Free A Dangerous Infatuation by Chantelle Shaw

was struggling to remove the cork from the bottle when he strolled into the kitchen.
    ‘Allow me to do that.’
    Rocco uncorked the wine with practised ease and watched Emma open a cupboard and retrieve two glasses. She had to stretch up to reach them, and in doing so her fine wool sweater was drawn taut across her breasts, emphasising their rounded fullness. Heat flared in his groin, prompting him to shift his position to ease the constriction of his suddenly tight trousers. The kitchen was built to the same minuscule proportions as the rest of the cottage. Onestep was all it would take to bring his body into contact with Emma’s. But he fought the temptation to press himself against her soft curves and glanced around the room, feeling the top of his head brush against the ceiling beams.
    ‘I hope the agent deters anyone tall from viewing this place. It’s not much bigger than a dolls’ house.’
    ‘It’s big enough for the two of us,’ Emma said shortly, her heart sinking at the reminder that she would soon be forced to move out of the cottage which had been her home for the past three years.
    ‘Did you live here when your husband was alive?’
    ‘No—Jack was based at a fire station in the centre of Newcastle, and we lived in a flat nearby. I moved to Primrose Cottage after Holly was born.’
    ‘What made you come out here to this isolated village? I would have thought Little Copton was too quiet for a young woman. It must be difficult to have a social life when you’re so far from a decent sized town.’
    ‘I don’t want a social life—not in the way you mean … visiting nightclubs and bars,’ Emma added, flushing when Rocco gave her a quizzical look. ‘I did part of my nurse’s training at Hexham Hospital, and used to spend my days off exploring the moors. My parents wanted me to move back to their farm in Scotland with Holly, but when I saw Primrose Cottage I fell in love with it.’
    She knew her parents had been worried about her living on her own with a newborn baby, but she had craved isolation, wanting to be alone to grieve for Jack and come to terms with the knowledge that he hadn’t loved her as she had loved him. The discovery of how he had betrayed her had decimated her sense of self-worth, and like a wounded animal she had gone to ground.
    Three years on she was proud of the fact that she was in control of her life, and utterly determined never to relinquishher independence or risk her emotional stability. It would be easy to be dazzled by a man like Rocco, she brooded. The way her heart skittered at his sexy smile was annoying proof that she was not completely immune to his charisma. But she had fallen for a charmer once before and been bitterly hurt. She wasn’t stupid enough to do so again.
    Rocco skimmed his eyes over Emma’s silky bob of hair and her creamy skin, noting the faint dusting of red-gold freckles on her nose and cheeks. ‘So you’re Scottish—I thought I detected an accent.’
    She shook her head. ‘Not technically—my family moved to Scotland from London when I was ten, so my Scots burr is not as strong as if I’d been born north of the border.’
    ‘Are they your parents?’ Rocco indicated the photo on the dresser of Holly with an older man and woman.
    ‘My in-laws. They adore Holly.’ Emma studied the picture of Jack’s parents and saw the sadness in the eyes that their smiles could not disguise. They had been devastated by the loss of their son, and doted on their little granddaughter. For them and for Holly she would continue with the pretence that Jack had been a devoted husband, and never reveal that he had shattered her trust irrevocably.
    She had joined Rocco by the dresser when he had asked about the photo, and now she was acutely conscious of how close they were standing. The fine hairs on her body stood on end, each of her senses alerted to his sheer maleness as she inhaled the subtle musk of aftershave and pheromones.
    Why did he affect her so