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Italian Doctor, No Strings Attached
Kate Hardy


Dare Sydney dream of saying ‘I do’? The attraction between A&E doctors Marco Ranieri and Sydney Collins is instantaneous – and becomes a magical whirlwind affair, sweeping from London to sun-drenched Italy. It was supposed to be a strictly no-strings-attached affair – but one tiny unexpected consequence has changed all the rules.They’ve got nine months – and counting! – but will Marco ever be ready to get down on one knee…?










Praise for Kate Hardy, who writes for both Mills & Boon


Medical


Romance and Riva:

‘When you pick up a romance novel

by Kate Hardy, you know that you’re

going to be reading a spellbinding novel

which you will want to devour in a single sitting,

and A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT

is certainly no exception.’

—cataromance.com

‘NEUROSURGEON … AND MUM!

is a spellbinding tearjerker readers will want

to read again and again. Written with plenty

of sensitivity, understanding and heart,

NEUROSURGEON … AND MUM! is the latest

winner by this outstanding storyteller!’

—cataromance.com

‘SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH:

I spent a lovely morning with this book, and I’d

advise you to do likewise. Get it. You’ll love it.

An unrestrained … Grade A.’

—goodbadandunread.com

‘PLAYBOY BOSS, PREGNANCY OF PASSION:

this story features a strong heroine who

gains strength from her family, and a hero

who realises the importance of love and family

before it’s too late. Add in their captivating

romance and it makes for one great read.’

—RT Book Reviews




About the Author


KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical™ Romances for nearly five years now, and also writes for Mills & Boon


Riva. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!

Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com


Also by Kate Hardy:

Medical™ Romance

ST PIRAN’S: THE FIREMAN AND NURSE LOVEDAY**

A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT

NEUROSURGEON … AND MUM!

THE DOCTOR’S LOST-AND-FOUND BRIDE

FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY MILLIONAIRE†



Mills & Boon


Riva

RED WINE AND HER SEXY EX*

CHAMPAGNE WITH A CELEBRITY*

GOOD GIRL OR GOLD-DIGGER?

*Château Lefèvrelinked duo **St Piran’s Hospital †The Brides of Penhally Bay

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Italian Doctor,

No Strings

Attached

Kate Hardy






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


For Michelle




CHAPTER ONE


FACE the fear.

Sydney faced the fear every single day of her life. Every day she made life-or-death decisions. Abseiling down the tower of the London Victoria hospital, to raise funds for specialist equipment for the emergency department, should be a breeze. She had a sheet full of sponsor signatures, with a large amount of money at stake. There was no question that she wouldn’t do it. How could she possibly back out now?

But then she looked down. Over the edge. There was a white stone cornice and then … nothing.

For two hundred and fifty feet.

Back in the department, two months ago, this had seemed like a brilliant idea. Right here and now, she knew it was the most stupid, ridiculous thing she’d ever done. She sneaked another look at the edge, hoping that her fairy godmother was passing with some sparkly dust and the drop would look a bit less scary.

It didn’t.

And there was no way that she could make herself walk backwards over the edge. OK, so she had a harness on, and a hard hat. The ropes were belayed, or whatever the technical term was, and the experts weren’t going to let her fall. She knew that. All she had to do was go backwards over the edge and walk down the building.

But she still couldn’t move her feet.

‘It’s OK, Sydney. You can do it. Just one tiny step back.’

One tiny step backwards. Over the edge. She couldn’t even reply to the man who’d just spoken to her: the instructor who’d explained carefully to her just what she had to do to get off the top of the tower and go all the way down to the bottom. Her brain was refusing to process his name. Refusing to do anything.

Oh, help.

She couldn’t step back. Couldn’t step forwards, either, and let the team down.

Why, why, why had she agreed to be the first person down? Whatever had possessed her? Why had she thought it would boost her confidence in herself? She must’ve been mad. No way could she do this. She was stuck.

Then another man joined the instructor at the edge. ‘Hi.’

She’d never seen him before. The part of her mind that wasn’t completely frozen in fear thought how gorgeous he was, with eyes colour of melted chocolate, dark hair, and an olive complexion. He reminded her a bit of an actor she had a huge crush on and her friends in the department were always teasing her about.

‘I’m Marco.’

And his voice was even more gorgeous than his face: just the hint of an accent, incredibly sexy.

He’d introduced himself to her. Now she was supposed to speak. But, just like her feet, her mouth was frozen and it wasn’t going to let any proper words out.

‘You’re Sydney, yes?’

‘Uh.’

Clearly he took the little squeak of fear as meaning yes. ‘OK. What we’re going to do now is sing together, Sydney.’

What? How on earth was singing going to help her frozen feet move?

‘How about Tom Petty’s “Free Falling”?’ he suggested.

Not funny. So not funny. And just what any of her colleagues would’ve suggested. Clearly climbing people shared the same kind of dark humour as medics. Falling. Uh. She gave him a look of pure loathing.

He grinned. ‘At least you’re not doing this face down, tesoro. That’s a bonus. And singing’s going to take your mind off it and help you down, I promise.’

He sounded a lot more confident than she felt.

‘If I start, will you join in?’

She managed a nod, and in return got a full-wattage smile. If her knees hadn’t been frozen, they would definitely have gone weak.

‘That’s great, tesoro. You’re going to sing with me. And you’re going to keep your right hand behind your back, holding the static line, and just take one tiny step back. You’ll feel yourself go down a little bit, but don’t worry, that’s fine—it’s just the tension in the ropes letting you move. The line’s going to take your weight. And then you move your right hand out to your side, and it’ll give you the slack to start walking down. If you need to stop, just move your hand behind your back again. Got it?’

She nodded again.

‘Excellent. Do you know the song “Walking on Sunshine”?’

She could almost hear it in her head, infectious and upbeat, a real summer anthem.

Another nod.

He smiled and began singing. To her amazement, he even hummed the intro, mimicking the tune of the brass section—and then she found herself joining in.

They got to the first chorus. ‘One step back,’ he encouraged during the bit where he was meant to sing the ‘woh-ohs’.

Somehow she did it. Took a step backwards.

Everything lurched, but then it was stable again.

And he was still singing. Still keeping her company. Still with her.

She could do this.

Her voice sounded thready, but she was singing back. And she was walking. Not on sunshine, but against brick.

How she actually got down the building was a blur, but at last she was at the bottom. Her legs were shaking, so were her hands, and she could barely unclip the harness and move out of the way so the next person could abseil down the building and land safely.

‘So are you going next?’ the instructor asked.

‘Me?’ It had been a while since Marco had abseiled. But a building in the middle of London was going to be a lot safer than the last abseil he’d done at home, down the cliffs in Capri. Apart from anything else, they didn’t have to worry about the tide coming in and causing problems with landing.

He glanced at his watch. Well, it’d be almost as quick as taking the lift. And nobody was going to notice any creases in his suit caused by the abseil harness once they were in the thick of things in the emergency department. ‘I’m not on your list,’ he warned, ‘so it’s going to put you off schedule.’

‘Not as far off as we would’ve been if you hadn’t talked Sydney down,’ the instructor pointed out. ‘So are you next?’

He wasn’t technically part of the department for another half an hour, and he didn’t have a sponsor form; but that wasn’t a problem. He’d sponsor himself for the same amount as any of the other registrars had raised. He grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m next. Thanks.’

It didn’t take long to buckle on the harness. And going over the edge, he felt the whole adrenalin rush as he stepped backwards into nothing. It was the first time he’d really felt alive since Sienna’s death.

By the time he reached the bottom of the tower, the rush had filled his entire body.

And the first person he saw when his feet touched the ground was Sydney. The woman he’d talked over the edge. The woman who’d been full of fear, and still looked slightly dazed.

He unbuckled the harness. ‘Hey. Are you OK?’ he asked softly.

OK? No. Sydney was still shaking all over. ‘Yes,’ she lied.

Then she made the mistake of looking up. It was him. Mr Gorgeous from the top of the tower. He’d just done exactly what she’d done, and he wasn’t a nervous mess. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

Get a grip, she told herself, and took a deep breath. ‘Thanks for talking—well, singing—me down.’

‘No problem.’ He looked concerned. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘I have to be—I’m on duty in a few minutes.’ And she would be OK. She never let anything get in the way of work.

He touched her face gently with the backs of his fingers. ‘I take it this was your first time?’

She nodded. ‘And last. Next time one of our consultants gets a bright idea, I’m paying up and bailing out.’

He smiled. ‘The adrenalin rush hasn’t kicked in yet, then.’

‘What adrenalin?’

‘Look up,’ he said softly.

She did, and saw someone slowly walking backwards over the top of the tower.

‘You just did that,’ he said.

‘And I was stuck. Scared witless. I froze up there.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t think I was scared of heights or anything like that. I’ve never frozen like that before.’ Not even when she’d had the MRI scan and they’d told her the bad news. She’d managed to find a bright side. Up there had been simply terrifying.

‘But you still did it. Which makes you amazing, in my book.’

‘Amazing?’ It had been a long, long while since someone had called her amazing.

‘Amazing,’ he confirmed. ‘People like me, who do this for fun—we’re not brave. The ones with real courage are people who do it even when they’re scared, because they’re doing it to make a difference. People like you.’

Sydney wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but then his hands were cupping her face and his mouth was brushing lightly against hers. Warm and sweet and promising—and then suddenly it spiralled into something completely different. Something hot and sensual and mind-blowing.

Or maybe that was what he’d meant by ‘adrenalin rush’.

When he broke the kiss, she was still shaking—but this time for a different reason. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel like this. And that in itself was incredibly scary.

‘Now your eyes are sparkling,’ he said softly.

‘That’s the adrenalin rush,’ she said swiftly, not wanting him to think that it was his effect on her.

‘Yeah.’ He laughed. ‘Well. Good to meet you, Sydney. And although I’d love to stay a bit longer and talk, I’d better go, because I’m starting my new job in less than twenty minutes.’

New job? It had to be at the hospital, or he wouldn’t have been up the London Victoria’s tower in the first place.

‘Nice to meet you, too. Good luck with your first shift. Which department are you working in?’ she asked.

‘Emergency.’

‘Me, too.’ It suddenly clicked. Marco. She’d been too frozen with fear to take it in before. ‘You’re Dr Ranieri, our new registrar?’ The guy on secondment from Rome.

He inclined his head. ‘Though I prefer first name terms.’

‘Sydney Collins. And I’m a much better doctor than I am an abseiler. Pleased to meet you—properly, this time.’ She held her hand out for him to shake.

Clearly she was still wobbly from the abseiling, because her knees went weak again at the touch of his skin against hers and the memory of that kiss made her skin burn.

‘So how long have you worked here?’ he asked.

‘Five years—since I qualified and did my two years’ pre-reg training. It’s a really nice department to work in. Everyone’s great. Except possibly Max Fenton, who suggested we did this abseil in the first place.’ She pulled a face. ‘I think I’ve gone off him.’

Marco laughed. ‘No, you haven’t. He’s a nice guy.’

‘His wife’s nice, too—Marina. Have you met her yet? She’s Italian, too. She’s working part time at the moment, and then she’s off on maternity leave again in a couple of months.’ She paused. ‘So you’ve done a lot of climbing and abseiling?’

He shrugged. ‘What can I say? I went through a phase of doing extreme sports.’

‘You did that sort of thing for pleasure? Are you insane?’ She shuddered. ‘I’m going to have nightmares tonight.’

He just laughed, and Sydney looked at him. He really did have lovely eyes. And a beautiful mouth. Not that she should be thinking about that kiss. It hadn’t meant anything; it had just been adrenalin whizzing through her system. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Not any more. ‘Do you sing many people down like that?’

‘Not on an abseil, no—it’s usually to distract little ones in the department, because it stops them being scared.’

‘Fair point.’ It was a technique she used, too. ‘Though I normally get them to sing “Old Macdonald Had a Farm” or something like that.’

He laughed again. ‘Ah, the song choice. I picked that one because it’s a happy song. It always makes me think of driving with the roof down on a summer day.’

Sydney looked at him and took in the quality of his clothes. It was a fair bet that he owned an open-topped sports car. Gorgeous to look at, a nice guy, and beautifully dressed: he was going to have women sighing over him everywhere he walked.

Though not her. She didn’t sigh over men, any more. She’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t worth the effort: the only person she could really rely on was herself.

‘I take it you’re meeting Ellen now?’ On his first day, of course he’d be meeting the head of the department. At his nod, she said, ‘I can show you to her office, if you like.’

‘Thanks, that’d be good.’

Sydney Collins was absolutely gorgeous. Chestnut hair cut into a short bob, eyes the colour of the shallow bay near his family home in Capri, and a sweet, heart-shaped face. Better still, she didn’t have the ‘look at me’ attitude that Marco disliked in women who spent hours on their appearance. Now that she wasn’t panicking about the abseil, Sydney had turned out to be good company, lively and bright. He liked her instinctively.

And that kiss … He still didn’t know why he’d done it; he wasn’t in the habit of going round kissing complete strangers. The adrenalin rush from the abseil, maybe. But his mouth was still tingling, and he’d felt that zing between them when she’d shaken his hand. There’d been a look of surprise in her eyes, so he was pretty sure it was a mutual zing.

His head was telling him this was absolutely mad—he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He didn’t want one. And yet his heart was saying something else entirely. That he hadn’t felt a connection like this for so long: he should seize the moment and put some fun back into his life.

‘Here we are,’ Sydney said with a smile as they reached Ellen’s office. ‘No doubt I’ll see you in the department later.’

‘Sure. Thanks for bringing me here.’

‘My pleasure. And thank you for getting me off the top of that wretched tower,’ she replied. She smiled again, gave him a tiny wave, and headed off to the department.

So, this was it. Meeting the director of the emergency department again, and starting his new job. Six months of working in the busiest department of one of the busiest hospitals in London. And he relished the challenge.

He knocked on Ellen’s door.

‘Come in,’ the director called. She smiled at him when he walked in. ‘Have a seat. Was that Sydney I just saw with you?’

‘Yes. She showed me the way here.’

‘I gather you rescued her earlier.’

He blinked. ‘Wow. The hospital grapevine here is fast.’

‘It certainly is.’ Ellen laughed. ‘I guess it’s one way of meeting your new team. Syd’s not a registrar yet, but she’s well on the way and she’ll be a good support for you.’ She gave him a speculative look. ‘And I hear you have a good singing voice. You do realise you’re going to get nagged into being part of the ED revue if we can get you to extend your secondment and stay past Christmas, don’t you?’

He smiled. ‘Not a problem. And maybe I can persuade some of the non-singers into forming a choir.’

‘I have a feeling you might just manage that.’ She smiled at him. ‘Come on, let me show you round and introduce you to everyone.’

He’d met half the team when a trolley came round the corner, a paramedic on one side and Sydney on the other; clearly they were heading towards Resus.

He caught snippets of their conversation as the handover continued. ‘Knocked off his bike … helmet saved him … broken arm … ribs …’

Given the situation, there was a very high chance that the cyclist would have a pneumothorax. And he’d dealt with enough cycling accidents in his time to be useful here. He glanced at Ellen. ‘Mind if I …?’

‘I was going to put you on Cubicles, to ease you in gently.’ She spread her hands. ‘But if you want to hit the ground running, that’s fine by me. And you’ve already met Syd, so I don’t have to introduce you. Go for it.’

‘Thank you.’ He quickened his pace slightly and caught Sydney up. ‘Hey. Would another pair of hands be useful right now?’

‘Considering that the driver of the car’s due in the next ambulance, yes, please,’ she said.

Within seconds Marco had swapped his suit jacket for a white coat. Although technically he was the senior doctor, he knew that Sydney had been part of the team for longer and knew her way round. ‘I’ll follow your lead.’

She looked surprised, and then pleased. ‘OK. Thank you.’ She turned to their patient. ‘Colin, this is Dr Ranieri, our registrar. He’s going to help me treat you. We’re going to sort your pain relief first and make you more comfortable, then we can assess you properly.’

He noticed that she didn’t use Entonox; clearly she suspected a pneumothorax as well, so she was using a painkiller that wouldn’t make the condition worse.

‘Where does it hurt most, Colin?’ she asked.

‘My arm. And my ribs.’

Colin was definitely getting more breathless, Marco noticed, and finding it harder to speak.

Sydney listened to his chest. ‘Decreased air entry,’ she mouthed to Marco.

‘Needle decompression?’ he mouthed back.

She nodded.

His first instinct was to offer to do it, but he wanted to see how she worked; besides, given her throwaway comment about being a better doctor than abseiler, he had a feeling she needed to do this—that she needed to prove to him that she was good at her job and not some weak lightweight who couldn’t cope. And he could always step in if she needed help.

‘I’ll hand you the stuff and keep an eye on the monitors,’ he said.

‘Thanks. Colin, I know you’re finding it hard to breathe, so I’m going to put an oxygen mask on you to make it easier for you.’ Gently, she put the mask on. ‘At the moment, you’ve got air moving into the space around your lungs and it’s causing pressure. I need to take it off; that means I’m going to have to put a needle in, but it’s not going to hurt. Is that OK?’

Colin gave a weary nod.

Marco handed her a cannula.

‘Thanks, Marco.’ She smiled in acknowledgement, and for a second Marco was lost in a mad memory about what her mouth had felt like against his.

But this wasn’t the time or the place to think about that. They had a seriously ill patient who needed their help.

She inserted the cannula in the second intercostal space, withdrew the needle and listened for the hiss of gas. ‘Great, that’s it,’ she said. ‘Colin, now I need to put a chest drain in, to take off any fluid and gases that shouldn’t be there and keep you comfortable.’ She explained the procedure swiftly to him. ‘I’m going to give you extra pain relief so you’re not going to feel anything, but I need your consent for me to treat you.’

Colin lifted the mask away. ‘Do whatever you have to. I’m in your hands,’ he mumbled.

‘OK, sweetheart. I promise I’m going to be as gentle as I can.’

Stella, one of the senior nurses, cleaned Colin’s skin and covered it with sterile drapes. Marco handed Sydney the syringe and she injected local anaesthetic, prepared the chest drain and then inserted it. He was impressed by how smoothly and confidently she did it; Ellen had been spot on in her assessment of the younger doctor’s skills.

He kept an eye on the monitors. ‘Heart and BP are both fine. Do you want me to write up the notes as you do the assessment?’

‘That’d be good. Thanks.’

She checked Colin over very gently and Marco wrote up the notes as she went. ‘Suspected multiple rib fractures,’ she said, ‘but no sign of a flail segment. That’s good news, Colin.’ She checked the distal pulses and the sensation in his broken arm. ‘I think you’ve fractured your elbow, so I’m going to refer you to our orthopaedic surgeon to fix that for you.’ Finally, she took a sample for blood gases.

‘OK, Colin, I’m all done here. I’m going to send you for chest X-ray so we can check out your ribs; I think you’ve broken several, but hopefully they’re not complicated breaks. I also want to check out your arm properly for the surgeon. Is there anyone we can call for you while you’re in X-Ray?’

‘My wife, Janey.’ He rattled off a number, which Marco wrote down.

‘I’ll call her,’ Sydney promised.

‘And I’ll take you to X-Ray,’ Marco said.

‘Do you know where it is?’ Sydney mouthed, so Colin couldn’t see.

‘I can read the signs,’ Marco mouthed back with a grin.

She gave him the cheekiest wink he’d ever seen, and he was still smiling by the time he got to the X-ray department.

She was working on the driver of the car when he got back to Resus, and sent him off for observation for possible concussion. By the time she’d finished, Colin’s X-rays were ready on the system for review.

‘Want to look at these with me?’ she asked.

‘Sure.’

She peered closely at the screen. ‘Hmm. Not all fractures show up on a chest X-ray, but it looks as if I’m right and it’s not flail chest, so that’s a good start.’ She grimaced at the X-ray of Colin’s elbow. ‘That’s a mess. It’s going to need fixators. I’ll refer him to the orthopods and warn them that he’s already had a pneumothorax.’

She went back over to Colin. ‘I’ve had a look at the X-rays. The good news is that your ribs will heal by themselves, though it’s going to be a bit painful for you over the next few days. But your elbow’s going to need pinning, so I’m going to take you out to one of the cubicles to wait for the orthopaedic surgeon, and he’ll take you to Theatre to fix your arm.’

Colin removed the oxygen mask. ‘Janey?’

‘She’s on her way. And if you’re already in Theatre by the time she gets here, our receptionists know to call me, and I’ll take her up to the right waiting area and make sure she’s looked after.’

‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded choked. ‘I …’

She laid her hand on his uninjured arm to reassure him. ‘It’s OK. That’s what I’m here for. You’re going to be sore for a while, but it could’ve been an awful lot worse. Everything’s going to be fine now,’ she soothed.

The rest of the shift was equally busy, and Marco thoroughly enjoyed the rush and the challenge. Moving to London for six months was the best thing he could’ve done. There were no memories here, no ghosts to haunt him. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally start to move on with his life after two years of being numbed by guilt.

At the end of the shift, he saw Sydney outside the restroom. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ She smiled at him. ‘So did you enjoy your first day?’

‘Yes. You were right—it’s a nice department.’ He smiled back. ‘And you’re definitely a better doctor than you are an abseiler.’ He’d liked the way she worked: confident, efficient, but most importantly putting the patients first and making them comfortable. Her people skills were top-notch. ‘I was wondering—are you busy?’

She looked slightly wary. ‘Busy?’

‘If you’re not, I thought maybe we could do something tonight.’

Her expression grew warier still. ‘What, a welcome to the team thing?’

‘No, just you and me.’ He paused. There was a question he really had to ask before this went any further. ‘Unless you have a significant other?’




CHAPTER TWO


SYDNEY’S head was telling her that this was a bad, bad idea. Going out with Marco—just the two of them. But she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head. The way he’d made her feel, those little sparkles of pleasure running through her as his mouth had moved over hers. Maybe it was the adrenalin rush from the abseil still scrambling her common sense, but it had been too long since she’d let herself have fun.

He was only going to be at the London Victoria for six months. And he was asking her out on a date, not suggesting a long-term commitment. So on a need-to-know basis he didn’t actually have to know about her neurofibromatosis, did he?

There was only one other reason she could think of why she ought to say no. ‘We work together. It’s usually not a good idea to date someone in your department,’ she hedged. ‘Things can get a bit—well, awkward.’

‘We’re both adults,’ he said softly, ‘and I think we can be professional enough to keep what happens outside work completely separate from what happens inside work.’ He paused, keeping eye contact. ‘So will you have dinner with me tonight?’

Clearly the adrenalin from the abseil was still affecting her head, because Sydney found herself returning his smile. ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

‘How about we go out now, straight from work?’ he suggested. ‘Then neither of us has to go home, dress up and drag ourselves out again.’

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Marco, you’re already way more dressed up than anyone else in the department. I hate to think what your definition of “dressing up” might be.’

He laughed. ‘Before they retired, my parents designed clothes. My older brother and sister run the business now, and they tend to use me as a clothes horse—which is fine by me, because it means I never have to drag myself round the clothes shops, and my wardrobe’s always stocked.’

‘What happens if they give you something you really hate wearing?’ she asked, sounding curious.

‘They only did that when I dated their favourite model,’ he said. ‘To make the point that they didn’t approve.’

‘So you’re an Italian playboy,’ she teased.

‘Sometimes,’ he teased back. ‘Actually, I’m starving. Where do you recommend we go?’

‘Normally if I go straight from work it’s to a pizza place or a trattoria.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that I’d dare suggest either of those to an Italian.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not that fussy.’

‘Do you like Chinese food?’

‘I love it.’

‘Good. Then I know just the place.’

The restaurant wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic; it was very workmanlike, with bright lighting, but the food was terrific and Marco was glad that she’d suggested sharing several dishes. Well, apart from the fact that their hands kept accidentally meeting as they served themselves, because the touch of her skin against his was sending little flashes of desire up and down his spine—desire he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He had a feeling that she was affected in just the same way, because her pupils were huge; in this harsh lighting, he’d expect them to be almost pinpoint.

He really hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this attracted to someone. The times he’d dated during the past year had been in a failed attempt to forget Sienna, and the relationships had fizzled out by the end of the second date.

But there was something about Sydney. Something that felt different. Something that intrigued him and made him want to know more.

‘So are you enjoying London?’ she asked.

‘Very much.’

‘What made you decide to come to England?’

‘It was a good opportunity,’ Marco prevaricated. He could hardly tell her the truth—that he’d needed to get away from Rome. Away from the memories, away from the guilt. Two years of toughing it out had just worn him down, and all that trying hadn’t stopped the bad feelings. At least here he didn’t have to think about it all the time. He could simply block it out, because he and Sienna had never been to London and there were no memories of her here to haunt him. ‘It’s one of the busiest departments in one of the busiest hospitals in London. It’ll be good experience for me and, when I go back to Rome, I’ll have a better chance of promotion.’

Last time he’d been promoted, it had ended in heartache. In his life falling apart completely. Next time, he was determined it would be different.

He kept the conversation light until the meal had ended. ‘Can I see you home?’ he asked.

Her eyes widened slightly. Fear? he wondered. But why would she be afraid of him? Worried that he was taking this too fast, maybe?

‘That wasn’t a clumsy way of saying I’m expecting you to take me to bed just because I took you out to dinner tonight,’ he said softly. ‘You’re female, and you had dinner with me, so I need to see you home safely. That’s all.’

That made her smile. ‘That’s very gallant of you. Old-fashioned, even.’

‘It’s how I was brought up.’

‘Nice manners. I like that.’ She bit her lip. ‘And thank you.’

He frowned. ‘For what?’

‘For not taking this thing between us too fast. I’m …’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not really used to dating. I’ve been focused on my career.’

‘I’m not really used to dating, either.’ He’d been in a relationship with the same woman since he was eighteen. Since his first day at university. Until the day two years ago when he’d taken that phone call and his world had fallen apart. ‘And I’ve just started a new job in a new hospital.’

‘And a new country,’ she finished.

He nodded. ‘So. This thing between you and me—no pressure. We’ll just see where it takes us, yes?’

‘Thank you. That works for me,’ she said softly.

When they reached her flat, she looked at him. ‘If you want to come in for a coffee, you’re welcome.’

‘Coffee meaning just coffee,’ he checked.

She smiled, and he was glad to see a tiny bit of the wariness fade from her eyes. So had she had a bad experience with someone who’d pushed her too far, too fast? Was that why she avoided dating and concentrated on her career—why she’d thanked him for not taking this too fast? Not that it was any of his business; and now really wasn’t the right time to ask.

He followed her into the kitchen, noting that her flat was small but neat. There were lots of photographs everywhere, and they were people who looked quite like her; clearly she was as close to her family as he was to his. Another thing they had in common.

‘I’m afraid it’s only instant coffee,’ she said as she switched the kettle on.

‘Instant’s fine.’

She gave him a sidelong look. ‘I bet you only have fresh coffee at your place.’

He laughed. ‘Yes. But I’ve been either a medical student or a doctor for sixteen years, so I’ve learned not to be too particular. Coffee’s coffee.’

‘I do have something to go with it.’ She rummaged in the fridge and produced a box. ‘My bad habit.’

‘Chocolate?’

‘Better than chocolate,’ she said with a smile.

He looked more closely at the packaging, and smiled as he recognised it. One of his own bad habits, too. ‘Gianduja. I’m impressed. You’re a woman of taste.’

She gestured to him to sit down at her kitchen table, and put some music on: a solo female singer, backed by guitar and piano, gentle stuff that he rather liked.

‘How do you like your coffee?’

‘Strong, no milk, please.’

She handed him a mug, and sat down next to him. But then they reached for a piece of gianduja at the same time and their fingers touched. He saw the sudden shock in her eyes, the way her mouth parted as if inviting a kiss.

And he really, really wanted to kiss her. Just like he had after the abseil. He needed to feel her mouth beneath hers, warm and soft and sweet and generous.

Except she’d thanked him earlier for not taking things too fast.

So, instead, he took her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm and folded her fingers over it.

‘What was that for?’ she asked. The wariness was back in her eyes.

‘Because I’m trying very hard not to take this too fast,’ he said. ‘This is a compromise. A kiss that won’t scare you off.’ A kiss that wouldn’t scare him off, either, if he was honest about it. The way she made him feel was unsettling, something he really wasn’t used to. His head was telling him that this was a seriously bad idea; did he really want to put himself back in a position where he could lose someone? Hadn’t he already learned that the hard and painful way? And yet there was something about her he couldn’t resist. Her warmth. Her sweetness.

Colour bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I feel like such a wimp.’

‘About this morning. Just so you know,’ he said, ‘I don’t make a habit of going around kissing complete strangers.’

‘Neither do I.’ The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘And I kissed you back.’

And he could see in her eyes that she’d enjoyed it as much as he had. That she, like him, had mixed feelings: part of her wanted to see where this took them, and part of her wanted to run back to her safety zone. ‘Tell me,’ he coaxed gently. ‘You feel the same thing, don’t you? Something you weren’t expecting or looking for, and maybe it scares the hell out of you because your head’s saying you don’t need the complications. But it’s there and you can’t get me out of your head—just as I can’t get you out of mine, and I’ve been thinking about you ever since I first met you.’

He could see in her expression that she was thinking about denying it; but then she gave in. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, her voice husky. ‘To all of that.’

He stroked the backs of her fingers with the pad of his thumb. ‘I like you, Sydney. You’re calm and you’re good with the patients. I like that. And you’re good company—well, when you’re not stuck on an abseiling rope.’

She groaned. ‘I’m never going to live that down, am I?’

‘If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would’ve said it was a vicious rumour. Someone as calm and confident and efficient as you, panicking. But it’s nice to know you’re not really superwoman. That you have panicky moments, like the rest of us.’

She blinked. ‘You’re telling me that you have panicky moments? I’m not buying that one. I’ve worked with you. OK, so you let me lead, this afternoon, but we both know you have more experience than I do. You were being nice and trying to restore my confidence after the abseil.’

Oh. So she’d picked that up. ‘Mmm,’ he admitted.

‘And I appreciated it. Because it worked.’

‘Good.’ He paused. ‘Do you trust me as a doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s a start. And so’s this.’ He leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. Briefly. Sweetly.

And the second he felt her lips part slightly, he was lost. He couldn’t pull away. He gave in to the desperate need to kiss her properly. Within moments, she was kissing him back, her hands were cradling his face, and it felt as if stars were exploding in his head.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both shaking.

This really wasn’t supposed to happen, Sydney thought.I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. This was meant to be just putting a bit of fun back into my life. Seizing the moment. Enjoying a casual date. And now I’m way out of my depth, because I want this to go further—a lot further—and I think he feels the same way.

Which means I’m going to have to tell him the truth about me.

Ice trickled down her spine. Down the scar. The physical reminder of the thing that had smashed up her marriage. The thing that had stopped her having a relationship since her marriage had broken up, because the scar on her back and the ugly patch of skin on her arm were constant reminders of Craig’s betrayal and the reasons behind it, making her want to keep her distance. And there was no way she could bluff her way through it, because if she went to bed with Marco it would mean getting naked. That he’d touch her. Look at her. He’d either feel the scar tissue or see it for himself—and then he’d ask questions. Of course he would. Anyone would be curious. And then … oh, hell, then she’d have to be honest.

She really owed it to him to be honest now. So he knew exactly what he was getting into, if he started seeing her.

But the words stuck miserably in her throat and refused to come out.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘Well, I’m not sorry for kissing you. I enjoyed it. But I am sorry for pushing you out of your comfort zone, for taking this faster than you’re happy with.’

‘I’m sorry, too,’ she whispered. ‘For—for being such a coward.’

He stroked her face. ‘You’re not a coward. I’m rushing you. So I’ll go home now.’ He took her hand again, kissed her palm and folded her fingers over his kiss, just as he had before. ‘And I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

‘OK.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you for this evening. I enjoyed it.’

‘So did I.’ The expression in his eyes was so sweet, so gentle, that Sydney was close to tears. She ached to be able to trust. To be normal. To be whole.

But that wasn’t going to happen. And somehow, she was going to have to find the right words to tell him tomorrow at work.

The truth.




CHAPTER THREE


‘HEY, Syd!’ One of the junior doctors met Marco and Sydney in the corridor on their way to Cubicles the next morning. ‘Got a question for you. Who’s the abseilers’ favourite singer?’ He grinned, looking pleased with himself. ‘Cliff Richard.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Pete, that’s terrible.’

He laughed. ‘I’ll pay up my sponsorship at lunchtime.’

‘Yes, and you can pay double if you make any more abseiling jokes,’ she threatened, laughing back. ‘Though I’ve got one for you. Two drums and a cymbal abseiled down a cliff. Boom, ba-doom, tssssh.’

‘Oh, that’s brilliant.’ Pete gave her a high five. ‘If I have any kids on my list today, I’m so going to use that one.’

Yet more things to like about her, Marco thought. Sydney didn’t overreact to good-natured teasing, and she thought on her feet. The more he saw of her, the more he liked.

He knew that she liked him, too, from the way she’d responded to his kiss last night. Then something had spooked her. Bad memories, maybe? Perhaps he could get her to open up to him.

Though that made him the biggest hypocrite in the world, because no way was he planning to open up and talk about Sienna.

Later, he told himself. Work, first.

Their first patient that morning was an elderly woman complaining of abdominal pain. It was a symptom common to a very wide range of conditions, making it difficult to diagnose what the problem was.

‘Mrs Kane, I’m Marco Ranieri and this is Sydney Collins,’ he said. ‘We’re going to find out what’s making your stomach hurt, and make you much more comfortable. How long have you been feeling like this?’

‘A couple of days. I wasn’t going to bother you, but then it started hurting when the postman came, and he called the ambulance.’

‘May we examine you?’ he asked. ‘We’ll be as gentle as we can, if you can tell us where it hurts most.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Gently, Marco examined her. There wasn’t any guarding or localised tenderness: just general abdominal pain.

Sydney checked her temperature. ‘You don’t have any sign of fever, Mrs Kane.’

Which ruled out a couple of things, but he still had a few questions. ‘I know this is personal, and I’m sorry, but may I ask when you last went to the toilet and passed a stool?’

Mrs Kane thought about it. ‘A couple of days ago. I tried yesterday and couldn’t,’ she said.

Constipation could cause stomach pain; but Marco instinctively knew it wasn’t that. There was more she wasn’t telling them.

‘Can I ask what you’ve eaten lately?’

Mrs Kane made a face. ‘I haven’t really been hungry.’

‘Have you been sick at all, Mrs Kane?’ Sydney asked.

‘No. I thought I was going to be, yesterday, but then I had a drink of water and I was all right.’

‘Again, I apologise for the personal question, but have you needed to wee more often?’ Sydney asked.

‘A bit.’ Mrs Kane wrinkled her nose. ‘But that’s my age, isn’t it?’

‘Could be,’ Sydney said with a smile. She caught Marco’s eye. ‘Quick word?’ she mouthed.

‘Mrs Kane, we just need to check something out, and then we’ll come back to see you, if that’s OK?’ Marco asked.

At her nod, he followed Sydney out of the cubicle.

‘I know appendicitis is much more common in teenagers and young adults, but I have a feeling about this,’ Sydney said.

‘I agree. The presentation of appendicitis doesn’t tend to be typical in very young or elderly patients—and if her appendix is retrocaecal, then it won’t show up as pain moving from around her navel to the right iliac fossa.’

‘And needing to wee more frequently—it could be an inflamed appendix irritating her ureter.’

‘We’re going to have to do a PR exam,’ Marco said.

‘It’d be more tactful if I do it,’ Sydney said.

‘Do you mind?’

She shrugged. ‘That’s what teamwork’s for. Keeping our patient as comfortable as possible.’

They went back into the cubicle. ‘Mrs Kane, we need to give you an internal exam,’ Marco said, ‘and then maybe a blood test and possibly a scan to give us a better idea of what’s causing your pain—we want to rule out a couple of possibilities.’ Diverticulitis and cancer were uppermost in his mind, though he wasn’t going to alarm his patient by mentioning them at this stage.

‘As an internal exam’s a bit personal,’ Sydney said. ‘Would you prefer me to do it?’

Mrs Kane looked grateful. ‘Thank you.’

‘Marco, if you can excuse us a moment?’ she asked.

‘Of course. Give me a shout when you need me,’ Marco said, and left the cubicle.

‘Ow, that makes my tummy hurt,’ Mrs Kane said during the exam.

Bingo: just what Sydney had expected to hear. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t intending to make it hurt. Let’s make you more comfortable.’ She helped the elderly lady restore order to her clothes and sit up. ‘I think your appendix is inflamed and we’re going to need to take it out.’ She wasn’t going to worry Mrs Kane by telling her, but elderly people were more prone to complications—and there was a higher risk of dying from a perforated appendix. ‘Though sometimes we suspect appendicitis and it turns out that the appendix is perfectly healthy, so before I send you off to the surgeon I want to do a couple more tests, if that’s OK?’

‘Are they going to hurt?’

‘You might feel a scratch when I take some blood,’ Sydney said, ‘but the scan definitely won’t hurt.’

The blood tests came back with a high white cell count, and the CT scan showed Marco and Sydney exactly what they’d expected. ‘Definitely an inflamed appendix,’ Marco said.

They reassured Mrs Kane that the operation was done by keyhole surgery nowadays, so she’d recover relatively quickly, and introduced her to the surgeon, who also spent time reassuring her before taking her up to Theatre himself.

‘Good call,’ Marco said to Sydney.

‘Thanks, but I could’ve been wrong—you know as well as I do how difficult it is to diagnose abdominal pain in elderly patients.’ She shrugged. ‘I just happened to read a few journal articles about it recently and they stuck in my mind.’

‘Still a good call,’ he said with a smile.

There was barely time for a break during the day; at the end of their shift, Marco caught Sydney just as she was leaving the hospital. ‘What shift are you on tomorrow?’

‘Late,’ she said.

‘Me, too.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do you fancy going to the cinema tonight?’

This was where she should make some excuse. Especially as she still hadn’t found the right words to tell him about her condition.

But would it really hurt to see a film with him? And maybe afterwards they could talk. Was it so wrong of her to want just a couple more hours of fun, of enjoying his company, of enjoying being someone’s girlfriend again? ‘That’d be lovely.’

He took out his mobile phone and pulled the local cinema’s details onto the screen. ‘Drama or comedy?’

Given what she was going to tell him tonight, she could do with some light relief first. ‘Comedy—if that’s OK with you.’

‘It’s fine.’ He consulted the screen. ‘It starts at eight. Pick you up at half seven?’

‘I’ve got a few things to sort out at home. Can I meet you there at quarter to?’

He smiled. ‘Sure. I’ll buy the tickets and you buy the popcorn.’

She smiled back. ‘Deal.’

Even though the film was one she’d wanted to see and starred one of her favourite actors, Sydney found it hard to concentrate. Firstly because she still hadn’t worked out a gentle way of telling him about the neurofibromatosis, and secondly because they’d finished the popcorn and Marco was holding her hand.

Just holding her hand.

How could such a light, gentle contact set all her nerve endings tingling? How could it make her whole body feel liquid with desire? How?

By the time they got back to her flat, Sydney was almost quivering with need.

She had to tell him. Now. Before things went any further. It wasn’t fair to let him think there could be any possibility of a future between them, when she knew she had nothing to offer him.

‘Marco—’ she began as she opened her front door.

‘I know,’ he said softly.

He knew? What? How could he possibly know? The only people at work who knew about her condition were Ellen and the consultants, and there was no way they would’ve broken her confidence.

And then she stopped thinking as Marco cupped her face with his hands and brought his mouth down on hers. His kiss was soft, sweet and coaxing; every movement of his lips against hers made the blood feel as if it were fizzing through her veins. All thoughts of telling him were gone—until he untucked her shirt from her jeans and slid his hands underneath the hem, his fingertips moving in tiny circles across her back.

The second he touched scar tissue, he stopped. Pulled back. Looked at her, his eyes full of questions.

‘Sydney?’

She blew out a breath and pulled away from him, wrapping her arms round herself like a shield. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I should’ve told you. I meant to tell you, but … ‘ Her voice faded. How stupid she was to have wanted something she couldn’t have. Hadn’t she learned from the mess of her marriage to Craig? Her husband hadn’t been able to cope with her condition; even though Marco was a doctor, would understand it more, it was still a big ask.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see pity on Marco’s face when she told him. And opened them again when he picked her up, carried her into the living room and sat on the sofa, settling her on his lap. ‘Marco?’ she asked, not understanding why he was still there. Shouldn’t he be backing away as fast as he could?

‘That feels like scar tissue,’ he said softly. ‘And, no, you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. I just wanted to be sure that I hadn’t hurt you.’

It was the last thing she’d expected to hear, and it took her breath away.

‘Sydney?’ His voice was so gentle that it brought tears to her eyes—tears she quickly blinked away. She wasn’t this weak, pathetic, needy creature. She was a strong woman. A damn good doctor. She’d just made the mistake of forgetting who she was for a little while and wanting something normal. ‘No, you didn’t hurt me. But thank you for—’ The words caught in her throat for a moment. ‘For being kind.’

‘Kind isn’t quite the way I feel,’ he said.

‘I meant to tell you.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry. It was unfair of me to agree to date you.’

‘Unfair?’ He looked puzzled. ‘How?’

‘Because we can’t really see where this thing takes us. I owe it to you to tell the truth—but I’d appreciate it if it didn’t go any further than you.’

‘Of course.’ He frowned. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Sydney. But if you want to talk, I’m listening.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I have neurofibromatosis type two. NF2 for short.’

He stroked her face. ‘I’m an emergency specialist. I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about NF2. What is it?’

‘It’s a genetic problem with chromosome 22,’ she explained. ‘It causes benign tumours to grow on nerve cells and the skin. And although it does run in families, it can also just happen out of nowhere, a mutation in the genes that takes years to show up.’

‘One of your parents has it?’ he guessed.

She shook her head. ‘Neither of them are carriers, and my brother and sister had the tests—they’re both fine. It’s just me.’ And how she’d raged about the unfairness of it, when she’d learned about her condition. One in forty thousand people had it. Why her? What had she done to deserve it?

Then the practical side of her had taken over, kicking out the pointless self-pity. Whining about it wasn’t going to change anything. The best thing she could do was make herself informed, to understand what the condition was and how she could work round it to live as normal a life as possible.

‘That’s pretty tough on you,’ he said.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, knowing it wasn’t strictly true.

‘So how did you find out?’

‘I had back pain and nothing helped. Eventually I had an MRI scan to see if there were any lesions, and that’s when they discovered the tumours pressing on my spine.’ One of them had been the size of a grapefruit; and the operation had meant that she’d had to take some of her finals papers from her hospital bed. Not that she was going to tell Marco about that; she didn’t want his pity.

‘Which is why I felt the scar tissue on your back just now,’ he said softly.

‘Yes. The surgeon operated to remove the tumours, and they haven’t grown back yet.’ She dug her nails into her palm, reminding herself not to get emotional about it. OK, so the condition was incurable, but it wasn’t terminal. It could be much, much worse; it just made her life a bit awkward, from time to time.

And it had blown her marriage apart.

‘Are the tumours likely to grow back or cause you problems again?’

‘Maybe; maybe not. I get a check-up every year to see how things are. I have a small schwannoma—what they used to call an acoustic neuroma—on both vestibular nerves, but the schwannomas are growing really slowly and they’re not causing me tinnitus or anything, so my specialist says we’ll keep on with a conservative approach.’ She shrugged. ‘So I’m fine.’

To her shock, he brushed his mouth against hers.

‘What was that for?’

‘For being brave,’ he said simply. ‘For telling me. And it won’t go any further.’

And neither would their relationship.

She would’ve climbed off his lap, except his arms were still wrapped tightly round her. She frowned. ‘Marco?’ Wasn’t this the bit where he was supposed to walk out?

He kissed her lightly again. ‘This doesn’t change anything between us, Sydney.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘No.’

She couldn’t quite take it in. It had changed everything between her and Craig. Changed all their plans. Especially when they’d seen the genetic counsellor. Craig had panicked that the baby would inherit her condition; the counsellor had said that they could go for IVF and screen the embryo before implantation to make sure the baby hadn’t inherited the chromosomal problem. Or there were other options: adoption, fostering. They could still have a family.

But Craig had stopped touching her after that day. Not just because of the risk of an accidental pregnancy: he’d called Sydney selfish for wanting a baby at all, because the chances were that her condition would worsen during pregnancy. The way he saw it, he’d be left carrying the burden of childcare and looking after her, too.

His voice echoed in her head.You’re so selfish. You haven’t thought how it would affect me—how it would affect our baby. All you can think about is your need for a child.

A child they’d both wanted. Or so she’d thought at the time.

She’d tried talking to him about adoption, but by then he’d looked things up on the internet, seen the worst-case scenarios and panicked. How do you know the tumours won’t turn malignant and you’ll die? And then how am I going to be able to work and look after a child?

He’d countered every argument she had. And then he’d moved into the spare bedroom, saying that he couldn’t bear the sight of her arm. It had taken Sydney a long, long time to realise that it wasn’t just because her skin was ugly enough to disgust him: for Craig, too, it was a physical reminder of their situation, and he simply hadn’t been able to cope with it. And although she hadn’t been too surprised when he’d moved out, she’d been shocked to hear his news only a matter of weeks later. News that felt as if someone had reached inside her, gripped her heart in an iron fist and ripped it out of her.

And she would never put herself in a position where someone could hurt her like that again.

‘Sydney.’ Marco’s voice was soft. ‘I take it that it did make a difference to someone else?’

She didn’t want to talk about Craig. Not now. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because the sparkle’s gone from your eyes. As if you’re remembering something painful. Something someone said to you, something someone did, maybe. I’m not going to pry.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘But I’d like to see that sparkle back. The sparkle that was there last night when I kissed you, and tonight when we walked out of the cinema.’

A sparkle that had been there because, for those brief moments, she’d forgotten who and what she was.

Marco was being kind. But she was going to have to face the truth, and there was only one way to do that. Head on. She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it down over her arm to reveal the large patch of skin covered with tiny nodules.

This was the bit where he’d walk away.

Marco could see it in her face: she was expecting him to be disgusted. To walk away. To fail the challenge.

So his guess had been right. Someone had hurt her badly. And Marco guessed that it went deeper than just that patch of skin. The man had clearly made her feel worthless as well as ugly.

‘That’s it?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

Her eyes were a little over-bright, and he guessed that she was reliving past memories. And yet it was only a small part of her. Something that didn’t bother him.

Gently, he reached out and stroked her skin. ‘Does it hurt if I do this?’

‘No.’ Though her lower lip wobbled slightly, as if she was biting back the tears.

‘Good. What about this?’ He touched his mouth to the area where the nodules were.

‘No.’ Her voice was shaky, and he glanced up to discover that a single tear had spilled over her lashes and was rolling down her face.

‘Ah, tesoro. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just wanted to show you that …’ He shook his head. ‘That this doesn’t matter. It’s surface. Moles, skin tags, birth marks, port wine stains—they’re all common enough.’

She said nothing, but he’d seen the flicker of past pain in her expression. Whatever the guy had said to her, it had really hurt her. And it was about more than just her appearance, he’d guess. He would’ve liked to shake the guy, break his nose—except that wouldn’t solve anything or make Sydney feel better.

He tried again. ‘Nobody’s perfect. Even a newborn baby often has milk spots or stork marks.’

‘But not like this. It’s ugly.’

That definitely didn’t sound like the confident, bright doctor he knew from work; those were someone else’s words. Her ex had clearly chipped away at her self-belief. ‘Actually, no—it’s just part of you. Just like a port wine stain would be.’ And anyone who cared about her would accept it, not make a big deal out of it the way her ex obviously had.

He brushed his mouth against hers, and gently helped her back into her shirt. ‘Just so you know, I’m not covering your arm up because I don’t want to look at you or touch you—because I do want to look at you, Sydney. I do want to touch you. I’m covering you up for one reason only, and that’s because right now I can see that you’re uncomfortable with your skin being bared. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I want you to be relaxed with me.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being wet.’

‘No. I’ve clearly brought some bad memories back to you, and I’m sorry for that.’ He stroked her face. ‘I’d guess that the person you should’ve been able to rely on let you down—and I’d guess it was when you were at your most vulnerable, say when you first found out that you had NF2.’

‘Something like that,’ she admitted. ‘Though not when I first found out. Later.’

‘I’m sorry he wasn’t the man you deserved. But it’s his loss, not yours.’ Marco felt his lip curl in disgust. ‘There’s more to you than just your skin and your NF2, and beauty’s much more than skin-deep.’ He tightened his arms round her. ‘Non tutti i mali vengono per nuocere.’

‘I don’t speak Italian,’ she said, ‘so you’ve lost me there.’

‘Every cloud has a silver lining,’ he translated. ‘We’re both free. So there’s no reason why we can’t see where this takes us.’

‘And this …’ she gestured to her arm, though he guessed that really she meant the whole condition ‘… really doesn’t matter?’

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ he confirmed. Though there was one thing he needed to know. ‘You said the tumours are benign. So it’s not terminal.’

‘Incurable, but not terminal,’ she confirmed. ‘And not contagious, either.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Though there’s a fifty per cent chance of passing it on to a child. Just as well I don’t ever want children.’

Her voice was light, but he’d seen something briefly in her eyes before she’d masked it—something that told him that it was a little more complicated than that. Just as it was for him; if things had gone to plan, he would’ve been a father now. Sienna would’ve been on maternity leave with their first baby.

It wasn’t going to happen now, so there was no point in dwelling on just how much he’d lost. ‘Noted,’ he said softly. ‘So if this thing between us takes us where I think it’s going—where I’d like it to go—we’ll be careful. Very, very careful.’

She looked completely taken aback. ‘You want to …’ she paused, as if searching for the right words ‘… go to bed with me?’

He could tell her in words, but he had a feeling that the way her ex had undermined her would mean she’d find it difficult to believe him. So maybe there was a better way of explaining. He shifted her slightly on his lap, so she could feel his arousal for herself. ‘Does that answer your question?’ he asked.

Colour bloomed in her face. ‘Oh.’

‘Good.’ He caught her lower lip briefly between his. ‘But I’m not going to rush you into anything tonight. Let’s have fun getting to know each other.’

For a moment, he thought she was going to back away. But then she stroked his face, a look of wonder in her eyes. ‘Yes.’

He stole a kiss. ‘You won’t regret this, tesoro,’ he promised. He’d make sure of that. ‘And now, I’m going home. While I still have a smidgen of self-control left. Because, even though I’d really like to take you to bed right now, I think you need a little more time to get used to the idea.’

She nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. It’s not a problem.’ He kissed her again. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Buona notte.’




CHAPTER FOUR


THE next day, Sydney was smiling all the way in to work; butterflies were doing a happy dance in her stomach at the thought of seeing Marco. She still couldn’t quite believe that someone as gorgeous as Marco had even given her a second glance, let alone wanted a relationship with her. Especially now he knew the truth about her. Yet there had been no pity in his eyes when he’d looked at her, no disgust or abhorrence about how ugly her arm was. Not like the way it had been with Craig.




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