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She knew the Di Sione name, of course she did, and she had looked Matteo up.
Of course she had.
Reckless, wild and debauched, she had read, but looking at the photos of him and finding out a little more about her potential sponsor, it didn’t take long for her to work out that he was also as sexy as all hell.
And Abby didn’t like sexy.
It terrified her, in fact.
Abby had seen and recognised Matteo the second she had stepped out of the car. He was even better in the flesh and her stomach had curled in a way she would prefer it did not.
She had also seen and felt his eyes roam her body as she had walked towards them and had felt her cheeks turn pink from that fact.
‘Can I get earplugs?’ Matteo asked. Another team was taking their car out and his hangover was making itself known again. ‘I guess we can resort to sign language if we’re not allowed to go somewhere decent to talk.’
‘Decent?’ Abby frowned. What sort of a sponsor was he? Didn’t he get that she lived trackside?
She watched Evan put his car through its paces. She had been waiting all day to watch this. Evan Lewis, driver of the Carter team, was one of the Boucher team’s toughest opponents. Her friend Bella, who she had studied engineering with, worked for the Carter team and had told Abby that the engine, along with the driver, were poetry in motion. Yes, she had waited all day to see this but as Evan in the aqua-blue car tested the track, she found that she couldn’t concentrate.
Matteo stood beside her, swigging from his bottle, which made her thirsty, and as she licked her lips he offered her a drink, as if they had known each other for months.
She gave him a terse shake of her head and he moved forwards and leaned on the rail and bent over a little.
And she noticed.
Oh, she tried to watch Evan but her eyes kept flicking to Matteo’s long legs and to a white, slightly crumpled shirt that, despite the heat, wasn’t damp. He had a bruise over his left eye and she wanted to know where it had come from. He put down his bottle and in her peripheral vision she saw that he was undoing his shirt.
What the hell?
He turned then and gave her a smile as he popped his hand into the gap he had made in his shirt. ‘I’ve hurt my shoulder,’ he briefly explained.
She didn’t return his smile, nor did she comment.
Instead she walked off.
Matteo had had enough. He’d just have to work out another way to get his grandfather the necklace because if this was the way Abby dealt with sponsors he could just imagine her reaction to him suggesting what she wear to her father’s fundraiser!
‘Guess what,’ he said as he caught up with her. ‘You’ve just lost possibly the most hands-off sponsor you could have ever hoped find...’ He looked int
o the green eyes that would not meet his. ‘I’m going. I’ve decided that I don’t want to do business with you. You’re rude,’ he said and then saw that, just a little, she smiled. ‘You’re not very nice.’
‘I’m not.’
Now she met his eyes and, with contact made, he changed his mind; maybe they could work together after all.
‘That’s okay,’ Matteo said. ‘I’ll settle for polite.’
Abby gave him an assessing look. She liked it that he had said he’d be hands off—that had been one of the main issues with their previous sponsor; he had demanded so much of Pedro’s time. And she liked, too, that Matteo had addressed up front the issue—she’d been rude.
‘I can manage polite,’ she said.
‘Good.’ He drained the last of his cola. ‘I do need to get something to eat.’
She said something then but it was drowned out by the roar of a car and he couldn’t make out the words.
He just watched her mouth.
‘I can’t hear you,’ Matteo said and she had to watch his mouth now. ‘Dinner?’ he suggested. Finally there was a lull in the noise and he said it again. ‘Dinner?’
