by Sarah Morgan
‘Mr Lucarelli, I really don’t—’
‘It’s Stefano.’ He locked her car, not because he thought anyone was likely to steal it—no one would be that desperate—but out of consideration for her feelings. ‘And you may think you’re controlling, but you can’t be as controlling as me. If I don’t get my own way, I’m unbearable. Ask my sister if you don’t believe me. Leave the car. Your garage can sort it out.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Her expression was one of utter desolation and he frowned.
‘It’s just a car, Liv.’
For a moment she didn’t answer and then she looked up at him, her smile just a little too bright. ‘Yes, I know. Absolutely. And thanks for the offer of a lift, but I’ll be fine on the train.’ She eased her arm away from his and he felt a flash of exasperation.
‘Do you always refuse help?’
‘I’m never usually offered help. I’m used to doing things on my own. Taking care of myself. I suppose I feel…awkward. I don’t want to put you out.’
He wondered why she was so suddenly so lacking in confidence when an hour earlier she’d been saving a life. ‘So let me get this straight. You would rather skid along an icy pavement in freezing conditions and then wait on a draughty platform for a dark smelly underground train than have a lift to your door in my warm car. I confess I’m not flattered by your choice. Am I really that intimidating?’
Liv’s glance was self-conscious. ‘You can’t possibly want to give me a lift home.’
Faced with the unusual situation of having to persuade a woman into his car, Stefano applied the full force of his personality. ‘Just get in the car, Liv, and stop arguing.’
‘You’re right, you are controlling.’
‘In this weather, it’s an advantage. Accidenti, we’re both going to freeze.’ He took her hand and led her across the car park, noticing that her fingers were very slim and very cold. ‘You should wear gloves.’
‘I lost them.’ She snatched her hand away from his as if she had only just realised that he was holding her. Immediately she slipped on the ice and would have crashed to the ground if he hadn’t caught her. ‘Oops! Oh my goodness!’ Her legs slithered and he held her firmly, gritting his teeth as he felt the brush of her body against his.
Liv started to giggle and her laughter was so infectious that he found himself smiling, too.
‘Stefano.’ He held her firmly as she struggled to regain her footing on the icy surface. ‘My name is Stefano. Start using it or I’ll drop you.’
‘If you drop me, you’ll end up fixing the damage. You can let go of me now, I’m fine.’ Gingerly her fingers released their grip on the front of his coat. ‘Thank you.’
He tried to ignore the scent of her hair and the way her soft curves pressed against him, but the reaction of his body was instantaneous and he was experienced enough to know that the astonishing chemistry wasn’t all on his side.
Her cheeks were pink and she was looking everywhere except at him.
Definitely not all on his side.
Wondering why she was so determined to get away from him when the attraction between them was so powerful, he reluctantly released her. ‘Let’s get in the car before we both develop hypothermia. Give me directions to your house.’
Her eyes slid over his car, the streamlined black Ferrari that had been his Christmas present to himself two years previously. ‘All right, now I’m envious. Your car has no rust and I bet the engine starts first time.’
‘Actually it doesn’t.’ Stefano opened the door. ‘It hates the cold damp weather. I’m starting to think I should garage it over the winter and—’ He had been about to say ‘and use the other car’ when he’d realised how insensitive that would be in the circumstances. ‘Get in, Liv, before we both freeze.’
With obvious reluctance, she did as she was told and he strode round the car and settled himself in the driver’s seat.
With an unconsciously sensual movement, she slid her hands slowly over the leather seats and her eyes flickered to the dashboard. ‘Four point three litre engine,’ she murmured, ‘Naught to sixty in 3.9 seconds, F1 paddle shift transmission and carbon ceramic composite brakes.’
Stefano stared at her in incredulous disbelief and she smiled at him.
‘Modified version of the 360s semi-space frame aluminium chassis. Capable of a top speed of 196 miles per hour.’
Stefano drew some much-needed air into his lungs. ‘You’re interested in cars?’
‘Not in the slightest, but don’t tell my little boy. He thinks I love cars.’ Her eyes danced and her cheeks dimpled. ‘I’m living proof that it’s possible to sound knowledgeable about a subject without actually understanding anything. All I really know about your car is that it can go fast. Which isn’t much use in London.’
Stefano started to laugh. ‘You memorised all that?’
‘Well, not intentionally. But Max doesn’t like fairy-tales much. He prefers to read about engines and how things work. Anna’s husband gave him a book on super-cars.’
‘So you curl up in bed at night reading about Ferraris?’
‘Gripping, don’t you think? I can hardly wait to turn the page. Next week we should be moving on to Lamborghini. I particularly enjoyed November because that was Maserati.’
He loved her sense of humour but most of all he liked her smile. She was smiling at him now and it took all his willpower not to bring his mouth down on hers because the curve of her lips was so, so tempting.
But there was no sign of flirtation. Nothing to suggest she was even aware of her own appeal or the effect she was having on him.
‘Your little boy is very lucky,’ he said softly and her smile dimmed slightly.
‘Not really. He’s crazy about cars and football. I’ve done a great deal of homework on both subjects but it isn’t really the same.’ Staring at the monitors on the dashboard, she looked suddenly wistful. ‘My own bedtime reading is a book on coaching football. Max is desperate to make the first team.’
He could imagine her studying the book, trying to help her little boy. ‘He played today, so your coaching has obviously paid off.’
‘I wish that were true, but I’m afraid it isn’t. I think he has a natural talent but I have no idea how to foster that talent,’ she admitted. ‘I need to get some practical advice from somewhere. This afternoon all these fathers were yelling technical stuff to their boys and—’ She broke off and shot him an apologetic glance. ‘Sorry. This is very boring for you.’
He’d never been less bored by a woman in his life. ‘I’m sure that the important thing for Max was that you were actually there, supporting him. Where is his father? Does he ever come and watch him?’ He leaned across and fastened her seat belt, feeling her shrink against the seat as his hands brushed against her body.
She snuggled deeper inside the coat and he wondered why she was so self-conscious.
‘I have no idea where his father is,’ she croaked, her cheeks a little pinker than they had been a few moments before. ‘Off enjoying himself somewhere, I should imagine. I’m not married, Mr Lucarelli. Nor do I want to be,’ she said hastily and he hid a smile because she was obviously concerned that he might misinterpret her unguarded declaration.
He thought of Francine, who could have turned flirtation into an Olympic sport. Then he glanced at Liv’s sweet profile and suddenly wanted to know more about her.
‘You’re not in touch with his father?’
‘Jack was allergic to children. Unfortunately for Max, I didn’t discover that until after I became pregnant.’
‘He knew you were pregnant and he left you?’ Unable to hide his disapproval, Stefano frowned and she cleared her throat.
‘Not immediately. He hung around until Max was three. Sort of.’
‘Sort of?’ Uncomprehending, Stefano glanced at her but she was staring straight ahead.
‘Well, we were married but not really…together. He had someone else, but I didn’t find out for quite a while. Actually he
had quite a few “someone elses” which doesn’t do much for one’s confidence, obviously. And I can’t believe I’m telling you this.’ She glanced at him, appalled. ‘Why am I telling you this?’
‘Because I asked.’
‘Well that will teach you not to ask.’ She looked away. ‘It was all my fault, anyway.’
‘How was it your fault?’
‘I wasn’t his type. I should have seen that right at the beginning,’ she said quickly. ‘Jack was handsome and clever.’
Not that clever, Stefano thought grimly, glancing at her profile and wondering if she realised just how much she’d revealed about herself with that simple statement. ‘He wanted nothing to do with his son?’
It was a few seconds before she answered. ‘No.’
‘But he gives you financial help?’
Liv turned her head and stared out of the window. ‘Do you think we should get going before the temperature drops any further? The roads will be lethal. I can’t remember much about the Ferrari’s performance on sheet ice.’
Stefano sat still for a moment, interpreting her answer.
So that was why she was so worried about her car.
It was obvious that she had no financial help and she was raising a child in an expensive city on a nurse’s meagre salary. She was doing it all on her own. All of it.
But that didn’t really explain why Anna had been talking about Liv’s apparently non-existent sex life. Why wasn’t she dating? Silently contemplating that issue, he started the engine and reversed out of his space. ‘So who is looking after Max now? Do you have a nanny?’
‘I use a childminder before and after school, but tonight he’s doing a sleepover at Anna’s. Max is best friends with her little boy.’
‘So you’re not rushing home to him?’
‘No. Why?’
Making an instantaneous decision, Stefano steered the car down a series of back streets and then pulled in and parked. ‘Because it means we have time to grab something to eat before I drop you home. Neither of us has eaten since lunchtime. You must be starving and there is an absolutely fantastic Italian restaurant here.’
‘No!’ Liv swivelled to face him, her expression horrified. ‘It’s incredibly kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because—No.’ Her gaze slid from his. ‘I’ll make myself some toast before I go to bed.’
‘Toast?’ Having never eaten toast for dinner in his life, Stefano looked at her in amazement. ‘I’m suggesting we go out to eat and you’re choosing toast?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Loads of reasons.’ She fiddled with the strap of her handbag, her discomfort so acute that it was almost painful to watch. ‘I’m not dressed for a fancy restaurant and I can’t afford to eat out.’
The change in her was startling. Working with him in Resus she’d been a poised, confident professional, but faced with a trip to a restaurant she’d become a shy, awkward woman. And she wasn’t even looking him in the eye.
Instinctively taking control, Stefano reached across and undid her seat belt, noticing the way she flattened herself against the seat again. ‘It isn’t fancy and this is my treat. A thank-you for having made my life easier in the department.
‘Mr Lucarelli, I really can’t—’
‘Liv, I’m buying you a bowl of spaghetti, that’s all.’ He’d never before had to persuade a woman to have dinner with him and she was obviously well aware of that fact because she shot him an agonised look.
‘There must be someone else you can take!’ Her tone bordered on the desperate and he gave a faint smile.
‘You’re not doing much for my ego. Is the thought of facing me across a bowl of spaghetti really that terrifying?’
‘No! It isn’t you, it’s me. I’m just not—’ She broke off, clearly finding the situation painfully awkward. ‘I’m not very exciting company, that’s all.’
Accustomed to being with women who were confident both socially and sexually, it took him a moment to adjust to the contrast.
He studied her face in silence, taking in the self-doubt in her eyes and the touch of colour in her cheeks. ‘Liv, what is the matter with you? Do you really expect me to believe that you can handle the most demanding medical emergency with total confidence but can’t wind spaghetti onto a fork and talk at the same time?’
She gave a reluctant laugh. ‘I suppose it’s all about practice. I’m more confident at Resus-speak than dinner-table-speak.’
‘Fine, then we’ll talk about pelvic fractures. Or we won’t talk at all. I really don’t care, just as long as I eat something in the next five minutes.’ He extracted her from the car and propelled her, still protesting, through the door of the restaurant.
They were instantly enveloped by warmth and delicious smells and Liv hesitated on the threshold, scanning the room like a gazelle sensing danger.
All evidence of the cool professional had left her and she looked so painfully unsure of herself that for a moment Stefano thought she might actually turn and run. He planted himself behind her, watching as she took in the cheerful red tablecloths, the enormous Christmas tree and the cosy, informality of the place.
Then she turned her head and gave him a hesitant smile. ‘It’s nice.’
‘Sì, I know. Just wait until you taste the pasta. It’s incredible.’ Stefano tried to peel the coat from her shoulders, but she clutched at it self consciously.
‘I’ll keep it on. I’m not dressed to go out to dinner,’ she muttered and he gently but firmly uncurled her fingers.
‘You can’t eat dinner in your coat. This is a very informal place.’ He prised the coat from her grip and handed it to the waiter. ‘No one dresses up to come here and anyway, you look fine.’
She looked a lot better than fine. Without the protection of the coat he could see that her legs went on for ever and the way that her skinny rib jumper clung to her gorgeous curves drew the attention of several men in the room, but he decided that to comment on her appearance would just make her even more uncomfortable.
She obviously had no idea how attractive she was.
Which made a refreshing change from the women he usually mixed with, he thought wryly, recalling Francine’s endless preoccupation with her own reflection.
Not wanting to risk increasing Liv’s anxiety levels by offering her a menu, he turned to the owner and spoke in rapid Italian, telling him where they wanted to sit and what they wanted to eat.
The owner led them to a quiet table by the window and Liv gave a soft gasp of delight.
‘We’re right next to the river here—I didn’t realise. It’s so pretty, especially in the dark when it’s all lit up and you can’t see the dirt.’
‘This restaurant is a hidden gem. I discovered it on a trip to London a few years ago. Because you approach it via all the back streets, you don’t realise that it’s by the Thames. What can I get you to drink? Champagne?’
‘Champagne?’ Startled, she dragged her eyes away from the view and looked at him. ‘No thanks, water will be fine.’
‘Water?’
‘I did warn you that I’m incredibly boring.’ Reaching for her napkin, she spread it on her lap. ‘Champagne is for women who don’t have to get up at five in the morning.’
‘You get up at five?’
‘If I don’t start then, I can’t get everything done.’
A waiter placed two heaped bowls of spaghetti bolognese in front of them and Liv glanced at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you’d ordered.’
‘This is the best thing on the menu and it’s just what you need after a day on your feet. Eat.’ He picked up his fork and then suddenly wondered if he’d ordered the wrong thing for her. ‘Just leave the pasta and eat the sauce, if you prefer.’
This time she laughed, her green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. ‘I think you’re definitely confused about who you’re having dinner with.’ She spiralled pasta onto her fork like
a professional. ‘I’m a working mother, Stefano. If I don’t eat carbohydrates, I collapse. Anyway, I’m starving and this smells delicious. I couldn’t leave any of it if you paid me.’
Stefano watched her eat the first mouthful and felt an explosion of heat through his loins. ‘You must have Italian genes.’
‘No, I have a son who loves spaghetti. It’s Max’s second favourite gourmet treat.’
‘His first being?’
‘Pizza. He’d eat it every night if I let him. We make it together, from scratch. There’s nothing quite like kneading dough to let off steam after a hard day.’ Gradually she relaxed with him and he kept the conversation flowing, deriving immense satisfaction from the fact that she seemed to have lost her earlier awkwardness.
Soon she was telling him all the details of her life. They talked about work, about living in London and she mentioned Max a lot, recounting several anecdotes that made him laugh.
‘It must be pretty tiring, working a full day and then going home and being a mum.’ The amount she did in a day stunned him. ‘I don’t suppose you have much time to yourself.’
‘I don’t really want that,’ she said simply. ‘I love being with him. He’s fun. We have a nice time together. And once he’s asleep I have time to myself.’
And then she read books on coaching football.
‘So you basically work all day and spend time with your seven-year-old.’ Was that why Anna had been offering to buy her hot sex for Christmas? Stefano reached for some more bread. ‘Do you ever go out?’
‘Oh yes, we often go to one of the museums at the weekend and sometimes we’ll go to the cinema for a treat. He loves it and so do I.’
That wasn’t what he’d meant, but he didn’t push her.
Clearly her life was her work and her child and Stefano finished his spaghetti and lounged in his chair, listening as she talked about her hectic life and her hopes for Max. He was intrigued by how happy she seemed. ‘So is Max looking forward to Christmas?’
‘Yes. Not that we do much. Turkey, presents, trip to the park…’ She shrugged and added, ‘Last year we went on a trip to the seaside and played on the beach. Freezing but fun. I try and do a special trip, to make up for the fact it’s just the two of us.’