Why was she so self-conscious?
She’d retreated back into her shell and he knew that her reaction had something to do with the noisy group of women who were partying at the nearby table.
He was unable to retrieve the situation because the waiter arrived with the bill and stood hovering while Stefano produced his credit card.
‘Tell me how much my half is,’ Liv said huskily. ‘I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I’m so sorry I don’t have enough money with me now.’
Amused, he glanced at her. ‘When I buy a woman dinner, I don’t expect her to pay.’
‘Maybe not, but that’s when you’re on a date and this wasn’t a date. This was just two colleagues sharing food. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.’
The money was obviously an enormous issue for her and he wondered how, if she was really so short of cash, she was ever going to get her car fixed. ‘I don’t want you to pay me back. I was hungry and there’s nothing more grim than eating alone. You did me a favour.’
‘Hardly. I talked far too much about really boring subjects.’ Clearly in a hurry to leave, she rose to her feet and didn’t speak again until they reached the car. ‘Thank you, Stefano.’
‘Give me directions to your flat.’ He steered the conversation away from money. ‘Have you worked in the emergency department for long?’
‘The last few years. Before that I was on Paediatrics and sometimes when they’re short staffed I still go and help there. What about you? Where did you work last?’
‘In a trauma unit up in Scotland and before that Milan.’
‘Milan.’ She repeated the word with the same emphasis he’d used. ‘That sounds exotic.’
Stefano laughed. ‘If you think that, you have clearly never been to Milan.’
‘I’ve never been anywhere. Take a left at the lights. And then it’s straight on all the way to my flat. Just keep going. So what’s Milan like?’
‘It’s a wonderful city, but I wouldn’t describe it as exotic.’
‘Why did you choose to come to frozen England?’
‘I needed a change.’ And this was certainly a change, he thought grimly, scanning the streets. As she directed him, the area he was driving through grew more and more rundown. There was litter on the streets, graffiti on the walls and gangs of teenagers wearing hoodies lurked on street corners.
‘You were escaping from your interfering family?’
‘Something like that.’ His family and a clingy ex-girlfriend.
A police car raced past them, light flashing, horn blaring, and Stefano felt the tension in his shoulders mount. He wouldn’t want any of his family living in a place like this.
‘We’re here,’ she said a few minutes later. ‘If you pull in just past that lamppost, that’s my flat. Thanks very much.’ As the car drew to a halt, she reached for her bag. ‘I really am grateful. The meal was delicious and you’ve been very kind. See you tomorrow.’
One glance at the area told him that she shouldn’t be coming back here late at night on her own. ‘Wait.’ His hand on her arm prevented her leaving the car. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’
‘There’s really no need. I know it looks grim but I’m used to it.’ Not looking at him, Liv produced her keys. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘You’re very independent, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve had to be.’ She glanced at him then and their eyes met and held. Then she gave a tiny frown and tore her gaze away from his. ‘Goodnight, Mr Lucarelli. And thanks again.’
The chemistry was shimmering between them like an invisible force and yet her hand slid to the door.
‘Invite me in for coffee.’ His softly spoken command obviously surprised her and he watched with some satisfaction as the keys slipped from her fingers. It was nice to know she wasn’t indifferent to him. Uncomfortable, yes. Shy, maybe. But indifferent? Definitely not. ‘You’ve already told me that Max is at Anna’s tonight, so you have no bedtime story to read.’ He lounged in his seat, enjoying the effect he was having on her. She was delightfully transparent.
‘You don’t strike me as the sort of man who’d step out of his Ferrari to drink a cup of instant coffee in a damp flat that is probably smaller than your bathroom,’ she said lightly and he gave a slow smile.
‘I love instant coffee and I’m nervous in large spaces. I promise to give you a lesson on how to coach football.’
‘Now you’re being unfair.’ She laughed. ‘Mr Lucarelli—Stefano.’ She stumbled over his name and stooped to retrieve her keys, ‘That’s a really tempting offer and I really am grateful for the lift, but I’ve already taken up enough of your Friday evening. I’m sure you have plenty more exciting ways to spend your time than drinking coffee with me.’ And before he could answer, she slid out of his car and hurried across to her flat.
Stefano wondered why he was so desperate to follow her.
She had nothing, absolutely nothing, in common with the women he usually spent time with. Obviously her life revolved around her work and her son. It was almost as if she’d forgotten that she was a woman. Or maybe she just ignored that fact.
His eyes narrowed as he remembered the way she’d hung onto her coat in the restaurant. She was woman enough to care that she hadn’t dressed to go to a restaurant.
He watched as she hurried up the steps to the front door of her flat, his eyes narrowed and his body aching with awareness. She moved with the grace of a dancer and flakes of snow settled on her dark hair as she fumbled to get her key into the lock.
As the door opened she paused and Stefano waited for her to look back and smile at him.
She was going to look back. He felt it.
She stood for a moment on the threshold and then stepped inside her flat and firmly closed the door behind her.
And she didn’t look back.
Liv stood in the kitchen, willing herself not to run to the window and see if his car was still there.
Had she imagined it or had he really invited himself in for coffee?
And why had he done that?
Surely the time they’d spent together in the restaurant should have been enough to prove to him that she wasn’t exactly stimulating company. She’d talked about work and Max.
Thinking about how much she’d talked and how boring she’d been, she covered her face with her hands and gave a groan of embarrassment. Not only had she been boring, she’d been wearing her most ancient skirt and jumper. A man like Stefano Lucarelli must be used to being with women who were groomed to within an inch of their lives. And on top of that, she’d cleared her plate. She’d eaten absolutely everything and his comment about just eating the sauce had made it perfectly obvious that he was used to stick-thin women
