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The Sicilian Doctor's Proposal
Sarah Morgan
Dr. Alice Anderson doesn't believe in love, no matter how much the small community of Smugglers Cove tries to persuade her otherwise. That is until she meets the doctor she will be working with… the charming Sicilian, Dr. Giovanni Moretti.Gio has come to the tiny Cornish cove to reinvent himself as a GP after an injury ended his brilliant career as a plastic surgeon. Following the severity of his injury, Alice has made him feel truly alive again, and in return he is determined to show her how to live life, the Italian way.But will the strength of Gio's feelings be enough to make Alice realize she's done the unthinkable, fallen in love?



MEDITERRANEAN DOCTORS (#ufafd4de0-bfb2-5aa6-8ba6-069a43f99527)
Demanding, devoted and drop-dead gorgeous—these Latin doctors will make your heart race!
Smolderingly sexy Mediterranean doctors
Saving lives by day…red-hot lovers by night
Read these four MEDITERRANEAN DOCTORS stories in this new collection by your favorite authors, available from Harlequin Presents EXTRA October 2008:
The Sicilian Doctor’s Mistress
Sarah Morgan
The Italian Count’s Baby
Amy Andrews
Spanish Doctor, Pregnant Nurse
Carol Marinelli
The Spanish Doctor’s Love-Child
Kate Hardy
SARAH MORGAN was born in Wiltshire and started writing at the age of eight, when she produced an autobiography of her hamster.
At the age of eighteen she traveled to London to train as a nurse in one of London’s top teaching hospitals, and she describes those years as extremely happy and definitely censored!
She worked in a number of areas after she qualified, but her favorite was A&E, where she found the work stimulating and fun. Nowhere else in the hospital environment did she encounter such good teamwork between doctors and nurses.
By now her interests had moved on from hamsters to men, and she started writing romance fiction.
Her first completed manuscript, written after the birth of her first child, was rejected but the comments were encouraging, so she tried again. On the third attempt, her manuscript Worth the Risk was accepted unchanged. She describes receiving the acceptance letter as one of the best moments of her life, after meeting her husband and having her two children.
Sarah still works part-time in a health-related industry, and spends the rest of the time with her family, trying to squeeze in writing whenever she can. She is an enthusiastic skier and walker, and loves outdoor life.
The Sicilian Doctor’s Proposal
Sarah Morgan


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
Cover (#ub77a30d7-33b4-57e0-8978-33559abdf73f)
MEDITERRANEAN DOCTORS (#ua362b981-d285-5f8f-87ee-714f5c5916df)
About the Author (#u63da0bdd-7a6a-5856-b9fc-208938270813)
Title Page (#u757cf40d-8416-5360-b94e-f13764fc1943)
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#ufafd4de0-bfb2-5aa6-8ba6-069a43f99527)
‘I DON’T believe in love. And neither do you.’ Alice put her pen down and stared in bemusement at her colleague of five years. Had he gone mad?
‘That was before I met Trish.’ His expression was soft and far-away, his smile bordering on the idiotic. ‘It’s finally happened. Just like the fairy-tales.’
She wanted to ask if he’d been drinking, but didn’t want to offend him. ‘This isn’t like you at all, David. You’re an intelligent, hard-working doctor and at the moment you’re talking like a—like a…’ A seven-year-old girl? No, she couldn’t possibly say that. ‘You’re not sounding like yourself,’ she finished lamely.
‘I don’t care. She’s the one. And I have to be with her. Nothing else matters.’
‘Nothing else matters?’ On the desk next to her the phone suddenly rang, but for once Alice ignored it. ‘It’s the start of the summer season, the village is already filling with tourists, most of the locals are struck down by that horrid virus, you’re telling me you’re leaving and you don’t think it matters? Please, tell me this is a joke, David, please tell me that.’
Even with David working alongside her she was working flat out to cope with the demand for medical care at the moment. It wasn’t that she didn’t like hard work. Work was her life. Work had saved her. But she knew her limits.
David dragged both hands through his already untidy hair. ‘Not leaving exactly, Alice. I just need the summer off. To be with Trish. We need to decide on our future. We’re in love!’
Love. Alice stifled a sigh of exasperation. Behind every stupid action was a relationship, she mused silently. She should know that by now. She’d seen it often enough. Why should David be different? Just because he’d appeared to be a sane, rational human being—
‘You’ll hate London.’
‘Actually, I find London unbelievably exciting,’ David confessed. ‘I love the craziness of it all, the crowds of people all intent on getting somewhere yesterday, no one interested in the person next to them—’ He broke off with an apologetic wave of his hand. ‘I’m getting carried away. But don’t you ever feel trapped here, Alice? Don’t you ever wish you could do something in this village without the whole place knowing?’
Alice sat back in her chair and studied him carefully. She’d never known David so emotional. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I like knowing people and I like people knowing me. It helps when it comes to understanding their medical needs. They’re our responsibility and I take that seriously.’
It was what had drawn her to the little fishing village in the first place. And now it felt like home. And the people felt like family. More than her own ever had. Here, she fitted. She’d found her place and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She loved the narrow cobbled streets, the busy harbour, the tiny shops selling shells and the trendy store selling surfboards and wetsuits. She loved the summer when the streets were crowded with tourists and she loved the winter when the beaches were empty and lashed by rain. For a moment she thought of London with its muggy, traffic-clogged streets and then she thought of her beautiful house. The house overlooking the broad sweep of the sea. The house she’d lovingly restored in every spare moment she’d had over the past five years.
It had given her sanctuary and a life that suited her. A life that was under her control.
‘Since we’re being honest here…’ David took a deep breath and straightened, his eyes slightly wary. ‘I think you should consider leaving, too. You’re an attractive, intelligent woman but you’re never going to find someone special buried in a place like this. You never meet anyone remotely eligible. All you think about is work, work and work.’
‘David, I don’t want to meet anyone.’ She spoke slowly and clearly so that there could be no misunderstanding. ‘I love my life the way it is.’
‘Work shouldn’t be your life, Alice. You need love.’ David stopped pacing and placed a hand on his chest. ‘Everyone needs love.’
Something inside her snapped. ‘Love is a word used to justify impulsive, irrational and emotional behaviour,’ she said tartly, ‘and I prefer to take a logical, scientific approach to life.’
David looked a little shocked. ‘So, you’re basically saying that I’m impulsive, irrational and emotional?’
She sighed. It was unlike her to be so honest. To reveal so much about herself. And unlike her to risk hurting someone’s feelings. On the other hand, he was behaving very oddly. ‘You’re giving up a great job on the basis of a feeling that is indefinable, notoriously unpredictable and invariably short-lived so yes, I suppose I am saying that.’ She nibbled her lip. ‘It’s the truth, so you can hardly be offended. You’ve said it yourself often enough.’
‘That was before I met Trish and discovered how wrong I was.’ He shook his head and gave a wry smile. ‘You just haven’t met the right person. When you do, everything will make sense.’
‘Everything already makes perfect sense, thank you.’ She reached for a piece of paper and a pen. ‘If I draft an advert now, I just might find a locum for August.’
If she was lucky.
And if she wasn’t lucky, she was in for a busy summer, she thought, her logical brain already involved in making lists. The village with its pretty harbour and quaint shops might not attract the medical profession but it attracted tourists by the busload and her work increased accordingly, especially during the summer months.
David frowned. ‘Locum?’ His brow cleared. ‘You don’t need to worry about a locum. I’ve sorted that out.’
Her pen stilled. ‘You’ve sorted it out?’
‘Of course.’ He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out several crumpled sheets of paper. ‘Did you really think I’d leave you without arranging a replacement?’
Yes, she’d thought exactly that. All the people she’d ever known who’d claimed to be ‘in love’ had immediately ceased to give any thought or show any care to those around them.
‘Who?’
‘I have a friend who is eager to work in England. His qualifications are fantastic—he trained as a plastic surgeon but had to switch because he had an accident. Tragedy, actually.’ David frowned slightly. ‘He was brilliant, by all accounts.’
A plastic surgeon?
Alice reached for the papers and scanned the CV. ‘Giovanni Moretti.’ She looked up. ‘He’s Italian?’
‘Sicilian.’ David grinned. ‘Never accuse him of being Italian. He’s very proud of his heritage.’
‘This man is well qualified.’ She put the papers down on her desk. ‘Why would he want to come here?’
‘You want to work here,’ David pointed out logically, ‘so perhaps you’re just about to meet your soulmate.’ He caught her reproving look and shrugged. ‘Just joking. Everyone is entitled to a change of pace. He was working in Milan, which might explain it but, to be honest, I don’t really know why he wants to come here. You know us men. We don’t delve into details.’
Alice sighed and glanced at the CV on her desk. He’d probably only last five minutes, but at least he might fill the gap while she looked for someone to cover the rest of the summer.
‘Well, at least you’ve sorted out a replacement. Thanks for that. And what happens at the end of the summer? Are you coming back?’
David hesitated. ‘Can we see how it goes? Trish and I have some big decisions to make.’ His eyes gleamed at the prospect. ‘But I promise not to leave you in the lurch.’
He looked so happy, Alice couldn’t help but smile. ‘I wish you luck.’
‘But you don’t understand, do you?’
She shrugged. ‘If you ask me, the ability to be ruled by emotion is the only serious flaw in the human make-up.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ Unexpectedly, David reached out and dragged her to her feet. ‘It’s out there, Alice. Love. You just have to look for it.’
‘Why would I want to? If you want my honest opinion, I’d say that love is just a temporary psychiatric condition that passes given sufficient time. Hence the high divorce rate.’ She pulled her hands away from his, aware that he was gaping at her.
‘A temporary psychiatric condition?’ He gave a choked laugh and his hands fell to his sides. ‘Oh, Alice, you have to be joking. That can’t really be what you believe.’
Alice tilted her head to one side and mentally reviewed all the people she knew who’d behaved oddly in the name of love. There were all too many of them. Her parents and her sister included. ‘Yes, actually.’ Her tone was flat as she struggled with feelings that she’d managed to suppress for years. Feeling suddenly agitated, she picked up a medical journal and scanned the contents, trying to focus her mind on fact. Facts were safe and comfortable. Emotions were dangerous and uncomfortable. ‘It’s exactly what I believe.’
Her heart started to beat faster and she gripped the journal more tightly and reminded herself that her life was under her control now. She was no longer a child at the mercy of other people’s emotional transgressions.
David watched her. ‘So you still don’t believe love exists? Even seeing how happy I am?’
She turned. ‘If you’re talking about some fuzzy, indefinable emotion that links two people together then, no, I don’t think that exists. I don’t believe in the existence of an indefinable emotional bond any more than I believe in Father Christmas and the tooth fairy.’
David shook his head in disbelief. ‘But I do feel a powerful emotion.’
She couldn’t bring herself to put a dent in his happiness by saying more, so she stepped towards him and took his face in her hands. ‘I’m pleased for you. Really I am.’ She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘But it isn’t “love”. She sat back down and David studied her with a knowing, slightly superior smile on his face.
‘It’s going to happen to you, Alice.’ He folded his arms across his chest and his tone rang with conviction. ‘One of these days you’re going to be swept off your feet.’
‘I’m a scientist,’ she reminded him, amusement sparkling in her blue eyes as they met the challenge in his. ‘I have a logical brain. I don’t believe in being swept off my feet.’
He stared at her for a long moment. ‘No. Which is why it’s likely to happen. Love strikes when you’re not looking for it.’
‘That’s measles,’ Alice said dryly, reaching for a pile of results that needed her attention. ‘Talking of which, little Fiona Ellis has been terribly poorly since her bout of measles last winter. I’m going to check up on her today. See if there’s anything else we can do. And I’m going to speak to Gina, the health visitor, about our MMR rates.’
‘They dipped slightly after the last newspaper scare but I thought they were up again. The hospital has been keeping an eye on Fiona’s hearing,’ David observed, and Alice nodded.
‘Yes, and I gather there’s been some improvement. All the same, the family need support and we need to make sure that no one else in our practice suffers unnecessarily.’ She rose to her feet and smiled at her partner. ‘And that’s what we give in a small community. Support and individual care. Don’t you think you’ll miss that? In London you’ll end up working in one of those huge health centres with thousands of doctors and you probably won’t get to see the same patient twice. You won’t know them and they won’t know you. It will be completely impersonal. Like seeing medical cases on a production line.’
She knew all the arguments, of course. She understood that a large group of GPs working together could afford a wider variety of services for their patients—psychologists, chiropodists—but she still believed that a good family doctor who knew his patients intimately was able to provide a superior level of care.
‘You’ll like Gio,’ David said, strolling towards the door. ‘Women always do.’
‘As long as he does his job,’ Alice said crisply, ‘I’ll like him.’
‘He’s generally considered a heartthrob.’ There was a speculative look on his face as he glanced towards her. ‘Women go weak at the knees when he walks into a room.’
Great. The last thing she needed was a Romeo who was distracted by everything female.
‘Some women are foolish like that.’ Alice stood up and reached for her jacket. ‘Just as long as he doesn’t break more hearts than he heals, then I really don’t mind what he does when he isn’t working here.’
‘There’s more to life than work, Alice.’
‘Then go out there and enjoy it,’ she advised, a smile on her face. ‘And leave me to enjoy mine.’

CHAPTER ONE (#ufafd4de0-bfb2-5aa6-8ba6-069a43f99527)
GIOVANNI MORETTI stood at the top of the narrow cobbled street, flexed his broad shoulders to try and ease the tension from the journey and breathed in the fresh, clean sea air. Above him, seagulls shrieked and swooped in the hope of benefiting from the early morning catch.
Sounds of the sea.
He paused for a moment, his fingers tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans, his dark eyes slightly narrowed as he scanned the pretty painted cottages that led down to the busy harbour. Window-boxes and terracotta pots were crammed full with brightly coloured geraniums and tumbling lobelia and a smile touched his handsome face. Before today he’d thought that places like this existed only in the imagination of artists. It was as far from the dusty, traffic-clogged streets of Milan as it was possible to be, and he felt a welcome feeling of calm wash over him.
He’d been right to agree to take this job, he mused silently, remembering all the arguments he’d been presented with. Right to choose this moment to slow the pace of his life and leave Italy.
It was early in the morning but warm, tempting smells of baking flavoured the air and already the street seemed alive with activity.
A few people in flip-flops and shorts, who he took to be tourists, meandered down towards the harbour in search of early morning entertainment while others jostled each other in their eagerness to join the queue in the bakery and emerged clutching bags of hot, fragrant croissants and rolls.
His own stomach rumbled and he reminded himself that he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d left Milan the night before. Fast food had never interested him. He preferred to wait for the real thing. And the bakery looked like the real thing.
He needed a shower and a shave but there was no chance of that until he’d picked up the key to his accommodation and he doubted his new partner was even in the surgery yet. He glanced at his watch and decided that he just about had time to eat something and still time his arrival to see her just before she started work.
He strolled into the bakery and smiled at the pretty girl behind the counter. ‘Buongiorno—good morning.’
She glanced up and caught the smile. Her blue eyes widened in feminine appreciation. ‘Hello. What can I offer you?’
It was obvious from the look in those eyes that she was prepared to offer him the moon but Gio ignored the mute invitation he saw in her eyes and studied the pastries on offer, accustomed to keeping women at a polite distance. He’d always been choosy when it came to women. Too choosy, some might say. ‘What’s good?’
‘Oh—well…’ The girl lifted a hand to her face, her cheeks suddenly pink. ‘The pain au chocolat is my favourite but the almond croissant is our biggest seller. Take away or eat in?’
For the first time Gio noticed the small round tables covered in cheerful blue gingham, positioned by the window at the back of the shop. ‘Eat in.’ It was still so early he doubted that his partner had even reached the surgery yet. ‘I’ll take an almond croissant and a double espresso. Grazie.’
He selected the table with the best view over the harbour. The coffee turned out to be exceptionally good, the croissant wickedly sweet, and by the time he’d finished the last of his breakfast he’d decided that spending the summer in this quaint little village was going to be no hardship at all.
‘Are you on holiday?’ The girl on the till was putting croissants into bags faster than the chef could take them from the oven and still the queue didn’t seem to diminish.
Gio dug his hand into his pocket and paid the bill. ‘Not on holiday.’ Although a holiday would have been welcome, he mused, his eyes still on the boats bobbing in the harbour. ‘I’m working.’
‘Working?’ She handed him change. ‘Where?’
‘Here. I’m a doctor. A GP, to be precise.’ It still felt strange to him to call himself that. For years he’d been a surgeon and he still considered himself to be a surgeon. But fate had decreed otherwise.
‘You’re our new doctor?’
He nodded, aware that after driving through the night he didn’t exactly look the part. He could have been evasive, of course, but his new role in the community was hardly likely to remain a secret for long in a place this small. And, anyway, he didn’t believe in being evasive. What was the harm in announcing himself? ‘Having told you that, I might as well take advantage of your local knowledge. How does Dr Anderson take her coffee?’
All that he knew about his new partner was what David had shared in their brief phone conversation. He knew that she was married to her job, very academic and extremely serious. Already he’d formed an image of her in his mind. Tweed skirt, flat heels, horn-rimmed glasses—he knew the type. Had met plenty like her in medical school.
‘Dr Anderson? That’s easy.’ The girl smiled, her eyes fixed on his face in a kind of trance. ‘Same as you. Strong and black.’
‘Ah.’ His new partner was obviously a woman of taste. ‘And what does she eat?’
The girl continued to gaze at him and then seemed to shake herself. ‘Eat? Actually, I’ve never seen her eat anything.’ She shrugged. ‘Between the tourists and the locals, we probably keep her too busy to give her time to eat. Or maybe she isn’t that interested in food.’
Gio winced and hoped it was the former. He couldn’t imagine developing a good working partnership with someone who wasn’t interested in food. ‘In that case, I’ll play it safe and take her a large Americano.’ Time enough to persuade her of the benefits of eating. ‘So the next thing you can do is direct me to the surgery. Or maybe Dr Anderson won’t be there yet.’
It wasn’t even eight o’clock.
Perhaps she slept late, or maybe—
‘Follow the street right down to the harbour and it’s straight in front of you. Blue door. And she’ll be there.’ The girl pressed a cap onto the coffee-cup. ‘She was up half the night with the Bennetts’ six-year-old. Asthma attack.’
Gio lifted an eyebrow. ‘You know that?’
The girl shrugged and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘Around here, everyone knows everything.’ She handed him the coffee and his change. ‘Word gets around.’
‘So maybe she’s having a lie-in.’
The girl looked at the clock. ‘I doubt it. Dr Anderson doesn’t sleep much and, anyway, surgery starts soon.’
Gio digested that piece of information with interest. If she worked that hard, no wonder she took her coffee strong and black.
With a parting smile at the girl he left the bakery and followed her instructions, enjoying the brief walk down the steep cobbled street, glancing into shop windows as he passed.
The harbour was bigger than he’d expected, crowded with boats that bobbed and danced under the soft seduction of the sea. Tall masts clinked in the soft breeze and across the harbour he saw a row of shops and a blue door with a brass nameplate. The surgery.
A few minutes later he pushed open the surgery door and blinked in surprise. What had promised to be a small, cramped building proved to be light, airy and spacious. Somehow he’d expected something entirely different—somewhere dark and tired, like some of the surgeries he’d visited in London. What he hadn’t expected was this bright, calming environment designed to soothe and relax.
Above his head glass panels threw light across a neat waiting room and on the far side of the room a children’s corner overflowed with an abundance of toys in bright primary colours. A table in a glaring, cheerful red was laid with pens and sheets of paper to occupy busy hands.
On the walls posters encouraged patients to give up smoking and have their blood pressure checked and there were leaflets on first aid and adverts for various local clinics.
It seemed that nothing had been forgotten.
Gio was just studying a poster in greater depth when he noticed the receptionist.
She was bent over the curved desk, half-hidden from view as she sifted through a pile of results. Her honey blonde hair fell to her shoulders and her skin was creamy smooth and untouched by sun. She was impossibly slim, wore no make-up and the shadows under her eyes suggested that she worked harder than she should. She looked fragile, tired and very young.
Gio’s eyes narrowed in an instinctively masculine assessment.
She was beautiful, he decided, and as English as scones and cream. His eyes rested on her cheekbones and then dropped to her perfectly shaped, soft mouth. He found himself thinking of summer fruit—strawberries, raspberries, redcurrants…
Something flickered to life inside him.
The girl was so absorbed in what she was reading that she hadn’t even noticed him and he was just about to step forward and introduce himself when the surgery door swung open again and a group of teenage boys stumbled in, swearing and laughing.
They didn’t notice him. In fact, they seemed incapable of noticing anyone, they were so drunk.
Gio stood still, sensing trouble. His dark eyes were suddenly watchful and he set the coffee down on the nearest table just in case he was going to need his hands.
One of them swore fluently as he crashed into a low table and sent magazines flying across the floor. ‘Where the hell’s the doctor in this place? Matt’s bleeding.’
The friend in question lurched forward, blood streaming from a cut on his head. His chest was bare and he wore a pair of surf shorts, damp from the sea and bloodstained. ‘Went surfing.’ He gave a hiccup and tried to stand up without support but failed. Instead he slumped against his friend with a groan, his eyes closed. ‘Feel sick.’
‘Surfing when you’re drunk is never the best idea.’ The girl behind the desk straightened and looked them over with weary acceptance. Clearly it wasn’t the first time she’d had drunks in the surgery. ‘Sit him down over there and I’ll take a look at it.’
‘You?’ The third teenager swaggered across the room, fingers tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He gave a suggestive wink. ‘I’m Jack. How about taking a look at me while you’re at it?’ He leaned across the desk, leering. ‘There are bits of me you might be interested in. You a nurse? You ever wear one of those blue outfits with a short skirt and stockings?’
‘I’m the doctor.’ The girl’s eyes were cool as she pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and walked round the desk without giving Jack a second glance. ‘Sit your friend down before he falls down and does himself more damage. I’ll take a quick look at him before I start surgery.’
Gio didn’t know who was more surprised—him or the teenagers.
She was the doctor?
She was Alice Anderson?
He ran a hand over the back of his neck and wondered why David had omitted to mention that his new partner was stunning. He tried to match up David’s description of a serious, academic woman with this slender, delicate beauty standing in front of him, and failed dismally. He realised suddenly that he’d taken ‘single’ to mean ‘mature’. And ‘academic’ to mean ‘dowdy’.
‘You’re the doctor?’ Jack lurched towards her, his gait so unsteady that he could barely stand. ‘Well, that’s good news. I love a woman with brains and looks. You and I could make a perfect team, babe.’
She didn’t spare him a glance, refusing to respond to the banter. ‘Sit your friend down.’ Her tone was firm and the injured boy collapsed onto the nearest chair with a groan.
‘I’ll sit myself down. Oh, man, my head is killing me.’
‘That’s what happens when you drink all night and then bang your head.’ Efficient and businesslike, she pushed up the sleeves of her plain blue top, tilted his head and took a look at the cut. She parted the boy’s hair gently and probed with her fingers. Her mouth tightened. ‘Well, you’ve done a good job of that. Were you knocked out?’
Gio cast a professional eye over the cut and saw immediately that it wasn’t going to be straightforward. Surely she wasn’t planning to stitch that herself? He could see ragged edges and knew it was going to be difficult to get a good cosmetic result, even for someone skilled in that area.
‘I wasn’t knocked out.’ The teenager tried to shake his head and instantly winced at the pain. ‘I swallowed half the ocean, though. Got any aspirin?’
‘In a minute. That’s a nasty cut you’ve got there and it’s near your eye and down your cheek. It’s beyond my skills, I’m afraid.’ She ripped off the gloves and took a few steps backwards, a slight frown on her face as she considered the options. ‘You need to go to the accident and emergency department up the coast. They’ll get a surgeon to stitch you up. I’ll call them and let them know that you’re coming.’
‘No way. We haven’t got time for that.’ The third teenager, who hadn’t spoken up until now, stepped up to her, his expression threatening. ‘You’re going to do it. And you’re going to do it here. Right now.’
She dropped the gloves into a bin and washed her hands. ‘I’ll put a dressing on it for you, but you need to go to the hospital to get it stitched. They’ll do a better job than I ever could. Stitching faces is an art.’
She turned to walk back across the reception area but the teenager called Jack blocked her path.
‘I’ve got news for you, babe.’ His tone was low and insulting. ‘We’re not going anywhere until you’ve fixed Matt’s face. I’m not wasting a whole day of my holiday sitting in some hospital with a load of sickos. He doesn’t mind a scar. Scars are sexy. Hard. You know?’
‘Whoever does it, he’ll be left with a scar,’ she said calmly, ‘but he’ll get a better result at the hospital.’
‘No hospital.’ The boy took a step closer and stabbed a finger into her chest. ‘Are you listening to me?’
‘I’m listening to you but I don’t think you’re listening to me.’ The girl didn’t flinch. ‘Unless he wants to have a significant scar, that cut needs to be stitched by someone with specific skills. It’s for his own good.’
It happened so quickly that no one could have anticipated it. The teenager backed her against the wall and put a hand round her throat. ‘I don’t think you’re listening to me, babe. It’s your bloody job, Doc. Stitch him up! Do it.’
Gio crossed the room in two strides, just as the teenager uttered a howl of pain and collapsed onto the floor in a foetal position, clutching his groin.
She’d kneed him.
‘Don’t try and tell me my job.’ She lifted her hand to her reddened throat. Her tone was chilly and composed and then she glanced up, noticed Gio for the first time and her face visibly paled. For a moment she just stared at him and then her gaze flickered towards the door, measuring the distance. Gio winced inwardly. It was obvious that she thought he was trouble and he felt slightly miffed by her reaction.
He liked women. Women liked him. And they usually responded to him. They chatted, they flirted, they sent him long looks. The look in Dr Anderson’s eyes suggested that she was calculating ways to injure him. All right, so he hadn’t had time to shave and change, but did he really look that scary?
He was about to introduce himself, about to try and redeem himself in her eyes, when the third teenager stepped towards the girl, his expression threatening. Gio closed a hand over his arm and yanked him backwards.
‘I think it’s time you left. Both of you.’ His tone was icy cool and he held the boy in an iron grip. ‘You can pick up your friend in an hour.’
The teenager balled his fists, prepared to fight, but then eyed the width of Gio’s shoulders. His hands relaxed and he gave a slight frown. ‘Whazzit to do with you?’
‘Everything.’ Gio stepped forward so that his body was between them and Dr Anderson. ‘I work here.’
‘What as?’ The boy twisted in his grip and his eyes slid from Gio’s shoulders to the hard line of his jaw. ‘A bouncer?’
‘A doctor. One hour. That’s how long I estimate it’s going to take to make a decent job of his face. Or you can drive to the hospital.’ Gio released him, aware that Alice was staring at him in disbelief. ‘Your choice.’
The teenager winced and rubbed his arm. ‘She…’ he jerked his head towards the doctor ‘…said he needed a specialist doctor.’
‘Well, this is your lucky day, because I am a specialist doctor.’
There was a long pause while the teenager tried to focus. ‘You don’t look anything like a doctor. Doctors shave and dress smart. You look more like one of those—those…’ His words slurred and he swayed and waved a hand vaguely. ‘Those Mafia thugs that you see in films.’
‘Then you’d better behave yourself,’ Gio suggested silkily, casting a glance towards his new partner to check she was all right. Her pallor was worrying him. He hoped she wasn’t about to pass out. ‘Leave now and come back in an hour for your friend.’
‘You’re not English.’ The boy hiccoughed. ‘What are you, then? Italian?’
‘I’m Sicilian.’ Gio’s eyes were cold. ‘Never call me Italian.’
‘Sicilian?’ A nervous respect entered the teenager’s eyes and he licked his lips and eyed the door. ‘OK.’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘So maybe we’ll come back later, like you suggested.’
Gio nodded. ‘Good decision.’
The boy backed away, still rubbing his arm. ‘We’re going. C’mon, Rick.’ He loped over to the door and left without a backward glance.
‘Dios, did he hurt you?’ Gio walked over to the girl and lifted a hand to her neck. The skin was slightly reddened and he stroked a finger carefully over the bruising with a frown. ‘We should call the police now.’
She shook her head and backed away. ‘No need. He didn’t hurt me.’ She glanced towards the teenager who was still sprawled over the seats of her waiting room and gave a wry shake of her head. ‘If you’re Dr Moretti, we’d better see to him before he’s sick on the floor or bleeds to death over my chairs.’
‘It won’t hurt him to wait for two minutes. You should call the police.’ Gio’s tone was firm. He didn’t want to be too graphic about what might have happened, but it was important that she acknowledge the danger. It hadn’t escaped him that if he hadn’t decided to arrive at the surgery early, she would have been on her own with them. ‘You should call them.’
She rubbed her neck. ‘I suppose you’re right. All right, I’ll do it when I get a minute.’
‘Does this happen often? I imagined I was coming to a quiet seaside village. Not some hotbed of violence.’
‘There’s nothing quiet about this place, at least not in the middle of summer,’ she said wearily. ‘We’re the only doctors’ surgery in this part of the town and the nearest A and E is twenty miles down the coast so, yes, we get our fair share of drama. David probably didn’t tell you that when he was persuading you to take the job. You can leave now, if you like.’
His eyes rested on her soft mouth. ‘I’m not leaving.’
There was a brief silence. A silence during which she stared back at him. Then she licked her lips. ‘Well, that’s good news for my patients. And good news for me. I’m glad you arrived when you did.’
‘You didn’t look glad.’
‘Well, a girl can’t be too careful and you don’t exactly look like a doctor.’ A hint of a smile touched that perfect mouth. ‘Did you see his face when you said you were Sicilian? I think they were expecting you to put a hand in your jacket and shoot them dead any moment.’
‘I considered it.’ Gio’s eyes gleamed with humour. ‘But I’ve only had one cup of coffee so far today. Generally I need at least two before I shoot people dead. And you don’t need to apologise for the mistake. I confess that I thought you were the receptionist. If you’re Alice Anderson, you’re nothing like David’s description.’
‘I can imagine.’ She spoke in a tone of weary acceptance. ‘David is seeing the world through a romantic haze at the moment. Be patient with him. It will pass, given time.’
He laughed. ‘You think so?’
‘Love always does, Dr Moretti. Like many viruses, it’s a self-limiting condition. Left alone, the body can cure itself.’
Gio searched her face to see if she was joking and decided that she wasn’t. Filing the information away in his brain for later use, he walked over to retrieve the coffee from the window-sill. ‘If you’re truly Dr Anderson, this is for you. An ice breaker, from me.’
She stared at the coffee with sudden hunger in her eyes and then at him. ‘You brought coffee?’ Judging from the expression on her face, he might have offered her an expensive bauble from Tiffany’s. She lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Tired eyes. ‘For me? Is it black?’
‘Si.’ He smiled easily and handed her the coffee, amused by her response. ‘You have fans in the bakery who know every detail of your dietary preferences. I was told “just coffee” so I passed on the croissant.’
‘There’s no such thing as “just coffee”. Coffee is wonderful. It’s my only vice and currently I’m in desperate need of a caffeine hit.’ She prised the lid off the coffee, sniffed and gave a whimper of pleasure. ‘Large Americano. Oh, that’s just the best smell…’
He watched as she sipped, closed her eyes and savoured the taste. She gave a tiny moan of appreciation that sent a flicker of awareness through his body. He gave a slight frown at the strength of his reaction.
‘So…’ She studied him for a moment and then took another sip of coffee. Some of the colour returned to her cheeks. ‘I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Not that I’m complaining, you understand. I’m glad you’re early. You were just in time to save me from a nasty situation.’
‘I prefer to drive when the roads are clear. I thought you might appreciate the help, given that David has already been gone two days. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Gio Moretti.’ He wanted to hold her until she stopped shaking but he sensed that she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture so he kept his distance. ‘I’m your new partner.’
She hesitated and then put her free hand in his. ‘Alice Anderson.’
‘I gathered that. You’re really not what I expected.’
She tilted her head to one side. ‘You’re standing in my surgery having frightened off two teenage thugs by your appearance and you’re telling me I’m not what you expected?’ There was a hint of humour in her blue eyes and his attention was caught by the length of her lashes.
‘So maybe I don’t fit anyone’s image of a conventional doctor right at this moment…’ he dragged his gaze away from her face and glanced down at himself with a rueful smile ‘…but I’ve been travelling all night and I’m dressed for comfort. After a shave and a quick change of clothes, I will be ready to impress your patients. But first show me to a room and I’ll stitch that boy before his friends return.’
‘Are you sure?’ She frowned slightly. ‘I mean, David told me you didn’t operate any more and—’
‘I don’t operate.’ He waited for the usual feelings to rise up inside him. Waited for the frustration and the sick disappointment. Nothing happened. Maybe he was just tired. Or maybe he’d made progress. ‘I don’t operate, but I can certainly stitch up a face.’
‘Then I’m very grateful and I’m certainly not going to argue with you. That wound is beyond my skills and I’ve got a full surgery starting in ten minutes.’ She looked at the teenager who was sprawled across the chairs, eyes closed, and sighed. ‘Oh, joy. Is it alcohol or a bang on the head, do you think?’
‘Hard to tell.’ Gio followed her gaze and shook his head slowly. ‘I’ll stitch him up, do a neurological assessment and then we’ll see. Is there anyone who can help me? Show me around? I can give you a list of what I’ll need.’
‘Rita, our practice nurse, will be here in a minute. She’s very experienced. Her asthma clinic doesn’t start until ten so I’ll send her in.’ Her eyes slid over him. ‘Are you sure you’re all right with this? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow and if you’ve been travelling all night you must be tired.’
‘I’m fine.’ He studied her carefully, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. ‘In fact, I’d say that you’re the one who’s tired, Dr Anderson.’
She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Goes with the job. I’ll show you where you can work. We have a separate room for minor surgery. I think you’ll find everything you need but I can’t be sure. We don’t usually stitch faces.’
He followed her down the corridor, his eyes drawn to the gentle swing of her hips. ‘Do you have 5/0 Ethilon?’
‘Yes.’ She pushed open a door and held it open while he walked inside. ‘Is that all you need?’
‘The really important thing is to debride the wound and align the tissues exactly. And not leave the stitches in for too long.’
Her glance was interested. Intelligent. ‘I wish I had time to watch you. Not that I’m about to start suturing faces,’ she assured him hastily, and he smiled.
‘Like most things, it’s just a question of practice.’
She opened a cupboard. ‘Stitches are in here. Gloves on the shelf. You’re probably about the same size as David. Tetanus et cetera in the fridge.’ She waved a hand. ‘I’ll send Rita in with the patient. I’ll get on with surgery. Come and find me when you’ve finished.’
‘Alice.’ He stopped her before she walked out of the door. ‘Don’t forget to call the police.’
She tilted her head back and he sensed that she was wrestling with what seemed like a major inconvenience then she gave a resigned sigh.
‘I’ll do that.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ufafd4de0-bfb2-5aa6-8ba6-069a43f99527)
ALICE spoke to Rita, called the police and then worked flat out, seeing patients, with no time to even think about checking on her new partner.
‘How long have you had this rash on your eye, Mr Denny?’ As she saw her tenth patient of the morning, she thought gratefully of the cup of coffee that Gio Moretti had thought to bring her. It was the only sustenance she’d had all day.
‘It started with a bit of pain and tingling. Then it all went numb.’ The man sat still as she examined him. ‘I suppose all that began on Saturday. My wife noticed the rash yesterday. She was worried because it looks blistered. We wondered if I’d brushed up against something in the garden. You know how it is with some of those plants.’
Alice picked up her ophthalmoscope and examined his eye thoroughly. ‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with the garden, Mr Denny. You’ve got quite a discharge from your eye.’
‘It’s very sore.’
‘I’m sure it is.’ Alice put the ophthalmoscope down on her desk and washed her hands. ‘I want to test your vision. Can you read the letters for me?’
The man squinted at the chart on her wall and struggled to recite the letters. ‘Not very clear, I’m afraid.’ He looked worried. ‘My eyes have always been good. Am I losing my sight?’
‘You have a virus.’ Alice sat down and tapped something into her computer. Then she turned back to the patient. ‘I think you have shingles, Mr Denny.’
‘Shingles?’ He frowned. ‘In my eye?’
‘Shingles is a virus that affects the nerves,’ she explained, ‘and one in five cases occur in the eye—to be technical, it’s the ophthalmic branch of the trigeminal nerve.’
He pulled a face. ‘Never was much good at biology.’
Alice smiled. ‘You don’t need biology, Mr Denny. But I just wanted you to know it isn’t uncommon, unfortunately. I’m going to need to refer you to an ophthalmologist—an eye doctor at the hospital. Is there someone who can take you up there?’
He nodded. ‘My daughter’s waiting in the car park. She brought me here.’
‘Good.’ Alice reached for the phone and dialled the clinic number. ‘They’ll see you within the next couple of days.’
‘Do I really need to go there?’
Alice nodded. ‘They need to examine your eye with a slit lamp—a special piece of equipment that allows them to look at your eye properly. They need to exclude iritis. In the meantime, I’ll give you aciclovir to take five times a day for a week. It should speed up healing time and reduce the incidence of new lesions.’ She printed out the prescription on the computer as she waited for the hospital to answer the phone.
Once she’d spoken to the consultant, she quickly wrote a letter and gave it to the patient. ‘They’re really nice up there,’ she assured him, ‘but if you have any worries you’re welcome to come back to me.’
He left the room and Alice picked up a set of results. She was studying the numbers with a puzzled frown when Rita walked in. A motherly woman in her early fifties, her navy blue uniform was stretched over her large bosom and there was a far-away expression on her face. ‘Pinch me. Go on, pinch me hard. I’ve died and gone to heaven.’
Alice looked up. ‘Rita, have you seen Mrs Frank lately? I ran some tests but the results just don’t make sense.’ She’d examined the patient carefully and had been expecting something entirely different. She studied the results again. Perhaps she’d missed something.
‘Forget Mrs Frank’s results for a moment.’ Rita closed the door behind her. ‘I’ve got something far more important for you to think about.’
Alice didn’t look up. ‘I thought she had hypothyroidism. She had all the symptoms.’
‘Alice…’
Still absorbed in the problem, Alice shook her head. ‘The results are normal.’ She checked the results one more time and checked the normal values, just in case she’d missed something. She’d been so sure.
‘Alice!’ Rita sounded exasperated. ‘Are you even listening to me?’
Alice dragged her eyes away from the piece of paper in her hand, still pondering. Aware that Rita was glaring at her, she gave a faint smile. ‘Sorry, I’m still thinking about Mrs Frank,’ she admitted apologetically. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Dr Giovanni Moretti is the matter.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Alice slapped her hand over her mouth and rose to her feet quickly, ridden with guilt. ‘I’d totally forgotten about him. How could I?’
Rita stared at her. ‘How could you, indeed?’
‘Don’t! I feel terrible about it.’ Guilt consumed her. And after he’d been so helpful. ‘How could I have done that? I showed him into the room, made sure he had what he needed and I promised to look in on him, but I’ve had streams of patients this morning and I completely forgot his existence.’
‘You forgot his existence?’ Rita shook her head. ‘Alice, how could you possibly have forgotten his existence?’
‘I know, it’s dreadful! I feel terribly rude.’ She walked briskly round her desk, determined to make amends. ‘I’ll go and check on him immediately. Hopefully, if he’d needed any help he would have come and found me.’
‘Help?’ Rita’s tone was dry. ‘Trust me, Alice, the guy doesn’t need any help from you or anyone else. He’s slick. Mr Hotshot. Or I suppose I should call him Dr Hotshot.’
‘He’s finished stitching the boy?’ She glanced at her watch for the first time since she’d started surgery and realised with a shock that almost an hour and a half had passed.
‘Just the head, although personally I would have been happy to see him do the mouth as well.’ Rita gave a snort of disapproval. ‘Never heard such obscenities.’
‘Yes, they were pretty drunk, the three of them. How does the head look?’
‘Better than that boy deserves. Never seen a job as neat in my life and I’ve been nursing for thirty years,’ Rita admitted, a dreamy expression on her face. ‘Dr Moretti has amazing hands.’
‘He used to be a surgeon. If he’s done a good job and he’s finished, why did you come rushing in here telling me he was having problems?’
‘I never said he was having problems.’
‘You said something was the matter.’
‘No.’ Rita closed her eyes and sighed. ‘At least, not with him. Only with me. I think he’s fantastic.’
‘Oh.’ Alice paused by the door. ‘Well, he arrived a day early, brought me coffee first thing, sorted out a bunch of rowdy teenagers and stitched a nasty cut so, yes, I think he’s fantastic, too. He’s obviously a good doctor.’
‘I’m not talking about his medical skills, Alice.’
‘What are you talking about, then?’
‘Alice, he’s gorgeous. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed!’
‘Actually, I thought he looked a mess.’ Her hand dropped from the doorhandle and she frowned at the recollection. ‘But he’d been travelling all night.’
‘A mess?’ Rita sounded faint. ‘You think he looks a mess?’
Alice wondered whether to confess that she’d thought he looked dangerous. Strangely enough, the teenagers hadn’t bothered her. They were nothing more than gawky children and she’d had no doubts about her ability to handle them. But when she’d looked up and seen Gio standing there…
‘I’m sure he’ll look more respectable when he’s had a shower and a shave.’ Alice frowned. ‘And possibly a haircut. The boy was in such a state, I didn’t think it mattered.’
‘You didn’t even notice, did you?’ Rita shook her head in disbelief. ‘Alice, you need to do something about your life. The man is sex on a stick. He’s a walking female fantasy.’
Alice stared at her blankly, struggling to understand. ‘Rita, you’ve been married for twenty years and, anyway, he’s far too young for you.’
Rita gave her a suggestive wink. ‘Don’t you believe it. I like them young and vigorous.’
Alice sighed and wished she didn’t feel so completely out of step with the rest of her sex. Was she the only woman in the world who didn’t spend her whole life thinking about men? Even Rita was susceptible, even though she’d reached an age where she should have grown out of such stupidity.
‘He doesn’t look much like a doctor,’ she said frankly, ‘but I’m sure he’ll look better once he’s shaved and changed his clothes.’
‘He looks every inch a man. And he’d be perfect for you.’
Alice froze. ‘I refuse to have this conversation with you again, Rita. And while we’re at it, you can tell that receptionist of ours that I’m not having it with her either.’
Rita sniffed. ‘Mary worries about you, as I do, and—’
‘I’m not interested in men and both of you know that.’
‘Well, you should be.’ Rita folded her arms and her mouth clamped into a thin line. ‘You’re thirty years of age and—’
‘Rita!’ Alice interrupted her sharply. ‘This is not a good time.’
‘It’s never a good time with you. You never talk about it.’
‘Because there’s nothing to talk about!’ Alice took a deep breath. ‘I appreciate your concern, really, but—’
‘But you’re married to your work and that’s the way you’re staying.’ The older woman rose to her feet and Alice sighed.
‘I’m happy, Rita.’ Her voice softened slightly as she saw the worry in the older woman’s face. ‘Really I am. I like my life the way it is.’
‘Empty, you mean.’
‘Empty?’ Alice laughed and stroked blonde hair away from her face. ‘Rita, I’m so busy I don’t have time to turn round. My life certainly isn’t empty.’
Rita pursed her lips. ‘You’re talking about work and work isn’t enough for anybody. A woman needs a social life. A man. Sex.’
Alice glanced pointedly at her watch. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I’ve got a surgery full of patients, Rita.’
And she was exhausted, hungry and thirsty and fed up with talking about subjects that didn’t interest her.
‘All right. I can take a hint. But the subject isn’t closed.’ Rita walked to the door. ‘Actually, I did come to ask you something. Although he doesn’t need your help, Gio wants two minutes to discuss the boy with you before he sends him out. Oh, and the police are here.’
Alice stood up and removed a bottle of water from the fridge in her consulting room. She couldn’t do anything about the hunger, but at least she could drink. ‘I don’t have time for them right now.’
‘If what Gio told me is correct, you’re going to make time.’ Suddenly Rita was all business. ‘They can’t go round behaving like that. And you need to lock the door behind you if you come in early in the morning. You might have been the only person in the building. You were careless. Up half the night with the little Bennett girl and not getting enough sleep as usual, no doubt.’
‘Rita—’
‘You’ll tell me I’m nagging but I worry about you, that’s all. I care about you.’
‘I know you do.’ Alice curled her hands into fists, uncomfortable with the conversation. Another person—a different person to her—would have swept across to Rita and given her a big hug, but Alice could no more do that than fly. Touching wasn’t part of her nature. ‘I know you care.’
‘Good.’ Rita gave a sniff. ‘Now, drink your water before you die of dehydration and then go and see Gio. And this time take a closer look. You might like what you see.’
Alice walked back to her desk and poured water into a glass. ‘All right, I’ll speak to Gio then I’ll see the police. Ask Mary to give them a coffee and put them in one of the empty rooms. Then see if she can placate the remaining patients. Tell them I’ll be with them as soon as possible.’ She paused to drink the water she’d poured and then set the glass on her desk. ‘Goodness knows if I’ll get through them all in time to do any house calls.’
‘Gio is going to help you see the patients once he’s discharged the boy. For goodness’ sake, don’t say no. It’s like the first day of the summer sales in the waiting room. If he helps then we might all stand a chance of getting some lunch.’
‘The letting agent is dropping the keys to his flat round here. He needs to get settled in. He needs to rest after the journey and shave the designer stubble—’
‘Any fool can see he’s a man with stamina and I don’t see his appearance hampering his ability to see patients,’ Rita observed, with impeccable logic. ‘We’re just ensuring that the surgery is going to be crammed for weeks to come.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because he’s too gorgeous for his own good and all the women in the practice are going to want to come and stare.’
Alice opened the door. ‘What exactly is it about men that turns normally sane women into idiots?’ she wondered out loud, and Rita grinned.
‘Whoever said I was sane?’
With an exasperated shake of her head, Alice walked along the corridor and pushed open the door of the room they used for minor surgery. ‘Dr Moretti, I’m so sorry, I’ve had a steady stream of patients and I lost track of the time.’
He turned to look at her and for a brief, unsettling moment Alice remembered Rita’s comment about him being a walking fantasy. He was handsome, she conceded, in an intelligent, devilish and slightly dangerous way. She could see that some women would find him attractive. Fortunately she wasn’t one of them.
‘No problem.’ His smile came easily. ‘I’ve just finished here. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.’
‘Shame,’ Rita breathed, and Alice shot her a look designed to silence.
Gio ripped off his gloves and pushed the trolley away from him. ‘I think he’s safe to discharge. He wasn’t knocked out and his consciousness isn’t impaired. Fortunately he obviously drank less than his friends. I see no indication for an X-ray or a CT scan at the moment. He can be discharged with a head injury form.’ He turned to the boy, his expression serious. ‘I advise you to stay off the alcohol for a few days. If you start vomiting, feel drowsy, confused, have any visual disturbances or experience persistent headache within the next forty-eight hours, you should go to the A and E department at the hospital. Either way, you need those stitches out in four days. Don’t forget and don’t think it’s cool to leave them in.’
The boy gave a nod and slid off the couch, his face ashen. ‘Yeah. I hear you. Thanks, Doc. Are the guys outside?’
‘They’re having a cosy chat with the police,’ Rita told him sweetly, and the boy flushed and rubbed a hand over his face.
‘Man, I’m sorry about that.’ He shook his head and breathed out heavily. ‘They were a bit the worse for wear. We were at an all-night beach party.’ He glanced sideways at Alice, his expression sheepish. ‘You OK?’
She nodded. ‘I’m fine.’ She was busy looking at the wound. She couldn’t believe how neat the sutures were.
The boy left the room, escorted by Rita.
‘You did an amazing job, thank you so much.’ Alice closed the door behind them and turned to Gio. ‘I never would have thought that was possible. That cut looked such a mess. So many ragged edges. I wouldn’t have known where to start.’
But obviously he’d known exactly where to start. Despite appearances. If she hadn’t seen the results of his handiwork with her own eyes, she would still have struggled to believe that he was a doctor.
When David had described his friend, she’d imagined a smooth, slick Italian in a designer suit. Someone safe, conservative and conventional in appearance and attitude.
There was nothing safe or conservative about Gio.
He hovered on the wrong side of respectable. His faded T-shirt was stretched over shoulders that were both broad and muscular and a pair of equally faded jeans hugged his legs. His face was deeply tanned, his jaw dark with stubble and his eyes held a hard watchfulness that suggested no small degree of life experience.
She tried to imagine him dressed in a more conventional manner, and failed.
‘He’ll have a scar.’ Gio tipped the remains of his equipment into the nearest sharps bin. ‘But some of it will be hidden by his hair. I gather from Rita that you have a very long queue out there.’
Remembering the patients, exhaustion suddenly washed over her and she sucked in a breath, wondering for a moment how she was going to get through the rest of the day. ‘I need to talk to the police and then get back to work. I’m sorry I don’t have time to give you a proper tour. Hopefully I can do that tomorrow, before you officially start.’
‘Forget the tour.’ His eyes scanned her face. ‘You look done in. The girl who made your coffee told me that you were up in the night, dealing with an asthma attack. You must be ready for a rest yourself. Let’s split the rest of the patients.’
She gave a wan smile. ‘I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve been travelling all night.’ It occurred to her that he was the one who ought to look tired. Instead, his gaze was sharp, assessing.
‘You’re not asking, I’m offering. In fact, I’m insisting. If you drop dead from overwork before this afternoon, who will show me round?’
His smile had a relaxed, easy charm and she found herself responding. ‘Well, if you’re sure. I’ll ask Mary to send David’s patients through to you. If you need any help just buzz me. Lift the receiver and press 3.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ufafd4de0-bfb2-5aa6-8ba6-069a43f99527)
‘WHAT a day!’ Seven hours later, Gio rubbed a hand over his aching shoulder and eyed the waiting room warily. Morning surgery had extended into the afternoon well-woman clinic, which had extended into evening surgery. Even now the telephone rang incessantly, two little boys were playing noisily in the play corner and a harassed-looking woman was standing at the reception desk, wiggling a pram in an attempt to soothe a screaming baby. ‘I feel as though I have seen the entire population of Cornwall in one surgery. Is it always like this?’
‘No, sometimes it’s busy.’ Mary, the receptionist, replaced the phone once again and gave him a cheerful smile as she flicked through the box of repeat prescriptions for the waiting mother. ‘Don’t worry, you get used to it after a while. I could try locking the door but it would only postpone the inevitable. They’d all be back tomorrow. There we are, Mrs York.’ She handed over a prescription with a flourish and adjusted her glasses more comfortably on her nose. ‘How are those twins of yours doing, Harriet? Behaving themselves?’
The young woman glanced towards the boys, her face pale. ‘They’re fine.’ Her tone had an edge to it as she pushed the prescription into her handbag. ‘Thanks.’
The baby’s howls intensified and Mary stood up, clucking. She was a plump, motherly woman with curling hair a soft shade of blonde and a smiling face. Gio could see that she was dying to get her hands on the baby. ‘There, now. What a fuss. Libby York, what do you think you’re doing to our eardrums and your poor mother’s sanity?’ She walked round the reception desk, glanced at the baby’s mother for permission and then scooped the baby out of the pram and rested it on her shoulder, cooing and soothing. ‘Is she sleeping for you, dear?’ Despite the attention, the baby continued to bawl and howl and Harriet gritted her teeth.
‘Not much. She—’ The young woman broke off as the boys started to scrap over a toy. ‘Stop it, you two!’ Her tone was sharp. ‘Dan! Robert! Come here, now! Oh, for heaven’s sake…’ She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
The baby continued to scream and Gio caught Mary’s eye and exchanged a look of mutual understanding. ‘Let me have a try.’ He took the baby from her, his touch firm and confident, his voice deep and soothing as he switched to Italian. The baby stopped yelling, hiccoughed a few times and then calmed and stared up at his face in fascination.
At least one woman still found him interesting in a dishevelled state, he thought with a flash of amusement as he recalled Alice’s reaction to his appearance.
Mary gave a sigh of relief and turned to Harriet. ‘There. That’s better. She wanted a man’s strength.’ She put a hand on the young mother’s arm. It was a comforting touch. ‘It’s hard when they’re this age. I remember when mine were small, there were days when I thought I’d strangle them all. It gets easier. Before you know it they’re grown.’
Harriet looked at her and blinked back tears. Then she covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. ‘Sorry—oh, I’m being so stupid!’ Her hand dropped and she sniffed. ‘It’s just that I don’t know what to do with them half the time. Or what to do with me. I’m so tired I can’t think straight,’ she muttered, glancing towards the baby who was now calm in Gio’s arms. ‘This one’s keeping the whole family awake. It makes us all cranky and those two are so naughty I could—’ She broke off and caught her lip between her teeth. ‘Anyway, as you say, it’s all part of them being small. There’s going to come a time when I’ll wish they were little again.’
With a forced smile and a nod of thanks, she leaned across and took the baby from Gio.
‘How old is the baby?’ There was something about the woman that was worrying him. He didn’t know her, of course, which didn’t help, but still…
‘She’ll be seven weeks tomorrow.’ Harriet jiggled the baby in her arms in an attempt to keep her calm.
‘It can be very hard. My sister had her third child two months ago,’ Gio said, keeping his tone casual, ‘and she’s certainly struggling. If the baby keeps crying, bring her to see me. Maybe there’s something we can do to help.’
‘Dr Moretti has taken over from Dr Watts,’ Mary explained, and Harriet nodded.
‘OK. Thanks. I’d better be getting back home. She needs feeding.’
‘I can make you comfortable in a room here,’ Mary offered, but the woman shook her head and walked towards the door, juggling pram and baby.
‘I’d better get home. I’ve got beds to change and washing to put out.’ She called to the boys, who ignored her. ‘Come on!’ They still ignored her and she gave a growl of exasperation and strapped the baby back in the pram. Libby immediately started crying again. ‘Yes, I know, I know! I’m getting you home right now!’ She glared at the twins. ‘If you don’t come now I’m leaving you both here.’ Her voice rose slightly and she reached out and grabbed the nearest boy by the arm. ‘Do as you’re told.’
They left the surgery, boys arguing, baby crying. Mary stared after them, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the desk. ‘I don’t like the look of that.’
‘No.’ Gio was in full agreement. There had been something about the young mother that had tugged at him. ‘She looked stretched out. At her limit.’
Mary looked at him. ‘You think there’s something wrong with the baby?’
‘No. I think there’s something wrong with the mother, but I didn’t want to get into a conversation that personal with a woman I don’t know in the reception area. A conversation like that requires sensitivity. One wrong word and she would have run.’
‘Finally. A man who thinks before he speaks…’ Mary gave a sigh of approval and glanced up as Alice walked out of her consulting room, juggling two empty coffee-cups and an armful of notes.
She looked even paler than she had that morning, Gio noted, but perhaps that was hardly surprising. She’d been working flat out all day with no break.
‘Did I hear a baby screaming?’ She deposited the notes on the desk.
‘Libby York.’ Mary turned her head and stared through the glass door into the street where Harriet was still struggling with the boys. As they disappeared round the corner, she turned back with a sigh. ‘You were great, Dr Moretti. Any time you want to soothe my nerves with a short spurt of Italian, don’t let me stop you.’
Gio gave an apologetic shrug. ‘My English doesn’t run to baby talk.’
Alice frowned, her mind focused on the job. ‘Why was Harriet in here?’
‘Picking up a repeat prescription for her husband.’ Mary’s mouth tightened and her eyes suddenly clouded with worry. ‘I knew that girl when she was in primary school. The smile never left her face. Look at her now and her face is grim. As if she’s holding it together by a thread. As if every moment is an effort. If you ask me, she’s close to the edge.’
‘She has three children under the age of six. Twin boys of five. It’s the summer holidays so she has them at home all day.’ Alice frowned slightly. Considered. ‘That’s hard work by anyone’s standards. Her husband is a fisherman so he works pretty long hours. Her mother died a month before the baby was born and there’s no other family on the scene that I’m aware of. On top of that her delivery was difficult and she had a significant post-partum haemorrhage. She had her postnatal check at the hospital with the consultant.’

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