No matter how...shocked she felt at his sudden appearance, there was something incredibly touching about his anger, knowing it was concern for her safety propelling it.
She looked away, scared to look at him any longer. ‘I appreciate your concern, but my safety is not your responsibility.’
Suddenly aware her helmet was still attached to her head, she unclipped it and whipped it off, smoothing her hair down as best she could.
God, since when had she suffered from vanity? Last weekend notwithstanding, not in fifteen years.
And why did she feel an incomprehensible urge to burst into tears?
It was a feeling she’d been stifling since she’d walked back into her home on Sunday night.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked again, her cheeks burning as she recalled the two phone calls she’d ignored from him.
‘That’s not a conversation I wish to have on your doorstep.’
When she made no response, he inclined his head at her door. ‘This is the point where you invite me into your home.’
Less than a week ago she’d invited him into her house, only to have him rudely decline.
Then, her heart had hammered with excitement for what the weekend would bring. Now her heart thrummed just to see him...
‘Look, you can come in for a little while, but I’ve had a long, difficult week and a very long, very difficult day, and I want to get to bed early.’ Abruptly, she turned away and opened the door, terrified he would read something of her feelings on her face.
The last word she should be mentioning in front of Francesco was bed.
She could hardly credit how naive she’d been in sleeping with him. Had she seriously thought she could share a bed with the sexiest man on the planet and walk away feeling nothing more than a little mild contentment that she’d ticked something off her to-do list?
What a silly, naive fool she’d been.
* * *
Francesco thought he’d never been in a more depressing house than the place Hannah called home. It wasn’t that there was anything intrinsically wrong with it—on the contrary, it was a pretty two-bedroom house with high ceilings and spacious rooms, but...
There was no feeling to it. Her furniture was minimal and bought for function. The walls were bare of any art or anything that would show the owner’s tastes. It was a shell.
Hannah shoved her foldaway bike in a virtually empty cupboard under the stairs and faced him, a look of defiance—and was that fear?—on her face. Her hair had reverted back to its usual unkempt state, a sight that pleased him immeasurably.
‘I need a shower,’ she said.
‘Is that an invitation?’ he asked, saying it more as a challenge than from any expectation.
She ignored his innuendo. ‘I’ve been puked on twice today.’
He grimaced. ‘So not an invitation.’
‘Give me five minutes, then you can tell me whatever it is you came all this way to discuss. While I’m gone, you can make yourself useful by making the coffee.’ Thus saying, she headed up the wooden stairs without a backward glance, her peachy bottom showing beautifully in the functional black trousers she wore....
Quickly he averted his eyes. Too much looking at those gorgeous buttocks might just make him climb into that shower with her after all.
Besides, a few minutes to sort their respective heads out would probably be a good idea.
Hannah’s reception had not been the most welcoming, but what had he expected? That she would take one look at him and throw herself into his arms?
No, he hadn’t expected that. Her silence and polite rebuff by text message had made her feelings clear. Well, tough on her. He was here and they would talk whether she wanted to or not.
Yet there had been no faking the light that had shone briefly in her eyes when she’d first spotted him. It had been mingled with shock, but it had been there, that same light that had beamed straight into his heart the first time she’d opened her eyes to him.
Then he’d ruined it by biting her head off over her bike.
He cursed under his breath. If it took the rest of his life, he’d get her off that deathtrap.
He heard a door close and the sound of running water.
Was she naked...?
He inhaled deeply, slung his leather jacket over the post of the stairs, and walked into the small square kitchen. He spotted the kettle easily enough and filled it, then set about finding mugs and coffee.
As he rootled through Hannah’s cupboards, his chest slowly constricted.
He had never seen such bare cupboards. The only actual food he found was half a loaf of bread, a box of cereal, a large slice of chocolate cake, and some tomato sauce. And that was it. Nothing else, not even a box of eggs. The fridge wasn’t much better, containing some margarine, a pint of milk, and an avocado.