Читать книгу Italian Doctor, Dream Proposal - Margaret McDonagh - Страница 8

‘MAY I pour you some coffee, signorina? Or would you prefer tea?’

Ruth had not needed to hear the question, delivered in that knee-weakening, huskily accented voice, to know that Dr Linardi had moved up beside her in the informal queue at the self-service refreshment table. She had felt his approach. Every atom of her being was attuned to him. Had been since the moment their gazes had first met.

His talk had been mind-blowing, displaying the breadth of knowledge and passion for the subject that had been so evident in his emails. He had inspired and enthralled her then but even more so in person. Once she had overcome the shock of him, and their inexplicable connection, she had forced herself to focus on her notes. In part because it stopped her looking at him. So she had written copiously, struggling to put the sound of his voice and what it did to her out of her mind. She’d already learned so much over the last month, and listening to Dr Linardi’s talk only made her more fascinated with the often obscure and puzzling worlds of allergy and immunology.

That she was also fascinated by the man himself, Ruth tried to ignore. But she had been aware every moment of him watching her. And the knowledge that they would soon meet face to face, that she would most likely be alone with him later in the day, had brought back the urge to run, as if for her very life. He was going to turn her whole world upside down. She knew it. Was scared of it. But she hadn’t been able to move a muscle to save herself.

What shocked and puzzled her was that a traitorous part of her didn’t want to escape…wanted, instead, to discover where this blaze of attraction might lead. That it should be Dr Linardi who had caused reactions and responses she had never experienced before made things all the more complicated. What if he did offer her a job? Could she work with him if every time she saw him or heard his voice she felt the burn of desire? She couldn’t imagine he would want an employee who acted like a teenager going through her first crush.

Dr Linardi had been waylaid by several people as he had attempted to leave the stage and head in her direction at the start of the mid-morning break. Thankful for the temporary reprieve, Ruth had slipped on her jacket and, leaving her briefcase under her chair as other people had done, she had gone in search of the refreshments. Feeling nervous, self-conscious and incredibly confused, she had needed as much time as possible to compose herself. All the while she had known there would be no escape, had sensed that he was closing in on her—stalking her as a hunter did its prey.

Now he had caught her and he was waiting for her answer. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, she turned her head and met the full force of that compelling gaze. ‘Thank you. Coffee, please.’ She silently cursed herself, feeling like a tongue-tied schoolgirl rather than a thirty-year-old doctor.

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘A splash of milk but no sugar,’ she managed, finding the mundane nature of their first actual encounter bizarre given the frighteningly real electric current that flowed back and forth between them.

Half turned away from him as they waited in line at the table, Ruth found herself hemmed in and jostled by the press of other delegates as someone in the line tried to manoeuvre out, carrying a tray of cups and saucers. As she lost her balance, Dr Linardi’s arm came out to steady her, an instinctive gesture of protection as he moved to place himself between her and the crowd. The action brought her even closer to him. So close that when she drew in a shaky breath she caught a teasing hint of his scent. Cedar. She recognised it thanks to her best friend Gina’s interest in essential oils. On him, the aroma was warm and exotic, masculine and arousing, heightening her awareness of him. Even more disturbing was the way the touch of his palm resting on her hip seemed to brand her right through her clothes.

‘You are all right?’ he asked with evident concern.

‘Yes. Thank you.’

He hesitated, and they shared another moment of silent connection before he released her and turned to busy himself with their drinks. Ruth exhaled a shaky breath, feeling unaccountably light-headed. She pressed one hand to her throat, feeling every throb of her pulse against her palm. Up close he was imposing…six feet of impressive, male perfection. Unable to look away from him, she watched as he filled two cups with fresh, richly scented coffee, adding milk to one and a teaspoon of sugar to the other.

He had nice hands, she noted, well cared for, capable and dexterous. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and there was no tell-tale paler band of skin to betray that he had ever worn one. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt had been turned up to the elbows, revealing leanly muscled forearms, the olive-toned skin dusted with dark hairs. A functional watch with a plain black strap circled his left wrist. Nothing flashy or ostentatious for this man. Her gaze slid upwards. He wasn’t wearing a tie and the top couple of buttons of his shirt were open, allowing a view of the strong column of his throat. Again her gaze roved on, over his handsome profile, just as he turned his head and caught her assessing him.

Ruth felt warmth bloom across her cheeks. Then he smiled, and she feared she might melt into a puddle at his feet. Gentle laughter lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and the hint of a dimple teased his right cheek, adding to his roguish appeal. Being so gorgeous ought to be illegal. Once more her gaze locked with his and, close to, she discovered that his eyes were an unusual dark hazel with intriguing speckles of gold in them. And they were fringed by the kind of thick, long lashes women yearned for—or paid to imitate—but which in no way softened his overwhelming masculinity.

‘Come, signorina, let us find somewhere away from this melee to enjoy our coffee and talk.’

Trying to ignore the effect the sound of his voice had on her, Ruth accepted the cup and saucer he gave her, fearing she would spill her drink because her hands were shaking so much. As he drew her away from the milling throng and the noise of myriad simultaneous conversations, he smiled and exchanged greetings with several people, but refused to allow them to detain him. His hand settled possessively at the base of her spine, keeping her close to him and guiding her through an open door and into a small, empty side room where a few tables and chairs had been laid out. Ruth set down her coffee and undid the button on her jacket, thanking him as he solicitously drew out a chair for her to sit down before pulling his own chair nearer to her.

‘We have not been properly introduced. I am Dr Riccardo Linardi. But my friends call me Rico.’ He rested one arm on the table as he faced her. ‘I feel that you and I are going to become very close friends.’

Wondering quite how close, Ruth took a fortifying sip of her coffee. As she leaned forward to replace her cup back on its saucer, her jacket parted, revealing the name badge pinned on her jumper. She saw his gaze follow the movement but, before she could speak, shocked surprise registered on his face.

‘You are Dr Ruth Baxter?’ Incredulity laced his voice, while the possessive nature of his next words stunned her and made her pulse race. ‘My Ruth?’

It took Rico a moment to recover from the initial amazement that this woman, who had all but brought him to his knees from the first moment he had looked at her, was the woman he had been emailing for a month, the woman he had invited here in the hope she would accept his offer of a job. His Ruth. The coincidence did not escape him. Rico didn’t know how it had happened, but it was destiny. Fate. They had been meant to meet.

There was nothing remotely scientific about the knowledge, but deep inside Rico knew it was true—knew that the special moment of recognition that had happened first to his father and then to Seb when they had met their future wives had now happened to him. Ruth was his dream woman come to life, the one he had been waiting for. Not that he could tell her that. Not yet. She would think he was crazy. And she was already edgy. More than once he’d sensed her urge to flee. Thankfully she was still here, but if he handled things badly at this early stage, he would spook her. They needed to get to know each other and for Ruth to feel comfortable with him. Not easy in this setting. And discovering her identity was an unexpected twist that added hugely to the complications that lay ahead. He would need to consider those. But for now, conscious of where they were, he needed to keep things as professional as possible until they had the opportunity to be alone.

Waiting was not going to be easy, however, so he allowed himself a few moments to study her and drink in all the details that were revealed now he was close to her. Nervousness and bewilderment were reflected in the eyes that shyly observed him—eyes that were not blue, as he had predicted, but a beautiful sage green.

She looked adorably flustered by what was happening and also a little scared. The former brought a welling of affectionate amusement, but the latter concerned him. Her inexperience had been obvious immediately and he was astonished by it. Unlike most other women he had met, women who knew how to use their wiles to get what they wanted and had no compunction about doing so, Ruth seemed not to have any understanding of her own appeal.

Ruth was like a breath of fresh air, with no artifice about her, no game playing, no hidden agenda. Instead she displayed an unusual innocence for someone with all her attributes, intelligence and maturity. She had a natural, understated beauty yet was genuinely unaware of it, just as she had no clue about her own sensuality and desirability. And she appeared mystified and more than a little unnerved by the intense mutual attraction they shared. Which only intrigued him more. Ruth was a puzzle, a mass of contrasts. He couldn’t wait to unravel all her secrets and to discover how she could be so competent and authoritative in her professional life but seem all at sea in terms of social interaction.

It was unsurprising that Ruth seemed overwhelmed. He certainly was. He’d never experienced anything like this in his life and he was still struggling to make sense of the suddenness of it. Not to mention the urgency of the desire, the desperate need to keep her close.

There were many issues to be faced and overcome, Rico acknowledged, but he was determined that no matter how unexpected, and how inconvenient the timing, having found Ruth, he was going to do everything he could not to lose her again. Careful not to rush her, knowing they both needed time to make sense of what was happening, he curbed his impatience to ask the thousand and one questions bubbling within him and gave her a few moments’ peace to drink her coffee and compose herself.

The couple of times he had managed to be close to her he had enjoyed the subtle scent of lavender and sweet sexy woman, a combination unique to Ruth that aroused and excited him, and to which he was already addicted. As he watched, sunlight spilled through the window beside them and reflected on Ruth’s hair, making it shine like a halo of pale gold around her face. Just looking at her took his breath away. She was amazing. If this was how Seb had felt when first meeting his special woman, it was no wonder his cousin had been so tied up in knots. Having seen what Seb had been through eight months ago, Rico hoped he had learned enough from his cousin’s experiences not to make the same mistakes in his as yet unplanned campaign to win Ruth.

The buzz of awareness and charge of desire were ever-present, but he also felt edgy with tension, knowing he was stepping into the unknown. He was in danger of breaking all his rules about any kind of involvement with a colleague…or potential colleague. But the rules he had lived by until now went out of the window when faced with the reality and the temptation of Ruth. He had never felt like this before, had never experienced this rush of emotion and out-of-control need. Somehow he had to find a way to reconcile work life and private life because now that Fate had delivered Ruth to him, he was not letting her go.

Pushing his coffee aside, no longer needing the caffeine as Ruth was the only stimulant he required, he indulged in studying her. If she wore any make-up at all, it was done with such a light touch it was unnoticeable. There was nothing worse in his opinion than kissing a woman and getting a mouthful of gunk, of tasting powder and grease instead of her sweetness. That would not happen with Ruth. Close up he could see that a faint dusting of freckles was scattered across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and her skin was flawless, almost translucent, incredibly fair.

He was relieved to see no wedding or engagement ring on her finger, but confirming there was no one in her life at the moment was a top priority. Aside from the delicate platinum chain around her neck—her jumper hiding whatever was suspended from it—and the inexpensive watch on her right wrist, she wore no adornment. She didn’t need any.

Rico was disappointed as the other tables began to fill up around them and their moment of seclusion was lost. He wanted to keep Ruth all to himself. But several people stopped to speak to him and it was some minutes before he could politely extract himself and return his full attention to her.

‘I am sorry, cara. If we are visible here we will not be able to avoid interruptions,’ he told her with a mix of apology and frustration.

‘It’s all right.’ Her smile was shy and tentative but so pure it sucked the air from his lungs and left him feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. ‘I’m sure you’re in demand and lots of people will want to discuss things with you. Events like this must give you the chance to catch up with colleagues and exchange views on the run.’

Relieved she was relaxing a little, Rico nodded in agreement, enjoying the sound of her voice, which was melodious yet throaty, her English tones clear and refined, and without an identifiable regional accent. ‘You are my guest, Ruth, and my time is devoted to you. These days conferences are thankfully shorter and more focused than they used to be as we are all too busy to be away from our posts for long.’

‘You must have a full list of patients awaiting you in America,’ she suggested, demonstrating how much they had yet to discover about each other.

‘Not in America.’ He paused a moment, thanking the waitress who came to clear away their cups and saucers. ‘I was there for a few weeks giving lectures and training sessions, as well as consulting on a couple of cases, but my home and my clinic are in Italy.’

‘Oh! I didn’t realise. When you said you were flying in from New York, I assumed that was where you were based.’

Before he could explain, a German colleague wanted to exchange a few words about the workshop Rico was leading that afternoon. Instead of the enjoyment he normally felt in being able to meet up and talk shop with fellow doctors, now it was impatience that gripped him. He wanted everyone to go away so that he could have time alone with Ruth. But he was destined to be thwarted. For now.

The temptation to escape and miss the rest of the programme was great, but he couldn’t yet succumb to the urgent desire to forget everything else and carry Ruth off to bed. Not only did he have his own commitments but it was important for Ruth to learn and absorb as much as she could, both in terms of increasing her knowledge and being able to make a decision on whether or not to consider a change of direction in her career. However difficult, it was work first and pleasure second—when he had worked out a plan to win her trust and her heart.

‘There is much we don’t yet know about each other,’ he said when they were left alone again. ‘I am looking forward to learning all about you, but unfortunately I will have to wait a little longer.’ He smiled, noting the mix of anxiety and anticipation that warred in her expression. ‘We will have time when conference business has finished for the day—I’m sure we can slip away a bit early. But there is much for us to discuss on a professional level.’

‘Pippa Warren,’ Ruth ventured, mentioning the eight-year-old girl whose illness had been the catalyst, causing Ruth to email him in the first place.

‘Indeed, yes. Sadly her situation is far from rare. I learn about cases of delayed or incorrect diagnoses all too often, both in adults and children. And, with the latter, there are parents who are often at the end of their tether, with no idea which way to turn,’ he explained, momentarily distracted by the shimmering colours as Ruth nodded her head and her pale gold hair glinted in the sunlight.

‘That was certainly how Pippa’s mother Judith appeared when I first met her,’ Ruth agreed, a tiny frown knotting her brow. ‘She had been passed from pillar to post for several years, with various doctors insisting that Pippa was fine and telling Judith that she was fussing unnecessarily and an overanxious mother.’

Rico heard similar stories far too frequently. ‘A mother’s instinct should never be dismissed out of hand. Judith and Pippa struck gold the day they walked into your surgery,’ he praised, seeing the hint of a blush colour her cheeks.

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘I do,’ he insisted, refusing to let her play down her achievements. ‘Many doctors, including those with far more experience than you, would not have recognised what you did, never mind follow it through with such tenacity.’

Looking embarrassed, she shrugged. ‘I was just lucky.’

‘Luck had nothing to do with it,’ Rico chastised, determined that she acknowledge what she had done for Pippa and her mother. ‘You are a special doctor, Ruth. And equally as important as your academic excellence is that you really care about your patients. You listen to them and you give them your time—not easy given the pressures doctors are under and the limited period alloted to each consultation. But you go the extra mile, just as you demonstrated with Judith and Pippa. Whereas many others had taken the easy way out—treating only what they saw on the surface, or simply not understanding the relevance of the history and range of symptoms because of lack of training and knowledge—you trusted your instincts and you didn’t give up until you had solved the puzzle. And, with immunology, making a diagnosis is often a case of detective work, of sticking in there and not giving up. You did that, Ruth. On your own. I think—in fact, I know—that you are amazing.’

‘Thank you.’

Two little words and yet they revealed so much, especially an inner aloneness that tightened a knot in his stomach and made him want to pull her into his arms and hug her tight. Her smile was tremulous, while the emotion in her voice, and the expression in eyes glimmering with a suspicion of unshed tears, brought the instinctive knowledge that support of her and belief in her had been in short supply in the past. He didn’t yet know why, but he intended to find out. And then he would ensure that she knew her own worth in the future.

‘Where do things stand with Pippa now?’ he asked, forcing himself to keep things professional.

‘We are waiting for the hospital appointment to come through. I saw Judith last week and she has lots of questions about what will happen when Pippa goes for assessment, and what is involved if the consultant confirms that it is CVID.’ It was through Rico’s help that Ruth had been able to determine that common variable immunodeficiency or CVID, was the most likely diagnosis. She paused, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, an endearing knot of consideration creasing her brow. ‘I’ve tried to reassure her as best I can, but I can’t answer everything for her.’

‘Have Pippa’s symptoms improved at all?’ he asked, happy to help Ruth set Judith and Pippa’s minds at rest about what might lie ahead for them.

‘There has been a small lessening in the severity of some of the symptoms now she has started the broad-spectrum antibiotics you recommended,’ Ruth told him, gratitude evident in her smile. ‘After her years of recurring infections and other problems, I’m hoping that there hasn’t been any permanent damage and that she hasn’t developed bronchiectasis.’

Rico nodded as Ruth expressed her worries about the chronic condition that caused widening and scarring of the structures of the bronchi, or breathing tubes. It was one of his concerns for Pippa, too. ‘You said that the blood tests showed low levels of serum immunoglobins.’

‘That’s right. Very low.’ She glanced at him, then away again, but not before he had noted the flash of indecision in her eyes. A small sigh escaped and she seemed to be wrestling with something, but before he could question her, she grimaced and began speaking again. ‘I had a few problems getting the blood tests done.’

‘How do you mean?’ Rico frowned.

‘They are not tests that would usually be requested from a general practice surgery.’

Rico’s frown deepened. ‘You had trouble from the hospital when you asked for the tests? Or from your own practice?’

‘Questions were asked. But the tests got done, that’s what matters. And it told us what we needed to know to help Pippa,’ Ruth said, but Rico was certain she was glossing over much of the struggle she had faced. He wanted to know who had put obstacles in her way. And why. But he let it go…for now.

‘The consultant immunologist will test Pippa’s antibody levels. The vaccine tests can take up to six weeks, which I know is frustrating, but it is important to define the degree of immunodeficiency,’ he explained, seeing the sharp intelligence in Ruth’s eyes and knowing she was absorbing all the information. ‘If the final diagnosis is CVID—as we believe it will be—Pippa will have immunoglobin replacement therapy, which should help end the cycle of recurring infections.’

‘I read that the immunoglobin infusions can be delivered either intravenously or subcutaneously?’ Ruth commented, a query in her voice.

Rico nodded, unsurprised by her thoroughness. ‘That is so. At first Pippa will have regular treatment at the hospital, but once she is stabilised, and if both mother and daughter can cope, they can be taught how to administer the subcut treatment at home.’

‘The subcut sounds scary,’ Ruth pointed out. ‘Especially for an eight-year-old.’

‘Patients generally find it easier than they first think and it is well tolerated. It is better than prolonged IV access, which can increase the risk of infection and also becomes difficult if the veins are hard to find. And, because the home infusions are given once a week, they help to keep the levels more constant than with the IV infusion in hospital,’ he reassured her, although her desire to keep her patient informed was typical of the caring doctor he was coming to know.

Aware that time was running out, he ran through some advice and suggestions that Ruth could pass on and which might help the Warrens as they faced the next stage of the journey in gaining a diagnosis and an ongoing treatment programme for Pippa.

A high-voltage smile hit him full on, testing his restraint. ‘I’m very grateful, Rico. You’ve given so much of your time and I know how Judith and Pippa really appreciate your advice. As do I,’ she added shyly, touching his heart. And he loved the way she said his name, how her refined English voice, melodious but throaty, made it sound.

‘It has been my pleasure to help, carissima. And I shall be interested to hear how things progress in the weeks and months ahead. You must keep me up to date.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll do that,’ she promised.

Rico knew that whatever happened between Ruth and himself in the next couple of days, the Warrens’ case would keep their link intact and the avenue of communication open. He obviously didn’t like the fact that Pippa was ill, but without Ruth being concerned and searching the internet for information, he would never have met her. And even after a very short time in her company, he could not now imagine his life without Ruth in it. He just hoped he didn’t mess things up.

Rico wished the moment of intense closeness could go on forever but, much to his regret, the call came to announce the start of the conference’s second session that would take them up to lunch.

‘As I have told you in our email exchanges, I am genuinely impressed by your skills. You have an innate gift for learning, Ruth, and for caring, for healing.’ Aware of people moving around them and returning to their places in the main room, Rico leaned closer and focused on Ruth. ‘We have no more time now, and this afternoon I have the workshop.’

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she admitted, making him smile.

Private time with Ruth would be scarce, at least until the evening, but he was determined to be alone with her so he could learn all about her and do everything possible to persuade her to come and work with him. And be with him. Once more the line between professional and personal blurred.

‘We can continue our discussion later.’ He drew in a deep breath, realising how nervous he was, how desperate to get things right and not scare her away. ‘Will you have dinner with me tonight, Ruth?’

Time seemed suspended as he waited for her answer. He felt each beat of his heart beneath his ribs, was sure she must hear its anxious pounding. He watched her changing expressions, wondering what more he could do to convince her, nearly groaning aloud as she nibbled at her bottom lip, making him yearn to taste her, kiss her.

‘Yes…I will.’

The whispered words brought untold relief and gratitude that this first hurdle had been crossed. But he knew more lay ahead. They could sort out the details of the evening later. Now he had a few short hours in which to plan his campaign to get Ruth to say yes to a whole lot more than dinner.

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