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