Mistletoe Brides: Italian Doctor, Sleigh-Bell Bride / Christmas Angel for the Billionaire / His Vienna Christmas Bride. Liz Fielding

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 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. СКАЧАТЬ