Mistletoe Brides. Liz Fielding

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      Keeping her body out of sight, she opened the door, a cheerful smile on her face as she popped her head round.

      Stefano Lucarelli stood there, a large white box in his hands and a cool, confident look on his handsome face. He was wearing a long black coat over jeans and a chunky roll-neck jumper that brushed against the blue shadow of his jaw.

      ‘Buongiorno.’

      Memories of that amazing kiss came flooding back with disturbing clarity and for a moment she wondered whether he was real or whether her mind had conjured him up because she’d been thinking of him all morning. Was he a product of wishful thinking?

      ‘What are you doing here?’ Liv winced as she listened to herself. It was no wonder she was single. ‘I’m sorry. That sounded rude. It’s just that I—’ He looked far too good to be standing in her doorway.

      ‘Invite me in.’ His silken command left her more flustered than ever.

      ‘You must be joking.’ She thought of the pyjamas she was wearing. ‘Why would you want to come in?’

      ‘Because I don’t want to eat dessert on my own.’

      Her gaze shifted from the gleam in his eyes to the box in his hands. ‘You brought me dessert?’

      ‘Belgian chocolate log, complete with whipped cream.’

      Liv started to laugh. ‘It’s ten o’clock in the morning.’

      Stefano gave a dismissive shrug. ‘If you’re going to commit a sin, you may as well get it over with early in the day.’ His Italian accent somehow made the words seem more sinful than the subject and the way he was looking at her made her insides turn to liquid.

      ‘You can’t possibly come in,’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘If you leave your Ferrari there, it will be gone when you leave. And anyway, I’m still in my pyjamas.’

      ‘Are you? You probably shouldn’t have told me that.’ His gaze focused on her for a moment. ‘You have amazing hair. I had no idea it was so long.’

      His words were so unexpected that everything she’d been about to say fizzled and died in her head. He liked her hair?

      No, of course he didn’t. How could he possibly? ‘Now, you’re being ridiculous,’ she said gruffly. ‘I look as though I just crawled out of bed.’

      ‘Precisely.’ His low, sexy drawl somehow connected to every nerve ending in her body.

      Scarlet with embarrassment, she kept her body behind the door. ‘I can’t let you in.’

      He smiled. ‘Yes, you can.’ He stepped forward and nudged at the door with his powerful shoulders.

      ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Blasting you out of your comfort zone.’ He strolled into her flat, pushed the door shut and scanned her body with a single glance. ‘Nice pyjamas.’ Amusement shimmered in his dark eyes. ‘Pink baby elephants are absolutely my favourite animal.’

      Aware that only a thin layer of cotton lay between his disturbingly thorough gaze and her naked body, Liv tried to cover herself and then realised the futility of the gesture and gave up. Why was life so unfair? When he’d taken her to dinner she’d been wearing her most ancient skinny rib jumper and now he’d arrived at her flat and she was dressed in cosy pyjamas that clung to her bottom and did nothing to hide the generous proportion of her top half.

      Why couldn’t she have been wearing a skimpy lacy number?

      Because skimpy lacy numbers were designed for sex and seduction, not sleep.

      She was about to make an excuse and vanish into her bedroom when Max emerged from the kitchen, trailing dough behind him.

      ‘Did the postman bring something, Mum?’

      ‘No.’ Suddenly confronted by an issue far more serious than her choice of nightwear, Liv cleared her throat and tried to work out how best to explain the presence of a strange man in their hallway without upsetting Max.

      She never brought men home.

      But she didn’t have to explain because Stefano took over. ‘I work with your mother.’ He dropped to his haunches and smiled at the child. ‘Is that pizza dough you’re wearing?’

      Max grinned. ‘It sort of just sticks everywhere.’

      Stefano nodded with understanding. ‘You could try using a little less water.’

      Max considered that advice for a moment and then looked at Liv. ‘You’re adding too much water, Mum.’

      Liv smiled weakly. ‘That’s probably where I’m going wrong.’ She watched nervously as her son gave Stefano the once over.

      ‘Are you staying for breakfast?’ He peered at the box, his face brightening. ‘What is that? Is it a present?’

      ‘Max!’

      But Stefano simply smiled and rose to his feet. ‘It is a present. An edible present.’ He handed the box to Liv. ‘I heard that your mother likes dessert.’

      Max was jumping up and down, sending pizza dough flying everywhere. ‘She loves dessert but we don’t often have it because she says it makes her fat. Can I see? Is it chocolate?’

      Liv held the box in front of her like armour. ‘I really need to get dressed,’ she began, but Max was tugging her towards the kitchen.

      ‘You look great, Mum,’ he said earnestly. ‘Why would you want to get changed? They’re my favourite pyjamas. They’re just so happy.’

      Intercepting Stefano’s laughing gaze, Liv closed her eyes.

      Great.

      The sexiest man alive was standing in her tiny hallway and she was wearing ‘happy’ pyjamas.

      Why was he doing this? Why was he here?

      Didn’t he have anywhere better to be on a cold, sunny Saturday in December?

      Max was giggling. ‘This is awesome. Mum won’t usually let me eat dessert unless I’ve finished my vegetables and I’ve never had dessert for breakfast before.’

      They moved through to the tiny kitchen and Stefano instantly made himself at home, pulling out a chair and helping himself to a glass of orange juice.

      Liv watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he’d make of her tiny kitchen. But he didn’t appear interested in anything other than Max.

      ‘You need to cut the ribbon.’ Picking up a knife, he leaned forward and sliced through the ribbon. The box fell open to reveal a beautiful chocolate log, dusted with icing and decorated with a snowman.

      Max sank onto his chair, speechless. ‘Wow. Have you seen it, Mum?’

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