of her thigh, which seemed to Abby to be at odds with his regular breathing.
Her breathing wasn’t in the least regular. She could feel his hand on her stomach and she lay locked in private thoughts and aching with want. She lay in a body that was finally ready to commit, next to a man who never would.
Abby turned over to face Matteo and his arms, even in sleep, moved to accept her.
He really was asleep.
All the tension from last night had left and his mouth was just a little open and she was so close to leaning over and kissing him awake, just giving in to and exploring the want that hummed through her now.
The snooze alarm went off and she watched his face screw up and his hand reached for a pillow, pulling it over his head and, in that moment, Hunter left every equation.
There were no more thoughts of revenge, no past to overcome, just the quiet of morning and a feeling of peace as she lay next to a man who plucked the strings of her heart.
Just that.
Abby rolled over and turned off the alarm and he pulled her back to his side. ‘Matteo, I’ve got to go.’
He fought to wake and the events of last night started to filter in. ‘I’ll walk you down,’ he mumbled and moved to sit up.
‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘I don’t need a bodyguard.’
She just needed him; yet Abby knew Matteo had checked out on love.
‘Go back to sleep.’
She went and had a quick shower and dressed in the clothes that he had fetched for her last night and then came back into the bedroom, where he lay awake now, looking at her. He looked sulky and angry and she knew why—Hunter was around.
‘You’re going tomorrow, Matteo. I’m here for a few more days, dismantling the car and then straight on to Monte Carlo, so it seems a bit stupid to be walking me to my room today.’
He said nothing.
Matteo didn’t know what to say.
Abby was right—tomorrow at six in the morning he’d be gone and, more to the point, he had never been another’s shadow.
Silence hung between them.
It wasn’t a row; it was Check.
His heart was under threat of capture and Matteo didn’t like that feeling in the least.
‘Good luck today,’ Matteo said but it came out in a rather forced voice.
So, too, was hers. ‘Thanks.’
He lay there when she had gone. Yes, tomorrow he would be back in Manhattan and, Matteo decided, he was going to go and get laid.
It had been...
He didn’t really want to do the math. Matteo didn’t want to admit that since their first dinner in Dubai, he’d lost interest in that half of the world population that had once been his playground.
No, he wouldn’t be getting laid any time soon.
Matteo knew he was lying to himself. Instead the next couple of weeks were going to be spent stressing at the thought of her in Monte Carlo with that animal around.
He reached for the hotel phone.
* * *
Abby stepped into her hotel room to change into her lovely bottle-green outfit. She opened the chocolate that was on her pillow and as she popped it into her mouth she picked up the note that was beside it.
Dear Abby,
You need new underwear. Shall I take you shopping or can I choose?
Matteo
And then her phone rang.
‘Did you get my note?’ Matteo asked.
She knew he was ringing to check that she’d got back okay, but it was nice that he didn’t have to admit it.
‘I did.’ Abby smiled. ‘You can choose.’ And then she was serious. ‘Nothing’s going to happen today, Matteo. All anyone is thinking about is the race.’
‘I know and I meant what I said, even if I didn’t say it very well—good luck today.’
‘Thanks.’
Matteo had quite a morning in a very lavish boutique.
A few women nudged and laughed but he cared not and amassed quite a collection, which he asked to all be wrapped and then sent up to her room. Then Matteo had lunch and finally he took himself trackside.
The streets were packed and lined with spectators and when he finally made it to the Boucher sheds he, as always, stayed back, though Pedro stopped playing video games and came over and they chatted for a few moments.
Abby saw Pedro was smiling at something Matteo had said, and whatever her personal feelings were towards Matteo, she was very glad to have him as their sponsor. He was very good with Pedro, unlike the sponsor they had had last year who had demanded far too much, especially before a race.
But then, as the race commenced, there were no thoughts of Matteo, nor revenge—all Hunter was, was the car that was ahead of them.
As were eight others.
For the next two hours the team worked intently, working out the best refuel times. Matteo watched Abby relaying instructions and giving Pedro some insights as to the cars ahead of him.
The Italian crowd were even more vocal than in Dubai and it was a loud, exciting couple of hours and by the last three laps Pedro had inched the car into fifth place.
Hunter’s experience on the course showed, yet Evan pushed him hard and suddenly a roar went up as Pedro overtook into fourth.
Matteo found that he was chewing his nails.
And then it was into the final lap.
He looked over to Abby, whose face was pale but she was talking very calmly to Pedro through her mouthpiece, even though she must be feeling frantic. Hunter was well ahead of Pedro, Evan was in close second; it was a battle for third and, holy smoke, Matteo thought as Pedro accelerated out of the turn, he was going to get there.
Abby was right; this kid was a genius. The pale, sickly faced twenty-one-year-old that had climbed into the car, sure he would place last, got out a triumphant third, as the Boucher team cheered and embraced.
And no, Matteo wasn’t on her mind right now because Abby nearly broke her neck just to get over to a jubilant Pedro.
‘What the hell!’ she screamed at him, her face split in a shocked smile.
‘She flew!’ Pedro roared back, simply elated. ‘She just took off.’
And they were back to talking about the car as if
