Читать книгу Hot Single Docs: Waiting For You - Sarah Morgan, Carol Marinelli - Страница 12
ОглавлениеAS IDEAS went, this had been one of her worst.
Tense and on edge, Tasha paced around Alessandro’s stunning, contemporary clifftop home, wishing she’d never agreed to the plan. But refusing would have invited awkward questions from Josh. And anyway, she hadn’t thought for a moment that she’d feel anything for Alessandro except mild contempt.
She’d planned to wash the boy out of her hair—she’d forgotten that the boy was now a man. A man who oozed sex appeal and natural authority even when badly injured. From the moment she’d walked into his private room and seen him watching the nurse through those slanting, slightly mocking eyes she’d known she was in trouble.
The nerves jumped in her stomach and she realised how long it had been since she’d been around a man who had that effect on her. The few relationships she had, she was careful to keep light and casual. She preferred it that way.
Her usual confidence deserting her, Tasha kept her back to him and focused her attention on the house. The place was incredible. Built on one level, floor-to-ceiling glass wrapped itself around the house, giving uninterrupted views over the beach from every angle of the living room. Deep soft sofas in ocean colours grouped around a large blue-and-white-striped rug and there were touches of the sea everywhere. Elegant pieces of driftwood. An old anchor. And then there were the paintings and the books.
Tasha glanced in envy at the bookshelves and wished she had a free month to read her way through the collection while lying on one of those squashy sofas and occasionally looking at the view. Somehow the place managed to be stylish and contemporary while maintaining a cosy, intimate feel.
‘How on earth did you find this place?’
‘I knew where I wanted to live. When this house came up, someone tipped me off.’
Knowing how much property cost in this part of the world, Tasha gave a wry smile. ‘I dread to think how much you paid.’
‘The real problem was planning permission. The original house was structurally unsound and we had to persuade them that this would enhance the landscape.’
Tasha glanced up at the double height living room, awash with light. ‘Your architect was clever.’
The view alone would have fetched millions. Outside, a wide deck curved around the house, a glass balustrade offering some protection while ensuring that not a single element of the outdoors was lost. The home shrieked style and sophistication. And then there were the gadgets...
It was a contemporary palace, she thought, fit for a playboy prince.
The evidence of wealth was everywhere and the high-tech security meant there was no forgetting the identity of her patient. From the moment the electronic gates had opened onto the long winding drive that led up to the clifftop house, she’d been aware of the security cameras. And then there was the team of highly trained security staff who worked shifts protecting the prince.
Tasha risked a glance at him and thought to herself that he didn’t look like a man who needed anyone’s protection. From the dark stubble on his jaw to the dangerous gleam of his eyes, he was more pirate than prince.
It occurred to her that she’d only ever met him in her world. Never in his. She’d never thought of him like this, with protection officers on twenty-four-hour rotation.
At seventeen she’d been in awe of the fact that he was actually a prince, but she’d never thought about what that really meant. To her, the word ‘prince’ made her think of fairy-tales. Of chivalry, bravery and honour. To a little girl whose father had walked out, those qualities had seemed like riches. She still remembered her reaction when Josh had told her his university friend was coming to stay. Her mouth had dropped open and she’d said those words that afterwards she’d regretted for years. ‘A real, live prince?’ From that moment onwards she’d been doomed to a lifetime of teasing by her older brothers, but at the time she hadn’t even cared. Meeting a prince had been the ultimate romantic experience for a teenager just discovering boys. Her brain had taken up permanent residence in dreamland. Right from the day he’d stepped out of his armoured car, the sun gleaming off his glossy dark hair, she’d carried on dreaming. At twenty, Alessandro Cavalieri had been insanely handsome, but what had really drawn her had been his charm. Used to being on the receiving end of nothing but verbal abuse from her brothers and their friends, his charisma had been fascinating and compelling. Instead of treating her as a tomboy, he’d treated her as a woman. She’d never stood a chance.
She’d dreamed her way through countless lessons, concocting scenarios where Alessandro ignored all the beautiful girls who threw themselves at him because he couldn’t look at anyone but her. The reality had been so far removed from the fantasy that the inevitable crash between the two had been catastrophic.
Reminding herself of that fact settled the nerves in her stomach. True, he was even more spectacular to look at now, but she was no longer a dreamy, romantic teenager. Neither was she interested in a relationship with a man whose only commitment was to his own ego. She was past the age when a handsome face was the only thing she noticed.
Relieved to have rationalised the situation, Tasha started to relax. ‘The view of the beach is good. The surfing here is some of the best in Cornwall and it’s never busy because of the rocks. You have to know what you’re doing.’
‘Josh told me you all used to spend hours surfing here when you were kids.’
‘It used to drive our mother out of her mind with worry.’ She rested her head against the glass. ‘It’s been so long since I surfed.’
‘That surprises me. I can’t imagine you working in a city.’
‘That’s where the job was.’ Was. Tasha felt a ripple of panic but masked it quickly. ‘Anyway, it feels good to be home. Familiar.’
‘There’s a private path from the terrace that leads straight down onto the beach. It’s the reason I bought this property. You can surf from the front door. Did you bring your wetsuit?’
‘Of course.’ Tasha thought about the suitcases in her car. She was like a snail, she thought, carrying her world around on her back. And what was she doing, talking surfing with him? The point of this wasn’t to be intimate or cosy. Deciding that it was never too soon to start inflicting a little extra pain, she gave a sympathetic smile. ‘Shame you can’t join me.’
‘Thanks for the reminder.’ The irritation in Alessandro’s voice confirmed that her arrow had found its target.
‘At least I’ll be able to get out there and surf, and I’ll give you a report,’ Tasha said kindly, feeling a flash of satisfaction as she saw his jaw tighten. Oh, boy, are you going to suffer. She was about to twist the knife again when he shifted position and she saw pain flicker in his eyes. His naturally olive skin was several shades paler than usual and she could see the strain in his face. The physician in her at war with the woman, Tasha strolled over to him. ‘Moving you from the hospital to here must have been a painful experience.’
‘It was fine.’
He hadn’t uttered a word of complaint but she knew that he must have been in agonising pain. ‘I’ll try and help you find a comfortable position.’
‘I’m perfectly comfortable. And I don’t need your help.’
‘That’s why you’re paying me, remember? To help you. You need a nurse to look after you.’
‘I needed a nurse because they wouldn’t discharge me from hospital without one. Not for any other reason.’ Jaw clenched, Alessandro manoeuvred himself onto the sofa, the pain involved leaving him white-faced. The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he took his weight on the crutches. ‘I don’t need to be looked after.’
Tasha found herself looking at those muscles. Pumped up. Sleek and hard. She frowned. So what? It took more than muscles to make a real man. ‘So if you don’t need to be looked after, what am I expected to do? File my nails?’
‘You can do whatever you like. Read a book. Watch TV. Surf—although if that’s how you spend your day, I’d rather you didn’t tell me about it.’ He dropped the crutches onto the floor with a clatter that said as much about his mood as the black frown on his face. ‘Do whatever you like. Consider it an all-expenses-paid holiday.’
But she wouldn’t choose to take a holiday with him, would she?
Ten years had done nothing but add to his physical attractions, she thought irritably. It was all very well reminding herself that looks didn’t count, but everything about him was unapologetically masculine and being alone with him made her feel jittery. Which was ridiculous, she told herself, given that he could barely walk. He was hardly going to leap on her, was he? Anyway, he’d made it clear years before that he didn’t find her attractive.
Reminded of the ‘flat-chested’ comment by her brother, it was all she could do to stop herself thrusting her chest forward. ‘Now that I’m here, you might as well at least let me fetch you a drink.’
‘Thanks. A drink would be good.’ The tension
in his voice reflected the pain he was fighting. ‘Whisky is in the cupboard in the kitchen and you’ll find glasses on the top shelf. Join me. We’ll have drinks on the terrace if I can get myself there.’
Drinks on the terrace?
Tasha felt a flash of alarm. No way. Lounging on the deck, watching the sun go down over golden sand was far too intimate a scenario. That wasn’t what she had in mind at all. This was about inflicting pain, not taking pleasure. Not that she thought she was in any danger of falling for him again, but as a scientist reviewing the evidence she had to concede that it had happened before.
‘A drink sounds like a good idea, but forget the terrace. You only just sat down, and if you keep moving you’ll just make the pain worse.’ Whisky, she thought, laced with arsenic or something equally poisonous. Or maybe just whisky along with the powerful painkiller and antibiotics he’d been prescribed. It would knock him unconscious and then she wouldn’t need to worry about falling for his dangerous charm.
Not that he seemed charming right now. Pain had made him irritable and moody and he leaned his head back against the sofa, jaw clenched, eyes closed. ‘I’ll have it straight. No water. No ice.’
In other words, nothing to dilute the effects of the alcohol.
Tasha walked into the kitchen, knowing that every movement she made was being followed by those fierce black eyes. She remembered him telling her that his ancestors had been warriors, descendents of the Romans who had once colonised the Mediterranean island of San Savarre that was his home. It was all too easy to imagine Alessandro Cavalieri in warrior mode.
Irritated with herself, shrugging off those thoughts, she opened cupboards until she found whisky. Closing her hand around the bottle, she hesitated. It would be really bad for him to drink with the tablets, but Alessandro didn’t seem to care. Clearly he was seeking oblivion. He’d drink whisky and to hell with the consequences. In fact, he’d probably enjoy the experience of alcohol and painkillers. Tasha put the bottle back. She wasn’t here to do what he wanted. She wasn’t here to make his life comfortable. It was already comfortable enough.
She glanced around her. The kitchen was like something from an upmarket show home. Light poured through a glass atrium and reflected off shiny black granite work surfaces. It was smooth and streamlined, designed for practicality as well as show.
‘I could almost want to cook in a place like this,’ Tasha muttered, yanking open the door of the tall American fridge and staring at the contents. ‘Nothing but champagne and beer—typical man. What about food?’ Exploring the lower shelves, she found some mouldy cheese and a dead lettuce, which she removed and dropped in the bin. ‘Good job I went to the supermarket.’
While the ambulance crew had been preparing Alessandro for the transfer home, she’d taken herself into St Piran on a shopping trip for provisions. She’d spent several hours carefully selecting items to help her with her plan, thinking carefully about what would help her cause. Abandoning the idea of using anything from his fridge, she reached for her bag of supplies and pulled out a packet of herbal tea.
Perfect.
She’d yet to meet a man who enjoyed herbal tea.
Humming happily, Tasha boiled water and found two mugs.
Carrying the tea back to the living area, she put the tray down on the low glass table and waited expectantly.
The wait was worth it. His reaction was everything she’d hoped for.
Alessandro stared in disbelief at the pale yellow liquid steaming in the mugs. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘Herbal tea,’ Tasha said earnestly. She groped around for something convincing to say about it. ‘It will be good for you. It boosts the immune system and works as a—as a—as an internal cleanser.’ As a highly trained clinician, she couldn’t believe she was spouting such unscientific nonsense and she braced herself for Alessandro to burst out laughing and demand she show him the data to support her claims, but he didn’t. Instead he glowered at her, his eyes narrowing to two dangerous slits.
‘Is this a joke? This is your idea of taking care of me?’
‘Absolutely. I’m doing what’s good for you.’
‘Whisky would be good for me.’
Tasha made an attempt at a timid smile. Given that she’d never done ‘timid’ before in her life, she was reasonably pleased with the result. ‘Don’t be angry,’ she coaxed. ‘I remembered afterwards that the whisky won’t go well with painkillers and antibiotics so I went for tea instead. I’m supposed to be looking after your health, remember? That’s why I’m here. Try it. It’s delicious. Caffeine-free and so healthy.’
His gaze slid from her eyes to the contents of the mug. ‘It looks like something that’s come straight from the drains.’
‘Really? I find it delicious.’ To prove her point, Tasha took an enormous gulp of hers and just about managed not to spit it out. Utterly vile. ‘Mmm. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘Is that a serious question?’ The dangerous gleam in his eyes was a reminder to Tasha not to underestimate him. He wasn’t tame. And he wasn’t a pussy cat. He was a man who was used to controlling everyone and everything around him.
And it was clear to her now that he really didn’t want anyone there. He’d only agreed to it to facilitate his early discharge.
She gave a faint smile. That was good, wasn’t it? She didn’t want him to want her here. That was the whole point. She was here to make his life difficult and uncomfortable while proving to herself that his charm had just been the creation of her hormonal teenage brain. So far she was doing well.
Apart from that initial jolt she’d felt when she’d first seen him lounging in the hospital bed, she had herself well under control.
She ignored the tiny voice inside herself that warned her she was playing with fire—that however dangerous he’d been as a boy, the threat was magnified now he was a man.
Handing him a glass of water, she kept up the sympathy. ‘Take your antibiotics and painkillers now and then you can have another lot before you go to bed.’ Unable to switch off the doctor inside her, she frowned at his leg. ‘You should keep that elevated. Wait a minute...’ She grabbed three cushions from one of the sofas and carefully repositioned his leg. Although she was gentle, she knew the pain had to be agonising, but Alessandro didn’t murmur and she felt a flash of grudging respect. At least he wasn’t a wimp or a whiner. ‘How does that feel?’
‘As if a horse trampled on it?’ His dry humour bought a smile to her lips but she killed it instantly, unsettled by the ease with which the smile had come. She didn’t want to find him amusing any more than she wanted to find him attractive. And then her eyes met his and the desire to smile faded instantly.
Sexual tension punched through her, stealing her breath and clouding her mind. The power of it shook her.
‘Take your tablets,’ she croaked. She wanted to look away but there was something about those sexy dark eyes that wouldn’t allow it.
How long they would have stayed like that she didn’t know because the phone suddenly buzzed, breaking the spell.
‘Leave it,’ he said roughly, but Tasha was relieved and grateful for anything that gave her an excuse to turn her back on him. She felt dizzy. Light-headed—as if she were floating.
‘It could be someone important.’ Her hand shook slightly as she picked up the phone. Note to self, she thought. Don’t look at the guy unless you have to. ‘Hello?’
A woman’s voice came down the phone, smooth and sultry.
The dizziness faded in an instant and Tasha thrust the phone at him, plummeting back to earth with a bump. ‘It’s for you. Someone called Analisa. She doesn’t sound too happy.’ And that made two of them. Clearing the tray, Tasha stomped back into the kitchen.
What the hell was she playing at? Staring at a guy like some sort of dreamy teenager!
Scowling, she tipped the herbal tea down the sink.
If she’d needed reminding what Alessandro was like, it was that phone call.
She didn’t understand the language, but it was obvious that Alessandro wasn’t spending time placating the woman. Judging from his bored tone, it wasn’t going to bother him if Analisa or whatever her name was didn’t phone back.
And that, Tasha thought angrily, summed up Alessandro Cavalieri. He didn’t care how many women he hurt. Flirt today, dump tomorrow.
She took her time in the kitchen and by the time she strolled back into the living room, Alessandro was no longer on the phone. ‘Did you take those tablets?’
‘Yes. They would have gone down more easily with whisky.’
‘You’re going to need a clear head to handle all those women who keep calling you.’
‘Are you jealous?’
‘Oh, please!’ Tasha moved the crutches out of the way before he tripped and did more damage. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. Fortunately for both of us, I’ve grown out of the girl-meets-prince fantasy.’
‘Good, because girl-meets-prince has never done anything for me. It’s all fake.’ His tone was irascible and suddenly she wished she’d stayed in the kitchen.
The house was huge, and yet suddenly it seemed small.
It was all too intimate, too—terrifying?
‘You’re very bad-tempered. That’s probably because you’re hungry. If you’re sure I can’t tempt you with some of my lovely, delicious tea, I’ll go and make us some supper instead.’
‘You’d better phone for a take-away because there isn’t anything in the fridge.’
‘Actually, there was, but most of it looked ready for a post mortem so I threw it away. The only thing within use-by date in your fridge is the champagne, and last time I looked that wasn’t listed as one of the five major food groups.’ Ignoring the empty space on the sofa next to him, she sprawled in one of the chairs, curling her legs underneath her. ‘I gather you don’t cook.’
‘I have a chef, but while I’ve been in hospital I gave him time off.’
A chef? ‘Yes, well, next time tell him to clean the dead bodies out of the fridge before he leaves. Lucky for you I had the foresight to pick up some food on the way so we’re not going to starve.’
‘I don’t expect you to cook. That isn’t why you’re here.’ His face was paper white and she could see that the slightest movement caused him agony. ‘Anyway, I’m not hungry.’
‘If you don’t eat, you won’t recover. Why do you have a chef?’
‘I’m a useless cook. And I’m usually too busy to cook. I eat out a lot.’
With women like the sultry Analisa. ‘Well, that’s not a problem. It will be my pleasure to make you delicious treats.’ Generally she hated cooking, but Tasha decided not to share that with him. She’d already decided what she was cooking him for dinner. ‘In fact, why don’t I get started? You ought to have an early night.’
‘I’m not big on early nights.’ Those dark eyes found hers. ‘Unless there’s a reason.’
‘A broken ankle and bruised ribs are a reason.’ Rejecting the chemistry, Tasha uncurled her legs and stood up. ‘The body heals better when it’s rested.’
‘So you’re good in the kitchen?’
‘I’m good in every room, Alessandro.’ Leaving him to dwell on that comment, Tasha walked back to the kitchen and closed the door firmly behind her.
The irony didn’t escape her. Normally she avoided the kitchen. Here, it felt like a refuge from Alessandro.
Trying not to think about him, she emptied her bags over the shiny black work surface and picked up a small bag of extra-hot chillies.
Stir-fry, she thought, with a kick.
She couldn’t kick him herself, but this should do the job for her.
But as she chopped and sliced she discovered that it was impossible not to think about him. And thinking made her wonder about the dark clouds she saw in his eyes. She’d been a doctor long enough to recognise when someone was suffering. And she didn’t think the dark emotions swirling around him had anything to do with the accident.
Might have caused the accident, though, she mused, slicing onion with surgical precision.
Minutes later she had noodles cooking in boiling water and she was stir-frying a generous quantity of garlic, red chilli and ginger. Making a guess at the timing, Tasha gamely tipped in vegetables and juicy prawns and finally added the noodles.
As it sizzled, she turned to the other pan and stirred the contents. It looked identical except for one ingredient—it lacked the copious amounts of red chilli.
Just don’t mix them up, she reminded herself as she plated the meal, adding a touch of garnish to make the dish extra appetising.
Pleased with the result, she walked through to the light, airy living room. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the evening was cool. Alessandro lay sprawled on the low sofa where she’d left him, staring with brooding concentration at the waves crashing onto the shore.
‘The first time I surfed here I was twenty. Josh brought me.’
And she’d followed them. Egged on by her best friend from school, they’d hidden, giggling, behind the rocks, watching as her brother and his sexy friend stripped down to board shorts.
Tasha put the plates down on the table with a clatter. ‘I would have thought a playboy with a private jet and your surfing skills would have chosen North Beach, Hawaii, or Jeffreys Bay in South Africa.’
‘I love Cornwall. Staying with your family was one of the happiest times of my life.’
The words pushed her control off centre and Tasha felt her stomach lurch. It had been the happiest time of her life, too. Which had made the abrupt ending even harder. ‘Our home wasn’t exactly big—it must have felt like a shoebox to you after palace life.’
‘It felt like a proper home. And I envied the way you could all just get on with your lives without having to think about crowds and security.’
As a teenager she’d thought it was impossibly glamorous having security guards, but now she could see that it might be an inconvenience, especially for an active, athletic guy like Alessandro.
‘I guess Cornwall is a pretty low-profile place.’
‘It’s not bad. Fortunately this house isn’t too accessible. How often do you surf?’
‘Me?’ Tasha handed him cutlery. ‘Not as often as I’d like to because I generally work long hours. Normally, that’s the way I like it. I’m a career girl. But now that I’m looking after you...’ she shrugged ‘...I intend to make up for lost time.’
‘So if you’re a career girl, how come you’re not working right now?’
Unwittingly he’d tapped into her deepest fears. That she might not be able to find another job. That her altercation with her last boss might have blown her reputation to smithereens.
Tasha opened her mouth and closed it again, unsettled by the sudden desire to confide. She stifled it, knowing that confiding was the first step towards intimacy. And she didn’t want intimacy with this man. ‘I’m in between jobs. I’ve cooked a stir-fry. I hope that’s all right with you.’
‘Looks delicious.’ He picked up a fork. ‘I can imagine you as a children’s doctor.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Do you want to try and eat at the table?’
‘No, this is fine. You’re right that moving around hurts. I think the journey to the bedroom will be enough of a challenge for one evening.’
As he shifted position, her eyes were drawn to his body.
No man had a right to be so good looking, Tasha thought as she registered the strength in those wide shoulders. It should have been enough that he was a prince. And rich. Looking like a sex god as well was just too many gifts for one person.
She might have been irritated if it hadn’t been for the fact he was about to eat her food. And that was going to be a real test of manhood.
Hiding a smile, Tasha turned her attention back to her own plate. ‘I love your kitchen. The design is fantastic. A whole different experience for me. Dinner for me is usually a cardboard sandwich from the hospital cafeteria at three in the morning.’
‘It didn’t look anything like this when I bought it. The rooms were small and the whole place was pretty dark. I worked with an excellent architect and we knocked down almost every wall, put in the skylights...’ He glanced up at the roof of the double-height sitting room. ‘We decided it was worth gutting the place because it had such potential. We opened it up, let the light flow in. This is delicious, by the way. You’re a good cook.’
Delicious? He thought it was delicious?
Tasha stared at him in disbelief. ‘You like it?’
‘After two weeks of hospital food?’ He twisted noodles around his fork with skill and precision. ‘This is heaven.’
He had to be kidding. It had to be a double bluff. Unless...
Tasha stared down at her own plate. Had she mixed them up?
Cautiously, she took a mouthful, waiting for her mouth to explode into flames from the chilli, but the flavours in her food were subtle and she knew instantly she didn’t have the wrong plate. Which meant he clearly had a mouth lined with asbestos.
‘Is there any more?’ Alessandro speared the last prawn. ‘You don’t seem to be eating yours.’
‘I am. And there isn’t any more.’ She hadn’t thought for a moment he’d eat what she’d served him. Clearly his mouth was as tough as the rest of him.
Feeling aggravated, Tasha finished her food. ‘Why did you fall anyway? Was the horse too difficult for you?’
He accepted the slight with a flicker of a smile. ‘The horse wasn’t difficult. I lost concentration for a moment, but that was long enough for the guy on the opposite team to bring us down. My ankle took most of the weight. My ribs took the rest.’ He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed.
She wondered why he’d lost concentration.
‘You were trapped under the horse? Ouch. So no physical activity for the rest of the summer?’
His eyes opened and he studied her from underneath lush, dark lashes. ‘Depends what you mean by physical activity.’
Staring into those dangerous dark eyes, her mouth dried. ‘I meant polo and surfing.’ Tasha felt the heat slowly spread through her body and wished she’d never mentioned physical activity. Even injured, the man was deadly. ‘You look tired. Do you want me to call your security team to help you from the sofa to the bed?’
‘No. I have the crutches and I can manage.’
‘Independent, aren’t you?’
‘You could say that.’
Torn between wanting to see him suffer and not wanting him to exacerbate his injuries, Tasha tilted her head. ‘The crutches won’t be much use while your ribs are so bruised. We might need to think of other options.’
‘This is fine.’ Shifting to the edge of the sofa, Alessandro picked up the crutches and stood up, taking his weight on his good leg.
Tasha flinched.
That had to hurt.
‘Alessandro—’
‘I can do it. Just give me space.’ There was a stubbornness in his tone. A grim determination to succeed despite the agonising pain. Reluctantly impressed, Tasha stood there, careful not to touch him and distinctly unsettled by how much she wanted to do just that.
‘Look, I could call one of those burly security guards—’
‘It would help if you could check the route to my bedroom is clear. So far I haven’t mastered doing this with obstacles.’ His face was chalk-white as he slowly eased his way forward. ‘I’ll just use the bathroom on the way so that I don’t have to make two journeys.’
Tasha watched as the muscles in his powerful shoulders flexed and knew that every movement had to be causing him agony. ‘I think you need help.’
He cast her a look that told her he’d be long dead before he’d accept help from anyone. A crooked smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re offering to assist me in the bathroom? Now, that could be interesting.’
Trying to work out how the atmosphere had shifted to intimate, Tasha felt her face turn scarlet. ‘I just don’t see how you’re going to manage to do what you have to do without help.’
His eyes lingered on hers for a long moment. Mockery mingled with something else that she didn’t even want to put a name to. ‘You want to come and watch how it’s done, tesoro?’
He’d called her that at seventeen and her heart rushed forward, doubling its rhythm. ‘Don’t speak Italian.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because...’ Her mouth was dry. ‘Because I don’t speak it and it’s rude to talk a language someone doesn’t understand.’
‘It’s my native tongue.’
‘I know. But you’re fluent in English so that’s no excuse.’ She scowled at him. ‘I just don’t want you falling and fracturing more bones. I’m not sure my patience with this whole nursing thing is going to last that long, so you’d better heal quickly.’
He shifted the position of the crutch. His knuckles were white where they gripped the handles. ‘I won’t lock the door. If I find myself in trouble, I’ll shout and you can come to my rescue. But not on a white charger. I’ve had enough of horses for one week.’
Pinned to the spot by that dark, sexy gaze, Tasha felt as if she were the one who had eaten the chilli. Her entire body was caught in a fiery rush of heat and suddenly she didn’t feel like the one in control. ‘Fine,’ she croaked, ‘leave the door unlocked. Good idea.’
Feeling the heat in her face, she moved through to his bedroom and cleared the suitcase off the bed. His bed was enormous and faced out towards the sea.
How many hearts had he broken in that bed?
Trying to push aside disturbing images of Alessandro’s strong body tangled with a slender female frame, Tasha ripped the duvet back so that he could get into the bed and wondered why on earth she’d volunteered for this job. Why had she ever thought she could make his life difficult? The herbal tea had been moderately irritating but the chilli hadn’t even registered on his taste buds, and all her digs about surfing hadn’t had much impact either.
And now she was stuck here with a man who made her think things she didn’t want to think. It had always been like that, she remembered crossly, even as a teenager. When Alessandro had walked into the room there had never been any confusion. She’d known she was a woman.
If she really wanted him to suffer then she needed to do something drastic.
What was a man like Alessandro likely to be missing more than anything?
Tasha gave a slow smile as she thought about the other items in her shopping bags.
Time for Plan B.
* * *
The pain in his ribs was excruciating. Even small movements resulted in blinding agony, as if a burning-hot poker was being forced into his chest.
But at least it distracted him from the parts of his life he was trying to forget.
Taking advantage of the privacy of the bathroom, Alessandro gave in to the pain.
He balanced himself against the washbasin and reached for a glass. To add to the pain in his ribs and his ankle, his mouth felt as though someone had started a bonfire. Chilli, he thought, gulping down water. When he’d taken the first mouthful of food he’d thought she must have made a mistake but then he’d seen her eating hers happily. Clearly she liked her food hot. Not wanting to offend her, he’d forced his down, eating it as quickly as possible. If she walked out, he’d be back in hospital and there was no way he was going back to hospital. So he’d forced himself to eat with enthusiasm the food she’d prepared.
He drank deeply, wondering how long it took nerve-endings to recover. There wasn’t a single part of his body that wasn’t burning.
Frustrated by his own weakness, accustomed to being at the peak of physical fitness, Alessandro used the bathroom and then clenched his jaw against the pain and hobbled back towards the bedroom, trying in vain to find some way of distributing his weight so that the movement didn’t exacerbate his injuries.
Tasha had turned back the duvet and smoothed the sheets.
Never before had his bed looked so inviting, but the short distance from the door felt like running a marathon. It didn’t help that she was watching him, those cool eyes steady on his face.
‘Aren’t you taking your nursing duties a little too seriously?’ He wished she’d turn away so that he could give in to the pain. ‘You’re off duty once I go to bed.’
‘I’d better help you undress.’
Was she serious? Marvelling at the discovery that extreme pain didn’t seem to interfere with sexual arousal, Alessandro gritted his teeth. For his own sanity he knew he didn’t dare let her touch him. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘How? At least let me help you change your shirt for pyjamas.’
‘I don’t own pyjamas.’
‘I thought you might say that, so I bought you some when I was out shopping.’ Pleased with herself, she picked up a bag and produced a pair of pyjamas.
Distracted from the ache in his loins by the flash of vivid colour, Alessandro blinked. ‘Pink?’
‘It was the only colour they had.’ Her expression was anxious. ‘Oh, dear. Are you one of those guys who believes wearing pink makes them less masculine? Sorry. I hadn’t thought of that. Only I know some guys wear pink shirts these days and I thought these might be OK...’
Was she winding him up? His swift glance at her face suggested nothing but concern. Wondering just how far he was going to have to go not to offend her, Alessandro reminded himself that without her he’d be back in hospital.
Her generosity was the reason he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight.
All he had to do was keep his hands off her. Which shouldn’t be that hard, surely, given that every movement was agony.
‘I don’t have a problem with pink.’ He eyed the pyjamas in disbelief, wondering which idiot had thought there was a market for such a vile creation. ‘But I don’t think they’ll fit over the cast.’
‘Leave that to me.’ Beaming at him, she picked up a pair of scissors and cut a slit down one of the legs. ‘There. Simple.’
Reflecting on the fact that the wretched garment now looked more like a dress than trousers, Alessandro manoeuvred himself onto the bed and let the crutches fall to the floor. Pain lanced his side and he sat still, breathing slowly, hoping it would pass. The helplessness was driving him mad.
‘I’ll help you take off your shirt.’ Tasha sat next to him on the bed and gently eased off his shirt. As she exposed his chest, the breath hissed through her teeth. ‘I’ve never seen bruises like those, Alessandro. How are you still walking around?’ Her tone altered dramatically. Light and flirty gave way to crisp concern.
‘I’m fine. To be honest, walking isn’t any more painful than breathing.’ He was taken aback by the change in her. The girl had gone and in her place was a doctor. A concerned doctor. Her fingers gently traced the bruises and when he glanced at her face he saw that her expression was serious.
‘Does this hurt?’
‘No.’
She gave him an impatient look. ‘Honest answers only, please. A man wearing pink is allowed to express his true emotions even if the resulting language is colourful.’
‘All right. It hurts like crazy and I want to punch something?’
‘And when I do this?’ She pressed lower down and Alessandro swore long and fluently.
‘OK.’ She didn’t blink. ‘Now I know you’re telling the truth.’
The pain was a blinding, agonising flash. Once again he had that sick dread that the doctors might have missed something. Something that was going to keep him bedridden for longer than a fractured ankle and a few broken ribs. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ He spoke through his teeth and she straightened, her hair sliding over her shoulders.
‘Actually, no. I’m checking you over. I don’t like the look of those bruises. Just sit still. I’m going to check your breath sounds.’
‘I’ve already been examined by about a hundred doctors. They kept wheeling in yet another expert to give an opinion.’
‘Sorry, but the only opinion I trust is my own.’ She disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a stethoscope in her hand. ‘Good job I packed this in my box of tricks, although I haven’t listened to an adult’s chest for quite a while.’
‘If that’s supposed to fill me with confidence, it doesn’t.’ It was a lie. Strangely enough, he was relieved to have her opinion. He remembered Josh telling him that Tasha had astonishing instincts to go with her sharp brain. He had no doubt that she was a skilled doctor. Unfortunately that didn’t make things any easier and he sat still while she touched the bruising, trying not to think about how her fingers felt on his skin. ‘Do you have to prod me?’
‘I’m checking there’s no underlying trauma. Those bruises are very impressive. Must hurt a lot.’
Alessandro spoke through his teeth. ‘Not at all.’ As if the pain wasn’t enough, he also had the extra hit of sexual arousal. As she tilted her head, her hair slid forward and brushed against his arm. He tried to move backwards but every movement felt as though he were being slammed into a wall.
‘Bones have a lot of nerve-endings,’ she murmured. ‘That’s why it’s painful.’
‘Thanks for the explanation.’
‘Generally, when someone breaks a bone, the treatment is to immobilise it. We can put your ankle in a cast to protect it. Unfortunately we can’t do the same thing for your ribs.’ Tasha put the stethoscope in her ears. ‘Every time you breathe, you hurt yourself again.’
‘Can’t they strap my chest or something?’
‘No. Now stop talking while I listen.’ She narrowed her eyes and moved the stethoscope on his chest. Her hair whispered across his arm. ‘Breathe in for me.’
Alessandro did and almost passed out. Pain skewered him and darkness flickered around the edges of his vision, muting the lust.
Her eyes locked on his. ‘Breathe in and out through your mouth.’
Was she trying to torture him?
But when she finally removed the stethoscope from her ears, her expression was serious. ‘Your breath sounds are fine, but I’m going to keep an eye on you. To answer your question, they actually did used to strap chests in the old days, but not any more. It impedes movement and stops you breathing deeply—you can’t shift the secretions in your lungs and you can end up with a vile infection. Then you’re back in hospital on yet more antibiotics.’
The word ‘hospital’ was enough to make him ride the pain and breathe deeply. ‘I get the message.’
‘Don’t worry—a young, fit guy like you can cope with a couple of broken ribs and heal quickly. It’s older patients who suffer.’ Digging her hand into her pocket, she pulled out her phone. ‘I’m just going to call your doctor. I want to add in a drug.’
‘I’m already swallowing the contents of a pharmacy.’
‘I want to give you a non-steroidal alongside your painkillers. I don’t know why he didn’t give you that. You don’t suffer from stomach problems, do you?’
‘I’ve never suffered from anything,’ Alessandro growled, ‘until a horse fell on me.’ Watching Tasha talk on the phone, he found his eyes lingering on the curve of her cheek and the thickness of her eyelashes. She was brisk and professional, giving her opinion bluntly and firmly to a man at least twice her age. Impressive, he thought. And he could imagine her working with children. As a teenager, she’d had an irrepressible sense of fun. Remembering some of the tricks she’d played on her brothers, he allowed himself a faint smile.
‘OK, so that’s done.’ She slid the phone back into her pocket. ‘In the morning I’m going to pick you up some extra tablets. I think it will help and so do the guys at the hospital. They should have thought of it, but sometimes it takes a woman to get these things right. Now, then—pyjamas.’
‘I can dress without your help.’ Alessandro, who had never felt awkward with a woman in his life before, suddenly felt awkward. She was behaving as if they had no history. As if—
Tasha picked up the pink pyjamas and dangled them in front of him, her expression bored.
‘I’ve seen it all before, Alessandro. I’m a doctor.’
‘You haven’t seen m—’ He was about to say that she hadn’t seen his body before, but then he remembered that she had. And he’d seen hers. All of hers.
And he didn’t want to mention that. If she was going to act as if nothing had happened, so was he.
He looked at her cautiously, but her face revealed nothing but professional concern.
‘I want to examine the rest of you. Lie back for me.’ Her expression serious, her hands moved down his body, sliding and pressing. ‘Does this hurt?’
‘Everything hurts.’ Feeling her cool fingers on his abdomen, Alessandro sucked in a breath. How low did she intend to go?
Lust slammed through him and Alessandro grabbed the duvet and pulled it higher, ignoring the avalanche of pain that rained down on him. ‘I’m fine. I can manage. Go to bed. You must be tired.’ He wished she’d step back a bit. Her scent was playing havoc with his libido and this close he could see the smoothness of her skin. How the hell could a guy be aroused when his broken ribs were virtually impaling his lungs? ‘Goodnight, Tasha. Thanks for all your help.’
‘If the pain changes, let me know.’
The pain had changed. Suddenly it was all concentrated below his waist and it had nothing to do with being trampled by a four-legged animal. ‘Get some sleep.’
‘Don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need to.’ She walked briskly across the room to close the blinds.
‘Leave them—I prefer to keep the doors open.’
‘You won’t be able to sleep.’
He didn’t tell her that he rarely slept. ‘I’ll be fine. I like the fresh air.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, just shout out.’ Her hips swayed as she walked from window to door. She held a stethoscope in her hand but she walked like a seductress. ‘I hope you have a really good night’s sleep. I’ve chosen the bedroom right across the hall and I’ll leave the door open so I’ll hear you if you shout.’
Great. There were three guest bedrooms, the other two at the far end of the house. Couldn’t she have chosen one of those?
After she left, Alessandro spent a frustrating and agonising fifteen minutes removing his shorts. Exhausted, he didn’t bother replacing them with the pyjamas. Instead he flopped back against the pillows, drained of energy.
He lay without moving until a noise from across the corridor made him look up.
Tasha was walking across the guest room towards the en suite bathroom, undressing as she walked. First she pulled off the scarlet jumper and dropped it in a heap. Her full breasts pushed against a silken wisp of a bra. When her hands moved to the snap of her jeans, Alessandro wanted to groan out a request that she stop, but he couldn’t make a sound and the jeans went the way of the jumper and this time the lace was so brief it was almost irrelevant.
His muscles tensed, sending spasms of pain shooting down his bruised body.
Finding it impossible to breathe, Alessandro wondered if one of his broken ribs had suddenly punctured his lung. There was no air in the room. He was suffocating. He lifted his hand to undo his collar and then remembered that he was naked.
As he watched, she stretched upwards to clip her hair on top of her head, the movement accentuating her lean, flat stomach and her long, slim legs. He felt like a voyeur at an erotic floor show. Clearly she’d forgotten that she had both doors open. Either that or she was just assuming he was asleep.
If he called out, he’d embarrass her, and he couldn’t look away because his head refused to move.
Telling himself that any moment now she was going to lock the bathroom door, Alessandro kept watching. And he was still watching when she turned her back to him, unfastened her bra and stepped out of her knickers.
