Liz Fielding - Mistletoe Brides

‘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 she wasn’t even looking him in the eye.

Instinctively taking control, Stefano reached across and undid her seat belt, noticing the way she flattened herself against the seat again. ‘It isn’t fancy and this is my treat. A thank-you for having made my life easier in the department.

‘Mr Lucarelli, I really can’t—’

‘Liv, I’m buying you a bowl of spaghetti, that’s all.’ He’d never before had to persuade a woman to have dinner with him and she was obviously well aware of that fact because she shot him an agonised look.

‘There must be someone else you can take!’ Her tone bordered on the desperate and he gave a faint smile.

‘You’re not doing much for my ego. Is the thought of facing me across a bowl of spaghetti really that terrifying?’

‘No! It isn’t you, it’s me. I’m just not—’ She broke off, clearly finding the situation painfully awkward. ‘I’m not very exciting company, that’s all.’

Accustomed to being with women who were confident both socially and sexually, it took him a moment to adjust to the contrast.

He studied her face in silence, taking in the self-doubt in her eyes and the touch of colour in her cheeks. ‘Liv, what is the matter with you? Do you really expect me to believe that you can handle the most demanding medical emergency with total confidence but can’t wind spaghetti onto a fork and talk at the same time?’

She gave a reluctant laugh. ‘I suppose it’s all about practice. I’m more confident at Resus-speak than dinner-table-speak.’

‘Fine, then we’ll talk about pelvic fractures. Or we won’t talk at all. I really don’t care, just as long as I eat something in the next five minutes.’ He extracted her from the car and propelled her, still protesting, through the door of the restaurant.

They were instantly enveloped by warmth and delicious smells and Liv hesitated on the threshold, scanning the room like a gazelle sensing danger.

All evidence of the cool professional had left her and she looked so painfully unsure of herself that for a moment Stefano thought she might actually turn and run. He planted himself behind her, watching as she took in the cheerful red tablecloths, the enormous Christmas tree and the cosy, informality of the place.

Then she turned her head and gave him a hesitant smile. ‘It’s nice.’

‘Sì, I know. Just wait until you taste the pasta. It’s incredible.’ Stefano tried to peel the coat from her shoulders, but she clutched at it self consciously.

‘I’ll keep it on. I’m not dressed to go out to dinner,’ she muttered and he gently but firmly uncurled her fingers.

‘You can’t eat dinner in your coat. This is a very informal place.’ He prised the coat from her grip and handed it to the waiter. ‘No one dresses up to come here and anyway, you look fine.’

She looked a lot better than fine. Without the protection of the coat he could see that her legs went on for ever and the way that her skinny rib jumper clung to her gorgeous curves drew the attention of several men in the room, but he decided that to comment on her appearance would just make her even more uncomfortable.

She obviously had no idea how attractive she was.

Which made a refreshing change from the women he usually mixed with , he thought wryly, recalling Francine’s endless preoccupation with her own reflection.

Not wanting to risk increasing Liv’s anxiety levels by offering her a menu, he turned to the owner and spoke in rapid Italian, telling him where they wanted to sit and what they wanted to eat.

The owner led them to a quiet table by the window and Liv gave a soft gasp of delight.

‘We’re right next to the river here—I didn’t realise. It’s so pretty, especially in the dark when it’s all lit up and you can’t see the dirt.’

‘This restaurant is a hidden gem. I discovered it on a trip to London a few years ago. Because you approach it via all the back streets, you don’t realise that it’s by the Thames. What can I get you to drink? Champagne?’

‘Champagne?’ Startled, she dragged her eyes away from the view and looked at him. ‘No thanks, water will be fine.’

‘Water?’

‘I did warn you that I’m incredibly boring.’ Reaching for her napkin, she spread it on her lap. ‘Champagne is for women who don’t have to get up at five in the morning.’

‘You get up at five?’

‘If I don’t start then, I can’t get everything done.’

A waiter placed two heaped bowls of spaghetti bolognese in front of them and Liv glanced at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you’d ordered.’

‘This is the best thing on the menu and it’s just what you need after a day on your feet. Eat.’ He picked up his fork and then suddenly wondered if he’d ordered the wrong thing for her. ‘Just leave the pasta and eat the sauce, if you prefer.’

This time she laughed, her green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. ‘I think you’re definitely confused about who you’re having dinner with.’ She spiralled pasta onto her fork like a professional. ‘I’m a working mother, Stefano. If I don’t eat carbohydrates, I collapse. Anyway, I’m starving and this smells delicious. I couldn’t leave any of it if you paid me.’