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Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny
Amy Andrews


Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny
Amy Andrews


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

Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ufaa6ccaf-5df0-5cd4-92c8-f8c55044bf8d)
Title Page (#ub2ee52aa-49e3-5509-af67-6f7a5c12512c)
Excerpt (#ue852786e-20d4-55ac-8cf0-9b56d073ae7a)
Chapter One (#uae56266b-6fab-5201-b9b8-f4beed1e2868)
Chapter Two (#u85c9d9c2-a42c-5f04-bd65-b9bd6eb330e5)
Chapter Three (#ud83613ad-9aeb-5dcb-ae46-a661a3a894fe)
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)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract from ALESSANDRO AND THE CHEERY NANNY:
Alessandro pulled up short in the doorway as the sound of his son’s laughter drifted towards him. It had been months since he’d heard the noise. He’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. And after an arduous day it was a surprising pick-me-up.

His midnight gaze followed the sound, widening to take in the picture before him: his son, cuddled up next to a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.

His welcoming smile froze before it had even made an indent into the uncompromising planes of his face.

Chapter One
NAT DAVIES was instantly attracted to the downcast head and the dark curly hair. There was something about the slump to the little boy’s shoulders and the less than enthusiastic way he was colouring in. He seemed separate from the other children laughing and playing around him, and it roused the mother lion in her.
He was the only stationary object in a room full of movement. And he seemed so…forlorn.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked, bumping Trudy’s hip with hers to get her boss’s attention.
Trudy stopped chopping fruit and followed Nat’s gaze. ‘Julian. It’s his second day. Four years old. Father is ooh-la-la handsome. Italian. Perfect English. Just moved from London. Widower. Recent, I think. Doesn’t smile much.’
Nat nodded, well used to Trudy’s staccato style of speech. ‘Poor darling.’ No wonder he looked so bereft. ‘How awful to lose your mother at such a young age.’ Not that it mattered at any age really. She’d been eight when her father had left and it still hurt.
Trudy nodded. ‘He’s very quiet. Very withdrawn.’
Nat’s heart strings gave another tug. She’d always had a soft spot for loners. She knew how it felt to have your perfect world turned upside down while life continued around you. How alienating it could be. How it separated you from the bustle of life.
‘Well, let’s see if I can fix that,’ she murmured.
Nat made a beeline for the lonely little boy, stopping only to grab a copy of Possum Magic off the bookshelf. In her experience she found there was very little a book couldn’t fix, if only for a short while.
‘Juliano.’ Nat called his name softly as she approached, smiling gently.
The little boy looked up from his lacklustre attempt at colouring in a giant frog. His mouth dropped open and he stared at Nat with eyes that grew visibly rounder. She suppressed the frown that was itching to crease her forehead at the unexpected response. Surely he was used to hearing his name spoken in Italian?
He was looking at her with a mix of confusion and wonder, like he was trying to figure out if he should run into her arms or burst into tears.
She kept her smile in place. ‘Ciao, Juliano. Come sta?’
Nat had learnt Italian at school and spent a year in Milan on a student exchange after completing grade twelve. Given that she was now thirty-three, it had been a while since she’d spoken it but she had been reasonably fluent at one stage.
Julian’s grave little face eked out a tentative smile and Nat relaxed. ‘Posso sedermi?’ she asked. Julian nodded and moved over so Nat could share the bench seat with him.
‘Hi, Juliano. My name’s Nat,’ she said.
The boy’s smile slipped a little. ‘Papa likes me to be called Julian,’ he said quietly.
The formality in his voice was heart-breaking and Nat wanted to reach out and give him a fierce hug. Four-year-olds shouldn’t be so buttoned up. If this hadn’t been St Auburn’s Hospital crèche for the children of hospital staff, she might have wondered if Julian’s father had a military background.
Maybe Captain Von Trapp. Before Maria had come on the scene.
‘Julian it is,’ she said, and held out her hand for a shake. He shook it like a good little soldier and the urge to tickle him until his giggles filled the room ate at her.
She battled very uncharitable thoughts towards the boy’s father. Could he not see his son was miserable and so tightly wound he’d probably be the first four-year-old in history to develop an ulcer?
She reminded herself that the man had not long lost his wife and was no doubt grieving heavily. But his son had also lost his mother. Just because he was only four, it didn’t mean that Julian wasn’t capable of profound grief also.
‘Would you like me to read you a story?’ Nat pointed to the book. ‘It’s about a possum and has lots of wonderful Australian animals in it.’
Julian nodded. ‘I like animals.’
‘Have you got a pet?’
He shook his head forlornly. ‘I had a cat. Pinocchio. But we had to leave him behind. Papa promised me another one but…he’s been too busy…’
Nat ground her teeth. ‘I have a cat. Her name’s Flo. After Florence Nightingale. She loves fish and makes a noise like this.’
Nat mimicked the low rumbling of her five-year-old tortoiseshell, embellishing slightly. Julian giggled and it was such a beautiful sound she did it again. ‘She’s a purring machine.’ Nat laughed and repeated the noise, delighted to once again hear Julian’s giggle.
As children careened around them, immersed in their own worlds, she opened the book and began to read aloud, her heart warmed by Julian’s instant immersion into its world. Page after page of exquisite illustrations of Australian bush animals swept them both away and by the end of the tale Julian was begging her to read it again, his little hand tucked into hers.
‘I see you’ve made a friend there,’ Trudy said a few minutes later, plonking a tray of cut-up fruit on the table in front of them and calling for the children to go and wash up for afternoon tea.
Julian followed the rest of the kids into the bathroom, looking behind him frequently to check Nat was still there. ‘I hope so, Trude,’ Nat replied.
If anyone needed a friend, it was Julian.

An hour later the chatter and chaos that was usually the kindy room was filled only with the beautiful sounds of silence as the busy bunch of three- to five-year-olds slumbered through the afternoon rest period. Nat wandered down the lines of little canvas beds, checking on her charges, pulling up kicked-off sheets and picking up the odd teddy bear that had been displaced.
She stopped at Julian’s bed and looked down at his dear little face. His soft curls framed his cheeks and forehead. His olive complexion was flawless in the way of children the world over. His mouth had an enticing bow shape and his lips were fat little cherubic pillows.
Unlike every other child in the room, he slept alone, no cuddle toy clutched to his side. With the serious lines of his face smoothed in slumber he looked like any other carefree four-year-old. Except he wasn’t. He was a motherless little boy who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
More like forty than four.
He whimpered slightly and his brow puckered. Her heart twisted and she reached out to smooth it but he turned on his side and as she watched, his thumb found its way into his mouth. He sucked subconsciously and her heart ached for him. He seemed so alone, even in sleep. It was wrong that a boy who had just lost his mother should have nothing other than a thumb to comfort him.
She made a mental note to talk to his father at pick-up. Ask him if Julian would like to bring along a toy, something familiar from home. Maybe she could even broach the subject of counselling for Julian. Something had to be done for the sad little darling. Someone had to try.
It may as well be her.

It was early evening when Nat found herself curled up in a bean bag with Julian in Book Corner, reading Possum Magic for the third time. The room was once again quiet, most of the children having gone home, their parents’ shifts long since finished. The few remaining kids had eaten their night-time meals and were occupied in quiet play.
Despite her best efforts to engage him with other children, Julian had steadfastly refused to join in, shadowing her instead. Nat knew she should be firmer but in a short space of time she’d developed a real soft spot for Julian.
His despondent little face clawed at her insides and she didn’t have the heart to turn him away. He looked like he was crying out to be loved and Nat knew how that felt. How could she deny a grieving child some affection?
She didn’t notice as she turned the pages that Julian’s thumb had found its way into his mouth or that one little hand had worked its way into her hair, rhythmically stroking the blonde strands.
All she was really aware of was Julian’s warm body pressed into her side and his belly laugh as she mimicked Grandma Poss and Hush on their quest to find the magic food. As ways to end the day went, it wasn’t too bad at all.

Dr Alessandro Lombardi strode into the crèche. He was tired. Dog tired. Emotional upheaval, months of no sleep, moving to the other side of the planet and starting a new job had really taken their toll. He wanted to go home, get into bed and sleep for a year.
If only.
He pulled up short in the doorway as his son’s laughter drifted towards him. It had been months since he’d heard the sound and he’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. And after an arduous day it was a surprising pick-me-up.
His midnight-dark gaze followed the sound, his eyes widening to take in the picture before him. His son cuddled up next to a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes exactly like Camilla’s. His fingers absently stroked her hair while he sucked his thumb, just as he used to do with Camilla.
His welcoming smile froze before it had even made a dent into the uncompromising planes of his face. He crossed the room in three strides. ‘Julian!’
Nat felt the word crack like a whip across the room and looked up startled as Julian’s thumb fell from his mouth and he dropped his hand from her hair as if it had suddenly caught fire.
She didn’t need Trudy to tell her Julian’s father had arrived. They were carbon copies of each other. Same frowns, same serious gazes and brooding intensity, same cherubic mouths.
But where Julian’s appeal was all round-eyed childhood innocence, his father’s appeal was much more adult. There was nothing childish about his effect on her pulse. He looked like some tragic prince from a Shakespearean plot to whom the slings and arrows had not been kind.
Put quite simply, at one glance Julian’s father was most categorically heart-throb material. A tumble of dark hair, with occasional streaks of silver, brushed his forehead and collar, a dark shadow drew the eye to his magnificent jaw line and that mouth…
She knew without a doubt she was going to dream about that mouth.
She suddenly felt warm all over despite the chill that blanketed her as cold dark eyes, like black ice, raked over her. Nat was used to men staring. She was blonde and, as had been pointed out to her on numerous occasions, had a decent rack. She was no supermodel but she knew she’d been blessed with clear skin, healthy hair and a perfect size twelve figure.
Until today she’d thought living in Italy had immunised her against being openly ogled. As an eighteen-year-old blonde with pale skin in a country where dark hair and olive complexions were the norm, she’d certainly attracted a lot of interest from Italian boys.
But there was nothing sexual about this Italian’s interest. Rather he was looking at her like she was the wicked witch of the west.
And he was definitely no boy.
‘Julian,’ he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the strange woman who was eerily familiar. From the way she folded her long pale legs under her to the blonde ponytail that brushed her shoulders and the fringe that flicked back from her face, she was just like Camilla.
His gaze strayed to the way the top two buttons of her V-necked T-shirt gaped slightly across her ample chest. They lingered there for a moment, unconsciously appreciating the ripe swell of female flesh. It had been a long time since he’d appreciated a woman’s cleavage and he quickly glanced away.
His gaze moved upwards instead, finding the similarities to Camilla slapped him in the face again. Same wide-set eyes, same high cheekbones, same full mouth and pointed chin complete with sexy little cleft that no doubt dimpled when she smiled.
Hell, he must be tired, he was hallucinating.
He held his hand out to his son. ‘Come here.’
Julian obeyed his father immediately and Nat felt the beads of the bean bag beneath her shift and realign, deflating her position somewhat. She looked up, way up, at a distinct disadvantage in her semi-reclined state on the floor.
From this angle Julian’s father looked even more intimidating. More male. His legs looked longer. His chest broader. He loomed above her and she was torn between professionalism and just lolling her head back and looking her fill.
She couldn’t remember ever having such an immediate response to a man.
His pinstriped trousers fell softly against his legs, hinting at the powerful contours of his quadriceps. The thick fabric of his business shirt did the same, outlining broad shoulders and a lean torso tapering to even leaner hips.
Unfortunately he was still staring down at her like she was one of those insects who ate their young and reluctantly professionalism won out. She floundered in the bean bag for a few seconds, totally annihilating any chance of presenting herself as a highly skilled child care worker before struggling to her feet.
Snatching a moment to collect herself, she smiled encouragingly at Julian. She noticed immediately how, even standing next to his father, Julian still looked alone. They didn’t touch. There had been no great-to-see-you hug, he didn’t take his father’s hand, neither did his father reach for him. There was no affectionate shoulder squeeze or special father-son eye contact.
It was obvious Julian wasn’t frightened of him but also obvious the poor child didn’t expect much.
Nat returned her gaze upwards. Good Lord—the man was tall. And seriously sexy. She smiled, mainly for Julian’s benefit. ‘Hi. I’m Nat Davies.’ She extended her hand.
Alessandro blinked. He’d braced himself when she’d opened her mouth to speak, half expecting a cut-glass English accent. But when the words came out in that slow, laid-back Australian way, still unfamiliar to his ear, he relaxed slightly.
The similarities between this woman and his dead wife were startling on the surface. Same height, same build, same eye colour, same blonde hair worn in exactly the same style, same facial structure and generous mouth. Same cute chin dimple.
No wonder Julian had taken a shine to her.
But looking at the fresh-faced woman before him, he knew that’s where the similarities ended. This woman exuded openness, friendliness, an innocence, almost, that his wife had never had.
Her hair had been dragged back into its band, rather hurriedly by the look of it, with strands wisping out everywhere. It hadn’t been neatly coiffed and primped until every hair was in place.
And Camilla wouldn’t have dared leave the house without make-up. This woman…Nat…was more the girl-next-door version of Camilla. Not the posh English version he’d married.
Even her perfume was different. Camilla had always favoured heavy, spicy perfumes that lingered long after she’d left the room. Nat Davies smelled like a flower garden. And…Plasticine. It was an intriguing mix.
Most importantly, her gaze was free of artifice, free of agenda, and he felt instantly more relaxed around her then he ever had with Camilla.
Alessandro took the proffered hand and gave it a brief shake before extracting his own. ‘Alessandro Lombardi.’
Nat blinked as the fleeting contact did funny things to her pulse. His voice was deep and rich like red wine and dark chocolate, his faint accent adding a glamorous edge to his exotic-sounding name. But the bronzed skin that stretched over the hard planes and angles of his face remained taut and Nat had the impression he wasn’t given to great shows of emotion.
No wonder Julian rarely smiled if he lived with Mr Impassive. Nat looked down at Julian, who was inspecting the floor. ‘Julian, matey, would you like to take Possum Magic home? It’s part of our library. Maybe your papa could read it to you before bed tonight.’
Nat watched as Julian glanced hesitantly at his father, his solemn features heartbreakingly unhopeful.
Alessandro nodded. ‘Si.’
Nat passed the book to Julian, who still looked grave despite his father’s approval. Did he think perhaps his father wouldn’t read him the book? She had to admit that Alessandro Lombardi didn’t look like the cuddle-up-in-bed-with-his-son type. ‘Go and find Trudy, matey. She’ll show you how to fill out the library card.’
They watched Julian walk towards Trudy as if he was walking to his doom, clutching the book like it was his last meal.
Nat’s gaze flicked back to Julian’s father to find him already regarding her, his scrutiny as intense as before. ‘Senor Lombardi, I was—’
‘Mr, please,’ he interrupted. Alessandro was surprised to hear the Italian address. Surprised too at the accuracy of her Italian accent. ‘Or Doctor. Julian knows little Italian. His mother…’ Alessandro paused, surprised how much even mentioning Camilla still packed a kick to his chest. ‘His mother was English. It was her wish that it be his primary language.’
It was Nat’s turn to be surprised. On a couple of counts. Firstly, Julian knew a lot more Italian than his father gave him credit for if today was anything to go by. And, secondly, what kind of mother would deny their child an opportunity to learn a second language—especially their father’s native tongue?
But there was something about the way he’d faltered when he’d talked about his wife, the hesitation, the emptiness that prodded at her soft spot. He was obviously still grieving deeply. And maybe in his grief he was just trying to do the right thing by his dead wife? Trying to keep things going exactly as they had been for Julian’s sake. Or desperately trying to hang onto a way of life that had been totally shattered.
On closer inspection she could see the dark smudges and fine lines around his eyes. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept properly in a very long time.
Who was she to pass judgment?
‘Dr Lombardi, I was wondering if Julian had a special toy or a teddy bear? Something familiar from home to help him feel a little less alone in this new environment?’
Alessandro stiffened. A toy. Of course, Camilla would have known that. There was that mangy-looking rabbit that he used to drag around with him everywhere. Somewhere…
‘I’ve been very busy. Our things only arrived a few days ago and there’s been no chance to unpack. We’re still living out of boxes.’
Nat blinked. Too busy to surround your child with things that were familiar to him when so much in his world had been turned upside down?
‘This is none of my business, of course, but I understand you were recently widowed.’
Alessandro saw the softness in her eyes and wanted to yell at her to stop. He didn’t deserve her pity. Instead, he gave a brief, controlled nod. ‘Si.’
If anything, he looked even bleaker than when he’d first entered but despite his grim face and keep-out vibes Nat was overwhelmed by the urge to pull them both close and hug them. Father and son. They’d been through so much and were both so obviously still hurting. She couldn’t bear to see such sadness.
‘I was wondering if Julian had had any kind of counselling.’ Or if the good doctor had, for that matter. ‘He seems quite…withdrawn. I can highly recommend the counselling service they run here through St Auburn’s. The child psychologist is excellent. We could make an appointment—’
‘You’re right,’ Alessandro interrupted for the second time, a nerve jumping at the angle of his jaw. ‘This is none of your business.’ He turned to locate his son. ‘Come, Julian.’
Nat felt as if he had physically slapped her and she recoiled slightly. Alessandro Lombardi had a way with his voice that could freeze a volcano. He was obviously unused to having his authority questioned.
She’d bet her last cent he was a surgeon.
She watched Dr Lombardi usher his son towards the door. Julian partially lifted his hand, reaching for his father’s, then obviously thought better of it, dropping it by his side. He turned and gave her a small wave and a sad smile as he walked out the door, and Nat felt a lump swell in her throat.
They left side by side but emotionally separate. There was no picking his son up and carrying him out, not even a guiding hand on the back. Something, anything that said, even on a subliminal level, I love you, I’m here for you.
Nat hoped for Julian’s sake that it was grief causing this strange disconnectedness between father and son and not something deeper. There was something unbearably sad about a four-year-old with no emotional expectations.
Having grown up with an emotionally distant father Nat knew too well how soul destroying it could be. How often had she’d yearned for his touch, his smile, his praise after he’d left? And how often had he let her down, too busy with his new family, with his boys? Even at thirty-three she was still looking for his love. She couldn’t bear to see it happening to a child in her care.
But something inside her recognised that Alessandro Lombardi was hurting too. Knew that it was harsh to judge him. As a nurse she knew how grief affected people. How it could shut you down, cut you off at the knees. He had obviously loved his wife very deeply and was probably doing the best he could just to function every day.
To put one foot in front of the other.
Maybe he was just emotionally frozen. Not capable of any feelings at the moment. Maybe grief had just sucked them all away.
She sighed. It looked like she’d also developed a soft spot for the father also. Yep, it was official—she was a total sucker for a sob story.

The next day Nat had finished her stint in Outpatients and was heading back to the accident and emergency department for her very late lunch. She’d been sent there to cover for sick leave and was utterly exhausted.
She didn’t mind being sent out of her usual work area and had covered Outpatients on quite a few occasions since starting at St Auburn’s six months ago but it was a full-on morning which always ran over the scheduled one p.m. finish time. There hadn’t been time for morning tea either so her stomach was protesting loudly. She could almost taste the hot meat pie she’d been daydreaming about for the last hour and a half.
Add to that being awake half the night thinking about Julian’s situation, and she was totally wrecked. And then there’d been the other half of the night. Filled with images—very inappropriate images—of Julian’s father and his rather enticing mouth.
She’d known she was going to dream about that mouth.
‘Oh, good, you’re back. I need another experienced hand,’ Imogen Reddy, the nurse in charge, said as Nat wandered back. ‘It’s Looney Tunes here. Code one just arrived in Resus. Seventy-two-year old-male, suspected MI. Can you get in and give the new doc a hand? Delia’s there but she was due off half an hour ago and hasn’t even had time for a break. Can you take over and send her home?’
Nat looked at the bedlam all around her. Just another crazy day at St Auburn’s Accident and Emergency. And they wondered why she kept knocking back a full-time position. Nat’s stomach growled a warning at her but she knew there was no way she could let a seven-months-pregnant colleague do overtime on an empty stomach.
She smiled at her boss. ‘Resus. Sure thing.’
Nat stopped just outside the resus cubicle and pulled a pair of medium gloves out of a dispenser attached to the wall. She snapped them on, took a deep breath, flicked back the curtain and entered the fray.
‘Okay, Delia. You’re off,’ she said, smiling at her colleague who happened to be the first person she saw amidst the chaos. ‘Go home, put your feet up and feed the foetus.’
Delia shoulders sagged and she gave Nat a grateful smile. ‘Are you sure?’ She turned and addressed the doctor. ‘Are you okay if I go, Alessandro? You’re getting a much better deal. Nat here is Super-Nurse.’
Alessandro? Nat swung around to find Alessandro Lombardi, all big and brooding, behind her. The bustle, the sounds of the oxygen and the monitors around her faded out as she stared into those coalpit-black eyes.
They were alert, radiating intelligence, but if anything he looked more tired than he had yesterday. He stared back and Nat felt as if she was naked in front of him.
She dropped her gaze as some of the images from last night’s dream revisited. Bloody hell. He was the new doctor? Working part-time generally kept Nat out of the loop with medical staff rotations and she’d just assumed Imogen had meant a new registrar. Surely Julian’s father was a little too old to be a registrar?
So much for her surgeon theory.
Alessandro took in the woman who had been the cause of another sleepless night. A new cause, granted, but still a complication he didn’t need. She was different today, out of her shorts and T-shirt. Very professional looking in the modest white uniform with the zip up the front. Her hair was a little neater in her ponytail and in this environment he felt on a more even keel around her.
Still, his gaze dropped to the zip briefly and before he could stop it, an image of him yanking the slider down flitted across his mind’s eye.
He looked at Delia briefly. ‘Yes. We’ve met.’
Then he turned back to the patient and Nat felt thoroughly dismissed. If only he knew what he’d done to her in her dreams last night…
Had she had time she might have been miffed but her patient caught her attention. ‘Super-Nurse, hey?’ he croaked behind his oxygen mask.
Nat dragged her gaze away from the back of Alessandro’s head to look at the patient. He was sweaty and grey with massive ST changes on his monitor. Multiple ectopic beats were worrying and as she watched, a short run of ventricular tachycardia interrupted his rhythm.
His heart muscle was dying.
He was also in pain despite the morphine that she noted had already been administered, but there was still a twinkle visible in his bright eyes. He was obviously one of those stoic old men who didn’t believe in complaining too much.
‘Yes, sir.’ She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘That’s me. To the rescue.’
The patient gave a weak chuckle. ‘Ernie,’ he puffed out. ‘Looks like I’m in safe hands, then.’
Nat glanced at Alessandro. She hoped so. She hoped he was better at doctoring than he was at communicating. At fathering. ‘The very best.’
‘What’s the ETA on the CCU docs?’ Alessandro asked no one in particular.
Seeing Nat Davies from the crèche was a bit of a surprise but he didn’t have time to ponder that, or her damn zip, now. He had to focus on his patient, who needed that consult and admission to the coronary care unit pronto.
Ernie’s ECG was showing a massive inferior myocardial infarction. They were administering the right drugs to halt the progress of the heart attack but these patients were notoriously unstable and with age against him, Alessandro worried that Ernie would arrest before the drugs could work. Or that his heart was already too damaged.
‘Couple of minutes,’ someone behind him said.
As it turned out, Ernie didn’t have a couple of minutes and Alessandro’s worst fears were realised when the monitor alarmed and Ernie lost consciousness.
‘VF,’ Nat announced as the green line on the screen developed into a series of frenetic squiggles. Her own heart rate spiked as a charge of adrenaline shot through her system like vodka on an empty stomach.
Alessandro pointed at Nat. ‘Commence CPR. I’ll intubate. Adrenaline,’ he ordered. ‘Charge the defib.’
Nat hiked the skirt of her uniform up her thighs a little as she climbed up onto the narrow gurney. She planted her knees wide and balanced on the edge of the mattress, a feat she’d performed a little too often, as she started compressions.
Any ill will she may have been harbouring towards Dr Lombardi fizzled in an instant at the totally professional way he ran the code. It was textbook. But that wasn’t doing him justice. It was more than textbook. He didn’t see a seventy-two-year-old man and give up after a few minutes. He gave Ernie every chance. It wasn’t until the down time reached thirty minutes that he finally called it.
He placed his hands on Nat’s, stilling their downward trajectory. ‘Thank you,’ he said. Then he looked at the clock. ‘Time of death fifteen twenty-two hours.’
Nat looked down at his hands. She could just see her own through the gloved fingers of his. She noticed for the first time his sleeves were rolled back to reveal the dark hair of his bronzed forearms and she absently thought how strong they looked. How manly.
She glanced at him and their eyes locked, a strange solidarity uniting them. She could see the impact of this loss in his bleak stare. As she watched, his gaze drifted briefly south, lapping her cleavage, and she felt her nipples bead as if he’d actually caressed them. When he looked back at her, all she could see was heat.
Two beats passed and then as quickly as the heat had come it disappeared and he was removing his hands, extending one to help her off the gurney. Dragging her gaze from him, she accepted, easing back to the floor.
Her knees nearly buckled and Nat snatched her hand away, grabbing for the edge of the trolley to steady herself.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as he watched her wobble slightly.
Nat rubbed her at her knees. ‘Fine’
Except, staring down at Ernie, she knew it wasn’t. Ernie was dead. And whatever was going on between her and Alessandro didn’t matter next to that. Neither did it matter that she’d only known Ernie for only a handful of minutes—he was still dead. Gone. The twinkle in his eyes extinguished for ever. In fact, it made it worse that she didn’t know him. It was wrong that a person should die surrounded by strangers.
She felt as she always did, overwhelmingly sad.
Alessandro nodded. ‘We need to talk to his family.’
His cold onyx gaze bored into hers with an air of expectation, no trace of the heat from a moment ago.
Looked like she was going with him.
Confronted with the businesslike professional, she wondered if she’d imagined the fleeting glimpse of sorrow and passion she’d seen. Her tummy growled again and she bargained with it for another half an hour.
Alessandro strode briskly ahead and Nat worried as she followed him. Sure, the view was good. His trousers hugged the tight contours of his butt and each stride emphasised not only the power of his legs but pulled at his shirt, emphasising the broadness of his back.
But none of that meant this man was remotely equipped to talk to grieving relatives. He was still grieving himself. Had Ernie’s death resonated with him? Had this death reminded him of his dead wife, of his own grief?
He was obviously a consultant, she didn’t think for a moment this was his first time. But if he was as emotionally disconnected with this family as he was with his son, it could be disastrous for them. As a nurse she was used to being involved in these conversations but did he only want her there to fill in the emotional gaps for him? Was she going to be left to pick up the pieces like she’d done too many times before in her career because too often doctors were ill equipped for this sort of situation?
She contemplated saying something. But despite the brief flare of desire that had licked her with heat, his terse This is none of your business from yesterday still rang in her ears and she didn’t want to annoy him before this heart-wrenching job. But he seemed as tense as yesterday, as distant, and not even the growling of her stomach could override the foreboding that shadowed her as she tried to keep up with his impossibly long stride.
Telling someone their husband/child/mother/significant other had died was always dreadful. As a health-care worker, Nat would rather clean bedpans all shift than witness the devastating effects of those awful few words. But she knew Ernie’s wife and kids deserved the truth and she knew they’d have questions that only someone who had been there could answer.
And that was her.
She couldn’t back away from that. No matter how much she wanted to.
Much to her surprise, Alessandro again totally confounded her. He spoke softly, his accent more apparent as he gently outlined what had happened and how they’d tried but in the end there had been nothing they could do to bring Ernie back. The family cried and got angry and asked questions and Alessandro was calm and gentle and patient.
He was compassion personified.
And at the end when Ernie’s wife tentatively put out her hand to bridge the short distance between Alessandro and herself and then thought better of it and withdrew it, it was he who reached out and took her hand.
It should have melted her marshmallow heart in an instant. But it didn’t.
It reminded her of yesterday and Julian reaching for his father’s hand and it had the opposite effect. She was furious. It felt like a red-hot poker had been shoved through her heart. She wasn’t sure if it was the lack of food or the lack of sleep but she felt irrationally angry.
Was this man schizophrenic? Was he some sort of Jekyll and Hyde? How could he offer Ernie’s wife, a relative stranger, the comfort he denied his own child?
He’d shown this family, this previously unknown collection of people, more sensitivity, more emotion, than he’d displayed for his four-year-old son. Yesterday she’d thought he was emotionally crippled. Grieving for his wife. Today, as they’d walked to do this, she’d worried about it again. Worried about his ability to empathise when he was buried under the weight of his own grief.
But it wasn’t the case. He was obviously a brilliant emergency physician with a fabulous bedside manner. He just didn’t take it home with him. To the most important person in the world. To his own child. To his son.

They left Ernie’s family after about twenty minutes and Nat had never been more pleased to be shed of a person in her life. She steamed ahead, knowing if she didn’t get away from him she would say something she would regret.
Alessandro frowned as Nat forged ahead. She seemed upset and as much as he didn’t want anything to do with the woman who could almost have been Camilla’s twin, they worked together and he knew that sudden death, such as they’d both just been part of, took its toll.
He caught her up. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ She repeated her response from earlier.
Except she wasn’t. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was bothering her. He grabbed her arm to prevent her walking away any further. ‘I don’t think you are.’
Nat looked at his bronzed hand on her pale arm. She looked at him. Oh, Senor, you really don’t want to mess with me now. She pulled her arm away but he tightened his grip.
Heat radiated from his hand and spread up her arm to her breasts and belly. Damn it, she did not want to feel like this. Not now. She was mad. Furious. She sucked in a breath, ragged from her brisk walk and the rage bubbling beneath the surface.
They were standing in the corridor facing each other and it was as if time stood still around them and they were the only two people on the planet. Nat couldn’t believe how it was possible to want to shake someone and totally pash their lips off at the same time.
‘I’m fine.’ The denial was low and guttural.
Alessandro could see the agitated rise and fall of her chest, see the colour in her cheeks. His gaze drifted to her mouth, her parted lips enticing.
He dragged his gaze away. ‘I don’t believe you. I know these cases can be difficult—’
Nat’s snort ripped through his words and gave her mouth something else to do other than beg for his kiss. ‘You think this is about Ernie?’ She stared into his handsome face, at his peppered jaw line. How could she want someone who was so bloody obtuse?
‘It’s not?’
Nat snorted again and she knew she couldn’t hold it back any longer. ‘Tell me, how is it that you can reach out and hold a stranger’s hand and yet you can’t offer your own son the same comfort?’
Alessandro froze at the accusation in her words. He dropped his hand from her arm as if he’d suddenly discovered she was suffering from the ebola virus. Nat watched his black ice eyes chill over as he paled beneath his magnificent bronze complexion. But she was on a roll now and she’d come this far.
‘Nothing to say?’ she taunted.
‘Oh, I think you’ve said enough for both of us. Don’t you?’
And before she knew it he’d turned on his heel, his rapidly departing figure storming along the corridor ahead.
She sucked in a breath, her body quivering from anger and something else even more primitive. She guessed she should feel chastised but she couldn’t. If he could show this level of compassion at work, even if it was just an act, he sure as hell could show it at home.
If she could save Julian from the emotional wasteland she’d trodden, trying to please her father throughout her childhood, then she would. Attraction or no attraction.
So, no. She hadn’t said enough. Not nearly enough. Not by a long shot.

Chapter Two
TWO weeks later Brisbane was in the throes of an unremitting heatwave. The power grid couldn’t keep up with consumer demand for ceiling fans and 24-hour-a-day air-conditioning. Tempers were short. Road rage, heat stroke and dehydration were rampant.
Even in a city that regularly sweltered each summer, the temperatures were extreme. But this was spring and totally ironic when the other side of the world battled the looming pandemic of a horrible new strain of influenza and unseasonal snow was causing general havoc.
Nat actually looked forward to stepping through the doors of St Auburn’s and being enveloped in a cool blast of air. Anywhere was better than her hot little box the real estate agent euphemistically called a townhouse in a breezeless suburb blistering beneath the sun’s relentless rays.
Not that it would matter soon, seeing that it looked like she was going to be evicted by the end of the month.
Nat stepped into the crowded lift on the eighth floor, pondering this conundrum yet again. She’d just transferred another heat-stroke victim to the medical ward and was returning to the department. She squeezed in and, noting the ground-floor button had already been pushed, let her mind wander to the phone call she was expecting from the realtor any time now. She would find out today whether she could get an extension on her lease.
It wasn’t until the lift emptied out over the next few floors and she had some more room to move that she was even aware of her fellow travellers. Two more people got out at the fourth floor and she was suddenly aware of there being only one other person left. Big and looming behind her. A strange sixth sense, or possibly foreboding, settled around her and she glanced quickly over her shoulder.
Alessandro Lombardi stared back at her, one dark eyebrow quirked sardonically. Hell. She had only seen him very briefly and at a distance in the last couple of weeks since she’d basically accused him of being a terrible father. He was wearing a pale lemon shirt and a classy orange tie. A stethoscope was slung casually around his neck.
In short he was looking damn fine and her hormones roared to life.
She turned back to the panel, pressing ‘G’ several times as the door slowly shut, her heart beating double time.
A fleeting smile touched Alessandro’s mouth as he stared at her back, her blonde ponytail brushing her collar. It was the first time he’d been close to her since her outburst a little while ago. But he’d certainly heard her name frequently enough. Julian had spoken of little else. He’d heard it so often he’d started to dream about her.
He moved to stand beside her. ‘Good afternoon, Nat.’
Nat took a steadying breath. ‘Dr Lombardi,’ she said, refusing to turn and face him. She jabbed at the ‘G’ several more times—why was this lift so damn slow?
‘Be careful. You’ll break it.’
She could detect a faint trace of amusement in his voice but today with the heat and the eviction hanging over her head she really wasn’t in the mood. She hit it one more time for good measure.
Which was when the lift came to a grinding halt, causing her to stumble against him. She heard him mutter ‘Porca vacca’ as he was jostled towards her and she supposed, absently, a profanity was better than an I told you so.
His hand cupped her elbow and the lights flickered out. It was a few seconds before either of them moved or spoke. Alessandro recovered first.
‘Are you okay?’
His big hand was warm on her arm and for a second she even leaned into him, her pulse skipping madly in her chest as her body tried to figure out what was the bigger problem. Being stuck in a lift. Or being stuck in a lift with Alessandro Lombardi.
‘You know,’ she said, moving her elbow out of his grasp, ‘when they teach you a foreign language it’s always the swear words you learn first?’
Alessandro chuckled. ‘Guilty.’
His low laughter sounded strange coming from a man who had thus far looked incapable of anything remotely joyous. But it enveloped her in the darkness and made her feel curiously safe.
The lights flickered on, or at least one of them did, and Alessandro braced himself for the lift to power up and lurch to a start. When nothing happened he looked down at Nat, who was looking expectantly at the ceiling. He hadn’t realised they were standing so close.
Her flower-garden scent wafted towards him and when her gaze shifted from surveying the ceiling to meet his, the urge to move closer, to stroke his finger down her cheek, was a potent force.
He took a step back. His attraction to this woman was a complication he didn’t need. ‘I’ll ring and see what’s happened.’
Nat nodded absently, also backing up, pleased to feel the solidness of the wall behind her. For a moment there, maybe it had been the half-light, his eyes had darkened even further and she could have sworn he was going to touch her. In a good way.
She felt as if there wasn’t enough air suddenly and took some calming breaths. She wasn’t the hysterical type and now was not the time to become one.
Nat listened absently as Alessandro had a conversation with someone on the other end of the lift’s emergency phone. It was brief and from the tone it didn’t sound like they were getting out any time soon.
He hung up the phone and turned to her. ‘There’s a problem with the city grid. Something to do with the heat wave. The emergency power has kicked in but two lifts have failed to start. They’re working on it.’
Nat licked her lips, the thought of spending time with him in a confined space rather unsettling. Did he also feel the buzz between them or was it all one sided? ‘Did they have any idea how long it might take?’
‘No.’
‘Porca vacca,’ she muttered, figuring Alessandro’s instinctive expletive was as good as any. In either language.
Alessandro suppressed another chuckle. He could see her gaze darting around the lift and he wondered if she was trying to calculate carbon-dioxide build-up or was looking for an escape hatch. ‘You’re not claustrophobic, I hope?’
Nat shook her head. ‘No. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed if you’re waiting for me to turn into a hysterical female.’
Was he disappointed? Certainly Camilla would have thrown her first tantrum by now, demanding to speak to someone in authority. He much preferred Nat’s calm resignation. ‘Good.’
Nat glanced at him briefly and quickly looked away. He loomed in the dim light and with each passing second he seemed to take up more room. ‘Well, no point in standing. Might as well get comfortable for the long haul.’
She sat then, cross-legged on the floor, her back pressed to the wall. She looked up at him looking down at her and was reminded of their first meeting when she’d had the bean-bag disadvantage. He was looking at her with that now familiar coolness in his eyes.
‘Sit down, for God’s sake,’ she grouched.
Alessandro frowned. Nat Davies was one bossy little package. He slid down the wall, planting his feet evenly in front of him, his knees bent. ‘Are you always this disagreeable?’
Nat, who was excruciatingly aware of his encroaching masculinity, shot him a startled look. She opened her mouth to protest. No, she wasn’t. Despite her father’s desertion and the recent ending of a long-term messy relationship that would have caused the most congenial woman to become a bitter hag, she was essentially a very agreeable person.
Perennially happy. Everyone said so. She almost told him so too. But then a quick review of the twice she’d spoken to him had her conceding that his comment was probably fair.
She raised her gaze from the very fascinating way his trousers pulled across his thigh muscles. ‘I owe you an apology. For the other day. After Ernie. I was out of line. It was none of my business.’
Alessandro was surprised by her admission. It was refreshing to be with a woman who could apologise. ‘You did overstep the line a little.’
Nat wanted to protest again, justify her reaction as being in Julian’s interests, but he was right. ‘I get too involved. I always have. The matron where I trained said I was a hopeless case.’
Alessandro smiled grudgingly. He removed his stethoscope and loosened his tie. It was already starting to get stuffy without the benefit of the air-conditioning. ‘There are worse human flaws.’
He knew that only too well.
Nat stared at how even a small lift to his beautiful mouth transformed his face. Combined with the now skew tie and the undone top button, revealing a tantalising glimpse of very male neck, he really was a sight to behold. She smiled back. ‘She didn’t think so.’
Alessandro straightened a leg, stretching it out in front of him. He shrugged, looking directly at her. ‘We’d just lost the battle to save a man’s life. Death affects everyone in different ways.’
The teasing light she’d glimpsed briefly snuffed out and he seemed bleak and serious again. An older version of Julian. She hesitated briefly before voicing the question that entered her head. But they had to talk about something. And maybe he was looking for an opening? ‘How long ago did your wife die?’
Alex felt the automatic tensing of the muscles in his neck. A fragment of a memory slipped out unbidden from the steel trap in his brain. Opening his door on the other side of the world to two grim-looking policemen. He drew his leg up again.
Nat watched him withdraw, startled by a twist of empathy deep inside.
Oh, no. No. No. No.
Alessandro Lombardi was a big boy. He didn’t need her empathy. It was bad enough that she was sexually attracted to him. He didn’t need her to comfort him and fix things too. His wife was dead—she couldn’t fix that. Only time could fix that.
‘I’m sorry. There I go again. None of my business.’
No. It wasn’t. But he was damned if he wasn’t opening his mouth to tell her anyway. ‘Nine months.’
Nat was surprised. Both that he had responded and by the nine months. She’d known it was recent but it was still confronting. No wonder they were both so raw. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ she murmured.
Alessandro watched as her gaze filled with pity, the blue of her irises turning soft and glassy in the gentle light. He couldn’t bear to see it. A sudden black fury streaked through him fast and hot like a lightning bolt from the deep well of self-hatred that bubbled never far from the surface. He didn’t deserve her pity. He wasn’t worthy of it. All he deserved was her contempt.
This was why he’d left England. To get far away from other people’s pity. Their well-meaning words and greeting-card platitudes. Knowing that he had driven her to her death, that he alone was responsible…the hypocrisy had eaten him up inside.
Looking into Julian’s face every day was more than he could stand. It was much easier not to.
He dropped his gaze. It took all of his willpower to drag himself back from the storm of broiling emotions squeezing his gut. ‘Nat,’ he said to the floor, before raising his face to meet hers, ‘is that short for something?’
There had been a moment, before he’d looked down, when she’d glimpsed a heart-breaking well of despair. But it was shuttered now, safely masked behind a gaze that could have been hewn from arctic tundra.
He was obviously still deeply in love with his wife. It was also obvious he wasn’t going to talk about it with her.
‘Natalie,’ she said, taking the not-so-subtle hint. ‘I was supposed to be a boy.’
‘Ah.’
‘Nathaniel. Nat for short.’
She told the story she knew off by heart, careful not to betray how inadequate it made her feel. How she’d never felt like she quite measured up because her father had wanted a boy. ‘My parents had kind of got used to thinking of me as Nat so they decided on Natalie.’
‘Nathalie.’ Alessandro rolled the Italian version round his tongue. ‘It’s pretty. Much prettier than Nat.’
It certainly was when he said it. His accent made a th pronunciation shading it with an exotic sound plain old Nat never had. Coming from his lips it sounded all grown up. No girl-next-door connotation. No one-size-fits-all, unisex, if-only-you’d-been-a-boy name.
In one breath he’d feminised it.
And right then, sitting on the floor in the gloom of a broken-down lift, she could see how women fell in love at first sight. Not that she was quite that stupid. Not any more. After Rob she knew better than to get involved with a man who was in love with another woman. Even a dead one.
But raw heat coated her insides and she squirmed against the floor to quell the sticky tentacles of desire.
‘I prefer Nat,’ she dismissed lightly, brushing at imaginary fluff on her skirt.
Alessandro dropped his eyes, watching the nervous gesture. It was preferable to the vulnerability he’d seen in her unmasked gaze.
‘Ah, yes, Nat. Nat, Nat, Nat. I hear that name so often at home these days I’m beginning to think you must have magical powers. I think you could give Harry Potter a run for his money.’
Nat, pleased to be off more personal subjects, laughed out loud. Right. If she had magical powers she sure as hell would have used them shamelessly to her advantage long before now. Made her father love her more. Made Rob love her more. Made them stay.
‘Julian talks about me?’
Despite not wanting to, Alessandro noticed the way her uniform pulled across her chest. The way the slide nestled in her cleavage. It had been such a long time since he’d noticed anything much about a woman at all but it was becoming a habit with this bossy, talkative Australian nurse.
He sent her a tight smile. ‘Nonstop.’
Nat grinned. ‘Sorry.’ But she really wasn’t. It made her happy to think she was making a difference to the serious little boy who came to the crèche. She knew she looked out for him on her days there and her heart melted faster than an ice-cube in this damn heat wave, when his sad little face lit up like a New Year’s Eve firework display the moment he spotted her.
Alessandro shrugged. ‘I’m pleased he…has someone.’ Even if hearing her name incessantly meant she was never far from his thoughts. Even if that transferred into the rare moments of sleep he managed to snatch during nights that seemed to last an eternity. Those few precious hours were suddenly full of her. Bizarre erotic snapshots the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since puberty.
Just another reason to despise himself a little bit more. Camilla hadn’t even been dead a year and he was fantasising about some…look-alike-but-not Australian bossy-boots, like a horny teenager.
‘He’s a great kid, Alessandro.’
Her voice had softened and he could tell she held genuine affection for Julian. He wished his own relationship with his son was as uncomplicated. When he looked at Julian he saw Camilla and his guilt ratcheted up another notch. ‘I know.’
And he did know. But he didn’t know how to reach a child who was a stranger to him. He didn’t know how to look at his son, love his son and pretend that he wasn’t the reason Julian’s world had been torn apart.
Perhaps if they’d been closer…
They looked at each other for a long moment, the air thick between them with things neither of them were game enough to say aloud. A phone ringing broke the compelling eye contact and it took a few seconds for Nat to realise it wasn’t the lift emergency phone but her mobile.
She pulled it out of her pocket. ‘Huh, look at that,’ she mused. ‘Good reception. Go figure.’ She looked at the number on the screen and gave an inward groan. Great timing.
It was difficult for Alessandro not to eavesdrop. It was impossible to even pretend he wasn’t. There was him and her in a tiny metal box, not much light and nothing else to do. He did try to feign disinterest, pulling his pager out and deleting the build-up of stored messages, but it was obvious she was having problems with her lease.
When Nat pushed the ‘end’ button on her phone with a grimace he said, ‘Problemo?’
Nat sighed and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. ‘You could say that.’
‘Sounds like you’re having trouble with your landlord.’
Nat gave a derisive snort. ‘That’s an understatement. I’ve been given two weeks to move out.’
Alessandro dropped both of his legs, stretching them out in front as he crossed his arms across his chest. ‘Let me guess. You have lots of loud parties and are behind on your rent?’
Nat, aware that his legs were a good deal closer now, flicked him a funny ha-ha look. The fact that he was even attempting humour wasn’t enough to lift her out of the doldrums.
Where the hell was she going to go? ‘The owners want to move back in.’
‘Can they do that?’
Nat shrugged. ‘The lease is up.’
‘Ah.’
She sighed. ‘Yes. Ah.’
‘Have you thought of buying? It’s a buyers’ market at the moment with the world economic situation and interest rates being at an all-time low. I bought my place in Paddington for a very good price.’
‘I have bought a place. A unit not far from St Auburn’s. I bought it off the plan. It was supposed to be finished two months ago but with all that winter rain we had it’s behind schedule.’
‘Ah.’
Nat’s legs were starting to cramp in her cross-legged position so she also stretched her legs out, her modest uniform riding up a little and revealing two very welldefined kneecaps and a hint of thigh. ‘I only took a sixmonth lease because the project manager assured me the project would be on time. Damn man is as slippery as an oily snake.’
Alessandro’s gaze dropped to the narrow strip of thigh visible between her knees and hemline before he realised what he was doing. He dragged his attention back to her frowning face. ‘Do you not have a man, a husband or boyfriend, who can deal with these things for you?’
If she hadn’t already been annoyed at the world—heat wave, broken lift, difficult landlord—Nat might have laughed at his typical Italian male assumptions. But unfortunately for Alessandro, she was.
‘I don’t need a man to deal with stuff for me,’ she said sharply.
Frankly she was sick of men. It was because of a bloody man she was in this pickle to start with. Eternal spinsterhood was looking like a damn fine alternative these days. Although the presence of a six-foot-nine Neanderthal next time she visited her half-complete unit did hold some appeal.
Alessandro held up his hands in surrender, not wanting to get into a debate about gender roles with her already looking like she was spoiling for a fight. Things were different these days, which was a good thing. And this wasn’t Italy. Besides, they might well need to preserve oxygen.
‘Have you not got family here you can stay with?’
She shook her head. ‘All my family live in Perth. In WesternAustralia. I’ve only been in Brisbane for six months.’
‘You are a long way from home, Nathalie.’
His voice was low and it slithered across the floor of the lift like a serpent, inching up her leg, under her skirt, gliding across her belly and undulating up her spine, stroking every hot spot in between. She was one giant goose-bump in three seconds flat.
The ease with which he accomplished it was shocking but she was damned if she was going to let her body do the talking. She raised an eyebrow, going for sardonic. ‘I’m a long way from home?’
He chuckled. Well deflected. ‘Touché.’ There were a few moments of silence as they both contemplated the floor. Alessandro had the feeling there was more to the Nat Davies story. He checked his watch. Ten minutes. How much longer?
It seemed stupid to sit in silence.
‘So why did you leave Perth? Was there a reason or did you have a crashing desire to see Queensland?’
Nat gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘I had a fancy to see the sun rise over the ocean.’
Alessandro smiled at her flippant reply. He was pretty sure it ran deeper than that. It took one damaged soul to recognise another. ‘I get the feeling there may have been a man involved?’
Nat contemplated another snappy quip but she’d never been able to pull flippant off for very long. ‘There was.’
‘What happened?’
Nat repeated her earlier eyebrow rise. ‘I think this is where I tell you it’s none of your business, isn’t it?’
Alessandro nodded his head, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘I do believe so, yes.’ He shrugged. ‘Just trying to pass the time.’
Nat regarded him for a few moments. Why did she feel so compelled to talk to him? One look at him and she lost her mind. She didn’t bother to point out they could pass it just as easily by talking about his stuff because frankly she was tired of listening to men talk about women who used to share their lives.
‘It became…untenable.’ She waited for the barb in her chest to twist again, like it always did when she thought about Rob and their crazy crowded relationship. Her, him and his ex-wife.
Curiously it didn’t.
Alessandro nodded. So they were both running away…
‘So I left. I didn’t plan to leave Perth but then I hadn’t planned on it being so hard to still move in the same circles.’
She glanced at him, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he empathised. Was that why he’d moved to the other side of the world? To escape the memories that were there, waiting around every corner? ‘When the property settlement came through I just…left. Took my half and relocated.’
Alessandro nodded. ‘That took courage.’ He knew how hard it was to up sticks.
‘Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem so brave now, does it?’
Alessandro crossed one outstretched leg over the other at the ankles. ‘Do you have a plan B?’
‘The rental market in Brisbane is tight. I only need a couple of months but no one’s going to be keen to rent to me for such a short time.’
Alessandro nodded. He’d tried to get a short-term lease so he didn’t have to rush into buying but there’d been nothing available and he’d taken the plunge and bought instead.
‘I don’t really know anyone well enough to crash with them for long periods of time, apart from Paige who I went to school with in Perth. She works in Audiology and part time in the operating theatres at St Auburn’s. I stayed with her for a couple of weeks when I first arrived but her husband walked out over two years ago and she has a three-year-old with high needs. I can’t impose on them again.’ She shrugged. ‘The short answer is, I don’t know. But something will show up. It’ll work out, it always does.’
As soon as the words were out the lights flickered on in the lift and the air-conditioning whirred to life. Nat laughed. ‘See?’
Alessandro smiled, picking up his pager and stethoscope off the floor as the lift shuddered and began its descent. He vaulted to his feet and held out a hand to her. She hesitated for a fraction and then took it. He pulled her up, the lift settling on the ground floor as she rose to her feet, causing her to stumble a little.
Nat put her hand against his chest to steady herself, aware that his other arm had come around to help. She copped a lungful of something spicy and for a brief dizzying second she considered pushing her nose into the patch of neck his skew tie had revealed to see if she could discern the exact origin. His lips were close and his gaze seemed to be suddenly fixed on her mouth and all she could think about was kissing him.
His heart thudded directly below her palm and the vibrations travelled down her arm, rippling through every nerve ending in her body, energising every cell.
The lift dinged and saved her from totally losing her mind. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she said, pushing away from him, uncharacteristic colour creeping into her cheeks.
The doors opened and a small crowd of maintenance people as well as department staff were there to greet them, clapping and cheering.
Nat risked a quick glance at him, dismayed at the heat she saw in his eyes again. Her blush intensified. She hightailed it out of the lift without a backward glance.

Alessandro had not long been home with Julian early that evening when the doorbell rang. He opened it to a middleaged woman and ushered her in. Debbie Woodruff was the tenth applicant for live-in nanny he’d interviewed.
He had no intention of the crèche being a long-term solution for Julian. Yes, it was open 24 hours a day and Julian seemed to like it there, at least when Nat was on anyway, but he’d already been dragged halfway round the world. His son deserved stability. And that was one thing he could give him.
Debbie seemed very nice and was plainly well qualified. Julian was polite, as always, saying please and thank you as Camilla had taught him, eating carefully, playing quietly. But he wasn’t enthused. And Alessandro had to admit he wasn’t either.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Someone to love Julian, he guessed. Not for it just to be another job. A pay cheque. What his son needed was a mother.
His mother.
Guilt seized him as he saw Debbie out. The one thing Julian needed the most, and he couldn’t give it to him. It was his job. He was the father. He was supposed to provide for his son.
Alessandro entered the lounge room. Julian looked at him but didn’t smile or acknowledge him. He sat next to his son and wished he knew how to bridge the gap. Wished his father had been around to be a role model for him, instead of the distant provider. Wished he hadn’t let Camilla distance him from his own son.
He looked down at Julian, who was watching television. ‘Did you like her?’ he asked.
Julian turned and looked at his father. ‘She was okay.’
Hardly a glowing endorsement. ‘Have you liked any of them?’
Julian shrugged, looking at him with big, solemn eyes.
‘Who do you like?’ he asked in frustration.
‘Nat,’ Julian said, and turned back to the TV.
Of course.
Great. Nat, who couldn’t mind her own business. Nat, who spoke her mind. Nat of the lift. Nat of the zipper. Nat, who he’d dreamt about every night since they’d met.
Anyone but her.
Alessandro looked down at his son and sighed. Julian wanted Nat. And that was all that mattered.
Nat it was. That he could do.

Chapter Three
ALESSANDRO spotted Nat at the dining room checkout the next day and hurried towards her. He was just in time to hear the waitress say, ‘Eight dollars and twenty cents, please.’
He fished out his wallet and handed over a twenty before Nat had even zipped open her purse. ‘Take it out of this,’ he said.
Nat felt every nerve ending leap at his unexpected appearance. She glanced back at him, her heart doing a funny shimmy in her chest at his sheer masculinity. She frowned, both at her unwanted response and his motivation to pay for her lunch. ‘Thanks. I pay my own way,’ she said, presenting her own twenty.
The waitress looked from her to Alessandro and Nat couldn’t help but notice that when he wanted to, Alessandro Lombardi could indeed pull a hundred-watt smile. His face went from darkly handsome, deeply tortured widower to blatantly sexy, Roman sex god. His curved lips utterly desirable.
After another stifling night with only a fan that seemed to do nothing other than push the hot air around and little sleep, it was especially irksome.
He pushed his money closer. ‘Keep the change,’ he murmured.
Nat rolled her eyes as the waitress practically swooned as she reached for his crisp orange note. She stuffed hers back into her purse, picked up her tray in disgust and left him to it. Within seconds she could sense him shadowing her.
‘Italian women may think it’s charming to be taken care of but I don’t,’ she said, steaming ahead to a table that overlooked the rose gardens St Auburn’s was famous for. ‘So don’t pull your macho rubbish with me.’
Last time she’d let a man pay for her, she’d been sucked in to wasting five years of her life on him.
Alessandro pulled out her chair for her as she angled herself into it and ignored her glare. ‘I wanted to talk to you about Julian. I thought the least I could do was buy you lunch while you listened.’
Nat eyed him across the table. She folded her arms. She was damned if the man didn’t already know her Achilles heel. She’d spent the morning with Julian and he hadn’t seemed any worse than normal. Not that that was much reassurance. ‘Is he okay?’
Alessandro’s gaze was drawn to the way her crossed arms emphasised the shape of her breasts. She was in crèche clothes today—shorts and T-shirt—and he noticed how her shirt displayed their full, round shape to perfection. He wondered for the hundredth time how they’d feel in his hands. In his mouth.
Damn it!
That wasn’t why he was here. He was here for Julian. Not for himself. But it was fair warning that gave him pause. Nat would be very distracting should she be crazy enough to agree to his plan.
‘Of course,’ he dismissed, annoyed at himself. Seeing her confusion, he hastily added, ‘I just wanted to ask you something.’
Nat opened up her packaged egg and lettuce sandwiches and took a bite, intrigued despite herself. ‘Ask away.’
If anything, he looked more tired than she’d ever seen him. His hair look more tousled, like he’d been continually running his hands through it, and the furrows in his forehead were more prominent.
‘How come you work at both the crèche and the hospital?’
She quirked an eyebrow. Not quite what she’d been expecting. ‘You have to ask me that after Ernie?’
He regarded her for a moment. ‘So it’s a self-preservation strategy?’
‘I prefer to call it a happy medium. Too many hospital shifts and I get burnt out. But I miss it if I’m away too long.’
‘The best of both worlds?’
She shrugged. ‘I like to temper the Ernie days with the Julian days. Both workplaces let me have permanent shifts. No weekends, no night duty. Two days at St Auburn’s gives me my hospital hit, keeps my hand in, let’s me know I’m alive. Three days at the crèche restores my sanity. It keeps me Zen.’
Alessandro considered her statement. How many years had it been since he’d felt Zen? Definitely not for the last five years at least. Definitely not with her keeping him constantly off balance. ‘Do you have child-care qualifications too?’
She narrowed her eyes. Why did this suddenly feel like a job interview? ‘I’ve done my certificate and have a child health qualification.’ She cracked open the lid on her can of soft drink and eyed him over the top as she brought it to her mouth and took a swallow. ‘Why?’
Alessandro noticed the sheen to her lips and the way her tongue slid between them, lapping at the lingering moisture. He wondered what guava-and-mango-flavoured Nat tasted like.
Inferno! Concentrate, damn it!
He cleared his throat. ‘I think I have a solution to your eviction situation.’
Nat felt his gaze on her mouth as if he had actually pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes dropped of their own volition to inspect his. They were generous, soft. Lips made for kissing, made for whispering.
‘Oh, yes?’ she said cautiously, dragging her attention back to his eyes. Eyes that told her he knew exactly where hers had been.
‘You can stay with me.’ He watched her pupils dilate and her glance encompass his mouth once again. ‘And Julian.’
The canteen noises around them faded as his suggestion stunned her. Live under his roof? A man who, fully clothed, grim faced and utterly inaccessible, made her heart flutter like an epileptic butterfly? What the hell could he do to her in his own place, where the pretence of professionalism didn’t exist? Where he’d be all relaxed and homey and…wearing less. What did he wear to bed? She had the feeling he’d be a nothing kind of guy.
‘Just until you’re unit is built, of course.’
Nat blinked as her mind shied away from images of Alessandro in bed. Naked. ‘But…why? I barely know you.’
Alessandro shrugged. ‘I have the room, you need a place. And you’d be doing me a favour, helping with Julian. I haven’t been able to find a suitable live-in nanny and Julian adores you.’
She frowned. ‘You want me to be a…nanny? I already have a job. Two, actually. Which, by the way, I love.’
Alessandro shook his head. ‘No. I don’t expect you to give up your jobs. Julian can still go to the crèche but he could go and come home with you, which means he wouldn’t have such long days there. And he wouldn’t have to go on weekends and when I’m called in at night.’
Nat listened to his plan, which sounded very reasonable. So why did it seem so…illicit?
‘I’d pay you, of course. And it would be rent free.’
Of course. Nat reeled, her brain scrambling to take in his offer. She looked at him all big and dark and handsome and completely macho Italian with the added grimness that made him heart-breakingly attractive. She didn’t know much right at this second but she did know saying yes to Alessandro Lombardi was a very stupid idea.
‘No.’
Alessandro’s brows drew together. ‘You’ve had another offer?’
Nat contemplated lying. But it really wasn’t her way. Already her cheeks were growing warm just formulating a falsehood. ‘No.’
He shrugged. ‘Then it’s settled.’
Nat looked at the haughty set to his jaw and bristled at his arrogant assumptions. ‘No.’
‘I don’t understand. What’s the problem?’
The problem was that Alessandro Lombardi was a very attractive man. The mere thought of sharing a living space with him was breathtakingly intimate and already her pulse raced at the thought. She knew enough about herself to know she had a soft heart. And he was still in love with his dead wife. And she wasn’t stupid enough to get herself embroiled in that kind of scenario again.
‘Ah,’ he said as she averted her eyes from him. ‘You worry about what people will think? You have my word I have no ulterior motive. I have no…’ He searched for the right word, looking her up and down with as much dispassion as he could muster. ‘Agenda. Your virtue is safe with me.’
Because it was. His attraction was just physical, a combination of libido and abstinence. Easily tamed.
Nat felt his gaze rake her from head to toe and obviously found her wanting. She felt about as attractive as a bug. One of the really ugly ones. It wasn’t something she was used to. ‘Gossip does not bother me.’
‘Then what?’
She stared at him exasperated. The man was obviously not used to hearing no. ‘I don’t have to account to you, Alessandro,’ she said testily, placing her packaging back on her tray and rising. She wished she had any other reason for turning him down other than his irresistible sex appeal.
But she had nothing. ‘I’m sure you’re quite unused to hearing the word no. I’m sure you just snap your fingers and women fall all over themselves to do your bidding. But I’m not one of them. The answer is no. Just plain no. No equivocations, no justifications. Just no. Get used to it.’
Alessandro couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was right, once upon a time he had been a finger snapper but that had all ended with Camilla. She turned to leave and he reached across, grabbing her arm. ‘Wait. I’m sorry, Nathalie, I didn’t mean to be so…’
Nat shivered. She didn’t know if it was from his touch or the way her name sighed from his lips like a caress. She turned back. He seemed so perplexed and she felt her anger dissipate as quickly as it had risen. ‘Italian?’

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