‘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 who went to restaurants to be seen, rather than to eat.
He’d offered her champagne!
Thank goodness she’d had the sense to refuse, otherwise the evening would have been even more embarrassing. As it was, he was probably regretting ever offering her a lift. Because of her stupid car, he’d been stuck with her all evening.
And he’d been incredibly kind about it. So kind that for a short time she’d completely forgotten to be shy and awkward and had really enjoyed herself.
After a while she’d even managed to forget how impossibly good-looking he was and how he absolutely shouldn’t be wasting an evening on her, and just concentrate on the conversation. And he’d been really, really good company. Although she knew it wasn’t fashionable to admit it, she loved the fact that he’d just taken charge.
He was so sure of himself and confident and wasn’t afraid to make decisions. Just having someone else make a decision for her had had the same effect as a month on a health farm.
It was just because she was a single mother, she thought wistfully. Every decision that needed to be made, she made it—by herself, with no help or input from anyone else and sometimes the unrelenting responsibility of her life was just exhausting. Yes, she was controlling, but only because she’d had to be. It was hardly surprising that when someone else did the thinking for five minutes, it had felt wonderful.