In a Heartbeat (Heartbeat #1) (10 page)

Realising he was staring at her with half a lime in mid squeeze in his hand, Max shook his head and tried to concentrate on his job. It was difficult, because Stella was very distracting. Her laughter echoed even over the loud music and brought chills of lust down his spine. He imagined her laughing softly in his arms, just for him, not in a bar full of guys drooling over her. Every now and again she went past him and the gentle whiff of her perfume hit his senses, clouding them. And the bare skin on her back ... it drove him insane not to touch her.

“Well, well – what do we have here? Already exploiting the poor English girl, are we?”

Beppe’s voice shook Max out of his daydream. His friend had bent over the bar on his forearms, obviously enjoying the turn of events and thinking of ways to embarrass him in front of Stella.

“Nobody is exploiting anyone. She’s helping me.” The warning in Max’s voice was obvious. Or rather, it would have been obvious if Beppe had any regard for his friend’s warnings.

“Is that right?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, looking around and waving at Stella. “Why’s everyone drinking beer? No cocktails tonight?” Beppe asked, as he took a closer look around the bar.

“Stella’s serving the beer.”

A knowing ‘Ahhhh’ came out of his mouth, along with a mischievous stare directed at Max. “I bet you’re enjoying that.” The irony in his voice wasn’t lost on Max.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get all defensive at me, man. You know very well what it means. I could see you’ve got your pants wedged in your ass the second I walked in.”

“That might be true if I was wearing any pants,” Max grinned at his friend, who made a disgusted face.

“I so didn’t need to know that.”

“Hey, Beppe,” said Stella as she leaned in to give him the customary kisses and exposed her whole bare back right next to Max. It took all the willpower he possessed not to grab her and drag her back to the staff room. “You didn’t need to know what?” she asked, with a lopsided grin.

“Max is going commando tonight,” Beppe declared, proud of himself and the way the situation was evolving around him.

Stella’s smile widened but she didn’t say anything. Was it his imagination or did she blush? If that was the case then maybe he could push her a little further.

“Not just tonight, man,” Max said, stealing a glance at her direction.

Oh yeah, she definitely had blushed. Max could clearly see the lovely rose colour of her cheeks as she turned to look at him to check if he was being serious. He winked at her and she shook her head in disbelief. Smiling, she walked away to attend to her fan club.

“Just find a room already,” Beppe mumbled, as he made his way towards the dance floor.

Max had always thought of himself a good dancer, but his friend was something else. Beppe was born to move to a beat. He was an inch or so shorter than Max, but he was still bigger than most guys. Seeing that lean, muscled body of his move so fluently was something else. The girls adored Beppe – he hadn’t been on the dance floor for two seconds before they started circling him, ready to pounce. And he enjoyed every second of it.

“Wow, he’s got moves, doesn’t he?” Stella said right next to him, startling him out of his thoughts so that he dropped the lemon he was holding into the cocktail he was making. It splashed all over the bar and his shirt.

“I’m so sorry; didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologised, as she grabbed a dry dishcloth. “Here, let me help you ...” She started drying off the wet patch on his T-shirt. The last thing Max needed right now was her hands anywhere near him. He grabbed her hand and growled,

“I’ve got this.” She recoiled a bit from his hard voice, but when realisation hit her eyes she bit her lower lip, trying to hide her smile.

“Yeah, sure.” She left the dishcloth in his hand and headed for the opposite side of the bar.

Man, is this night ever going to be over?

Max couldn’t wait to have Stella all to himself.

*

Stella watched as Max headed to the back of the bar towards the staff room, taking his T-shirt off on the way. The tattoo spilling down his right shoulder moved in sync with the muscles of his back. Stella imagined running her fingers along the whole tattoo and finding out exactly what it represented, because right now it seemed like a bunch of random, although beautiful, curves.

He came back minutes later wearing a black T-shirt with ‘SNATCH’ written in big, white letters at the front. It could mean anything, but Stella immediately thought of Guy Richie’s film and smiled.

“What?” Max asked, as he caught her smiling.

“Nothing. I just love that film.”

“Yeah? Me too.” He came closer to her and Stella had to tilt her head back to look at him. She loved how big he was – it made her feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. “Maybe we could watch it together some time.” His voice dropped to a seductive purr that resonated through her body.

A loud throat-clearing ruined their moment as they both turned towards the sound to face Gia. She looked exhausted.

“If you two are finished eye-fucking each other, can one of you get me a drink? And make it a strong one.”

Max’s sister was quite blunt and Stella liked that. She didn’t seem to care about other people’s lives, but in a good way. Gia was the kind of girl who lived her own life as she saw fit and left everyone else to do the same. Stella thought that it wouldn’t make any difference to her if her brother started dating her, even if she broke his heart in the end.

Max placed her cocktail in front of her just as Beppe strolled towards them. He zeroed in on Gia and circled her waist with his arm as he approached her stool.

“
Ciao, amore
. I’ve been waiting for you.” His tone was playful and he lingered a bit longer than necessary as he kissed her cheek.

“Yeah, I bet. Is that why you’re sweaty and out of breath? From waiting?” She teased him mercilessly and he loved it.

“Yeah, I was dancing. But I saw your perfect ass the moment you walked in,
dolcissima
.” Gia laughed and shook her head, dismissing his compliment.

“Dude, can you not talk about my sister’s ass right in front of me? It’s gross,” Max complained.

“Gross? Are you blind?” He lifted Gia up and off the stool effortlessly, spun her around while still holding her waist and pointed at her bottom. “You call that gross? It’s perfection in its purest form, man.” He spun her around again to find her laughing and getting closer to her face added, “Just like the rest of her.”

Gia continued laughing and, tugging on his arm, led him to the dance floor.

Somehow Stella didn’t think he was kidding.

“So what’s the deal with Gia and Beppe?” she asked Max, as he cleaned the counter. It was getting late and most of the crowd around the bar had either headed home or found company on the dance floor.

“That’s how they are. It’s nothing unusual. They can be quite irritating until you get used to their weird relationship.”

“It seems to me that he really likes her.”

“He likes everything with estrogen.” Stella rolled her eyes at that comment but decided not to push it further. “He’s a massive flirt and the women love him. He’s never had a relationship longer than a week and he’s not interested in commitment. My sister knows that and knows that he’s just teasing her. She’d never fall for any of his moves, because she knows him too well.”

Stella nodded, still not completely convinced that Beppe didn’t like Gia in a completely different way from all the other girls. She’d known him just for a few days and Max had been his friend most of his life. She didn’t have any ground to stand on in her argument, so she just changed the subject.

“What time do you usually close?”

Max looked at his watch. “In about an hour.”

The time flew by between cleaning up behind the bar and serving some final drinks. The dance floor slowly started to empty until Gia and Beppe were the only ones left. Not that they minded. They were having so much fun – the irritated, exhausted Gia that walked in the bar was gone and a glowing, carefree, laughing girl was dancing in her place. Beppe was definitely her kind of medicine.

“Stella,” Max called. “Here’s your cut of the tips tonight.” He approached her with a handful of notes.

“I think you might be forgetting that I don’t actually work here, Max.” She didn’t move to take the money. It felt wrong – she had done it to help Max out and had had so much fun doing it. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she’d be getting any money.

“Trust me: I’m not forgetting anything about tonight.” He grinned and stopped mere inches in front of her. Usually Stella didn’t like her personal space to be so blatantly disrespected, but with Max she didn’t mind. At all.

“I’m not taking your money, Max.”

“It’s not
my
money, it’s yours. We always split the tips between us at the end of the night. You served drinks – you get tips. That’s how the system works in a bar.” He stubbornly held the money out to her and didn’t have any intention of backing down.

“Fine. But I have a condition.”

“You have a condition?”

“Yes. I won’t take this money if you don’t accept.” Two could play the stubborn game.

“What is it?” Max asked, with a mockingly bored sigh.

“You go out to dinner with me tomorrow – and it’s on me.” Stella looked at the tips in his hand pointedly.

“You asking me out?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively and smirked.

“No – well, yeah, but not on a date. Let’s have dinner and talk. Friends talk, right?”

“OK.”

Stella grinned and took the money.

“Wow, is that how much you usually get in tips?” There were over a hundred euros in her hand, and that was only her cut.

“No, but I can bet your ‘barely there’ top helped loosen some wallets.”

“Barely there? It’s a perfectly
there
top!”

“Bye, guys; we’re heading out,” said Gia as she came to grab her bag, Beppe in tow. “Stella, do you need a lift?”

“She’s fine; I’ll take care of her,” said Max, before Stella had a chance to open her mouth.

“OK – see ya.” They headed for the door, Beppe’s arm draped around Gia’s shoulders.

Chapter Eight

When the bar was cleaned and the doors securely locked, Max took Stella’s hand in his as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and led her towards the parking lot at the back.

“Where are we going?” she asked, because she thought they’d get a cab home.

“To the car. I’m driving you home.”

“Oh. OK. I didn’t know you had a car.”

“Yeah, I just got it back from the garage. They had to fix it after the accident.”

The word ‘accident’ echoed in Stella’s head and she immediately froze in place. She didn’t like that word. After the car crash that had claimed her dad and Eric’s lives, Stella hadn’t been able to even get in a car for two years. She had fought her phobia with everything she had, realising that she couldn’t spend her life being scared. Imagining Max in a car accident, however, brought back fresh memories and for a moment she felt the beginning of a panic attack. Closing her eyes, Stella took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

Max was right here next to her; he hadn’t died. Everything was fine.

“Stella? Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes to look at him, immediately relaxing when she met his hazel stare. He had come closer to her, probably because he’d thought she might faint. The worry in his eyes was evident even in the dimly lit parking lot. But there was something else – he knew why his words had upset her. Lisa must have told him about the accident that had also killed her own father.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I ... forgot.” Fortunately, there was no pity in his eyes; just genuine concern. Stella was glad he’d forgotten that he knew how she’d lost half her family. She didn’t want him to think about that every time he looked at her.

“It’s fine, Max. I’m fine.” She brushed past him towards the only car left in the lot – it was a silver BMW 125i.

“Are you sure? We can walk – it’s a warm night. I can walk you home and grab a cab back here ...”

“Max,” she said, turning to face him, feeling irritated that she’d shown so much vulnerability that now he was concerned about her. “I’m not making you walk across town after work just because I freaked out about you being in an accident. I’m fine. Let’s go.” She made an impatient gesture towards the car and after throwing one last suspicious glance at her, Max unlocked the doors and they got in.

He was a great driver. The car purred under his feet and he drove smoothly. Despite feeling nervous, Stella couldn’t help but admire the way he handled the BMW, not once jerking to a sudden stop or grinding the clutch. What surprised her was that she found it quite sexy the way he changed gear and handled the steering wheel. She had never, ever, found driving a car sexy before.

“You’re staring at me, babe,” he said with a devilish grin. Stella blushed and was glad for the darkness of the night. “What is it? You don’t think I’ll drive you home safely?”

She did trust him, although she didn’t know why. Trusting someone who drove a car was not something she thought she’d ever do.