, full of tiny insects crawling around and nibbling away at my sanity.

"Fine. It was Tate, and I finally realised he's not as special as everyone around here seems to think he is. Maddie's right, one hundred percent right. If I decide to date again, I'll be looking for a nice, normal man. One without a posh car and a wine cellar and room for a pony." Words vomited out of me, and I blamed the termites. My brain didn't function with Nye in close proximity. "Sorry. You probably didn't need to hear all that."

Nye's lip twitched, but I didn't know whether it was the beginning of a smile or a hint of a scowl. I played safe and returned to my first question.

"Can we go out and buy food? Please?"

"Sure."

He picked up his keys from where he'd flung them onto the counter. I'd noticed he had a habit of doing that—dropping things where they didn't belong—and I'd already removed a pair of gloves and a sweater and put them in more appropriate places.

Outside, he opened the car door for me, showing he did have some manners hidden away under that tough exterior. By the time I'd moved my seat into the right position, he was fiddling with the SatNav.

"Sainsbury's do you?"

Once upon a time, I'd have insisted on Waitrose, but now I'd realised there were more important things to worry about in life.

"Sainsbury's is fine."

On the bus, the trip into town took almost an hour, and when Warren drove me, we did it in twenty minutes. Nye drove the car like he rode the bike and took fifteen. At least I had a seat belt and airbags in the 5 Series.

"Thank you for driving. And in a car, this time."

"You didn't like the bike?"

"It was terrifying. And I'll admit I'm still a little peeved that you brought it when you had access to a perfectly good BMW."

"The BMW was at my flat, and I didn't go home that night. I slept in the office and came straight back to yours the next morning."

He did? Now I felt terrible. He'd made it his priority to help me, and I'd just chewed him out for it. I turned to apologise, but he'd already got out of the car and was on his way around to open my door.

I was trying to think of the right words when he bent his head to whisper in my ear.

"Even if I had gone home, I'd still have brought the bike."

My mouth dropped as he sauntered off to fetch a trolley. I couldn't believe him! He'd deliberately manipulated me into wrapping myself around him.

And now my libido laughed. Who are you kidding? Nye would have only had to ask.

I sighed as I followed him into the supermarket. Judging by the ache between my thighs, my libido was right on the money.

I'd tried to write a shopping list before I left, but when I caught myself adding chocolate four times, I gave up. I'd just wander the shelves for inspiration. Fresh vegetables, fruit, chicken, and minced beef. Maybe I'd make a lasagne this evening. Pasta. Flour, eggs, sugar, and cocoa powder because I needed a cake. Nye wandered along, tossing his own items into the trolley.

"Pre-made microwaveable hot dogs?" I asked when I caught sight of one of the boxes.

What else had he chosen? Pop-Tarts, a ready-cooked omelette, individual trifles. I picked up a packet of burger "cheese."

"You realise there isn't actually any cheese in this?"

He shrugged. "It comes pre-sliced."

"Have you ever cooked anything? Or do you just reheat?"

"I tried boiling an egg once, but it didn't work out." At least he had the good grace to look sheepish.

"Look, put that stuff back. I'll cook for you."

He brightened. "You will?"

"Of course, and for the teams outside. You're all doing me such a big favour."

"In that case..." Nye scooped his shopping out and dumped it on a shelf.

"You can't just leave it there."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not in the right places."

He put an arm around my shoulder and steered me away. "Look at it this way, babe—I'm keeping someone in a job."

It still made me twitch, but I liked the feel of his arm too much to go back. Instead, we traipsed through the healthier sections of the store again and bought enough food for everyone.

Then we had our second disagreement when Nye got his credit card out.

"I'll pay."

"Liv, hardly any of that food's for you."

"But—"

"You can do magic things and transform it into something edible. That's your contribution, okay?"

What could I do but nod? The lady behind us in the queue was already tapping her foot.

Back at Lilac Cottage, Nye checked in with the security team while I unlocked the front door.

"Nothing to report," he said, picking up all the shopping in one go. I grabbed my handbag and scurried in after him. The dark gave me the creeps.

Now I had to find somewhere to put everything. Aunt Ellie's kitchen was perfectly adequate for two, but three shifts of two guards who'd each eat one meal a day with us meant we'd bought a week's worth of food for four plus enough snacks to feed an army battalion. According to Nye, his colleagues hoovered up food like stray dogs. Careful packing of the fridge would be required.

I took out the washing-up liquid and the packet of dishcloths and put them by the sink, but as I turned back to the bags, something outside the window caught my eye.

What was it?

I leaned forward to take a closer look, then wished more than anything that I hadn't.