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As we made our way out of the people carrier, our host, Erica, a cheery Italian brunette in her early thirties, greeted us and led us to the doorway.
Holy fuck! Who wasthat?
‘Everyone, meet Lorenzo,’ said Erica. ‘Lorenzo will be your chef during your holiday and will be teaching you lots of delicious authentic Tuscan dishes.’
It took every ounce of energy I had to stop my eyes flying out of their sockets and straight into his gorgeous face.
He is a vision.
You know that saying, tall, dark and handsome? Well, he was that personified. He was a Tuscan dish I’d definitely like to sample. Six foot two, dark unruly (in a sexy way) hair, beautiful thick beard you just wanted to stroke, a killer smile and deep, deep come-to-bed eyes you could get lost in for hours. Luckily, I caught myself swooning just before it was about to get awkward.
He flashed me a warm smile.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I think I’m about to wet my knickers.
Sorry. TMI.
‘Ni–nice to meet you, Lorenzo,’ I stammered embarrassingly as I walked through into the dining room, desperately trying to keep my composure.
I couldn’t help it. I started grinning from ear to ear like a bloody teenager. Monique had bluntly said I needed to find myself some hot Italian arse…I think I just did.
I was only a couple of hours into my holiday, but I already had a feeling I was going to enjoy it immensely.
