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‘I still want to come,’ she said, almost laughing to see his lips tighten in disapproval. Couldn’t he see, the more he tried to scare her off, the more she knew she was on the right path, that it proved his integrity?
Francesco desired her.
The feel of his hardness pressed against her had been the most incredible, intoxicating feeling imaginable. She had never dreamed her body capable of such a reaction, had imagined the thickening of the blood and the low pulsations deep inside were from the realms of fiction. It had only served to increase her desire, to confirm she was following the right path.
She’d been his for the taking in his office but he had stepped back, unwilling to take advantage. Again.
Francesco was doing everything in his power to put her off, but she doubted there was anything to be revealed about him that would do that. What, she wondered, had made him so certain he was all bad? Was it because of his blood lineage? Whatever it was, she knew there was good in him—even though he clearly didn’t believe it himself.
Face thunderous, he reached into the side case and pulled out some leathers and a black helmet. ‘Put these on.’
She took them from him. ‘Do you want to come in while I change? Your bike will be perfectly safe—all the local hoodlums are tucked up in bed.’
‘I will wait here.’
‘I have coffee.’
‘I will wait.’
‘Suit yourself.’
‘You have five minutes.’
In her bedroom, Hannah wrestled herself into the tight leather trousers, and then donned the matching jacket, staggering slightly under the weight of it.
When she caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror she paused. Whoever said leathers were sexy was sorely mistaken—although she’d admit to feeling very Sandra Dee in the trousers.
Sandra Dee had been a virgin, too.
Hannah was a virgin in all senses of the word.
But, she reminded herself, with Francesco’s help she was going to change that. Just for this one weekend. That was all she wanted. Some memories to share with Beth.
She took a deep breath and studied her reflection one last time. Her stomach felt knotted, but she couldn’t tell if excitement or trepidation prevailed.
She checked the back door was locked one last time before grabbing her small case and heading back out to him.
‘That will not fit,’ Francesco said when he saw her case.
‘You’re the one whisking me away for a romantic overnight stay on a motorbike,’ she pointed out. ‘What do you suggest I do?’
‘Let me make this clear, I am not whisking you away anywhere.’
‘Semantics.’
‘And I never said anything about us going away for one night only. We will return to the UK when I am ready.’
‘As long as you get me back in time for work at nine o’clock Monday morning, that’s fine by me.’
His face was impassive. ‘We will return when my schedule allows it, not yours.’
‘Is this the part when I’m supposed to wave my hands and say, “oh, in that case I can’t possibly come with you?”’
‘Yes.’
‘Bad luck. I’m coming. And you’ll get me back in time for work.’
‘You sound remarkably sure of yourself.’
‘Not at all. I just know you’re not the sort of person to allow a ward full of sick children to suffer from a lack of doctors.’
His features contorted, the chocolate fudge of his eyes hardening. ‘That is a risk you are willing to take?’
‘No.’ She shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips. ‘I know there’s no risk.’ At least no risk in the respect of getting her to work on time. And as to Francesco’s other concerns, Hannah knew there was no risk in the respect of her heart, either; her heart hadn’t functioned properly in fifteen years.
More practically, she supposed there were some dangers. She could very well be getting into something way out of her depth, but what was the worst that could happen? Hannah had lived through her own personal hell. The worst thing that could happen had occurred at the age of twelve, and she had survived it. God alone knew how, but she had.
It was only one weekend. One weekend of life before she went back to her patients, the children she hoped with all her semi-functioning heart would grow up to lead full lives of their own.
‘On your head be it,’ said Francesco. ‘Now either find a smaller case for your stuff, put it in a rucksack you can strap to you, or leave it behind.’
