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The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride
Alison Roberts


Just knocking at the door of the luxurious house of esteemed Italian surgeon Paolo Romano, Jenna Freeman knows she's out of her depth. But his beautiful toddler, Ella, needs a nanny, and nurse Jenna desperately needs the job–no matter how dangerously handsome and darkly brooding the single father and surgeon might be.The chemistry between Jenna and charming Paolo is electrifying from the moment they meet. Jenna resolves to keep her relationship with the devastatingly gorgeous Paolo strictly professional by focusing on caring for his beautiful baby girl. But if–or when–Paolo gets his way, it will only be a matter of time before Jenna gives in to the Italian's desires…and goes from nanny to mommy…and wife!







Time had stopped.

Jenna’s gaze was locked with Paolo’s, and her awareness was so totally focussed on the man beside her.

As his was. On her.

He lifted his hand, using his middle finger to smooth a blob of soapsuds from just below her eye. The touch was so light, so intense, it could be nothing less than a caress.

The connection unleashed something almost frightening. Jenna wouldn’t have believed that Paolo’s eyes could darken that much. Or that she would ever hear him utter a sound that was pure, raw desire.

‘You,’ he said, very softly, ‘are beautiful. Bella.’

And then Paolo tipped his head and kissed her.

Softly. Slowly.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. And Jenna knew Paolo was thinking exactly the same because her gaze was still locked onto his—as it had been from the first moment he had touched her face.

There was no question of whether or not they would make love. It was simply a matter of when…


Dear Reader

Mills & Boon are celebrating their 100th birthday this year. How amazing is that?

For a whole century readers of romance have been loyal to a genre of fiction that celebrates what I believe matters the most: the relationships between people. Love…

I fall in love with every one of my heroes, but a gorgeous Italian like Paolo in THE SURGEON CLAIMS HIS BRIDE was deliciously irresistible. That means there’s a part of me in every heroine, of course, but it’s more than just the part that falls in love. I suspect that you also relate to the same ideal. One that recognises the meaning of true love and what is precious about the connections to other people that mean we are not alone in the world. Not simply the magic relationship between lovers—we also cherish the bonds of family and friends. As Paolo and Jenna learn, it is possible to feel utterly vulnerable and yet to feel completely safe at the same time. Maybe that’s the essence of feeling loved?

I’m proud to be writing these stories as Mills & Boon enters its second century. May the tradition continue to bring us all moments of joy.

Happy reading

With love

Alison


The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride

Alison Roberts






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


Alison Roberts lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.




Recent titles by the same author:


CHRISTMAS BRIDE-TO-BE

THE PLAYBOY DOCTOR’S PROPOSAL† (#litres_trial_promo)

THE ITALIAN DOCTOR’S PERFECT FAMILY (Mediterranean Doctors)

A FATHER BEYOND COMPARE* (#litres_trial_promo)

ONE NIGHT TO WED* (#litres_trial_promo)

EMERGENCY BABY* (#litres_trial_promo)




Contents


CHAPTER ONE (#ub6ce94be-180c-5da7-8e96-88566cc86224)

CHAPTER TWO (#ud98bedbc-e647-5cb7-9d08-914643ae1254)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE


WHAT the hell was going on here?

It was like a good-cop, bad-cop scenario. Hardly what Jenna Freeman had expected when fronting up to this fabulous old house in Hamilton Drive, one of the most exclusive parts of town, to attend a job interview.

A woman who looked to be in her seventies was beaming at Jenna approvingly. The other woman, twenty years her junior, had fixed Jenna with a steely glare. Both had formidably strong personalities.

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Jenna said carefully. ‘Is there something wrong with the little girl?’

‘With Danielle? Good heavens, no! She’s perfect.’

The gazes of all three women shifted automatically to focus on the subject of their conversation and Jenna found herself smiling.

Yes. Danielle did look perfect.

As babies went, this one was a stunner.

Jenna had met a lot of babies in her career as a paediatric nurse and could almost always find something appealing about them. Some looked like they should be advertising baby food in glossy magazines. Others had heart-melting smiles. Some were placid and cuddly and easy to care for, others noisy and fascinated by the world around them.

They were all different and yet this one—nine-month-old Danielle Romano—was in a class of her own.

She looked ready for a photographer’s attention in the beautiful pink smocked dress, long white socks and pristine patent leather shoes. A band that matched her dress squashed some of the silky-looking black curls on her head and sported a bow on top as perfect as the similar decoration on the shiny white shoes.

Small fingers were playing with the bow on one shoe right now. Carefully. As though Danielle was confident she had all the time in the world to explore the shape and feel of the object. The wealth of bright toys surrounding her in the playpen couldn’t compete for her interest.

She must have sensed the direction of the women’s attention, however, because her fingers stilled and she looked up. Big, dark eyes regarded Jenna with no hint of alarm at the presence of a stranger. There was no hint of a smile either, but that was hardly unexpected, especially in a child serious enough to find the bow on her shoe so compelling.

Jenna’s smile faded as she looked back at the women sitting opposite her.

Danielle’s grandmothers.

‘Your advertisement specified a qualified nurse. Someone experienced with children.’

‘That’s right.’

‘But the position you’re describing is looking after a perfectly healthy child. It’s a job for a nanny, not a nurse.’

The older of the two women, Maria Romano, looked away quickly, giving an impression of discomfort. If it hadn’t been a weird thought, Jenna would have described her as being nervous.

The younger woman, Louise Gibbs, looked almost smug as she nodded less than subtle agreement.

‘I said that, Maria,’ Louise murmured. ‘She’s not suitable for the position.’

Not suitable? Jenna bristled. Surely the decision should be hers, given that she was over-qualified for the work being offered. If she took it, she wouldn’t be using more than a fraction of the knowledge and skill she had worked hard to attain so far in her career.

‘Jenna’s more qualified than anyone with just a diploma from a nanny school, Louise. We want the best for Ella, don’t we?’

‘Danielle.’ The correction seemed to be automatic. Louise dropped her gaze to Jenna’s CV, now lying on the coffee-table between them. ‘You’re a little younger than I had in mind.’

‘I’m thirty-one.’ Getting rapidly older, in Jenna’s opinion. All her friends seemed to be married and starting families by now. Only Jenna remained single and childless. Destined to silence the ticking of her own biological clock by caring for the children of other people?

Awful thought. Maybe she’d made a mistake even fronting up for this interview. The idea of being a private nurse in a new city had been appealing, however. An easy job. Time to come to terms with the difficult changes life had presented recently and reset herself. A chance to meet new people in a place that wasn’t haunted by too many memories.

An old friend she had kept in touch with since they had trained together had applauded the notion.

‘Do come to Christchurch,’ Anne had urged Jenna. ‘It would be so good to spend some time together again.’

‘And you’re single.’ Louise made it sound like some kind of disease.

‘Yes.’ Jenna straightened her back. The last man in her life had done his best to leave her feeling she hadn’t made the grade. She wasn’t about to let someone’s grandmother dent the fragile self-esteem she had managed to restore. ‘I wouldn’t be applying for a live-in position if I wasn’t single.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ Maria agreed. ‘And you’re quite old enough to be very experienced. How long have you been a paediatric nurse?’

‘Six years. And before that I worked in the emergency department.’

‘There you go, Louise. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone who could cope with any emergency or illness that Ell—Danielle might have?’

Maria’s smile was warm. An Italian woman, her English seemed almost flawless, though quite heavily accented, and she used her hands a lot when speaking. She was a little on the plump side and her clothes, while of the best quality, appeared to have been chosen for comfort rather than style. With her lovely smile and hair a natural silver, she reminded Jenna quite strongly of her own mother and so she smiled back with a genuine response to that warmth.

‘Hmm.’ Louise’s gaze was still blatantly assessing and cold enough to provide a startling contrast to the eye contact Jenna had just broken with Maria.

Not that she had to try and hold this gaze. Louise dropped hers deliberately to take in the plain black skirt and blouse Jenna had deemed suitable for this interview and the way her long hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail. It even seemed to take particular note of her lack of jewellery and her short, neatly trimmed, unpainted fingernails.

And then it suggested comprehension of her single status. Annoyingly, Jenna felt a stain of colour touching her cheeks. OK, maybe she wasn’t model material like this woman’s beautiful grandchild or the gorgeous blonde woman that featured in numerous photographs dotting the mantelpiece of this room, but she wasn’t unattractive.

Involuntarily, her gaze flicked to one of the larger images. A wedding photograph, which looked too perfect to be real. The man was gorgeous. Tall, dark and in command, with his hand possessively covering the one linked through his arm that belonged to the blonde princess in the cloud of silk and tulle.

There was a resemblance there to the younger of the two women opposite Jenna. More than simply the wealthy, over-groomed look. There was a sharpness to the features that didn’t exactly scream warmth. Jenna wasn’t at all sure she liked Louise Gibbs and she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this job wasn’t what she was looking for.

She shifted in the chair. ‘I feel I may be wasting your time.’

‘No, no!’ Maria reached out a hand, a gesture designed to pre-empt any further movement on Jenna’s part. ‘Please, stay.’

For an instant, Jenna saw something new in Maria’s face. This was more like fear than nervousness. It was gone too quickly to identify reliably but it resurrected that undeniable curiosity. There was something rather strange about this interview and it would be unsatisfying to leave without discovering what it was.

Jenna stayed put.

‘Danielle’s father is Paul Romano,’ Louise said into the silence. She was watching Jenna carefully. ‘A paediatric surgeon here in Christchurch. You will have heard of him, I expect?’

The Paul Romano? Jenna couldn’t help looking impressed. He was well known as a specialist in dealing with the removal of childhood tumours. In conjunction with the paediatric oncologists, the reputation was enough to have children sent long distances to receive treatment here.

‘Of course. We often referred our more complicated cases here. He’s well respected.’

‘Yes.’ The simple word spoken simultaneously by both women carried a weight of pride.

‘Paolo’s my son,’ Maria added. ‘My only child. My only family in this country. Sadly, his father passed away three years ago. We—’

‘Paul was married to my only child,’ Louise interrupted. ‘My daughter Gwendolyn. Tragically, she experienced massive complications from an embolism following the Caesarean needed for Danielle’s birth and…and she died when Danielle was only three hours old.’

Louise looked away, struggling for control, and Maria tutted sympathetically, murmuring something soothing in Italian as she reached out again, this time to pat her companion’s arm. Jenna couldn’t help warming to them both.

‘I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘It must have been a dreadful time for you.’

Louise rallied. ‘Paul was devastated, of course. He still hasn’t come to terms with losing Gwen, and having Danielle doesn’t help.’

‘Oh?’ This was puzzling. Surely having a child, a living part of someone you had loved, would be the greatest comfort possible? A man with the intelligence necessary to become such a renowned surgeon couldn’t blame the infant for her mother’s death or had his love for his wife been such that any reminder could only keep the grief alive?

‘Paolo moved home so that I could help with raising Ella,’ Maria said.

So this house belonged to the Romano family. Maybe Louise was not a key player after all.

‘And I moved to Christchurch.’ Louise made it sound as though she was sacrificing more on behalf of her grandaughter. ‘Although I would have been—still am—more than happy to take on the full responsibility of raising Danielle.’

The full responsibility? Did the father not have anything to do with his daughter? Were these two grandparents fighting over custody? No wonder there was an odd feel to this household. Doubts about the advisability of working here re-surfaced and must have shown on her face.

‘It’s not that he doesn’t love Ella,’ Maria said hurriedly. ‘It’s just that it’s been difficult for him. He’s always being terribly conscientious about his work and it became an escape for him to put more and more into his career in terms of hours. He’s not at home very much.’

‘It would be a demanding job.’ Jenna looked back at Danielle, who was now busy removing her shoes. ‘It’s lucky that you are both able to help.’

‘As if I’d do anything else.’ Louise sounded faintly outraged. ‘Danielle is all I have left of my precious daughter. My only child.’

‘Paolo was an only child, too,’ Maria reminded her. She waved her hand apologetically at Jenna. ‘Louise and I are both widows,’ she added, as though that explained everything.

Which it did to some extent. This baby was very important to them both as the sole member of the next generation of their families. Jenna was aware of how close Italian families were so Louise must be very determined to keep her stake in Danielle’s upbringing.

They were both determined and, for some reason, in competition with each other.

Interpersonal politics could detract from any job. Condensed into an intimate domestic situation that encompassed inevitable cultural differences and included an outsider such as herself could make a working environment intolerable. The warning bells were ringing loud and clear for Jenna.

So did the cry from Danielle. Maria stood up immediately and went to the playpen. The baby held up her arms and Jenna could see it wasn’t easy for the older woman to pick her up.

‘Oh, dear, you’re very wet, aren’t you?’ Maria cuddled the baby. ‘You need a clean nappy, cara.’

‘I’ll do it.’ With smooth grace, Louise rose and took the baby, allowing no time for protest. ‘You may as well show Jennifer the flat.’

May as well? Was she going to be allowed to view living quarters she wasn’t going to be using just to fill in time while Danielle was having her nappy changed?

‘Yes, of course!’ Maria seemed eager to comply. ‘Come with me, Jenna.’

Reluctantly, Jenna followed Maria. The self-contained flat was attached to the vast old house through a short passageway that was accessed through a large, gleaming kitchen. Yet another older woman was busy near the sink. She glanced up curiously as Maria led Jenna across the tiled floor.

‘This is Jenna,’ Maria said. ‘I’m going to show her the flat. I hope she might be joining us to help look after Ella. Jenna, this is Shirley. She helps me in the house. You wouldn’t be expected to take on cleaning duties, which I know are expected of some nannies. Or cooking. I love to cook. I teach Italian cookery at the evening classes.’

Shirley gave Jenna an up-and-down glance and clearly liked what she saw. ‘You’ll like the flat,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee when you’re done?’

‘Maybe later,’ Maria said. ‘When Paolo gets home.’ She seemed keen to usher Jenna through the door of what must have originally been servants’ quarters.

It had clearly been upgraded considerably. The sitting room was tiny but tastefully decorated and it contained a television, music system and well-stocked bookshelf. The bedroom looked comfortable and there was a sparkling bathroom and a small kitchen area with a microwave and facilities for making tea and coffee.

‘You would have complete access to the kitchen, of course. And the laundry,’ Maria said. ‘There’s a—what do you call them? The baby-radio thing?’

‘A baby monitor?’

‘Yes, thank you. Ella can sometimes be hard to get to sleep but when she is sleeping, she doesn’t wake often at night.’ Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you think?’

Shirley hadn’t been mistaken. ‘It’s a lovely flat,’ Jenna said sincerely.

‘Do you think you might like to take the position?’

‘Ah…’ Jenna let her doubts show. ‘Can I ask how you’ve been managing up till now?’

‘We had a nanny. She left two days ago. Louise didn’t…ah…find her suitable. There was an argument and…’ The shrug was eloquent. It suggested that falling out with Louise was a terminal condition.

‘Mrs Gibbs obviously doesn’t think I’m particularly suitable either.’

‘It is not just her decision. It is Paolo who has the final say.’ But Maria sighed. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the door she had closed behind them. ‘Louise is very protective of Ella,’ she said. ‘And of Gwendolyn’s memory. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but she thinks that any woman who comes into the household is going to…um…’

‘Make a play for Danielle’s father?’ Jenna supplied helpfully. Hardly a suggestion from left field, given the attractions obvious in that wedding photo. Judging by this house, he had a very wealthy background. His fame as a surgeon was another hefty drawcard and his Mediterranean background would be the icing on the cake for some women.

Maria was nodding unhappily. ‘Ridiculous, I know. Of course, I hope that Paolo does find someone eventually and that Ella will have brothers and sisters but I suspect Louise is determined that no one is going to try and step into her Gwendolyn’s shoes.’

Jenna almost smiled. Talk about offputting. Louise Gibbs would be the mother-in-law from hell, irrespective of whether she was related to her granddaughter’s stepmother. ‘I can assure you I have absolutely no interest in forming a relationship with any man at this point in my life. I’m very happily single for the moment.’

Which was absolutely true. Jenna wasn’t about to complicate her life with the potential for more unhappiness and even if she was open to meeting someone, there were a lot of qualities far more important than looks or the state of bank accounts. Intelligence for one. And compassion. And a sense of humour. Tolerance and warmth and…

‘So you might consider taking this position?’

Jenna focussed again with a blink. ‘I still don’t understand quite why you want someone with my qualifications.’

Maria was silent for a moment. And then she gave another small, resigned sigh. ‘You’ve probably noticed that Louise is a lot younger than I am. I was nearly forty when I had Paolo and Gwen was ten years younger than him. Louise is only forty-two. I’m seventy-four and things are not as good as they used to be,’ Maria continued quietly. ‘Artrite. Arth-aritis. Another bone thing I can’t pronounce.’

‘Osteoporosis?’

‘Yes.’ Maria nodded approvingly. ‘I think so. And I have the blood…Oh, what is it? La pressione alta.’

Translation seemed surprisingly easy. ‘High blood pressure? Hypertension?’

Maria nodded again. ‘Si.’ As she relaxed into her confidences, her accent became stronger—her English less perfect. ‘And now I have been told I have the diabetes. The bad one.’

‘Type one? You need insulin injections?’

‘Yes. Iniezione. The needles. I have to start them soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I have an appointment with the doctor. It’s difficult. Sometimes my English is not as good as it should be for being here in Nuova Zelanda for more than twenty years. Shirley has been helping me but she knows no more than I do. We are like—how do you say it? The blind leading the blind.’

At last, Jenna understood at least part of what had made this interview so puzzling. It wasn’t the baby who was the potential patient. It was Maria. The older woman touched her arm. It was almost a plea.

‘Paolo needs time to get used to being a father by himself. I don’t wish him to know that it is difficult for me to help. If we were still in Italy, it would be no problem, of course, but Paolo will not consider leaving his job and families are not the same here, are they? If Ella was taken to Auckland by Louise, she would be lost to us and that would be…a tragedia.’

Dark brown eyes that had not faded with age were swimming with tears. ‘It’s not for me,’ Maria said. ‘And it’s not just that Louise doesn’t share the same things of importance in raising a bambino. It’s because Ella needs her papa. And he needs her. He just hasn’t realised it yet.’

In other words, Jenna would be stepping into an emotional minefield. The passions of an Italian family on the one side and a cold and determined woman, possibly obsessed with the memory of her daughter, on the other. Hardly the easy job she had anticipated but it wasn’t going to be pleasant to disappoint someone who clearly cared so much about the best interests of others. Especially when one of those ‘others’ was a baby girl who had no idea of the undercurrents in the world around her.

That concern for others made the reminder of her own mother stronger than ever. Jenna had wanted to help her mum so badly but had been unable to do any more than make her last few months as comfortable as possible.

She could help Maria, though.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said slowly.

‘Of course.’ But Maria’s shoulders slumped a little and she muttered something inaudible in Italian. Then she blinked away the remainder of her tears. ‘Come back to the lounge for a moment. Paolo promised he would try and get home in time to meet you so you would not have to come back for another interview.’

Perhaps Paul Romano was a man of his word.

Due either to good management or luck, the surgeon was entering the front door of the house just as Maria and Jenna emerged from the kitchen and Louise was arriving at the foot of the sweeping staircase with Danielle in her arms.

For a moment nobody moved.

An eloquent snatch of time in which the situation and everybody’s reactions to it were registered. The atmosphere was suddenly electric and Jenna had to take a deep breath as the swirl of undercurrents threatened to suck her under.

Louise’s hold on Danielle struck a discordant note and her determination to advertise her right to be there was almost palpable. ‘Look, Danielle,’ she said brightly. ‘Daddy’s home.’

Maria’s smile of welcome faded as her gaze travelled from her son to the woman holding her granddaughter. Jenna could sense the anxiety all too clearly.

But what made the air really crackle was the fact that Jenna realised instantly that Louise had no show of being the one in control. The man in that photograph had been a single dimension. The reality was overpowering.

Too good-looking, in a dark suit reminiscent of that wedding attire. The only incongruous note in the immaculate appearance came from the large, stuffed toy giraffe he was holding by one leg in the same hand as a sleek leather briefcase.

He was also charming. But the smile was well practised and did not disguise the keen assessment coming from eyes even darker than those of his daughter. His head dipped in a single nod. The kind of nod, Jenna thought with amusement, that one of his new theatre nurses might receive. She was there and, of course, she wanted the job, but she would have to prove her capability. The benefit of any doubt was not about to be bestowed.

The awkward tension broke as the briefcase was deposited beside an antique umbrella stand and Paul Romano flicked one of Danielle’s silky curls with his forefinger.

‘Ciao, cara.’ He held out the giraffe, which Louise took, shaking her head.

‘You spoil her, Paul. She already has an entire zoo of animals.’

Danielle took no notice of the toy. She beamed, twisting in Louise’s grip to hold out her arms. ‘Pa-pa!’

But her father was already turning away as his mother spoke.

‘Paolo, this is Jenna Freeman.’

‘Yes.’ This time he held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ms Freeman.’

His English was perfect. Just enough trace of an accent in that deep voice to give it an edge that made you want to hear more. And his grip was strong. Sure. This time the eye contact was more personal. Penetrating, even. If Jenna had found the physical presence of this man overpowering, the effect of this physical contact was extremely disconcerting.

Intimidating?

Yes, but Jenna wasn’t about to be intimidated. The subtle put-down of treating her as no more than a prospective employee didn’t matter because Jenna had no intention of working for this man.

Not after the way he had just ignored his daughter’s plea for contact. How cold a person would you have to be to resist those little arms held out like that, begging for a cuddle? And was ‘Pa-pa’ the only word that Ella had learned so far? Out of desperation, perhaps?

However ‘difficult’ Paul might find it, being left as a single father, the baby should always come first.

Yet Jenna wasn’t getting the impression of a cold man from this contact. Quite the opposite, which only added to her curiosity about the dynamics of this household.

Too late, Jenna became aware that she had been staring at Paul Romano for a shade too long.

That Maria was beaming approvingly.

And that Louise had a gaze that felt like it was being filtered through the sights of a high-powered rifle.

Jenna hurriedly pulled her hand clear of Paul’s touch.

That he resisted her intention to pull her hand away was hardly surprising. This was a man who was very used to being in charge. It was only for a fraction of time. A single heartbeat. Just long enough for Jenna to be startled by a flash of what could have been annoyance. Or maybe resignation.

Something that she instinctively knew was not directed at her but was a result of him being just as aware as she was of the undercurrents swirling around them.

‘Come this way, Ms Freeman. I won’t keep you long.’

He led her back into the room in which she had been interviewed by the grandmothers. He ignored the pages of her CV still lying on the coffee-table, but Jenna had the impression he was already familiar with its contents.

‘So…Jennifer, is it?’

‘I prefer Jenna.’

The smile was definitely charming. ‘So do I,’ Paul said. ‘It sounds almost Italian.’

Then the smile faded and the gaze fixed on Jenna focussed sharply.

‘You’re a highly qualified nurse. Why are you applying for a job that will use virtually none of your skills?’

‘I…wanted a change.’

‘Why?’

Jenna took a deep breath. Talk about getting straight to the point. Fair enough, too. She’d want to know the motivation of someone she was going to employ to care for her child. There was no point in being less than honest.

‘Six months ago I applied for a year’s leave in order to care for my mother. She was terminally ill with cancer and I wanted to nurse her myself, rather than use a hospice.’ Jenna did her best to keep her tone calm and professional but she couldn’t help a small wobble. ‘Sadly, the end came a little sooner than expected.’

The face of the man facing her softened as she spoke and when he spoke, his voice was also softer. Deeper.

‘I’m so sorry, Jenna. I had no idea.’

Sympathy enveloped Jenna like a soft blanket. Unexpected and apparently so genuine she found, to her horror, that tears were not far away. She blinked hard. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Ella’s father could be this caring. After all, this was a man who had clearly loved his wife so passionately he was finding it impossible to bond with their child.

‘It was the right thing to do,’ he said approvingly. ‘Nothing is more important than family, is it?’

‘No.’ Especially when it was the last of any family Jenna had.

‘And you didn’t want to return to your hospital position immediately?’

‘I couldn’t. And it also seemed like a good opportunity to make sure it is what I want to do. Where I want to be.’

‘You have doubts?’

Doubts?

Of course Jenna had doubts about returning. Having to work in the same hospital as Simon, who would now be parading his new fiancée on his arm at every opportunity.

Paul would have understood, Jenna thought suddenly. Irrelevantly. He knew how important family was. He wouldn’t have ended a relationship because a beloved, sick mother was demanding all her attention. He wouldn’t have issued an ultimatum of using a hospice or losing him.

Her mother had given her a last, unintentional gift in a way. Saved her from staying in a relationship that could never have been good enough.

‘I need a fresh start,’ she found herself confessing. ‘And I’ve been thinking of relocating to Christchurch. I thought I’d get more of a feel for what it would be like to live here if I took a job outside a hospital.’

Paul nodded but then frowned. ‘I am a little concerned that there are time constraints on your availability,’ he said, ‘but, then, poor Danielle has had several changes already.’ He hesitated for a moment, as though undecided whether to expand on his comment, but then his gaze dropped to the papers on the coffee-table. ‘It would certainly be to our advantage to have someone with skills such as yours, even temporarily.’ His nod was decisive as he looked up again. ‘I want the best for Danielle. The job is yours if you want it.’

Jenna opened her mouth to say that she would have to think about it. That she had a few major reservations about a working environment that included the influence of someone like his mother-in-law. But it would hardly be politic to criticise his child’s grandmother and, in any case, Jenna’s momentary hesitation cost her the opportunity to say anything at all.

Paul was on his feet and the interview was over. A pager on his belt sounded as he opened the door for Jenna and he moved swiftly past Maria and Louise, who were still in the foyer, towards a phone on a small table.

Within seconds he was clearly in communication with a paediatric intensive care unit,

‘What was the CBC differential?’ Jenna heard him query. ‘Electrolytes? Ultrasound results?’

He listened for a longer time, seemingly oblivious to everyone else standing in the foyer.

‘OK. Sounds like it’s only a partial obstruction but I don’t want a three-day-old baby deteriorating any further. Get a consent form for Theatre signed. I’m on my way.’

With concise, well-practised movements, Paul was on the move again. He collected his briefcase, gave his mother an apologetic smile and made perfunctory farewells.

And then he was gone, as suddenly as he had arrived.

‘I’m sorry,’ Maria said. ‘It was obviously an emergency.’

‘I should probably go now as well,’ Jenna said.

A grandfather clock chimed.

‘Goodness, is that the time?’ Louise moved towards Maria, preparing to hand over the baby. ‘I have a dinner date tonight.’

Danielle and the toy giraffe were passed into Maria’s arms as Jenna turned to make her farewell, and at the sight of the small girl’s face, her heart lurched. Danielle was staring at the door through which her father had just disappeared. Her eyes were swimming with tears that had just started to overflow but she was making no sound.

What kind of baby cried silently?

Lifting her gaze, Jenna had the feeling that Maria was reading her mind and a snatch of their private conversation replayed itself.

Ella needs her papa. He needs her. He just hasn’t realised it yet.

And maybe he didn’t realise that a cuddle was a far more precious gift than a soft toy could ever be. Ella apparently had a whole zoo of stuffed animals but how much physical contact did she get with her only remaining parent? Not much, if any, Jenna suspected. How sad was that?

Louise was putting on her coat. ‘Same time tomorrow?’ An answer wasn’t expected. ‘Goodbye, Jennifer. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you find the kind of job you’re looking for in Christchurch.’

Jenna waited until Louise was on the other side of the door. A flash of anger at the blatant dismissal from this very unpleasant woman had been enough to put her back up.

To make her want to protect someone as innocent as a baby from such a person. It was a feeling strong enough to shunt aside the considerable misgivings she had about taking this job.

Jenna reached out and stroked a tear from Danielle’s pink cheek and then she smiled at Maria.

‘How soon would you like me to start?’




CHAPTER TWO


‘YOU’RE up very early today, Jenna.’

‘Only because someone else decided to get up so early.’ Jenna smiled at Paul but quickly dipped her head to drop a kiss among the silky black curls resting on her shoulder. To hide any expression that might reveal embarrassment.

This was the first occasion since that initial interview that she had been in Paul’s company without one—or both—of the grandmothers being present. She had only been half-awake as she’d responded to the cry over the baby monitor but why hadn’t she taken the time to brush her hair? And why had she just pulled on the clothes lying on the end of her bed in her haste? Her oldest jeans and a faded, racer-back T-shirt were hardly likely to impress her employer.

Ella was still in her pink, fuzzy sleepsuit. The busy conversation of unintelligible but happy sounds she had been entertaining Jenna with on the way downstairs stopped suddenly. The baby had her thumb in her mouth as she watched her father’s movements at the kitchen bench. A pot of coffee was waiting for the plunger to be depressed. Paul was busy buttering a piece of toast.

‘Would you like coffee, Jenna?’

‘I’ll get one later, thank you. I just came down to find some more formula for Ella. We’ve run out in the nursery.’

‘How is she today?’

‘She seems much better. Her nose is still a bit runny and it was her coughing that woke me, but she’s certainly a lot happier than she’s been in the last couple of days. I’ll keep up the paracetamol and hope her temperature stays down today.’

‘Good.’ Paul was slicing the toast into soldiers, one of which he offered to Ella. She accepted the gift with a coo of surprise that made both Paul and Jenna smile.

‘It seems my mother was right,’ Paul said. ‘It is very reassuring to have a trained nurse caring for Danielle.’

‘It’s only been a mild virus.’

But the praise was warming. Or was it the unexpected bonus of Paul’s company that was creating that warmth? Maybe Jenna should encourage Ella to wake early more often to try and increase the time Paul spent in the company of his daughter. So far, they very rarely saw him in the mornings and only for an hour at the most before Ella’s bedtime in the evenings. A period that could easily be missed or curtailed thanks to an existing or emergency case that required the surgeon’s professional expertise.

They needed more time together. A lot more.

Ella and Paul, that was. Not Paul and Jenna. Her own inclusion was desirable simply because it was necessary as a facilitator. She may have only had time to gather impressions and set an agenda so far, but her goal was crystal clear. In the space of only a week, ever since she had seen those silent tears, Ella had won her heart to the extent that the challenge now ahead of Jenna was paramount. She had six months to try and foster the bonding of a father and daughter, and success had never seemed so important.

‘She likes that toast.’ Smears of butter and Marmite were spread across fat pink cheeks. Any thoughts of offering to let Paul hold Ella were squashed. Imagine if he had to go and change that pristine white shirt?

Paul offered Ella another thin slice of toast, which she accepted but didn’t eat. This time she held it back out, as though trying to return the gift. Paul didn’t notice because he was glancing at his watch.

‘It’s nearly six. I’ll have to run.’

‘Yes. It’s Wednesday.’ Jenna nodded. ‘It’s one of your heavy theatre days, isn’t it?’

An eyebrow rose. ‘You know my schedule so well already?’

‘Let’s see.’ Jenna ducked as the piece of buttery toast was waved too close to her hair. ‘You operate on Mondays and Fridays as well, have outpatient clinics on Tuesday and Thursdays and you do ward rounds at least once every day. You also have umpteen departmental duties, teaching slots and, of course, way too many emergencies.’

Both of Paul’s eyebrows had risen to meet the flop of dark, wavy hair on his forehead.

Jenna tried not to blush. Instead, she took advantage of the opportunity provided.

‘Ella doesn’t get to see that much of you,’ she explained, ‘and your mother always looks forward to any time you have at home.’

Maria probably didn’t get that weird sensation of having swallowed a whole tribe of butterflies on anticipating Paul’s company, though, did she?

A sneaking sympathy for Louise had been inevitable. It was no surprise that Danielle’s other grandmother was convinced that any woman coming within an inch of Paul would want to throw herself at the man. He was, without doubt, the most physically attractive man Jenna had ever met.

Tall and dark. Lean and lithe—with the kind of dark, brooding aura that so many women found irresistible. And there was the voice. Like rich chocolate with that barely discernible but intriguing foreign inflection, not to mention the ability to switch to fluent Italian as he sometimes did with his mother. You wouldn’t be a heterosexual female if you didn’t respond to that attractiveness at some level.

It would wear off.

It might wear off a lot faster if she had enough time to get used to it. To file it where it belonged as simply a physical reaction to a very attractive male. Even if Jenna had been interested in Paul on a personal level—which she wasn’t—she was focussed enough on her new goal to know that getting distracted would be a hindrance. A disaster, in fact, if Paul actually became more interested in her company than that of his daughter.

It couldn’t be allowed to happen.

It wouldn’t happen.

Things needed to be kept professional. She shouldn’t have made such a personal comment. Not yet, anyway, when there were still too many large, missing pieces of the puzzle this family represented.

Jenna tried to open Ella’s little fist to remove the mashed piece of toast. She also tried to sound as though Paul’s timetable was purely of professional interest.

‘Anything interesting on your list today?’

‘Yes.’ Paul drained the last of his coffee from the mug, highly relieved at the change of topic. He heard more than enough from his mother concerning the number of hours he spent at work. He certainly didn’t need Danielle’s nanny joining the chorus. ‘A three-year-old boy, Darren Symes. He’s got a Wilms’ tumour.’

‘Unilateral involvement?’

The surprise of having an intelligent medical question being asked in his own home was rather pleasant. There was more than one benefit in having a trained nurse as the new nanny. Paul put his coffee-mug into the sink and turned on the tap to rinse his hands.

‘I’m hoping so. We haven’t found any metastases but there’s a question mark hanging over the state of the unaffected kidney. And, of course, I’ll have to be very careful to avoid any tumour spillage.’

‘How did he present?’

‘Abdominal mass. GP found his blood pressure raised and a urine dipstick test detected blood. Ultrasound confirmed the nephroblastoma.’ Paul dried his hands on a towel. ‘I must go.’

‘Good luck.’

Jenna was smiling at him. There was an understanding of the importance of what he was facing in that smile. There was also confidence that he would succeed in her tone—the wishing of luck was just a verbal token that he was unlikely to need.

He liked that.

Even more, he liked the fact that, for the first time in nearly a year, he could go to work and concentrate on what needed to be done, without having to deliberately switch off any background anxiety about what might be happening at home.

Thanks to Jenna.

An unlikely nanny. It was just as well Louise couldn’t see her right now, looking like she had so recently tumbled out of bed. That cloud of dark curls falling over her shoulders, old clothes that hugged a figure far more attractive than those straight skirts and classic shirts had ever advertised and a face that obviously needed no make-up to stand out from a crowd.

Not that it would have mattered what Jenna looked like. Anyone who could have altered the atmosphere in this house to such a degree in the space of only a week would have been welcome. Paul had not seen his mother this happy in a very long time.

Curious that he was taking longer than he needed to dry his hands. That he wasn’t in his usual rush to leave for work. It was this new phenomenon that was developing—the notion that dealing with the demands of his family could transcend duty and perhaps even provide a degree of pleasure.

Yes. Everybody had been happier since Jenna had arrived.

Except for Louise, of course, but if Paul was honest, the fact that his mother-in-law was not pleased only added to his current level of satisfaction. Maybe she would just give up now.

And go home.

Not that he would deny her rights as part of the extended Romano clan. Family was everything, was it not?

Yes. Paul smiled as he reached out to touch Danielle’s curls.

‘Verdere piu tardi, cara. See you later.’

He was careful to give Jenna no more than a casual glance of farewell.

Not that he should have trouble keeping the lid on any hormonal stirring he might be experiencing. He’d had more than enough practice in the last eighteen months and the lessons of treading that particular path had been learned exceptionally well. It was Danielle and his mother who would reap the benefits of that sparkle of real intelligence, the ready smile, the soothing voice and what would, undoubtedly, be a soft touch.

He let himself out of the house and strode towards the garage. Being outside was good. Sometimes it was disconcertingly difficult to keep matters of importance in perspective when he was in the company of Danielle’s new nanny.

Things may be looking brighter but he needed to tread carefully. To remember the lessons learned. But he could never have difficulty remembering, could he? Danielle was living evidence of the fallout possible from making a mistake. A mistake he would never repeat.

‘What is it?’

‘Twelve point three. See?’ Jenna held the small blood-glucose monitor so that Maria could see the display.

‘That’s high, is it not?’

‘We’re aiming to get it stable in single figures but it’s better than yesterday and you’re due for your insulin anyway.’ Jenna stooped to tickle Danielle, who was now crawling on the floor of Maria’s bedroom. The baby giggled and held up her arms. ‘Just a tick, sweetheart,’ Jenna responded. ‘I’m going to give Nonna her injection and take her blood pressure and then we’ll all go and have proper breakfast. Are you hungry or are you still full of toast?’

Danielle flapped her arms and Maria laughed.

‘It’s so good having you here, Jenna.’ Maria discarded the tissue she had been holding on her fingertip since the prick required for the blood-sugar test. She grimaced at the sight of the approaching syringe. ‘I hate needles.’

‘You know you barely feel this.’

‘It’s the waiting for it. The…what is the word?’

‘Anticipation?’

‘Si. The anticipation. It magnifies things.’

‘Mmm.’ Jenna’s agreement was heartfelt. She was already thinking ahead herself. Wondering 48 how to make best use of the time when Paul returned from work that evening.

Wishing they could see a little more of him than they did.

Be careful what you wish for!

Jenna shook off the mental warning. She could handle whatever it was going to take on this new mission of hers.

‘I’ll never be able to do that by myself.’

Jenna rubbed the spot, having injected the insulin, and smiled. ‘I have the feeling you could manage anything you set your mind to, Maria. It can’t have been easy, coming to a strange country, away from all your friends and family, to raise your son.’

Maria shrugged. ‘His father wanted it so that’s what we did. His brother went to Australia and became a big success. Roberto wanted to be the one to be successful in Nuova Zelanda.’ The older woman pushed up her sleeve and watched Jenna wrap the blood-pressure cuff around her upper arm. ‘I could not manage this.’

‘You won’t need to. Once we know your blood pressure is stable on the new dose of medication, you’ll only need it checked when you go to see Dr Barry.’

‘Wasn’t it nice of him to lend us this…what is that impossible word?’

‘Sphygmomanometer,’ Jenna supplied. She put the disc of the stethoscope on the crook of Maria’s elbow. ‘Yes, he’s a lovely man. And a very good doctor, from what I could see.’

‘He was very impressed that you came to the appointment with me.’

Jenna grinned. ‘I think he was more impressed at your initiative in hiring a private nurse.’

Maria shook her head. ‘I saw him watching you with Danielle, too. When we were leaving he said, “You’ve got a treasure there, Maria,” and I said, “Don’t I know it?”’

Jenna concentrated on the mercury level as she released the valve to hide the flush of pleasure at Maria’s praise. ‘Good. One-fifty on ninety. That’s the same as yesterday.’ She noted the pressure in a notebook along with the blood-glucose level and the dose of insulin given. ‘Now, we’d better get some breakfast into you. I don’t want you getting hypoglycaemic and shaky again.’

‘I feel like it’s taking over my life,’ Maria sighed. ‘The blood prick. The injection. The right food. Tests and more tests! Watching the clock all the time to make sure that nothing is missed.’

‘It’ll take a while to get used to.’ Jenna scooped up Danielle, who was already making a beeline for the door. Still wearing her cute pink sleepsuit and with her curls still tousled, she was irresistibly cuddly. Jenna gave her a quick kiss before turning her head to smile at Maria. ‘You’ll be amazed at how it becomes part of the routine in a while. Like cleaning your teeth. Once we get to know how your body reacts to the insulin and what effect things like exercise have, you should be able to get down to only two injections a day. You might even be a candidate for having a pump system that sits under your skin and administers insulin automatically.’

They were halfway along the wide, upstairs hallway now. The door to a bathroom was on the left and Jenna knew the closed door on the right belonged to Paul’s bedroom. She adjusted her hold on the baby whose fuzzy sleepsuit made her feel like a living teddy bear.

What did Paul wear to sleep in?

‘I do not like that idea,’ Maria announced.

‘Sorry?’ Jenna had been dealing with an idea that was disconcertingly attractive. More than one idea, in fact. Old pyjama pants tied up with a string? Boxers? Nothing at all…?

‘A pump. The needle would be there in my skin? All the time?’

‘No. Actually, the whole pump system is placed under the skin. Like a pacemaker. You wouldn’t feel it.’ Jenna’s steps slowed. ‘I should get Ella dressed before we go downstairs.’

‘Why bother?’ Maria ruffled Ella’s curls and kissed her. ‘What’s so wrong with having breakfast in your pyjamas?’

‘Absolutely nothing.’ Laughing, they moved on together towards the stairs. ‘And are you sure you don’t mind me wearing jeans?’

‘You must wear whatever makes you happy, Jenna. I’m going to get into old clothes soon. It’s such a lovely day and I wish to do some gardening.’

‘But it’s Wednesday.’

Maria sighed. ‘Si. So it is.’

Wednesdays weren’t just one of Paul’s heavy days for the operating theatre. It was also one of the weekdays that Louise chose to pay an extended visit to Hamilton Drive.

She arrived while they were still in the kitchen and the laughter Ella had generated with her own attempts to get porridge and stewed apples anywhere but into her mouth faded abruptly.

Louise bent to kiss Ella but drew back. ‘What is that in her hair?’

‘Porridge.’ Jenna grinned. ‘I’ll go and get her cleaned up. It’s time to get dressed anyway.’

‘Yes.’ Louise eyed the jeans Jenna was wearing as she stood up to lift Ella from the high chair. The housekeeper, Shirley, distracted her from making any comment.

‘Coffee, Mrs Gibbs?’

‘Yes. Black. No sugar.’

Shirley caught Jenna’s gaze as she went past the back of Louise’s chair. The subtle roll of the housekeeper’s eyes was eloquent. As if she didn’t know by now how Louise took her coffee. It was also intended to be encouraging, Jenna realised. They were all in for a long day.

One that didn’t start very well.

‘I’ll take Danielle out for her walk,’ Louise announced when Jenna brought her back downstairs.

Weather permitting, the walk was part of the routine on the days Louise visited—at least three times a week.

‘She likes to show her off,’ Shirley had confided to Jenna on Monday evening. ‘That’s why she likes to have her all dolled up in those clothes she keeps buying.’

Like the smocked dress and shiny shoes Jenna had dressed her in that morning.

‘I’ll bet that where she picked up her bug,’ Shirley had added in a mutter.

A bug she wasn’t completely over.

‘I’m not sure it’s a terribly good idea today,’ Jenna said to Louise. ‘She’s been running a temperature and was coughing in the night.’

‘She looks fine to me.’ Louise took Ella from Jenna’s arms. ‘And it’s a glorious day.’

Jenna couldn’t contradict either statement. Ella did look much better, even though very little of that breakfast had made it anywhere near being swallowed. And it was a gorgeous day. One of those autumn gems that was still enough to leave the warmth of the sunshine undiminished. If they stayed at home, she would have encouraged Danielle to spend time playing outside. Was there any real difference in being taken for a walk in her stroller?

She caught Maria’s gaze and the hint of alarm that Jenna, the expert, thought that her precious Ella might still be unwell. If Paul was here, Jenna thought, he would make the decision in an instant and nobody would dare argue. But if Jenna put her foot down, Louise would be very unlikely to comply. Maria would oppose her fiercely and Jenna might find herself caught in the middle of a small domestic war.

‘Maybe just for a little while,’ she heard herself suggesting. ‘It is a lovely day.’

‘I’ll take a complete change of clothes for her.’ Louise had already assumed victory. ‘And a warm jacket. Get them ready, would you, please, Jennifer?’

Jenna climbed the stairs, annoyed with herself. If she had been on the familiar territory of a paediatric ward and wearing a uniform, instead of faded denim jeans, there was no way she would have hesitated to wield authority of behalf of someone as vulnerable as a baby.

But she had no authority here. Or not enough. Louise would be a formidable adversary and quite apart from the stress a disagreement with Maria could cause, her discontent had seen the last nanny sent packing. Jenna couldn’t understand why Louise was accorded the power she seemed to have—it was a piece of the puzzle she had yet to find. And it was a power bestowed purely by default. Paul could remove it with a click of those long surgeon’s fingers any time he chose.

So why didn’t he?

Whatever the reason, if Jenna wanted to keep this job and succeed in the challenge she had set herself, she would have to choose any battles with care, and the evidence that Ella needed to be kept within the confines of her own home today was not strong enough. Even Paul had seemed happy enough that morning with the improvement in Ella’s condition.

The phone call at 11.30 a.m. to pass on the information that Louise had met a friend and would be lunching at a café was no surprise but it was a worry. The easterly breeze that had sprung up was cool enough to bring Maria in from tending her basil and tomato plants.

Jenna passed on the message, adding that she hoped Louise would not have Ella sitting outside.

‘Surely not!’ But Maria cast an anxious glance at the clock. ‘She will need to have her back in time for her sleep.’

‘There’s a man involved,’ Shirley warned. ‘You mark my words.’

Jenna had lunch in the kitchen with Maria and Shirley and Shirley’s husband, John, who helped in the garden. She couldn’t help casting frequent glances through the windows at scudding clouds that were now blocking the sunshine at regular intervals. By 1.30 p.m. the temperature had dropped significantly and there was still no sign of Ella’s return.

‘Maybe I should go and collect them in my car,’ Jenna said finally. ‘Even if they had lunch inside, it’s a good fifteen-minute walk home and I’m really not happy about Ella being outside. It looks like it could start raining at any minute.’

‘We could ring her cellphone,’ Shirley suggested, ‘and find out what café they’re in.’

But there was no need, because they heard the sound of the front door and a moment later Louise pushed the stroller into the kitchen. A stroller that contained a wailing baby.

‘She’s just a bit tired,’ Louise said defensively, as Maria rushed to pick up and comfort her grandaughter.

‘Dio mio! She’s cooking!’

‘It got cold. She needed her jacket on.’

‘Jenna?’ The plea from Maria was almost desperate but Jenna was already in action, her instincts sounding a loud alarm.

She took Ella from Maria, quickly removing her outer clothing, but it did little to cool her and she was too distressed to swallow the liquid paracetamol Shirley fetched under Jenna’s direction. What worried Jenna more, however, 58 was the rate and depth at which the child was breathing.

Trying to calm her down had to be the first priority. Jenna cradled Ella in her arms, letting the small head snuggle into her shoulder. She rocked her and made soothing sounds.

‘It’s OK, sweetie…Everything’s OK…’

Maria stood nearby, twisting her hands, her forehead creased with worry. Shirley stared at Louise between helping Jenna by fetching the medication and supplying a damp facecloth, but Louise was ignoring everybody. She helped herself to coffee and then sat down at the table.

Ella’s exhausted sobbing finally ebbed and it was then that Jenna could assess what she had instinctively feared. The baby was in quite severe respiratory distress. Tiny nostrils were flaring and the muscles around her ribs retracting with the effort to breath. It was taking longer for her to breathe out than in and Jenna could now hear a faint wheeze. And the rate was high. Far too high.

‘We need to take Ella to hospital,’ she announced.

Maria went pale and crossed herself. Louise lifted her head sharply.

‘Don’t be ridiculous! She’s just got a bit of a sniffle and she’s tired. I’m sorry we didn’t get back earlier but I met…Gerald, the man I had dinner with last week and he asked me to have lunch and…well, I could hardly refuse, could I?’

Shirley gave a soft I-told-you-so sort of snort but nobody bothered answering Louise.

‘Could someone bring a car around?’ Jenna asked. ‘I don’t want to put Ella down until I have to. Getting upset again is only going to aggravate the trouble she’s having with her breathing.’

‘She can’t breathe? Oh…’ Maria was hovering like a mother hen.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Louise demanded.

‘I think she may have bronchiolitis.’

‘But she seemed so much better this morning,’ Maria almost wailed. ‘I don’t understand!’

‘It often presents as a mild viral illness and the symptoms were well controlled with the paracetamol. If it had just been a cold, she wouldn’t have deteriorated like this.’

‘You should have known it was more than a cold. You’re a nurse, aren’t you?’ Louise was getting to her feet. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting this is my fault.’

‘What’s important right now is that we get Ella to hospital so she can be monitored properly and treated if this gets any worse.’

‘I’ll get the car,’ John offered.

‘I’m coming, too,’ Maria said firmly.

‘So am I,’ Louise snapped.

Maria paused with dramatic suddenness in her route to the door. She waved her arms in the air. ‘Wait! I must ring Paolo and let him know we’re coming.’

Jenna blinked. Of course Paul should know his daughter was about to turn up in the emergency department, but what would he think if he received an alarmed call from his mother—probably in voluble Italian? Keeping everybody calm was part of her job in order to prevent the atmosphere around Ella becoming overly tense.

‘Maybe Shirley could do that,’ she suggested. ‘That way we won’t be held up.’ She caught the housekeeper’s gaze. ‘Just let him know I’m a bit worried so we’re coming in to get Ella properly checked.’

‘Sure.’ Shirley nodded. ‘I guess they’ll let me leave a message if he’s busy in the operating theatre or something.’

This wasn’t the way Jenna would have wanted any of them to see more of Paul Romano. She should have been more careful what she wished for.

Both grandmothers had been asked to wait in the relatives’waiting area and Ella was sitting on Jenna’s knee in an emergency department cubicle. This was due solely to the fact that if anyone tried to remove her from Jenna’s arms she immediately began to cry. With her nanny, she was calm enough to allow oxygen tubing to be held in the vicinity of her face in an attempt to bring up the level of oxygen circulating in Ella’s blood.

‘What’s the saturation now?’

‘Ninety per cent.’ The paediatric registrar summoned to examine Ella flinched visibly at the unexpected, crisp query coming from behind his back. Paul had finally appeared, still dressed in his theatre scrubs and clearly impatient to find out what was going on.

Jenna was thankful she had her arms full of Ella and something she could at least pretend to be completely focussed on. She was also thankful for the conversation now going on between the consultant and the registrar, however, because it gave her a legitimate excuse to steal frequent glances at Paul.

She had never seen him looking like that.

She had never seen anyone looking like that.

The suggestion of weariness and, undoubtedly, anxiety for his daughter had given the surgeon an even more sombre professionalism. Or was it because they were now on his working turf?

Jenna was struck anew by this man’s apparent aloofness to his child. He was acting like any other doctor might in discussing a patient. Apart from his customary flick of Ella’s curls in greeting, Paul had made no attempt to comfort his sick daughter. No cuddles. No soothing words.

Was Jenna dreaming in thinking she could establish a loving connection if there was so little to build on?

The aloof, professional demeanour was at complete odds with his appearance. Too many hours under a theatre cap would have flattened those black curls. Had Paul run distracted fingers through his hair to make it look so tousled and unruly?

And the scrub suit was baggy. A deep V-neck revealed dark curls on his chest and his bare arms also had a covering of fine, very dark hair.

Jenna felt almost embarrassed. It felt like catching her employer on the way out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Much worse than a casual chat in the kitchen of his own home. Worse even than idle curiosity about what he might wear to bed. She could feel herself flushing, as though at any moment Paul would look over to see her thoughts in a bubble over her head.

How ridiculous! As if she hadn’t seen surgeons around hospitals or in wards, still wearing theatre clothing.

But she had never been involved in their private lives, had she? Jenna felt uncomfortable. Like she was stepping over a boundary of some kind. Only she didn’t know what the boundaries were.

‘You’ll have to admit her, then,’ Paul was saying.

‘Yes.’

‘Provisional diagnosis?’

‘Bronchiolitis. Probably RSV. We’ll try a viral nasal wash to identify the causative pathogen but it won’t make any difference to treatment at this stage.’

‘Which is?’

‘We’ll give oxygen to keep the sats above ninety-two per cent. IV or nasogastric fluids at seventy five per cent maintenance and we’ll keep a careful watch on her and transfer her to the paediatric ICU if she deteriorates.’

‘Chest X-ray?’

‘Not indicated, given that she has typical clinical features.’

Those typical clinical features that were listed in any paediatric textbook were feeling far more personal to Jenna. This was Ella in her arms. Feeling too hot, her nose rubbing against Jenna’s shoulder as her head twisted in discomfort. Feeling heavy and exhausted but forced to continue the laboured breathing.

Poor little thing. Jenna had never experienced empathy with her patients to quite this degree—even the ones that had stolen her heart. She rocked Ella gently and shifted the end of the oxygen tubing a little closer to the baby’s flushed features.

Paul’s attention, with startling suddenness, was transferred to Jenna. ‘Why did you leave it so long to bring her in?’

The scrub suit and the body it revealed were forgotten instantly. So was any embarrassment. The unfairness of apportioning blame for Ella’s condition got her back up just as instantly.

‘We came as soon as I saw she was in respiratory distress.’

His gaze didn’t leave hers but Jenna wasn’t going to be the first to look away. To imply guilt. It wasn’t easy. The weight of Ella in her arms and her concern for the child was making her feel bad enough already. Guilt was only a heartbeat away, even if it was unjustified.

‘You’re a paediatric nurse. I would have expected you to pick this up well before it required urgent hospital admission.’ The approval of her care of Ella that he had expressed only that morning seemed long forgotten.

He was a paediatric surgeon, for heaven’s sake. He had seen how well Ella had looked at 6 a.m., stuffing a piece of toast into her mouth, and he must know just how quickly the condition of young children could deteriorate.

Then again, maybe Ella hadn’t gone downhill so suddenly. There had been a period of several hours when she had been away from the observation of trained eyes.

‘Mrs Gibbs had taken Ella out for a walk.’

‘And you allowed this?’ Paul looked astonished. And then disappointed. Jenna felt a wave of shame. He had every right to be disappointed in her. The fact that she had let herself down in a professional capacity was bad enough to make Jenna feel that disappointment like a physical blow.

She hated that Paul thought less of her. There was no point trying to defend herself or, worse, suggest that he had been in a position to make the judgement call himself.

Or to explain that there had been no clinical grounds on which to forbid the outing later in the morning and that she had been trying to act as a professional and keep her own emotions out of an already volatile mix. That she had been trying to act as a nanny and not a substitute mother.

She may have nothing to feel guilty about but from Paul’s point of view, she had failed in her duty to his child. Bad enough for a nanny to be negligent but for someone who was supposed to be a senior paediatric nurse, it was inexcusable.

The bright flush in her cheeks might have gone unnoticed except that Paul paused, having flicked back the cubicle curtain. He turned once again.

‘My mother tells me that Ella prefers your care to anyone else’s at present.’

Jenna lifted her chin but said nothing. Did he really have to sound as though the idea that she could still do any part of her job well enough was surprising?

‘She will need someone to stay in hospital with her during this admission. Day and night.’

Jenna nodded her agreement. She had no argument with his statement. She approved of the fact that Paul recognised its importance. Maybe he did care, just a little. Many babies were left to the care of nursing staff overnight because family circumstances made it necessary. Some even had to be separated from their family members during the day as well, but the cooperation and recovery of children who had a familiar, loving presence with them at all times was measurably better.




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