Читать книгу Mistletoe Brides - Liz Fielding, Jan Colley - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

‘MUMMY, can we have a really big Christmas tree this year? Up to the roof?’

‘Absolutely.’ Liv tried not to dwell on just how much ‘really big’ was going to cost. Maybe if she waited until Christmas Eve she could negotiate a bargain. ‘How was school today?’

‘Fine. I want to get our tree at the weekend.’ Max scrambled onto a chair and spread his toy dinosaurs over the kitchen table. ‘Then we can enjoy it for ages and ages.’

‘It’s only December the first. ‘If we buy it on Saturday it will have no needles by Christmas.’

‘If we don’t buy our tree till Christmas Eve we won’t have time to have fun with it. Sam is getting his tree next weekend. Can we? Please?’ Max looked up at her hopefully and Liv felt something shift inside her.

‘We’ll see,’ she said gruffly, promising herself that she’d sit down with a pen and paper once he was asleep and take a serious look at her budget. ‘I love you. Have I told you that, lately?’

‘Every day. You’re always telling me that.’

‘Are you complaining?’

‘Nope.’ Max picked up a plastic tyrannosaurus. ‘I love you, too. It snowed again today, but not much. I want there to be piles and piles. Wouldn’t that be great?’

Seeing the sparkle in her son’s eyes, Liv forgot about the havoc that snow always caused. ‘Fantastic.’

‘Ben broke his leg yesterday.’ Lower lip between his teeth, Max crashed the tyrannosaurus into a less superior species and sent it flying. ‘He went to the hospital and they gave him crotches.’

Liv hid a smile. ‘Crutches,’ she said, spreading creamy butter onto crusty bread, ‘it’s crutches.’

‘That’s what I said. I told him my mum works in the hospital, but he said he didn’t see you there. You won’t work on Christmas Day, will you?’

Liv felt her heart flip. Every year she faced this dilemma. The money was good and in her situation that was incredibly tempting, but working Christmas meant not being with Max.

‘I’m not working,’ she said firmly, putting the plate on the table next to Max. It didn’t matter how tight her finances were, nothing would make up for not spending Christmas Day with her son. ‘I’ve saved up my holiday. I have a whole week off. I might work on New Year’s Eve, but not until you’re in bed.’

‘So I’ll do a sleepover with Sam?’

‘Maybe. I’ll have to speak to Anna.’ Liv filled the kettle, wondering what she’d do if her friend and colleague hadn’t had a child the same age as hers.

‘Cool. I love sleeping over with Sam.’ He looked at her, his eyes sparkling. ‘Do you know what the best thing is about his house?’

No, but she could guess. Liv’s heart plummeted as she thought of Sam’s house, with its five large bedrooms, three bathrooms and huge garden. Then her eyes scanned the tiny living room of her cramped flat. If she stood in the middle, she could almost touch all four walls. And although she had two bedrooms, one of them was so small it would barely accommodate a single bed. And when the train went past the entire flat shook…

Aware that Max was looking at her, she braced herself. ‘So what’s the best thing about Sam’s house?’

‘Their guinea pig. It’s called Rambo and it’s so cute.’

Liv laughed and then impulsively she bent down and kissed her son, the son who had noticed the guinea pig instead of the huge bedrooms or the soft white sofas and wall-to-wall luxury.

‘You’re a nice person,’ she said gruffly, but her eyes were drawn to the patch of damp on the wall. She’d painted over it repeatedly but it always came through again and now that the weather had turned cold…

Suddenly she wished she could wave a magic wand and make the world perfect for her son. Why was it that no one told you that parenthood came with non-stop guilt and anxiety? Especially single parenthood.

Telling herself that she was doing all right, Liv watched as her son played a make-believe game with his toys. He was bright, happy and well adjusted. She worried too much.

Everything was fine.

Max lifted his head and looked at her wistfully. ‘And Sam’s dad’s buying him a goal for Christmas so he can practise. You should see it, Mum. It’s just awesome. It’s huge, with a big white net—I’ve seen the picture. Could we have a goal?’

‘Not in a fourth-floor flat,’ Liv said dryly, squashing down the guilt that swamped her once again. He was a little boy. He needed a garden. Somewhere he could kick a ball when she was too tired to take him to the park.

‘If we had loads of money, would we buy a house? I heard you telling Anna that if you had a bathroom like hers, you’d lie in it all day. Why don’t you lie in ours all day?’

Because of the chipped tiles, the draught from the window and the stubborn black mould that refused to die. ‘Because I have to work. I’ve explained that to you. I work to make the money we need.’ Liv lifted an onion out of the vegetable basket. ‘Now, enough of this conversation. If I don’t get on with the supper it will be bedtime.’

The tyrannosaurus attacked again, scattering other dinosaurs over the kitchen floor. ‘You could do the lottery or something.’

‘It’s a waste of money. We wouldn’t win.’

‘You could get married. Emma’s mum got married again and now they’re really rich because her new dad is loaded!’

Liv gasped. ‘Where did you hear that expression?’

‘Emma told me.’ Max stopped playing and looked at her anxiously. ‘Is it swearing?’

‘No, but it’s not very polite.’ Her mind slid back to the conversation she’d had with Anna earlier that day and she frowned, pushing away thoughts of Stefano Lucarelli. ‘And it isn’t how much money someone has that counts, it’s whether you like them or not that matters.’

‘Well, Emma’s mum has been married twice now, and you’ve only been married once.’

‘It isn’t a competition, sweetheart.’

‘Why did you stop being married?’

Liv closed her eyes briefly. Why did the hardest questions always come when she was tired? ‘We’ve talked about this before, Max.’ She peeled the onion. ‘Sometimes these things just don’t work out. And when that happens, it’s no one’s fault.’ Yes it was. It was her fault. She hadn’t been exciting enough for Jack. Her eyes suddenly started pricking and she told herself it was just the onion.

‘You should definitely try being married again,’ Max said sagely. ‘You’re always telling me I have to keep trying things. You always say you can’t tell if you like something if you’ve only tried it once.’

‘That’s food,’ Liv said dryly, reaching for a chopping board. ‘Marriage isn’t like broccoli. Marriage is a very big thing. You have to really, really love someone to do that. And they have to love you, too. They have to think you’re special.’

‘You are special, Mum.’ Max looked at her, his eyes huge. ‘I don’t know any other girls who love football and cars and no one makes pizza like you do. All my friends think you’re cool.’

‘Well, maybe I am cool to a bunch of seven-year-olds.’ But bigger boys wanted something very different. They wanted someone sexy and she was—

Ordinary.

Liv stood for a moment, distracted by her own thoughts. Across the road she could see lights from the other flats and in one window she could see a man and a woman sitting down to eat with two lively, excited children.

Then she glanced at Max. Her little boy, his face a mask of concentration as he lined up his dinosaurs. She paused for a moment, swamped by a feeling of such intense love and anxiety that she almost couldn’t breathe.

He deserved so much more. He deserved a loving father who would kick a football with him.

Damn Jack. Damn Jack and his slick, womanising ways.

She put the onion on the chopping board and stabbed the knife through it.

Why should Max suffer because his father hadn’t been adult enough to face up to his responsibilities?

‘Mummy, you’re chopping that onion like you hate it or something.’

Liv’s gaze slid from the blade in her hand to the minute slices of onion that now lay on the chopping board. Pulverised. She gave a weak smile. ‘I’m making supper.’ There was no point in regretting the past. ‘We can play football together this weekend, if you like.’

‘Cool. I’ve been picked for the match on Friday. I was a reserve but now Ben can’t play so I’m in the team.’

Liv’s face lit up. ‘That’s fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘It’s only the second team, not the first.’ He looked at her and his little shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. ‘And I knew you wouldn’t be able to come. You’ll be working.’

Liv swallowed. ‘Max—’

‘It’s OK,’ he said firmly. ‘It isn’t your fault. We’re a team, isn’t that what you always say? You go to work, I go to school.’

‘Actually I’m not working on Friday,’ Liv said brightly. ‘I—I have the afternoon off.’

‘Really?’

No. ‘Yes.’ Somehow, whatever it took, she was going to make it happen. She was going to her son’s football match. ‘What time is kick-off?’

‘Two o’clock.’

‘I’ll be there.’ How, she didn’t know. But she was going to be standing on that school field even if it meant changing her job.

Exhaustion washed over her making her head foggy. As usual her day had started before five and one glance at the washing, ironing and the pile of Max’s toys in the living room was enough to tell her that she wouldn’t be in bed before midnight.

She envied mothers who could be at home for their children. Yes, she loved her work but the constant pressure of trying to be in two places at once was grinding her down.

Welcome to single parenthood.

Max scrambled off the chair and hugged her tightly, his arms round her legs, his head pressed against her stomach. ‘You’re the best mum in the world. I know it’s hard for you because you have to work. That would be one of the good things about having a dad. He could do the work bit and you could just come and watch me.’

Liv felt a lump in her throat. ‘There’s more to being a dad than signing cheques, Max.’ And some men didn’t even manage that bit, she thought wearily as she bent to kiss the top of his head. He smelled of shampoo. ‘Spaghetti bolognese all right for supper?’

‘Yum.’

Dismissing fantasies of herself standing on the school field, while someone else worried about the family finances, Liv squashed down the guilt, gave him a quick kiss and released him. Reality, she reminded herself. That was what she had to concentrate on. ‘So what was the funniest thing that happened to you today?’ Taking the lid off a can of tomatoes, she emptied it into the pan. ‘Make me laugh.’

‘Sam told me a great joke.’

‘Go on.’

‘What’s the best thing to give a seasick elephant?’

‘I don’t know. What is the best thing to give a seasick elephant?’

‘Plenty of room.’

‘Max!’

The following morning brought a flutter of snow and a sharp drop in the temperature.

‘Isabella? Tutto bene?’ Stefano brought the Ferrari to a smooth halt, his attention on the phone call. Snow dusted the pavements and the roads were slick with ice. It was going to be a busy day in the emergency department and he knew this would be his only chance to make this call. ‘You called me?’

‘Every day for the past two weeks!’ His sister exploded into Italian. ‘Where have you been? You don’t call—you don’t come home! Have you forgotten your family? Don’t we matter to you any more? You don’t have a heart, Stefano!’

‘That’s the sort of comment I expect from my girlfriend, not my little sister.’ Stefano sprang from the car, his long, black, cashmere coat swirling around his strong legs as he strode across the consultants’ car park. Knowing exactly which buttons to press to annoy her, he smiled wickedly. ‘Why are you at home? You should be taking your children to school.’

Ever predictable, Isabella bristled with indignation. ‘I dropped them at school and now I’m on the way to the office. Remember the family business, Stefano? The business you turned your back on? Well I am here, keeping our father happy while you stroke your ego by playing doctors and dating actresses with bodies as thin as spaghetti and brains as soft as ravioli.’

Already bored with the conversation, Stefano pushed his way through the swing doors that led to the emergency department. ‘Are you ringing me to nag me about my choice of career or my choice of women?’

‘I’m ringing you because despite your many faults, you’re still my brother and like all men you need reminding about family responsibility. When did you last call Papa?’

Stefano strode along the corridor, oblivious to the sideways glances he received from the female nurses. ‘I don’t have any news.’

‘News? What is “news”?’ Isabella didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. ‘He just wants to hear your voice, Stefano!’

‘Talking about nothing because you enjoy the sound of your own voice is more of a girl thing than a man thing,’ Stefano drawled. ‘And I’ve been busy. I’m working.’

‘Well, find the time to call. And make sure you come home for Christmas. We’ll all be in Cortina from the twenty-third of December.’

Stefano was well able to picture the scene: a noisy group of family and old friends descending on the enormous family chalet in the exclusive mountain resort of Cortina D’Ampezzo, in the Italian Dolomites.

‘Isabella—’

‘I know you’re busy, but this is family time, Stefano. Be there.’

‘I will be there, but I don’t know when or for how long.’ Or how much of his well-meaning, interfering family he’d be able to stand.

‘All the cousins will be there—’ it was Isabella’s turn to tease ‘—including the lovely Donatella. She’s still single, Stefano.’

‘Fortunately for both of us, my taste in women doesn’t run to children,’ Stefano said wryly and Isabella giggled.

‘She’s twenty-one, Stefano, hardly a child. And she’s been trying to remind you of that fact for a few years now. Surely you haven’t forgotten last Christmas? The push-up bra and the low-cut top? I thought Papa was going to have a stroke. Anyway, she wants to sit by you for Christmas Eve dinner.’

‘Donatella finds me so intimidating that she can barely speak in my company,’ Stefano reminded her in an acid tone. ‘If you throw her in my way at Christmas it would be cruel to both of us. Isabella, drop this subject.’

‘She’d be a traditional Italian wife, Stefano.’ Isabella was clearly enjoying herself. ‘She would stay at home and cook you pasta.’

‘Unfortunately for Donatella one of my requirements in a life partner is that they’re able to sustain an intelligent conversation for at least eight seconds. Sadly, she can’t. Or at least, she can’t when she’s with me.’

Isabella snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so harsh. Frankly I can’t see why she’s so crazy about you. I mean, I know you’re filthy rich and good-looking but you’re unbearable to people who aren’t as bright as you are and when you’re really bored, which usually takes far less than eight seconds by the way, you can be horribly cutting.’

Taken aback by that blunt assessment of his attributes, Stefano was about to answer when his sister made an impatient sound.

‘Anyway, it’s nonsense to say you need a woman with a brain. According to that actress of yours, you don’t waste any time talking to women.’

Stefano glanced at his watch. ‘I’m a busy man, Isabella. Was there something else you wanted to say?’

‘She gave such an embarrassing interview to all the papers. What did you ever see in her? No—don’t answer that, it’s obvious. Why are men so shallow?’

Stefano gave a deadly smile. ‘Because women wear pushup bras and we are easily distracted,’ he purred. ‘I’m so pleased you called me. Your conversation is always so…intellectual.’

‘Don’t try and intimidate me.’ But Isabella was laughing. ‘I rang you for a chat because I love you, even though you sometimes forget that you have a family and you’re basically horrible. I’ll see you at Christmas, Stefano. I’m sure Donatella is already choosing her dress.’

Stefano closed his eyes briefly. ‘Maledizione—’

‘Don’t swear in front of your sister!’

There was a sharp rap on the door and Stefano looked up with a frown, irritated by the interruption. Greg Hampton, one of the casualty officers, stood in the doorway and Stefano’s mouth tightened. Unlike Phil who had managed to impress him, this particular junior doctor’s attitude was far too casual for his liking. ‘I’ve got to go. Ciao.’ He terminated the call and dropped his phone into his pocket. ‘Sì? There is a problem?’

‘Can you check an X-ray for me before you get dragged into Resus? Everyone else is still tied up with the RTA that came in an hour ago.’

Stefano slung his coat over the back of the chair, ignored the mound of paperwork on his desk and strode towards the door. ‘Who is the patient?’

‘That’s the bad news.’ Greg pulled a face. ‘A screaming, uncooperative kid with a bruised finger. I sent her for an X-ray.’

Stefano dealt him a measuring glance, less than impressed by the younger doctor’s dismissive tone.

They arrived at the main area and Stefano automatically glanced at the computer screen on the wall. It listed every patient in the department and enabled the staff to track their progress. That one glance was enough to tell him that he was in for a busy morning despite the fact it was barely light.

His mind still half on the conversation with his sister, his gaze shifted to the smaller computer next to the screen that was displaying an X-ray of a finger. He hit a button, zoomed in closer and stared at the image. Why did his family see the need to interfere with his life? If it wasn’t his love life, it was his profession. ‘No fracture. How was the finger on examination?’

Greg shrugged. ‘I haven’t examined her yet.’

‘You sent her for X-ray without examination?’ Stefano transferred his gaze from the X-ray to the doctor and Greg frowned slightly.

‘The child was really difficult. Didn’t seem to want to be distracted by anything. Trust me—no one could have done anything with this kid, and as for the mother…’ with an exaggerated shudder, he picked up the notes ‘…she was your average nightmare. Reminded me why I didn’t do paediatrics. Caring for kids is all about the mothers, isn’t it? What’s the point of seven years’ training if I have to waste my skills on a load of hysterical women?’

‘What skills?’ Stefano spoke softly and Greg’s smile lost a fraction of its arrogance.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You told me that you don’t want to waste your skills,’ Stefano said silkily, ‘but I am still waiting to see a demonstration of these skills in which you have so much pride and which you seem so reluctant to waste in my department, Dr Hampton. They weren’t in evidence when you needed to examine the child.’

Greg cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t manage to examine the child.’

‘Precisely.’ Stefano watched with cold detachment as the less experienced doctor flushed to the roots of his hair, suddenly a great deal less sure of himself.

‘The kid was freaking out.’

‘Then it is your job to “un”-freak them,’ Stefano advised helpfully. ‘After all, what is the point of seven years of training if you cannot get close enough to your patient to carry out an examination?’

‘I ordered an X-ray,’ Greg said stiffly, and Stefano raised an eyebrow.

‘So you sent her to X-Ray with no examination and you were planning to discharge her without examination? You have good medical defence insurance, I hope? A skilled lawyer? Because if that is the way you practise medicine, you will need both.’

Greg’s face was scarlet. ‘I assumed that the X-ray would tell me what I needed to know.’

‘An X-ray is simply one part of the overall picture. Never again even consider discharging a patient without carrying out the appropriate examination. You are a doctor, not a car mechanic. The decisions you make affect people’s lives.’ Stefano let the doctor squirm for a few more moments and then he flicked off the X-ray.

‘Mr Lucarelli—’

‘One more thing.’ Stefano’s icy tone cut through the doctor’s feeble attempt to redeem himself. ‘In this department, if a mother tells you that she has a bad feeling about her child, you will listen to what she has to say with both ears open and your mouth closed. Understood?’

Greg stared at him. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ Stefano watched him with cool appraisal. ‘Most mothers are uncannily accurate when it comes to assessing the health of their children. Remember that. They sense things that we doctors, even with years of training, can take longer to detect. Now, given that you have been unable to examine the patient, show me where she is and I will do it for you.’

Stiff and defensive, the casualty officer led the way down the corridor and into one of the small cubicles.

Prepared to deal with a very distressed child, Stefano stopped dead in the doorway, astonished to see the little girl laughing and smiling.

Liv was kneeling on the floor, chatting away happily and the child sat listening, clearly absorbed by the conversation. Her eyes were fixed on the nurse in fascination and Stefano found himself reacting in much the same way.

From his vantage point in the doorway, his gaze was drawn to the curve of her soft mouth and suddenly he found himself comparing the sweetness of her smile to Francine’s sexy scarlet pout.

Surprised by the direction of his thoughts, Stefano wondered why he was comparing two women who were so blatantly unalike.

Francine was an actress and a model—her looks were part of her job. Whereas Liv—well, she was entirely different. She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense. Her mouth was too wide and she had a pronounced dimple in her left cheek when she smiled, but there was something about her face that made it difficult to look away. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, and she radiated warmth and good humour as she talked to the child.

Stefano’s gaze swept her body in an instinctive male appraisal.

Her uniform wasn’t tight, but there was no missing her enticing curves and he felt the immediate and powerful response of his body. As irritated by his reaction as he was surprised, he turned his attention back to the child, assuming that it was just that ridiculous conversation with his sister that was suddenly turning his thoughts to sex in the middle of his working day.

‘So you sit next to Annabel.’ Liv spoke in a calm, gentle voice that removed all the stress from the room and smoothed Stefano’s frayed nerves like the stroke of a velvet glove. ‘And who is your teacher?’

‘Miss Grant.’ The little girl smiled at her. ‘She has her hair in a ponytail, like you.’

‘Well, that’s the best way to wear it for work, especially if it’s curly because it can get in your eyes. So how did you fall on your finger?’

Aware that Greg Hampton was about to speak, Stefano silenced him with a lift of his hand and a searing glance, intensely irritated that the man would even consider intervening when the nurse clearly had full control of the situation.

Fortunately the child hadn’t even noticed their presence. ‘I did it yesterday. We were practising the nativity play,’ she was saying, ‘and I tripped over a sheep. I mean, not a real sheep, actually it was Gareth, dressed as a sheep. But I fell on my finger, I mean like all my weight was on my finger.’

Stefano watched as Liv listened attentively to the child’s story and then carefully examined the child’s finger.

Her hair was the rich brown of a conker and it gleamed and shone under the harsh emergency room lights. Although it had been pulled back into a ponytail, several curls had escaped and now drifted around her face. Having not looked twice at a woman for months, Stefano found himself staring. She wasn’t wearing a trace of make-up and yet her lashes were thick and dark and her cheeks had a healthy glow. But what really drew his attention was her absolute focus on the little girl.

She wasn’t thinking about herself or her appearance. She hadn’t even noticed that he was standing in the doorway.

Suddenly his mind drifted back to the conversation he’d overheard the day before.

Why did Anna want to buy her hot sex for Christmas?

Stefano dismissed the question instantly as one of those things that women laugh about and men are better off not knowing.

But his eyes trailed back to her mouth and lower.

She didn’t look like a woman who needed someone else to find her hot sex.

Why had Anna been hugging her? Had something happened? Was there something wrong in her life?

‘Ouch. That’s the bit that really hurts.’ The little girl winced as Liv gently manipulated her fingers.

‘It’s bound to hurt because it’s really bruised, can you see? It’s just a bit black there—over the joint. I think you’re incredibly brave.’

The little girl looked doubtful. ‘I was crying.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Liv’s tone suggested that anything less would have been unthinkable. ‘If it were my finger, I would have cried, too. I think you’ve been amazing. But what we need to do now is fix it so that it doesn’t hurt so much. What were you in the nativity play?’

‘A star. Is it broken?’

‘Well, I’m going to take a look at your X-ray and then have a chat with the doctor.’

‘Not the same doctor as before?’ The child shrank slightly. ‘He was really angry with me—’ Suddenly noticing Greg in the doorway, she snatched her hand back. ‘He’s not going to touch me.’

The atmosphere altered in the blink of an eye.

Deciding that swift intervention was called for if he wasn’t to lose all chances of examining the child himself, Stefano cast a meaningful glance towards his less experienced colleague and strolled into the room.

‘Ciao, cucciola mia.’ He addressed the little girl directly but her eyes were fixed on Greg in horror.

‘I don’t want him to be my doctor.’

‘He isn’t your doctor.’

‘So why is he here?’

‘Because he works with me.’ Well aware that his height and physique could make him intimidating, Stefano dropped into a crouch so that he was at the same level as the child. ‘So you fell off a stage, is that right?’

‘Yes.’ Finally the little girl looked at him and her expression was curious. ‘Why do you speak with a funny accent?’

Stefano smiled. ‘Because I’m from Italy.’

‘Like pizza? I love pizza.’

‘Just like pizza. So tell me…’ Stefano gently took her hand in his and examined her fingers ‘…what is your favourite pizza?’

‘Margarita, but not too cheesy and no lumps of tomatoes.’

‘Obviously you are a woman who knows what she wants.’ Amused, Stefano turned the child’s hand over. ‘Show me how you fell on your hand.’

‘I fell all on one finger, like this…’ The little girl pretended to stab the ground and Stefano pulled a face.

‘Well, that is why your finger is hurting. You are supposed to walk on your feet, not your finger.’ Gently he manipulated the finger. ‘Does this hurt? This? Can you squeeze—make a fist?’

As he examined the dark bruising over the back of the finger, he was acutely conscious of Liv next to him. He allowed himself one sideways glance, but she wasn’t even looking at him. All her attention was still focused on her little patient.

‘I thought it was probably a volar plate injury,’ she murmured and Stefano silently compared her calm efficiency with Greg’s ineffectual arrogance.

‘I agree.’ Impressed, he gave her a rare smile but she didn’t even seem to notice.

She didn’t blush, stare or send him a subtly flirtatious look. In fact she didn’t look at him at all. Instead, she rose to her feet, her eyes still on the little girl. ‘You’ll have to be careful with that finger for a few weeks, Bella.’

Stefano was so accustomed to being cautious in his interaction with women that for a moment he was taken aback by her apparent indifference to him.

For a brief moment in Resus yesterday he’d felt a powerful explosion of chemistry and he was sure that she’d felt it too. But clearly it had been his imagination.

He almost laughed at himself. Had he really grown so arrogant that he expected every woman to look at him?

Unfortunately the child’s mother was looking at him with what she obviously believed to be feminine allure.

‘You’re the consultant?’ She scanned Stefano’s face and her eyes widened slightly. ‘What’s a volar plate? I’ve never heard of it.’

Stefano ignored the look in her eyes and kept his response cool and professional. ‘Your finger joints are like a hinge, yes? They must bend and straighten. The bones are connected together by tough bands of tissue called ligaments. In this joint—we call it the PIP—the strongest ligament is the volar plate.’

The mother studied his face a little more intently than was necessary. ‘So she’s pulled a ligament? Like a sprain, you mean?’

Instinctively adjusting his body language to create distance, Stefano stepped back. ‘This particular ligament connects the proximal phalanx to the middle phalanx on the palm side of the joint.’

‘These two joints,’ Liv said quickly, demonstrating on her own hand and Stefano gave a faint smile because he realised that he’d made his explanation far too complicated, which was unlike him.

But he’d been extricating himself from the flirtatious glances of the mother.

Forcing his mind back onto his work, he tried again. ‘The ligament tightens as the joint is straightened and keeps the joint from hyper-extending—bending too far back, in other words. But if you do overextend this joint, the volar plate can be damaged.’

The little girl’s face drooped with disappointment. ‘So does that mean I can’t be a star in the nativity?’

Unusually for him, Stefano found himself at a loss. ‘What exactly does a star do?’

‘I dance a bit and then I stand still while the shepherds walk towards me.’

‘That will be fine,’ Stefano assured her. ‘Just be careful not to fall over any more sheep.’

‘Is it broken?’

‘Not exactly broken, just damaged. And we’re going to have to give it some help to make it better.’

‘Will I have a plaster that everyone in my class can sign?’

‘No. We’re going to give it a buddy to hold onto. This finger next to it—it will support your bad finger until it is healed. Your good finger will help your injured finger. Like a friend.’ Stefano glanced at Liv. ‘Can you arrange that for me?’

‘Of course. And I expect you want her to go back to the hand clinic in ten days, to check that Bella has full movement in that finger.’ She scribbled on a form and signed it. ‘Now, if you just wait there, I’ll strap that finger for you.’

‘I know who you are.’ The little girl’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re Max’s mum, aren’t you? You’re called Liv.’

In the process of writing the notes, Stefano’s hand stilled. She had a child?

He didn’t know which surprised him most, the fact that she was some child’s mother when she really didn’t look old enough, or his own thunderous disappointment that she belonged to another man.

If she was married, why had Anna been offering to buy her hot sex for Christmas?

Seriously concerned by the alarming direction of his own thoughts, he scrawled in the notes and strode to the door. ‘If you need anything else, call me,’ he said in a cool tone but Liv didn’t appear any more disconcerted by the chill than she’d been impressed by the smile. Instead she simply concentrated on applying Elastoplast strapping to the child’s finger.

As they walked out of the door, Greg cleared his throat. ‘Is everything all right, Mr Lucarelli?’

‘That nurse is obviously very experienced,’ Stefano said smoothly. ‘My advice is to watch and learn. Next time you run into trouble with a child, ask for her help.’

Why did he care whether she was married?

What difference did it make to him?

He glanced over his shoulder just as Liv lifted her left hand to remove a piece of strapping. And Stefano noticed one more thing about her.

Her finger was bare. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.