“There’s one thing you could do to prove to him you’re not interested in him,” he said

“What?” Lucy asked.

“Show him you’re off-limits—you’re someone else’s girl. If he knows you’re still single, he’ll think you’re pining for him. Whereas if he sees you with someone…he’ll know you’re not. And then he’ll leave you alone.”

The volcano was about to explode at any minute, Nic thought.

Instead she nodded. “Good point.”

She was going to go ahead with it?

“What’s the plan?”

He didn’t have one! “We go back onto the ward. He overhears you make a date with the man in your life.” This was the crunch. The bit where she’d say no.

“And you think it’d work?”

Yes! Yes! his heart screamed. “It’s worth a try,” he said, as casually as he could.

Dear Reader,

It’s amazing where ideas come from. This one was inspired by a fifth birthday party invitation! The theme was “superheroes” and the picture of Antonio Banderas as Zorro made the lightbulb ping in the back of my head.

Just imagine the most gorgeous masked highwayman dancing with you at a charity ball, kissing you and then leaving in a swirl of cape…. (Excuse me while my knees go weak.) And then, next time you meet him, he turns out to be the man who has got your job!

That’s the situation for Lucy Williams in The Italian Doctor’s Proposal—and you can imagine how she reacts to Nic Alberici. But when her former fiancé starts pestering her, Nic becomes a man with a plan. A plan that doesn’t go how either of them intended it…

Nic rather ran away with me in this book. One particular scene wasn’t in my original outline, but Nic had his own ideas and insisted on having his own way. So be prepared to be swept off your feet—I certainly couldn’t resist him!

With love,

Kate Hardy

The Italian Doctor’s Proposal
Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

COVER

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

‘YOUR money or your life?’

Lucy whirled round and stared at the highwayman. She didn’t recognise the voice or the lower half of his face not hidden by the domino mask. Or the dark hazel eyes, a curious mix of brown and grey that somehow managed to be soft and piercing at the same time.

Dangerous eyes.

Your money or your life?

Without giving her a chance to answer, he smiled at her. A smile that was even more dangerous than his eyes. A smile that started a small, slow smoulder in the pit of her stomach.

He was a walking definition of gorgeous. Dark hair that curled beneath a flat-crowned black hat; smooth olive skin; a loose white silk shirt, laced half-open to reveal a sprinkling of dark hair on his chest; tight black trousers leading down to highly polished black boots; and a silky black cloak.

Every woman’s dream highwayman.

Including Lucy’s.

‘A kiss would do,’ he said huskily, and leaned forward to claim it.

As kisses went, it was fairly chaste. And in the middle of a very public arena: the staff charity fancy-dress ball at Treverro Hospital. But the touch of his mouth against hers did something to her. Lucy’s knees actually buckled. If he hadn’t been supporting both her elbows, she would have fallen flat on her face.

And it got worse.

Because when he broke the kiss and pulled back just far enough to see her face, she saw it in his eyes. He knew what effect he’d had on her. He knew he’d blown just about every fuse in her body. And his eyes said that if she’d let him, he’d blow the ones she didn’t even know she had.

‘Catch you later, princess,’ he said, then tipped his hat briefly, gave her a broad wink and spun on his heel as he wrapped his black cloak back round him.

It was completely theatrical and over the top. She should have laughed. Except she felt too sick when she realised what had just happened. Whoever the highwayman was, that kiss had been a set-up. A very public one. She could guess just who’d put him up to it, too—even what he’d said. ‘Lucy’s an ice maiden. It’s about time someone proved she melts.’

She gritted her teeth. If she ever—ever—came across the highwayman again, she’d roast him alive.

And as for her SHO…Malcolm Hobart had better hope she was in a better mood when she was back on duty tomorrow morning.

CHAPTER ONE

‘HARD luck, Luce.’

Lucy forced herself not to make the response that rose instantly to her lips—a snarl of ‘don’t call me Luce’—knowing that Mal just wanted to get a rise out of her. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d managed to rattle her. Though once she’d done the ward rounds, she was going to have a private word with him about practical jokes.

One practical joke in particular.

‘You know, that job really should’ve been yours,’ Mal continued.

‘Obviously the powers that be thought differently.’ She gave what she hoped looked like a philosophical shrug. ‘Was there something specific you wanted to ask me about, Malcy, dearest, or can we do the ward round now?’

He whistled. ‘You’re really sore about it, aren’t you? Losing out to Nic Alberici like that, when everyone thought the job had your name on it.’

‘I am not sore,’ Lucy said through gritted teeth.

‘Lucy Williams, obstetric consultant. Sounds good.’ Mal gave her a mischievous look. ‘Maybe if you’d been Luke Williams, you’d have been in with a better chance.’

Lucy knew better than to listen to Mal—and better still than to let him wind her up. And far better than to say what he clearly believed she was thinking. So why did she have to open her mouth and say it? ‘Jobs for the boys, isn’t it, Mal? And as I’m not intending to have a sex change and become an Italian playboy to suit the hospital bigwigs, I’ll just have to lump it, won’t I?’

Too late, she saw Rosemary, the senior midwife, shaking her head, grimacing and holding her hands up flat and crossed, moving them slightly but very fast: the age-old signal for ‘stop right there’.

Too late, she heard a sultry voice behind her say, ‘It’s half-Italian, actually. My mother’s English.’

Please, earth, open up and swallow me right now.

It didn’t.

Please? she tried again.

Not even a tiny dent in the tiles, let alone the huge pit she needed.

So there was only one thing for it. Face her embarrassment head-on. She stopped holding her breath and spun round on her heel, ready to apologise to Nic Alberici for her rudeness and reassure him that she was looking forward to working with him…

And then she saw his eyes. Dark hazel eyes, a curious mixture of brown and grey. Eyes she’d seen before. Except this time they weren’t warm and smiling and sexy and knowing. This time, they were cold and absolutely furious.

Can today get any worse? she thought. The man who’d embarrassed her at the fancy-dress ball was her new boss. So she couldn’t bawl him out, the way she’d promised herself she would.

She also couldn’t give in to the feelings that threatened to make her knees buckle again. He was her boss, for goodness’ sake.

So there was only one thing she could do. Be professional.

She lifted her chin. ‘I’m sorry. You must be Mr Alberici,’ she said politely, extending her hand. ‘Lucy Williams, special reg. Welcome to River Ward.’

He didn’t take it. ‘Jobs for the boys—an Italian playboy, hmm?’

Uh-oh. Raw nerve. She shrugged. ‘Figure of speech. It wasn’t personal.’

‘I think, Dr Williams—’ his emphasis of her title made it clear he wasn’t going to be easily mollified ‘—that you and I need a little chat. Sooner rather than later. Perhaps we could go to my office?’

She could see Mal’s smirk out of the corner of her eye and could have kicked herself. But it was her own fault. She knew what Mal was like: he put everyone else out of the running for the wooden spoon award. He’d probably spotted Nic Alberici coming their way when he’d started needling her about the fact she hadn’t got the consultant’s post. She should have second-guessed Mal and avoided the subject. Now she and Nic Alberici had got off on the wrong foot. Just what she didn’t need.

Meekly, she followed Nic to his office. The office she’d been using for the last month or so as acting consultant.

He gestured to her to sit down opposite him.

‘I’m sorry you overheard that,’ she said quietly.

‘Clearly I wasn’t meant to.’ If anything, his eyes had grown even colder.

And she’d always thought brown eyes were warm. Lucy swallowed. ‘I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.’

‘If you’re going to have a problem working with me, Dr Williams, I’d prefer to be the first to know,’ he said. ‘It’s important that patients—’

‘Feel confident in the team working with them,’ Lucy cut in. ‘I agree. And I don’t have a problem working with you, Mr Alberici. What you overheard…’ She paused, wondering how to say it without making it sound as if she was blaming Mal, too gutless to take responsibility for her own mistakes. ‘It’s not the way I think. It’s the way some of the other staff believe I think.’

‘Ever heard the saying, “Perception is reality”?’

‘Yes, but not in this case. I admit I thought I’d get the consultant’s job; I’ve been standing in as acting consultant ever since Mike left. But you’re older than I am, you’re more experienced and you’ve a good reputation.’ And he was better qualified. ‘So you were the better candidate and I’m sure I can learn something from you.’

He didn’t look convinced. ‘So why…?’

‘Why did I say that to Mal?’ She shrugged. ‘You know Mal.’ Of course he did. Hadn’t Mal been the one to talk him into kissing her at the charity ball? She ignored the tiny niggle of doubt, and continued, ‘Work it out for yourself.’

There was a long, very awkward pause.

Finally, he spoke. ‘So what now?’

‘I apologise again, I reassure you that I’m a professional, you accept it—’ Lucy ticked off the points on her fingers ‘—and we do the ward round before our pregnant mums get discharged with their three-day-old babies.’

His lips quirked at that. So he had a sense of humour. Well, that was a start.

‘Apology accepted, Dr Williams.’ The warmth she’d seen when he’d kissed her was slowly seeping back into his eyes. Not to mention the warmth in the pit of her stomach. Why did he have to have a smile like that? Why couldn’t he have been…well, middle-aged and dull and not the slightest bit sexy?

Not to mention that voice. The slight accent that made her wonder what his voice would sound like in passion…

No. She was not going to start thinking like that about anyone, let alone her new boss. She was a professional. And she was completely focused on her career.

‘Though I prefer to work on first-name terms,’ he said. ‘Call me Nic.’

The slight hint of a long ‘i’, a sensual Italian ‘Nic’ rather than a diffident English ‘Nick’.

She had to get her libido back under control. Fast. Hadn’t she already learned the hard way that it was stupid to follow her hormones instead of her head?

‘Lucy.’ She made it sound as cool and English as she could. Ice maiden. To match her reputation. She held her hand out. ‘And I meant what I said. I’m looking forward to working with you.’

His handshake was firm and cool and professional. So why was her blood fizzing where he’d touched her? And if a handshake did this to her, what would a more intimate…? No. She forced the thought to the back of her mind. ‘Shall we?’

He nodded and they went to join Rosemary and Mal. Just as Rosemary was about to update them on the first patient, Lucy’s bleeper went.

‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, headed for the phone and dialled the number on her bleeper.

‘Lucy Williams—you paged me?’

‘Thanks for ringing back,’ the A and E nurse said. ‘We have a patient with a suspected placental abruption.’ Placental abruption was where part of the placenta became detached from the uterus. It could be dangerous, possibly even fatal to both the mother and the baby. If the bleeding was severe, they’d need to do an emergency delivery.

‘Have you done an ultrasound?’ Lucy asked.

‘A machine’s on its way. Could you take a look at her?’ the nurse asked.

‘I’ll be right down.’ Though it was only courtesy to let her new boss know where she was going. She hated interrupting colleagues when they were with patients, but the only other choice was leaving a message with one of the midwives, and he’d probably think she was sulking and using any excuse to avoid him. She pulled back the curtain just enough to put her head through the gap. ‘Mr Alberici, I’m sorry to interrupt. Could I have a quick word, please?’

‘Of course. Please, excuse me,’ he said to the patient, then came to join Lucy in the middle of the ward. ‘What’s up?’

‘We’ve got a patient with a suspected placental abruption in A and E. They’ve asked me to see her.’

‘I’ll come with you—if it is that, we’ll need her in Theatre pronto. You’ll assist?’

Yeah, he would be a qualified obstetric surgeon. He could have offered to assist her. But, no, he had to take charge. ‘Sure,’ she muttered.

‘I’ll brief Mal and I’ll be right with you,’ he said.

Efficient, courteous—to the patients, if not to her—and drop-dead gorgeous. It was a tempting combination. A dangerous combination.

Stop it, she warned herself. You are not going to think about Nic Alberici like that.

Though in her mind’s eye he wasn’t wearing a formal white silk shirt, teamed with a silk tie and an expensively cut dark grey suit and topped with a white coat. He was wearing that half-open white shirt, tight black trousers, a hat and a domino mask. Sexy as hell. With a smile that promised—

‘Mal’s going to carry on with the rounds and page us if there are any problems,’ Nic said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘I’ll let him know if we go to Theatre.’

She flushed. ‘Right.’

‘I’m not checking up on the quality of your work,’ he added, misinterpreting the reason for her high colour.

‘I didn’t for one moment think you were.’

He sighed. ‘Oh, hell. Look, Lucy, we got off to a bad start. Let’s just forget it and start again, shall we?’

Forget what? That kiss, or what he’d overheard, or the dressing-down he’d started to give her? The second two, she could do, but the memory of the kiss firmly refused to budge.

Even now, she could still feel his lips against hers. Worse, she wanted him to do it again. In a much more private situation…

She’d only just got herself back under control by the time they reached A and E. ‘I’m Lucy Williams—you paged me to look at a patient with suspected placental abruption,’ she said to the receptionist.

‘Yes. Her name’s Mrs Andrews—Liza Andrews. She’s in room two,’ the receptionist replied. ‘Yvonne Roper’s with her.’

‘Thanks.’ Lucy led the way to room two and knocked on the door.

Yvonne answered the knock. ‘Thanks for coming, Dr Williams.’

‘It’s Lucy,’ Lucy responded. ‘Any time. This is Nic Alberici, the new consultant on River. Before we see the patient, what’s the presentation?’

‘She’s in constant pain, her uterus is tender and tense, she’s bleeding slightly—it’s dark red and clotted—and she’s starting to look shocky,’ Yvonne said.

‘Out of proportion to the loss?’ Nic asked.

‘Yes. Her blood pressure’s low.’

He and Lucy exchanged a glance. There were other causes of bleeding in pregnancy, but the symptoms Yvonne had described sounded very like placental abruption.

‘I’m not happy with the foetal heartbeat either,’ Yvonne added. ‘I think the baby’s getting distressed.’

‘Is the scanner here yet?’ Nic asked.

‘No. I’ll chase it up.’

‘Thanks. We’ll go and see her,’ Lucy said. She knocked on the door, walked in and introduced herself and Nic to Mrs Andrews. ‘Yvonne tells me you’re in pain and you’re losing blood. Would you mind if we examined you?’

‘Please. Anything. Just don’t let me lose my baby,’ Liza Andrews whispered brokenly. ‘I’m forty-three. It’s my first baby. We waited so long, and if I lose him…’ She choked. ‘I might not be able to have another.’

‘We’ll do our best,’ Lucy reassured her. ‘There are lots of reasons for bleeding in pregnancy so don’t assume it’s the worst.’ Lucy glanced at the observation chart. ‘Your baby’s heartbeat is still pretty regular, though your blood pressure’s a bit low so we’ll get some blood into you to help. Yvonne, can you cross-match and get me four units of O-neg?’ she asked as the nurse came back in.

‘We’re waiting for the portable scanner to arrive,’ she told Liza, ‘then we’ll be able to check what’s going on a bit better. It might be just that your placenta’s low-lying, what we call placenta praevia, so I’m not going to give you a vaginal examination.’ If it was placenta praevia rather than an abruption, a vaginal exam could cause a catastrophic bleed. ‘But I will give you some oxygen to help you breathe more easily.’ She unhooked the mask from the wall. ‘Just breathe in through this and try to relax.’ She set the output at fifteen litres a minute. ‘OK?’

Liza nodded.

Lucy gently examined the woman’s abdomen.

‘That hurts,’ Liza said, taking the mask off her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘The good news is that your baby’s lying normally.’ She mouthed to Nic, ‘I’m almost certain it’s an abruption.’

Nic nodded and took Liza’s hand. ‘It says here you’re thirty-six weeks.’

Liza’s face screwed up in anguish. ‘And it’s too early for the baby to come!’

‘It’s quite normal for babies to arrive at thirty-seven weeks—so a few days earlier really isn’t as bad as it sounds,’ Nic reassured her, smiling. ‘You’re in the right place.’

‘So my baby’s going to be all right?’

‘We’ll do our best,’ Lucy said, gently settling the oxygen mask back in place. She listened to the baby’s heartbeat and didn’t like what she heard. Nic was watching her face and she gave him a very brief shake of her head to let him know.

Yvonne arrived with the scanner in tow and the units of blood. Lucy quickly set up an intravenous infusion while Nic put the scanner in place.

‘Lucy,’ he said quietly.

She took one look at the screen and her heart sank. The placenta wasn’t low-lying. And as Liza Andrews hadn’t been visibly losing that much blood, the chances were that most of the blood from the abruption was trapped, known as a ‘concealed abruption’.

‘Mrs Andrews, you have what we call placental abruption,’ Lucy said. ‘It means that your placenta’s started to come away from the wall of your womb.’

Liza blenched. ‘Am I going to lose the baby?’

‘Not if we can help it. But it’s too big for me to let you go home again,’ Lucy said. ‘And I don’t want to take any risks with the baby.’

‘I’d like to deliver the baby by Caesarean section,’ Nic said.

‘Now?’ Liza asked, horrified.

‘Now,’ Nic said. They could have given Liza tocolytic drugs to stop the contractions, then medication to help mature the baby’s lungs, but from Liza’s symptoms they knew the abruption was big. The baby needed at least half the placenta to be attached and functioning, so they couldn’t take the risk of leaving it.

‘But—why me? Why now?’

‘We don’t know the causes,’ said Lucy, ‘but it’s more common if you’ve had high blood pressure, you’re an older mum or you have twins or triplets, you’re a smoker or you take cocaine.’

Liza smiled weakly. ‘I’ve never smoked or done drugs. I haven’t even have a glass of wine since I found out I was pregnant, let alone anything else!’

‘That’s good,’ Lucy said, squeezing her hand.

‘Have you been in a car accident or had a fall, or banged your stomach in any way?’ Nic asked.

Liza shook her head. ‘Not that I can remember.’

‘We’ll take some blood for tests to see why it’s happened,’ Lucy said, ‘and to check that your blood’s clotting properly.’ If Liza Andrews had lost a lot of blood, she might have clotting problems after the birth, known as DIC or disseminated intravascular coagulation—around a third of cases did. And she had a much higher risk of a large bleed after delivery, so she might need a transfusion. ‘We might need to give you some drugs to help your uterus contract after the birth.’

Liza nodded.

‘And because your baby’s early, we’ll need to take him—or her—to the special care unit for a little while, to help him with his breathing and feeding. But you’ll be able to see the baby any time you like,’ Nic said.

‘Is there anyone you’d like us to call?’ Lucy asked.

‘My husband’s already on his way in. And my mum.’ Liza’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He wanted to cut the cord.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Nic said. ‘I’ll need to give you a general anaesthetic, so he won’t be allowed in for the delivery. But as soon as the baby arrives, he’ll be able to have a cuddle.’

A tear slid down to pool on the mask. ‘It was all supposed to be so different.’

‘I know,’ Lucy soothed. ‘Though you’re not alone. This happens in around one in fifty pregnancies.’ Not all abruptions were as severe as this one—if the baby wasn’t in distress and the bleed was minor, the mum could often go home if she chose. ‘But you’ll have your baby very soon.’ She just hoped the abruption wasn’t so severe that the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen—it could suffer brain death or even die.

‘I’d like you to sign a consent form, please,’ Nic said.

‘I’ll call the anaesthetist and get Theatre to prep,’ Lucy said.

On their way up to Theatre, Nic said, ‘You handled that well. It’s a rough situation.’

‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t get renal failure or a bad PPH,’ Lucy said, referring to postpartum haemorrhage, a major bleed after delivery. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about the risks to the baby.

Before she knew it, they were in Theatre and Nic was making the first incision. Lucy couldn’t believe how fast he worked, but she was relieved when she was finally able to lift the baby out. ‘It’s a girl,’ she said.

‘Welcome, bellissima,’ Nic said softly. His eyes crinkled at the corners, betraying the smile behind his surgeon’s mask, and he handed her to Lucy. ‘What’s the Apgar score, Lucy?’ he asked as he delivered the placenta and started stitching—the Apgar score was a check on the baby’s pulse, breathing, whether the skin was pink or blue and the baby’s reaction to suction.

‘First Apgar score of five,’ Lucy said, checking the baby. She gave the baby gentle suction to clear her airways. Her skin wasn’t pink enough either for Lucy’s liking.

‘Second score of seven,’ she reported four minutes later.

The ten-minute score had improved to nine. ‘But this little scrap’s going to up to SCBU—’ the special care baby unit ‘—to warm up for a bit,’ Lucy said.

Nic finished closing. ‘We’ll leave Liza in the recovery team’s capable hands and baby Andrews to SBCU.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘And we’re going to have some lunch.’

Lunch? He wanted to have lunch with her? Her stomach fluttered at the idea of it. Lunch. Sitting opposite him on one of the small cafeteria tables, close enough for their knees to touch…

Way, way too dangerous. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’d better get back to the ward,’ she said. ‘Finish the rounds—it’s not fair on Mal. One of us ought to go back and you did all the tough work in Theatre, so you deserve the break. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a scalpel move that fast.’

Coward, his eyes said. ‘Maybe Mal needs to feel you trust him enough to finish the rounds on his own.’

And maybe Nic ought to get to know the staff properly before he started throwing his weight about. Just because he’d got the consultant’s job, it didn’t mean he knew everything. She knew Mal far better than he did. She lifted her chin. ‘Maybe I don’t feel he’s ready.’

‘Lunch first,’ Nic said.

‘I really need to get back.’ Liar, a voice in her head taunted. You’d love to have lunch with him. And more.

Given her track record at judging the men in her life, that’d be a very bad move. Anyway, she doubted if he meant that sort of lunch. He was her boss, not her lover.

Despite that kiss.

‘I want to get to know all the team,’ Nic said, ‘and I thought I might as well start with you.’

So he was thinking of her as a doctor, nothing else. Just part of the team. He was going to ask everyone else to lunch, too. He hadn’t singled her out as special. But she still couldn’t help thinking about that kiss. He hadn’t mentioned it, but was he remembering the way it had been between them, that unlooked-for spark at the ball when their mouths had touched?

‘So, shall we?’

Before Lucy could open her mouth to refuse—or, worse, accept—her pager bleeped. She glanced at the display.

‘Sorry. I’m needed back on the ward. Catch you later,’ she said, hoping she sounded as casual as he had when he’d told her he wanted to get to know the team. And without giving him the chance to answer, she strode swiftly away.

CHAPTER TWO

COOL, calm, very English—and clearly as mad as hell at him.

And Nic couldn’t blame her, in the circumstances. He’d taken her job and he’d embarrassed her at the ball in front of all her colleagues…and friends? Nic wasn’t sure, yet, if Lucy Williams believed in friends.

She certainly didn’t believe in lovers. The shock on her face when he’d kissed her had told him that.

What he couldn’t work out was why. Why a woman who was clever and talented—enough to take on the role of acting consultant at the very young age of thirty—and beautiful wasn’t already spoken for. No, scratch the beautiful—she was more than that. She looked like an angel, with that alabaster skin and those clear blue eyes and the ice-blonde hair pulled back severely from her face—hair he wanted to see tumbling down over her shoulders or, better still, over his pillow. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud and he just hadn’t been able to resist kissing her at the ball.

And then she’d vanished. He’d looked for her immediately after the next dance, but she’d gone.

And then, when she’d faced him on the ward…

He took a swig of coffee. Leave her alone. That would be the sensible thing to do. Anything else would be breaking all his rules, professional and private.

Except…he couldn’t.

‘Down, boy,’ he said softly to his libido.

It didn’t take the slightest bit of notice.

Lucy somehow managed to avoid Nic for the rest of her shift. Usually she stayed later than she needed to, because the team on River was overstretched and she didn’t mind giving up her free time. She loved her job. But today she needed to get as far away from Nic Alberici as she could. Until she’d managed to get her hormones under control and could treat him with detached professionalism.

The next day, she thought she’d managed it.

Until Nic walked into the side-room where she was talking to Liza Andrews.

‘Mr Alberici.’ Liza was beaming. ‘Thanks so much for what you did for us yesterday—you and Dr Williams. You saved our lives.’

‘Pleasure,’ Nic said. ‘How are you both today?’

‘Tired, but fine. Lucy sleeps all the time.’

Nic cast a quizzical look at his senior reg.

‘This Lucy,’ Lucy explained, still holding the sleeping baby.

‘We called her after you both—Lucy Nicola,’ Liza told him.

‘Thank you. It’s an honour,’ he said quietly. He stroked the baby’s cheek. ‘She’s beautiful.’

‘And Rosemary says the white stuff on her skin—vernix—will wash off in a couple of days.’

‘When they’re overdue it goes the other way—they’re like little, wrinkled old men with very dry skin and you go through tons of moisturiser,’ Nic said.

To Lucy’s horror, he actually sat down on the arm of the chair she was using. Not quite close enough to touch—but close enough for her to feel his body heat. Why couldn’t he have sat in the chair on the other side of the bed? Why did he have to invade her space like this?

‘My turn for a cuddle,’ he said, holding his arms out.

For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he meant a cuddle with her. But, of course, he meant baby Lucy.

‘You’re worse than the midwives—want to keep the babies all to yourselves,’ he teased.

‘I’d better get on anyway,’ she said, gently transferring her tiny bundle into his arms and making sure that the baby’s head was supported.

You’re avoiding me, his eyes accused.

Tough, hers said back. ‘Bye, Liza. Catch you later, Nic,’ she said a lot more casually than she felt, and left the little room. Why did he have to look so—so sexy, holding baby Lucy?

‘Get a grip,’ she warned herself, and went to check the file of her next patient.

But her avoidance strategy didn’t last long. She’d seen two more patients when Mal met her in the corridor. ‘Boss wants a word with you,’ he said.

‘What about?’

‘Dunno. He did say as soon as you could manage it.’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘What have you been up to, Luce?’

‘Working, Malcolm,’ she said, clearly a shade too defensively because his grin broadened.

‘I’ll believe you, Luce.’

Lucy decided not to dignify him with a reply and went down the corridor to Nic’s office. She rapped on the door.

‘Come in.’

She put her head round the door. ‘You wanted a word?’

He nodded. ‘Come in and close the door, please.’

Her heart sank. What was she supposed to have done now?

He waited for her to sit down, and the knot in her stomach tightened. She hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did she feel as if she were about to be carpeted for some stupid mistake? The tension in the room grew until she wanted to scream.

And then he smiled at her. ‘I wanted to apologise,’ he said, ‘for embarrassing you at the ball the other night.’

She stared at him in disbelief. He was apologising?

‘If you want to slap my face, feel free—any time,’ he said, shocking her further. Did this mean that kiss hadn’t been a set-up? But, given what she now knew about him, thanks to an old friend she’d trained with, he could be teasing her again.

There was only one way to find out. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘Kiss you?’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Why do you think?’

‘You always have to rise to a challenge.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

‘Something like that.’

So it had been a set-up. She lifted her chin. ‘Then you’re very easily manipulated. And you’ll find certain junior staff more than willing to take advantage of that.’

He frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘If someone dares you to do something, you’ll just do it?’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Dares me to do what?’

It was her turn to frown. Weren’t they talking about the same thing? ‘You were dared to kiss me at the ball.’

Lucy thought someone had set him up him to kiss her? Nic just about managed to stop his jaw dropping. She really had that low an opinion of herself? But why? Didn’t she know how gorgeous she was? ‘Lucy…it wasn’t like that,’ he said carefully.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘So why did you kiss me, then?’

‘Because I wanted to.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘Why do you think I was dared to do it?’

‘Because…’

The words clearly stuck in her throat. Though he could guess what she was going to say. His brief getting-to-know-the-team conversation with Rosemary had told him an awful lot more than the senior midwife realised. Especially about Lucy. Which meant he had to handle this carefully.

‘You looked as if you wanted to be a thousand miles away,’ he said. ‘I wanted to…’ He lapsed into Italian.

‘Sorry. Latin, yes, as long as it’s medical—Italian, no,’ Lucy said.

He smiled wryly. ‘I said I wanted make you smile. It was all meant to be a bit of fun. Theatrical.’

‘It was that all right,’ she said drily.

Until their mouths had actually touched. Then it had become a whole new ballgame. A much, much more serious thing. He couldn’t help looking at her mouth now. Big mistake. It reminded him how she’d tasted. And he wanted to do it again. And again. Somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Here, a little voice said inside his head. Here and now. Your office door is closed…

He should be detached and professional. He was her colleague—a colleague who’d taken the job she’d been doing for weeks. So he was supposed to be treading on eggshells. He was supposed to keep his distance. He knew all that. And in spite of it, he found himself walking round to her side of the desk. Taking her hand. Turning it palm uppermost…And she didn’t pull away.

‘I wanted to kiss you, Lucy,’ he said. ‘I wanted to…’ The touch of her skin was too much for him. All his good intentions went straight out of the window. Unable to help himself, he bent his head and kissed the inside of her wrist. ‘I wanted to do this,’ he said huskily.

Nic’s Italian. A showman. A flirt. For goodness’ sake, you know what Pauline told you yesterday—the corridors at Plymouth hospital are littered with broken hearts. He’s a brilliant doctor and great to work with—but don’t be stupid enough to go out with him. He never dates anyone more than three times.

What’s he’s doing to you doesn’t mean a thing, Lucy warned herself frantically. That smouldering smile’s just a performance. As soon as you let him sweep you off your feet, you’ll have two more dates and then he’ll be off to the next challenge.

Her body wasn’t buying it. It went completely un-doctor-like. Her pulse quickened, her pupils expanded and she could feel her face growing bright red. ‘I…’

‘And this,’ he said, touching his tongue to the pulse that had started to beat crazily against her skin.

‘And—’ The harsh sound of his bleeper cut across his words.

‘Saved by the bleep,’ he said wryly, taking his pager from his pocket and glancing at the display. ‘But I think we need to talk, Lucia mia.’

Lucy stayed sitting exactly where she was as he left the room. What on earth was going on? She was the sensible one in the family—apart from the one huge mistake in her life that nobody ever talked about, she’d always been sensible and studious and never let anything get in the way of her work. She hardly knew Nic Alberici, only what she’d heard about him from her friend Pauline in Nic’s old hospital—that professionally he was wonderful and personally he was a walking disaster area.

So why was her body reacting to him like this? Why did her pulse race when she heard his voice or saw his smile? Why did her body go up in flames every time he touched her?

Why had he kissed the inside of her wrist like that?

And as for the way he’d Italianised her name—well, she wasn’t a glamorous and sexy Lu-chee-ah. She was sensible Lucy Williams, senior registrar. She wore sensible, comfortable shoes and tailored trousers to work; she kept her hair pinned back severely, never wore nail-varnish and her make-up was non-existent. Lucia, on the other hand, would be tall and elegant. She’d wear a little black skirt and kitten heels, with her dark pre-Raphaelite curls tumbling down her back, her dark eyes outlined with sexily smudged kohl and her lips with kiss-me-now red lipstick.

Lucy Williams wasn’t the sort of woman Nic Alberici wanted, and she wasn’t going to forget that. She wasn’t going to have some wild fling with him that would last no more than three dates anyway; she wasn’t stupid enough to think she was the one who could change him. She’d learned at a very young age that happy-ever-after didn’t exist. The one time she’d been tempted to take a risk had taught her only too painfully that she’d been right all along—and her judgement in men was rotten.

Lucia mia. The words made her heart miss a beat. And a second.

Don’t be stupid, she reminded herself. You’re not his. Nothing’s going to come of it. Next time you see him, you’re going to tell him to leave you alone.

‘You haven’t had a break for five hours.’

A shiver ran down her spine; Nic’s voice was like a caress on her skin.

Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy, she told herself crossly. ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped.

‘You need a break. So do I. And you know the hospital better than I do—you can show me where to find some decent coffee instead of the stewed stuff I had at lunchtime.’

‘I can tell you where to go.’

He grinned, deliberately misinterpreting her. ‘I’ll bet.’

‘I don’t need a break, Mr Alberici.’

‘OK—then I’ll pull rank, Dr Williams. Coffee. With me. Now.’

She walked in silence with him out of the ward, aware of the speculative looks cast their way and determined not to give anyone the excuse to gossip about her. She remained silent until they were well out of earshot of the ward.

‘I’d like you to leave me alone in future,’ she said. ‘What you did in your office—’ made my knees go weak again ‘—was sexual harassment,’ she finished stiffly. ‘I’d prefer you not to repeat it.’

He nodded and his face became impassive. ‘In future, Lucy, I’ll make sure I have your permission before I touch you.’

It was what she wanted. So why did his words make her feel as if the sun had stopped shining?

And why was he going to drag her through the torment of having coffee with him?

‘Though I prefer to be on friendly terms with my colleagues,’ he said.

Yeah, right. Three dates and you’re out.

‘So perhaps we should put all this behind us.’

‘As you wish.’ Lucy gave him a cool nod.

‘So, where are we having this coffee?’

She seized the chance to change the subject, turn it to something more neutral. ‘Pat’s Place, on the second floor. The mochaccino’s to die for. Not to mention the blueberry muffins—Pat makes them herself. Pat’s the one with the dangly earrings.’

Shut up now, Lucy. You’re babbling, she told herself.

Not that Nic seemed to mind. There wasn’t a trace of impatience in his tone. ‘Blueberry muffins, hmm? A woman after my own heart,’ he said.

She wasn’t anything of the sort. The man was a born flirt. And anyway, he was just trying to find common ground with a member of his new team, she reminded herself.

The walk to the coffee-bar was torture. With every step, she remembered the way he’d touched her. The way her skin had heated as he’d turned her palm over. The way his lips had brushed her skin, sending tingles down her spine. The way he’d licked her pulse point…

She glanced down quickly, relieved that her white coat was thick enough to hide the obvious signs of her arousal. Hell. She couldn’t let this happen. Not again. And she absolutely refused to let herself believe that Nic was different. She’d leave that line to her mother and her three sisters. Susie, Allie, Mum and Rach—every time they convinced themselves that ‘this one’s different’ and he never was.

As for Nic Alberici, Pauline had told her he was a heartbreaker—and what reason would one of her best friends from med school have to lie to her? No, Nic Alberici was just the same as all the rest. Love ’em and leave ’em. She should stay well clear.

He’s gorgeous, the voice in her head insisted.

That’s irrelevant, she told herself. Looks don’t come into it.

But you want to—

‘Lucy?’

She’d been so intent on arguing with herself she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said,’ she mumbled, embarrassed at being caught wool-gathering.

‘Mochaccino and a muffin?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Grab us a table. These are on me.’

She was about to protest that she’d pay for her own, but his eyes warned her it’d be better to accept with good grace. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

She found a small table in the corner. He joined her with a tray of coffee and muffins.

This is his part-of-the-team chat, she reminded herself. So let’s keep it work-related. ‘Settled in OK to Treverro?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘They’re a nice bunch on River.’

‘Yes.’

‘Spit it out,’ he said, surprising her.

‘Spit what out?’

‘You’re obviously dying to take me to task.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He grinned. ‘Lucy, your eyes go all schoolmarmy when you’re annoyed about something.’

Did they? She’d never realised she was so transparent.

‘You are to me,’ he said softly, and she realised she’d spoken aloud.

‘Nonsense,’ she said crisply.

‘So what am I doing wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Explain the schoolmarmy look, then.’

Well, he was asking for it…‘You’re right about the staff on River. They’re a nice bunch and I’d hate to see them hurt,’ she informed him.

‘You think I’d hurt them?’ He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘You have a reputation.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, not that Italian playboy stuff again! Lucy, I’m not a stereotype. Yes, I like to have fun—but I stick to the rules and no one gets hurt. Just take me as I am.’

Her libido fluttered and she stamped on it hard. Don’t go getting any ideas, she warned it. ‘Yes, boss.’

His lips thinned. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask yourself if your reputation’s deserved.’

She didn’t need to ask him which reputation. She was all too aware of it. ‘My career’s important to me.’

‘But that doesn’t make you a cold fish.’

She knew that. Her patients did, too. And as for the men she’d turned down—they just needed to grow up enough to realise they weren’t irresistible and it didn’t mean she was a challenge to be conquered. Her reputation didn’t bother her.

‘Or any less of a woman,’ Nic added softly, and her insides melted at the flash of sensuality in his eyes.

This conversation was definitely straying onto worrying territory. She sat up straighter. ‘My private life’s just that.’

‘And so is mine.’

‘Good. Then we’re agreed.’

He spread his hands. ‘Lucy, why are we fighting?’

‘Because…’ Her voice faded. She didn’t know why she was fighting Nic. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d rowed with a colleague. Bickering with Mal was different because it wasn’t personal and the SHO reminded her of one of her kid brothers, and she didn’t find Mal remotely attractive. Whereas Nic…

No. Focus. Career first, last and always, she reminded herself.

‘Because I kissed you?’ His voice grew husky. ‘It was before I knew who you were. And, yes, I lost it a bit in my office this afternoon. I shouldn’t have done what I did and I apologise. What can I do to make it up to you?’

Kiss me again.

Lucy prayed she hadn’t said that out loud. She hadn’t meant to think it either. And it had better not have shown on her face.

He took a sip of coffee, then broke off a piece of blueberry muffin.

Since when had eating cake been sexy? Lucy tried very hard to stop looking at his mouth. Or remembering what his lips had felt like against her skin.

‘This is good,’ he told her.

‘Mmm.’ She took refuge in her own coffee. Though she’d lost her appetite for her blueberry muffin. It was too dangerous. She’d already had to yank her thoughts away from the idea of Nic feeding her morsels of cake as he—

No!

‘Why are you so anti-relationship?’ Nic asked without warning.

Lucy almost choked on her coffee. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Being committed to your job doesn’t mean you have to spend your life alone,’ he said. ‘So what’s the real story?’

‘You’ve got a nerve!’

‘I just want to know what makes you tick. You’re my number two in the department,’ he reminded her. ‘The most important member of my team.’

‘All right, since you want to know.’ She folded her arms. ‘Both my parents are on their fourth marriages, all my brothers and sisters are divorced and I don’t see the point of wasting all that emotion when I could use the energy much more effectively in my work.’

‘Who says you’ll go the same way?’

‘Because there’s a pattern.’

‘You could be the one to change it.’

She wasn’t. Jack Hammond was living proof. Not that she was going to tell Nic about him. Nobody at Treverro knew about Jack, and she wanted to keep it that way. ‘I’m not. And you’re in no position to lecture me, anyway.’

‘No?’

‘Has anyone lasted more than three dates with you?’ She waited for a moment. ‘If you have to think that hard about it, clearly not many have.’

‘You know when you meet the right one,’ he said.

Lucy scoffed. ‘Come off it. Don’t the statistics show that one in three marriages end in divorce?’

‘Which leaves two in three that don’t.’

‘So you’re telling me you believe in happy-ever-after?’

He nodded. ‘Since you believe in patterns, there’s one in my family. My parents had a holiday romance—they didn’t even speak the same language when they first met—but my father followed my mother back to England and they’ve been married for more than forty years. And they’re still in love. My sisters are both happily married—Gina for fifteen years and Sofia for twelve.’

‘So why aren’t you following their pattern?’

‘Because I’m waiting for the right one.’

‘And that’s your excuse for a trail of broken hearts?’

‘That’s an exaggeration, Lucy. Do you expect your date to propose to you at the end of the first evening?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Exactly. If I go out with someone, it’s to have a good time and we both know the rules right from the start. I’m not a heart-breaker—and you’re not frozen.’

That look in his eyes was back. The one that made her insides smoulder. This really wasn’t fair. ‘What’s Nic short for?’ she asked, desperate to change the subject.

‘Niccolo.’

‘As in Machiavelli?’

He grinned. ‘Yup. But I’m not manipulative.’

‘No?’

‘I didn’t manipulate you into telling me things. Just as I’m not going to manipulate you into bed.’

That feeling flooding through her spine was not disappointment, she told herself. ‘Good,’ she said tightly. ‘So we know where we stand.’

‘I’m attracted to you, Lucy,’ he said softly. ‘Very. I’d like to get to know you better—a lot better—outside work. But you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I’m not going to push you into something you’re not comfortable with.’

‘Good,’ she said again, even though her heart was wailing You idiot! and doing the mental version of foot-stamping and hair-tearing.

‘So we’re colleagues. I’d like to think we can be friends, too.’

‘Of course.’

‘Good.’ Nic finished his muffin. ‘Aren’t you going to eat yours?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Would you mind if I…?’

She pushed the plate over to him. ‘Help yourself.’

‘It’s my mum’s fault. I have this weakness for cake,’ he said.

‘I’ll remember that,’ she said lightly.

He hadn’t taken more than a mouthful before his bleeper sounded. He glanced down at the display and raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you know about TOPS?’

‘Twin oligohydramnios-polyhydramnios sequence—also known as twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome,’ she said.

‘Good. I prefer to call it twin-to-twin transfusion—it’s more of a parent-friendly explanation. We’re needed downstairs in the antenatal clinic,’ he said. ‘Now.’

CHAPTER THREE

THEY left their unfinished coffee and headed for the ground floor. Gemma Burton, one of the midwives, gave them the case notes and directed them to room two. Nic scanned them swiftly, gave them to Lucy to do the same, knocked on the door and introduced them both to Molly Drake.

‘How have you been feeling?’ he asked, sitting next to her and holding her hand.

‘OK—but then last week I started to feel a bit breathless. And I look like a house—I’m only seventeen weeks and I look like I’m going to deliver any day,’ she said. Her faced was pinched with anxiety. ‘I know I’m having twins but I never expected to be this big. And my tummy’s felt really tight in the last day or so.’

‘Would you mind if I examined you?’ Nic asked.

‘No. I just want to know, are my babies all right? The midwife said she wanted the consultant to see me…’

‘Hey, we always take extra special care of our mums having twins, so you’d get to see me a lot more often than mums of single babies anyway,’ Nic said reassuringly. ‘But, yes, I’m a bit concerned that you’ve put on weight very quickly and you’re breathless. I’d like to do a scan to see what’s going on, if I may?’

Molly nodded.

It didn’t take long for Nic to do the scan and see that his worst fears were realised. One twin was much bigger than the other. It had a full bladder, whereas the other twin’s bladder was empty, and the smaller twin seemed almost stuck to the wall of the placenta—which, he knew, meant that it had much less amniotic fluid in the sac surrounding it.

‘Is everything all right?’ Molly asked.

Nic held her hand again. ‘There’s a bit of a problem, but the good news is that we can do something about it. You have something called TTTS or twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome.’

‘What’s that?’

Nic gestured at Lucy. ‘Over to you, Lucy.’

‘It’s something that happens when identical twins share the same placenta,’ Lucy said. ‘Their blood vessels form a link in the placenta—most of the time that isn’t a problem, but sometimes the link isn’t balanced properly, so one twin ends up donating blood to the other. The babies are perfectly normal—the problem’s in the placenta. We don’t know exactly why it happens, but it might be to do with how late the fertilised egg splits to create two embryos. It happens in around one in a thousand pregnancies.’

‘And that’s what’s wrong with my babies?’ Molly asked.

Lucy nodded and turned the ultrasound screen so that Molly could see it. ‘You can see on the scan here that one twin’s a lot bigger than the other. If we measure their lengths, it looks as if this one’s a week older than his twin, even though we know he’s not. The bigger twin has too much blood going round his system, so his heart has to work harder, and he produces more amniotic fluid—that’s the bag of fluid the baby lives in—so he wees more and his bladder’s full. The smaller twin is anaemic and has less amniotic fluid surrounding him; he doesn’t grow as well and his bladder’s usually empty.’

‘Are they going to be all right? What—what can do you do to stop it?’

‘There are quite a few options,’ Nic said. ‘We can do something called amnioreduction—that means draining some of the fluid from around the bigger twin, which gives the smaller twin more space in the womb and will make you feel a lot more comfortable. It also reduces the chance of you going into premature labour. If we do that, it takes about an hour and we drain off two to three litres of fluid. I’d also like you to stay in hospital for a day or so, so we can monitor you, and then you can go back home, as long as you promise to stay in bed and take it easy for a few days.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Though if you do take this option, we might need to repeat it later in your pregnancy, depending on how things go with the twins.’

‘There’s also something called a septostomy, where we make a little hole in the membrane that separates the twins and the fluid balances out between the sacs—we often do that at the same time as an amnioreduction,’ Lucy said. ‘Or we can send you to a hospital in London for laser treatment, which will break the joined blood vessels and stop the blood going from one twin to the other—it won’t hurt them and they’ll be able to grow normally. There’s another new treatment being tested at the moment which involves high-frequency ultrasound therapy—the same sort that’s used to treat kidney stones—though again if you choose this we’ll have to send you to a centre in London, as we can’t do it here.’

‘And the babies will both be all right?’

‘We’ve caught you relatively early, which is a good sign,’ Nic said. ‘If they both survive, the smaller twin should catch up on growth after the birth. But at this stage I can’t guarantee they’ll both be fine.’

‘So they might die?’

‘I know it’s a horrible thing to have to consider, but there’s a possibility you might lose one or both of them. I can’t quote any odds at this stage, and we’ll monitor you a lot more often than we’d usually plan and make sure we do everything we can to keep your babies safe,’ Nic reassured her. ‘There are two other options you need to think about, and I’m afraid they’re not very pleasant, but you need to know all the facts before you can make a decision. Some parents opt to have a termination now, because they feel the odds are stacked too high against them. I know it’s an unbearable thing to think about, but if you decide that’s what you want, we’re not going to judge you or criticise you.’

‘We’re here to give you the facts and to support you, whatever decision you make,’ Lucy said. ‘We’re on your side.’

‘I…’ Molly was clearly close to tears and Lucy handed her a tissue.

‘The other option, if we find that the procedures don’t work and the twin-to-twin transfusion is getting worse, is that we might be able to save one twin at the expense of the other,’ Nic said. ‘I know it sounds callous, but it’s a question of weighing up the risks.’

‘But you and your partner really need to discuss it and decide what you want,’ Lucy added.

‘George isn’t here,’ Molly said. ‘He’s away in the States on business. He said he’d change his meetings if I needed him here today, but I thought this’d be just…well, a routine visit.’

‘I know.’ Lucy brought a chair to the other side of the bed and held Molly’s other hand. ‘And this must have come as a shock to you. Is there anyone we can call to be with you?’

Molly shook her head. ‘I’m not on good terms with my parents, and George’s mum panics at the least little thing—she’s the last person I need fluttering round me. I just…’ She bit her lip hard. ‘Twins. When we found out, we never thought we’d cope. We’d just got used to the idea and started getting excited about it, and now this!’

‘Take your time,’ Nic said. ‘I’d like to start treatment in the next twenty-four hours—but if you want to talk to your husband or a friend first, discuss it with them, that’s fine.’

‘Would you explain the options to my husband?’ Molly asked Lucy.

‘Of course,’ Lucy said. ‘There’s no pressure. Take all the time you need. Can I get you some water or anything?’

‘It’s all right. It’s just a shock. I need to think—I need to talk to George.’ She swallowed. ‘I can’t use a mobile in here, can I?’

‘No, it might interfere with the machines,’ Lucy said. ‘But I can take you somewhere where you can use it.’

‘Thanks.’

She looked at Nic. ‘See you back on the ward?’

‘Yeah.’ Nic smiled at Molly. ‘We’re here whenever you need us. If either of us isn’t on duty, just ask someone to bleep us. We’ll be straight here.’

Four hours later, Lucy was sitting in the rest room and trying very hard not to cry. She’d held Molly’s hand throughout the difficult call to the States, and the even more difficult decision that had followed.

Molly had been admitted to the ward and Lucy was well past the time when she was supposed to finish her shift, but her vision was blurred with suppressed tears and she didn’t feel quite up to cycling back to her cottage.

‘Are you OK, Lucy?’

Lucy looked up and gave Nic a watery smile. ‘I thought you were supposed to be off duty ages ago.’

‘I’m not the only one.’ He came to sit next to her. ‘It’s Molly Drake, isn’t it?’ he guessed.

She nodded. ‘I know, I know, these cases are rare and most of the time our mums have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby—but I hate to see the heartbreak some of our parents have to go through.’

‘Me, too,’ Nic said. ‘But remember this—we can make a difference. We do make a difference.’

‘Yes. Molly’s having a septostomy tomorrow and we’ll be monitoring her weekly. The twins stand a much better chance now.’

‘Chin up.’ He gave her an exaggerated wink, then sent her hormones into overdrive by gently touching her cheek. ‘Go on. Home with you. And I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Lucy slept badly that night; when she did drift off, her dreams were filled with Nic Alberici. And they were so graphic that she was actually blushing when her alarm went off.

When she got to work, she seemed to hear nothing but Nic’s name. Every single patient beamed when they talked about him—all saying he was far dishier than any Hollywood star and acting as if they were half in love with him. The midwives were similarly smitten—the young and single ones virtually swooned when they heard his name, and the older ones clucked over him like a favourite son. ‘He’s lovely—a real gentleman,’ Rosemary said dreamily. ‘And those gorgeous eyes! If I were twenty years younger…’

‘Oh, he’s just another consultant,’ Lucy said, aware how grumpy she sounded and hoping that no one would pick up on it.

No chance. Rosemary’s eyes widened. ‘Have you two had a fight or something?’

‘No. It’s just a bit wearing hearing how fantastic Mr Alberici is—almost as wearing as Mal’s sense of humour. Even the mums who’ve had a difficult delivery say they’d like another baby right now, please, if it means they’ll have Mr Alberici looking after them.’

Rosemary whistled. ‘Someone got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn’t she?’

If she said anything else, it’d start the hospital rumour mill whirring. ‘Yeah, probably,’ Lucy said, and switched the topic back to work.

Though she couldn’t get Nic out of her mind. She was aware of exactly when he walked onto the ward and exactly when he left. And she hated this out-of-control feeling. It’s like you told Rosemary—he’s just another consultant, she reminded herself.

Except she had a nasty feeling that he wasn’t.

‘I’m worried about this one,’ Beth said, handing Lucy the notes of another patient. ‘Judy Sutherland’s diabetic and the baby’s big. I think there’s a high risk of shoulder dystocia.’ Shoulder dystocia, also known as impacted shoulders, was where the baby’s shoulders couldn’t be delivered after the head had been delivered. It happened when the baby was large, overdue or had a short cord—babies of diabetic mothers had greater shoulder-to-chest ratios so they were particularly prone to it.

‘Judy says she doesn’t want a section under any circumstances,’ Beth added.

‘We might not have to give her a section. If you’re right and the shoulders are impacted, we’ll have to do the McRoberts manoeuvre,’ Lucy said. That meant putting the mother into the lithotomy position with her buttocks supported on a pillow over the edge of the bed, then flexing her hips to make her pelvic outlet bigger, hopefully enough to deliver the baby. ‘Then if we rotate the baby so his anterior shoulder is under the symphysis pubis, we should be OK. Though she’ll need a large epidural and there’s a possibility of problems with the baby—a fractured clavicle at the very least.’ Erb’s palsy, where the nerves in the arm were affected, was another possibility, and a third of babies affected by shoulder dystocia had permanent damage. She sighed. ‘Do you want me to have a word with Judy and check she understands all the risks?’

‘Or maybe we should ask Nic to do it,’ Beth suggested. Lucy sighed inwardly as she saw the familiar glow in the midwife’s face. Beth was clearly yet another member of the Niccolo Alberici fan club. ‘He’s so charming, she’s bound to listen.’

‘Yes, Nic’s very charming, on the surface,’ Lucy agreed, all sweetness and light and wanting to strangle the man.

‘Nice of you to say so, Dr Williams.’

Lucy’s eyes widened as she heard his voice. Her early warning system had just failed spectacularly, and again he’d caught her saying something outrageous. Gingerly, she turned to face Nic.

‘There’s a case I want to discuss with you in my office, Lucy,’ he said. ‘If you’d be so kind.’

‘And then would you have a word with Mrs Sutherland for me, please, Nic?’ Beth asked.

‘Sure.’ Nic gave her one of his trade-mark smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that clearly made the midwife melt. ‘Lucy?’

Sighing inwardly, she followed him into his office.

‘Close the door, please,’ he said.

Lucy did so.

‘Take a seat.’ He frowned. ‘This is beginning to be a habit—me overhearing something you’d much rather I didn’t.’

‘Well, eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves,’ Lucy retorted.

‘I thought we’d sorted out all the problems between us?’

She sighed. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry.’

He folded his arms. ‘Not good enough.’

She couldn’t read his expression. ‘You’d prefer me to ask for a transfer?’

‘No.’

‘What, then?’

‘Make it up to me.’

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Spend the day with me tomorrow.’

‘Spend the day with you tomorrow?’ she echoed, surprised. That was the last thing she’d expected.

‘Mmm-hmm. I’m a new boy in the area. I could do with a hand finding my feet. I want to explore the district and I’d like some company.’

Lucy scoffed. ‘Why ask me? Talk to the midwives. And the nurses. And all the unattached female doctors. They’re lining up in droves for you.’

He grinned. ‘Oh, Lucia mia. You should know better than to believe the hospital rumour mill.’

She didn’t dignify that with a reply.

‘Lucy, I’m off duty tomorrow. So are you.’

How did he know? No, that was an easy one. All he had to do was look in the off-duty book.

‘So spend the day with me, Lucy,’ he coaxed. ‘Show me the area.’

‘You’re perfectly capable of reading a map.’

‘True. But it’s not the same as playing tourist with someone who knows all the good spots.’

‘Your idea of good spots might not be the same as mine.’

‘On the other hand, they might be.’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

‘No strings, I promise.’

‘Then two more dates and you’ll leave me alone?’ she asked hopefully.

Nic’s eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘We’re not going on a date, Lucy.’

You couldn’t get more crushing than that. She stared at the floor and wished herself a thousand miles away.

‘We’re merely spending the day together, as friends. Tell you what—I’ll do you a deal. I’ll talk your patient into being sensible over the shoulder dystocia issue and agreeing to a section if we find we have to do one for the baby’s sake, and you can show me your favourite bits of north Cornwall.’

She opened her mouth to say no, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak.

He laced his fingers together. ‘I would suggest sealing the deal properly…But we’re at work, and I promised I wouldn’t touch you without your permission.’ His eyes filled with mischief. ‘It’s a shame you’re not a mind-reader. Then again, if you knew what I was thinking right now, you’d probably slap my face.’

‘Don’t tempt me.’ Though her words were hollow. Just his mere existence tempted her. And she had a nasty feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking. Sealing the deal with a kiss. Like the one at the fancy-dress ball—a kiss that might start out sweet and innocent but would heat up the minute their mouths met.

He said something in Italian and she folded her arms and glared at him.

‘Translate.’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He gave her a lazy grin. ‘If you want to know what I said, you’ll just have to learn Italian, won’t you?’

It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to have such a sensual mouth? And when he smiled like that, it made her want to act completely out of character. It made her want to reach over and kiss him. Passionately. And very, very improperly.

‘Am I dismissed?’ she asked.

‘Are you going to spend tomorrow with me?’

‘No,’ she said crisply.

He clasped his hands theatrically to his heart. ‘I tried.’

‘You’re very trying,’ she snapped back.

He spread his hands. ‘What can I say? The lady’s always right.’

‘I do have patients to see.’

‘Then arrivederci, Lucia mia,’ he said softly.

Corny, smarmy, pathetic…Oh, who was she trying to kid? That Italian accent was way, way too sexy for her peace of mind. Worse, she almost opened her mouth to say she’d changed her mind and, yes, she would spend the day with him.

Almost. Common sense prevailed. Just.

‘You need your head tested, Lucy Williams,’ she muttered to herself as she closed his office door.

Nic touched his mouth. No, it wasn’t hot. And he hadn’t kissed her, much as he’d wanted to. So why did he feel so scorched?

He smiled wryly. It was obvious: it had a lot to do with a certain Dr Williams and that beautiful rosebud mouth. It had taken all his self-control not to pull her into his arms and kiss her, make her feel that same blood-heating passion that zinged through his veins when he saw her.

Working with her was going to be torture.

Working with her was going to be heaven.

CHAPTER FOUR

THAT evening, Lucy found herself pacing her cottage, thinking about Nic.

‘Stop it,’ she told herself.

But she couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his face. Smell his clean, masculine scent. Feel the sweetness of his mouth against hers.

Her day off was even worse. Supposing she hadn’t been so stubborn—supposing she’d agreed to spend the day with him. It would have been a chance to get to know him better.

‘You don’t want to get to know him better,’ she reminded herself. ‘You want to be a top consultant. Your personal life’s been a disaster zone for years. Stick to your career—it’s safer.’

But what if? What if she’d gone to the beach with him? Supposing she’d taken him to Pentremain, her favourite place on earth, the tiny bay that was one of the best surfing sites in Europe and was spectacular in winter, with the waves crashing onto the rocks and the gulls wailing and the wind whipping roses into your cheeks…They’d have had lunch together in the tiny fishing port, at a secluded table overlooking the sea. Maybe another walk along the beach as the sun was setting.

And then a kiss…

Anyone would think she was a hormonal teenager, not a level-headed thirty-year-old! It was crazy, going weak at the knees at the thought of a kiss.

A kiss from a man who’d told her he felt the same attraction.

A kiss from a man who’d licked her pulse point and looked into her eyes and dared her not to believe how much he desired her.

If she didn’t stop thinking about him, she’d go insane!

Well, there was one thing that would take her mind off him. Spring-cleaning. No matter that it was way out of season. Scrubbing every corner of her cottage would stop her thinking about him.

In theory. In practice, it didn’t. So she chose the last resort. Cooking. Preferably something that would use up her energy and calm her down again. She didn’t have any flour suitable for making bread, so that idea went out of the window…

Then she smiled. But she did have walnuts, honey and sesame seeds. Which meant she could knead out her frustration on a different sort of dough, still have that comforting breadmaking scent, and end up with something sweet to soothe her soul. Kahk, the recipe her Egyptian friend Noor had taught her when they’d shared a house in their second year of med school.

She ignored the fact that Nic had a thing about cake.

Or that the sweetness of the honeyed filling reminded her of his mouth.

‘These are seriously good,’ Nic said, taking a second sugar-dusted cake from the tin at the nurses’ station the next morning. ‘Icing sugar on the top. Not too sweet on the outside, but then you hit the inside…The mixture of textures and tastes is fabulous. Which mum do I need to thank—and beg to tell me where she bought them?’

‘You don’t,’ Rosemary said.

‘One of the staff brought them in?’

‘Made by the fair hands of our own Lucy Williams.’ Rosemary winked. ‘She’s not just a pretty face and a good doctor, you know.’

You can say that again, Nic thought. I just wish she’d let me close enough to find out for myself.

‘Hey, Lucy. You’ve got another convert to kahk,’ Rosemary said.

Nic nearly choked on his cake. Since when had his radar stopped working and neglected to let him know that Lucy was in the same building, let alone a couple of feet away? He just about managed to retain his composure. ‘Lucy, hi. These are very good. Unusual filling.’

‘Walnuts, honey and sesame seeds,’ she said.

And made by her. Was she still professional and orderly and neat when she cooked, or did she let her guard down? Did she push her hair out of her eyes and end up with a dusting of flour on the end of her nose? Did she filch bits of her favourite ingredients? Did those ice-blue eyes turn into the colour of sunny skies as she relaxed?

Nic had a vision of her in his kitchen, and himself removing her blue-and-white striped butcher’s apron before—

‘Are you all right, Nic?’ Rosemary asked.

Hell. He’d actually moaned aloud at the thought of Lucy in very close proximity to him. He flushed and covered his confusion by taking a third piece. ‘I have this thing about dolci—sweet things. And these are to die for. Oh-h-h,’ he said, hamming it up and hoping that Rosemary hadn’t guessed what he’d really been thinking about.

Making love with his registrar.

‘You’ll end up looking like our mums-to-be if you eat them at that rate—especially when it can’t be more than half an hour since you had your breakfast,’ Lucy informed him sweetly—then disappeared to see a patient before he could make an equally rude retort.

Well, I managed that OK, Lucy told herself. Cool, calm, even jokey.

But she still couldn’t stop thinking about Nic. She was on autopilot when she answered the bleep from A and E asking her to see a pregnant holidaymaker who was bleeding, so she missed the patient’s name. Until she saw the notes.

Nina Hammond.

Coincidence. It had to be. Hammond was hardly an uncommon surname, and Nina was a popular first name.

But the second she stepped into the cubicle and saw Nina’s husband, she knew it wasn’t a coincidence. It was the kind of nightmare that ripped open old wounds and then poured salt in them for good measure. Why, why, why hadn’t she erred on the side of caution and let someone else deal with this?

But she was a professional. She wasn’t going to let her ex see that she was affected by seeing him. Not in the slightest. ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Hammond,’ she said, relieved that she was at least able to control the threatening tremor in her voice. ‘I’m Lucy Williams, special registrar from the maternity unit.’

‘Please, Dr Williams—don’t let me lose my baby,’ Nina Hammond said, clutching at Lucy’s hand. ‘Make it stop. Make the bleeding go away.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Lucy said, and took refuge in her clipboard as she took the patient history.

‘We’re on holiday,’ Nina explained. ‘We just wanted to spend some quiet time by the sea. We only got here yesterday. We were going for a drive round the coast—then I realised I was bleeding and Jack drove me straight here.’

‘Someone’s looking after your other children?’ Lucy asked.

Nina shook her head. ‘We don’t have any.’

Shouldn’t they have an older child—Lucy did a rapid mental calculation—one who was nearly four? Or maybe she’d got it wrong. She’d got a hell of a lot wrong where Jack was concerned.

‘I’ve had three miscarriages,’ Nina explained.

Lucy refused to meet Jack’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Has your GP sent you for any tests?’

‘No. Should he have done?’

‘If any of my patients lost three babies, I’d recommend further tests to see why,’ Lucy said. ‘It could be that your body’s producing antibodies which make you miscarry, called antiphospholipid syndrome—if that’s the case, we can give you something to help with that. Or maybe you have a problem with your cervix, and again that’s something I can help with. But first of all, I’d like to examine you and do an ultrasound—a scan—to see what’s going on. Are you losing much blood?’

‘No—just spotting, really. I had cramps and I felt a bit of wetness and just panicked.’ Nina bit her lip. ‘I so want a baby. We’ve been trying for years. I’ve lost three babies already. If I lose this one, I…’ She broke into sobs. ‘I can’t bear to go through all this again!’

‘It’s OK,’ Lucy soothed. ‘I’d like to take you up to my department—we can do a scan there and see what’s going on, then maybe I’ll admit you overnight so we can keep an eye on you and give things a chance to settle down.’

‘Can my husband stay with me?’

Lucy took a deep breath. ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ll get a porter to bring you up to the ward and I’ll meet you there—I’ll have the equipment all set up to check you over. How many weeks are you, by the way?’

‘Sixteen.’

Most women with antiphospholipid syndrome miscarried in the first trimester, so the most likely cause of Nina’s miscarriages was either polycystic ovaries or an incompetent cervix, Lucy thought. ‘Right, then, Mrs Hammond. I’ll see you upstairs in a few minutes.’

She made a quick call to River to make sure a room was ready on the ward, then took the stairs back to the unit. The exercise helped calm her.

Jack Hammond. Tall, blond, blue-eyed and tanned. The kind of man who turned heads everywhere he walked. The kind of man women watched and sighed over. The kind of man who’d broken her heart into tiny, tiny shards that had taken her years to repair. She’d thought she’d never, ever see him again. After the messiest possible break-up, she’d moved down to Cornwall, where there’d be no memories to taunt her. She’d never, ever imagined that their paths would cross again.

She was back under control by the time she walked back into River Ward. Nina was waiting for her in one of the side rooms, still trembling and tearful.

‘Can I get you a drink of water?’ Lucy asked her.

‘No, thanks. I think I’d be sick if I drank anything.’ Nina clutched Jack’s hand. ‘My baby…Please, I need to know if my baby’s all right.’

‘Lift up your top and bare your tummy for me, and we’ll see what’s going on,’ Lucy said gently. She set to work with the gel and the ultrasound scanner and soon had the picture she wanted on the screen.

She tilted the monitor so that Nina could see it. ‘Can you see his heart beating there?’ she said, pointing to the dark pulsating spot on the screen. ‘It’s nice and strong. He’s given you a nasty scare but I’m pleased to say your baby’s looking quite happy right now.’

‘It’s a boy?’ Jack said.

‘I can’t tell from this angle. I don’t like calling foetuses “it” so I call all the difficult ones “he”,’ Lucy said.

That one hit home, she thought with satisfaction as dark colour slid over Jack’s cheekbones.

‘Mrs Hammond, would it be all right if I examined you now?’

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