No, of course not. He wasn’t interested in her. Why would he be interested in her?
But he was in her flat on his day off.
Her head was full of questions, but she didn’t dare ask any of them while Max was there so she made a fresh pot of coffee and placed it in front of Stefano with an awkward smile.
‘It isn’t Italian. Cuban, I think.’
He leaned back in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. ‘What happened to the instant?’
‘Fresh coffee is my Saturday morning treat.’ Liv raked her fingers through her long hair and then wished she hadn’t because the gesture drew his gaze and she froze, sensing a shift in the mood and the atmosphere.
‘We’re going to play football in the park.’ Aware that the adults were distracted, Max slid his hand towards the cake and transferred another piece onto his plate. ‘Are you going to come?’
‘Max!’ Embarrassed and horrified, Liv dragged her gaze away from Stefano’s and poured coffee into two mugs. ‘Mr Lucarelli can’t—I mean, he’s very busy and he has to go in a minute and—’
‘No, I don’t. I’d love to play football.’ Stefano stretched his long legs out in front of him and winked at the boy. ‘As long as you are gentle with me. It’s a long time since I played.’
‘Do you like football?’
‘I’m Italian,’ Stefano pointed out. ‘All Italians are born loving pizza, football and fast cars.’
‘Perhaps I’m Italian.’ For a moment Max forgot about the chocolate cake. ‘Do you have a fast car?’
‘Very fast.’ Stefano smiled and Liv sat down opposite him, nursing her mug in her hands, watching
as Max chatted.
‘Cool. I’d love to drive it but I’m not old enough yet. I’m trying to make it into the first team at school. Mum’s coaching me.’
‘I’m not sure I’d exactly describe it as coaching.’ Liv removed the remains of the chocolate log before Max was tempted to take a third slice. ‘That was delicious. Thank you, Stefano.’
‘Awesome.’ Max watched wistfully as she put the cake away. ‘Can we eat the rest later? After we’ve played football, we’re going to buy our Christmas tree.’
Liv watched her son, her heart in her mouth. He was so, so trusting and while that was lovely in a way, it also terrified her. Despite not having a father, his little life had been stable and secure. She’d made sure of it. He didn’t even remember Jack and he had no idea how much pain and anguish lurked out there in the world.
He had no idea what it felt like to be hurt.
Suddenly she felt a rush of protectiveness and for the first time since Stefano had knocked on her door, her voice was steady. ‘Max, go and get changed. And spend ten minutes tidying your room.’
‘But—’
‘Untidy room, no football.’
With an exaggerated groan, Max slid off the chair and huffed his way out of the kitchen.
Liv closed the door behind him and Stefano’s eyes narrowed.
‘I sense I’m in trouble,’ he said softly. ‘Was it the chocolate log?’
‘I need to know what you’re doing here.’ She stood with her back to the door, wishing she’d changed out of her pyjamas before she’d started this conversation. ‘And don’t tell me you were just bringing me dessert.’
‘You refused my dinner invitation.’
‘And you always bring breakfast round to women who refuse you?’ When he didn’t answer immediately, she gave a hollow laugh. ‘Oh, don’t tell me—no one has ever said no to you before. Is that what is going on here? Is it a pursuit thing? Is this about your ego, Stefano?’
He stirred. ‘I don’t have a problem with my ego.’ He placed his mug back on the table in a deliberate movement. ‘But I do enjoy your company.’
She thought about that comment for a moment and then let out a little breath and lifted a hand to her hair. ‘Stefano, we both know that there are a million women out there who would give their entire salary to have breakfast with you. Women who are thinner and much more interesting than I am. So what I want to know is—what are you doing in my kitchen?’