Hungarian Rhapsody: A Secret Library Title (The Secret Library) - Softcover

Antonia Adams is an experienced author and editor of romantic and erotic fiction for Xcite Books

Without turning around he said, 'You like what you see?'

I suppressed my yelp of alarm at having been perceived and tried to retrieve the situation. 'Scrambled eggs, yeah, lovely.'

'Not the eggs,' he said. 'You are checking out my ass. You like it?'

'I'm not ... nothing of the kind,' I protested, but it sounded too lame to continue with. Instead, I sidled up to the counter and peered into the bowl. 'What's this?'

'Lecsó,' he said, but I was none the wiser, so he explained. 'We like for breakfast. Onions, peppers, tomatoes, cook with sugar and salt and paprika until they are soft. Then we put with eggs, right?'

'It smells lovely.'

'Thanks. You sit down. I bring coffee.'

He slid the bowl and a tiny cup of super strength coffee under my nose once I was ensconced at the kitchen table, then he joined me opposite.

'Healthier than a fry-up,' I commented, sampling the fare. It was delicious. He was a good cook. I eyed him, all rumpled and tattooed and sinewy and handsome over there. I'd pre-emptively kicked him out of bed. How strange of me.

I reminded myself that he was arrogant and entitled. And, what was that other thing? Oh yeah. I was on the rebound. Big style. Stay away, Ruby.

'Healthy,' he said, chewing speculatively. 'Not typical Hungarian food. Much fat.'

'But there isn't an ounce of fat on you,' I said before I could help myself.

'Ounce?' But he had understood me, if that devilish smirk was any evidence.

'You don't look fat,' I blethered on.

'Thanks.' He took a sip of coffee. 'You like my body?'

I'd played right into his hands, it was clear.

'I just meant that you look healthy.'

He leant forward on one elbow, his head low, eyes fixed on mine. 'I'm healthy,' he said. 'You're healthy. We can be healthy together.'

Whatever he meant by that, it sounded filthy. I guessed he wasn't offering to introduce me to his gym.

'Ah ... I came here for some alone time,' I told him, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than it did for me. 'Time to think.'

He put out a hand and I froze, unable to move, as he brushed a damp curl from my forehead. I hadn't been able to blow dry my hair, forgetting that Hungarian sockets were different.

'Your eyes they are sad,' he said. 'You have sad thoughts.'

'I'm fine,' I said in a high, tense voice. 'Just want to be left alone.'

To my horror, my throat closed over the food it had just swallowed and my eyes filled with tears.