Welcome to the world of Sydney Harbour Hospital (or SHH … for short— because secrets never stay hidden for long!)

Looking out over cosmopolitan Sydney Harbour, Australia’s premier teaching hospital is a hive of round-the-clock activity—with a very active hospital grapevine.

With the most renowned (and gorgeous!) doctors in Sydney working side by side, professional and sensual tensions run sky-high—there’s always plenty of romantic rumours to gossip about …

Who’s been kissing who in the on-call room? What’s going on between legendary heart surgeon Finn Kennedy and tough-talking A&E doctor Evie Lockheart? And what’s wrong with Finn?

Find out in this enthralling new eight-book continuity from Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance—indulge yourself with eight helpings of romance, emotion and gripping medical drama!

Sydney Harbour Hospital From saving lives to sizzling seduction, these doctors are the very best!

Dear Reader

I hope you’ve been enjoying the Sydney Harbour Hospital continuity so far.

When I was asked to take part in this fabulous series I was thrilled to learn that I would be amongst seven other amazing Down Under authors helping to create this very special world and decorate it with real-life heros and heroines who are as dedicated to their work as they are to each other.

Being so far away from the rest of the world, I believe those of us in this little corner of the southern hemisphere bring a unique voice to the Medical line and to romance fiction as a whole. I am honoured to be counted amongst this number, and am so excited about the unfolding stories throughout this series.

In Book Three we see Luca and Mia, two ER docs whose potent sexual chemistry draws them together despite their better judgement. And it makes walking away harder than they ever imagined. I hope you enjoy their story and continue on to read the next five books.

The Sydney Harbour Hospital may be fictitious, but with its views over the sparkling harbour and the famous sails of the Opera House it’s the perfect backdrop for all our couples to fall in love.

I hope you’ll agree.

Love

Amy

About the Author

AMY ANDREWS has always loved writing, and still can’t quite believe that she gets to do it for a living. Creating wonderful heroines and gorgeous heroes and telling their stories is an amazing way to pass the day. Sometimes they don’t always act as she’d like them to—but then neither do her kids, so she’s kind of used to it. Amy lives in the very beautiful Samford Valley, with her husband and aforementioned children, along with six brown chooks and two black dogs. She loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a line at www.amyandrews.com.au

Recent titles by the same author:

WAKING UP WITH DR OFF-LIMITS

JUST ONE LAST NIGHT …

RESCUED BY THE DREAMY DOC

VALENTINO’S PREGNANCY BOMBSHELL

ALESSANDRO AND THE CHEERY NANNY

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Sydney Harbour Hospital

Sexy surgeons, dedicated doctors, scandalous secrets, on-call dramas …

Welcome to the world of Sydney Harbour Hospital (or SHH … for short—because secrets never stay hidden for long!)

Last month new nurse Lily got caught up in the hot-bed of hospital

gossip in SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LILY’S SCANDAL by Marion Lennox

Then gorgeous paediatrician Teo

came to single mum Zoe’s rescue in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: ZOE’S BABY by Alison Roberts

This month sexy Sicilian playboy Luca

finally meets his match in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LUCA’S BAD GIRL by Amy Andrews

Then in April Hayley opens Tom’s eyes to love in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: TOM’S REDEMPTION by Fiona Lowe

Join heiress Lexi as she learns to put the past behind her in May …

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LEXI’S SECRET by Melanie Milburne

In June adventurer Charlie helps shy Bella fulfil her dreams—

and find love on the way!

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: BELLA’S WISHLIST by Emily Forbes

Then single mum Emily gives no-strings-attached surgeon Marco

a reason to stay in July

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: MARCO’S TEMPTATION by Fiona McArthur

And finally join us in August as Ava and James

realise their marriage really is worth saving in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: AVA’S RE-AWAKENING by Carol Marinelli

And not forgetting Sydney Harbour Hospital’s legendary heart surgeon Finn Kennedy. This brooding maverick keeps his women on hospital rotation … But can new doc Evie Lockheart unlock the secrets to his guarded heart? Find out in this enthralling new eight-book continuity from Medical™ Romance.

A collection impossible to resist!

These books are also available in ebook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Sydney Harbour

Hospital:

Luca’s Bad Girl

Amy Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To six Aussies and a Kiwi—thank you! I had so much fun writing this continuity with you. And to Meredith Webber, an amazing writer, fabulous mentor and generous friend. Your down-to-earth advice always keeps me grounded and your encouragement has led me into new worlds.

CHAPTER ONE

DR MIA MCKENZIE didn’t know it yet but her night was about to go from bad to worse.

And that was no mean feat.

A full moon didn’t usually bode well for emergency departments and this clear, cold Saturday night was no different. Moonbeams sprinkled like fairy dust on the world-renowned surface of Sydney Harbour, lending a deceptive calm to the view from the windows of Sydney Harbour Hospital.

But inside the walls of the emergency department it was crazy town!

At two in the morning there had been no let up from the insanity. SHH, or The Harbour to those who worked there, was living up to its reputation as the busiest emergency department in the city.

‘I could have been a dermatologist,’ Mia grumbled to Dr Evie Lockheart, her best friend and flatmate, as she strode out of the resus cubical, turning her back on the torrent of abuse from a drug addict she’d just brought back from the brink of death.

‘They don’t get abused by patients at half past stupid o’clock. You know why? Because they’re sleeping. No on-call, no such thing as a dermatological emergency in the middle of the night, no urgent consults required.’

Evie, clutching a portable ultrasound unit, grinned. ‘You’d be bored to tears.’

Mia’s long blonde ponytail swished against her shoulder blades as she made her way to the central nurses’ station with the patient’s chart in hand. ‘I could do bored.’

Evie snorted. ‘Yep, whatever you say.’

Mia ignored her friend’s sarcasm. ‘How much longer are you and George Clooney going to be with the MVA?’

Evie laughed. ‘The name is Luca. Dr Luca di Angelo.’

As far as Mia was concerned, the hospital’s new director of trauma looked more like the devil than an angel.

He certainly seemed to be having a devil of a time with every available female walking the halls of SHH in the very short time he’d been here.

Which was fine by her. It was his life. And in a way she admired him for it. She too liked to keep her liaisons short and sweet.

But maybe that’s what caused an itch up her spine whenever he was around—besides his disturbing good looks apparently honed beneath a Sicilian sun. She recognised a kindred spirit.

And didn’t like what she saw.

‘And he really is quite dishy.’

‘Yes,’ Mia mused. ‘That he is.’

Evie grinned. Now, why couldn’t she be interested in a tall, dark, handsome Italian who was living up to the reputation of sex god that had preceded his arrival at The Harbour a few weeks ago? Why was it the infuriating, dictatorial Dr Finn Kennedy that her brain insisted on conjuring up with monotonous regularity?

‘Anyway,’ she said shaking the thought away. ‘We’re stabilising the patient at the moment. He needs to go to Theatre for a laparotomy.’

Mia nodded. ‘Okay, but when he’s gone, go home. You were supposed to have finished three hours ago.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Evie grinned as she departed.

Mia had ten minutes’ respite to catch up on some charts before a stocky man with swarthy features and wild eyes burst through the ambulance bay doors. ‘My wife … she’s in labour. The baby’s coming now!’ And then turned around and raced out the door again.

Mia sprang to her feet as a shot of adrenaline surged into her system. She hurried after the man, followed by Caroline, the triage nurse. She didn’t notice the chill in the air, just the beaten-up old car parked at a crazy angle near the doors and a woman’s urgent cries.

‘Hurry,’ the man yelled, wringing his hands.

Mia was there in seconds. The woman was lying on the back seat yelling, ‘It’s coming, it’s coming.’

‘Hi, I’m Dr McKenzie,’ Mia said over the din. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Rh-Rhiannon,’ the woman panted.

Mia smiled at her encouragingly. ‘How far along are you?’

‘Thirty weeks, she’s thirty weeks, all right?’ the husband barked.

The man seemed hostile and had his wife’s needs not been so urgent she’d have told him to back off. The last thing she needed right now while having to deliver a ten-week premature baby was a man with some kind of chip on his shoulder.

‘Caroline, page the neonatology team, please,’ Mia said quietly as she reached for the endless supply of gloves she had stashed in her pockets. ‘And get Arthur to bring out a gurney.

‘Okay, let’s have a look here,’ Mia said calmly.

The woman groaned again and it took Mia two seconds to identify a crowning head, despite the poor light. ‘Right, well, you’re absolutely correct, Rhiannon, this baby is coming.’

‘I have to push,’ Rhiannon yelled.

‘That’s fine.’ Mia nodded, her heart bonging in her chest like the bells of a clock tower. ‘I’m here to catch.’

Thirty seconds later the scrawny bawling infant slipped into Mia’s waiting hands. ‘You have a boy.’ Mia grinned, laying the baby on the cloth seat and hoping that Caroline thought to bring back something warm to protect the newborn from the brisk air.

‘Let me see it,’ the father demanded.

But Caroline arrived, blocking his view as she handed Mia a pre-packaged emergency birth pack and some blankets fresh out of the blanket warmer. ‘Neonates are doing an emergency intubation in Labour ward,’ she said quietly. ‘They’ll get here as soon as they can.’

Mia nodded as she quickly laid the babe on a warm soft blanket, unwrapped the birth pack and efficiently clamped and cut the cord. She bundled the still crying baby up and handed him to Caroline.

‘Get him into Resus so we can give him a proper check over, although his lungs seem pretty fine to me.’

Caroline laughed as she turned to go.

‘Where are you taking it?’ the father demanded.

‘Inside,’ Caroline said calmly. ‘You can come too if you like.’

The father stalked after Caroline while Mia and Arthur helped Rhiannon onto the gurney. They covered her in warm blankets and pushed her inside to the resus cube next to her baby. The little boy was quiet now as he basked beneath the warm rays of a cot’s overhead heater.

The father was pacing the cubicle when they arrived and seemed agitated. ‘Red hair. It’s got red hair,’ the father growled at Rhiannon as he approached her with a sneer on his face.

‘Oh, for crying out loud, Stan. Your grandfather had red hair.’

‘Whose is it?’ he demanded, rattling the rail of the gurney. ‘Who’s the father?’

Mia felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck as the father’s puzzling behaviour gained some context. But context or not, he didn’t get to act like a bully in her ER.

Thoughts of her own father wormed their way into her head and she quashed them ruthlessly.

‘Sir!’ Mia stood between him and the exhausted Rhiannon. ‘You will not raise your voice in here. Whatever the issue is, this is not the time or place for it. Now, why don’t you go and shift your car from the ambulance bay? When you come back, you’d better have calmed down or I will call Security.’

Mia was used to dealing with emotionally charged situations. Also drunks, drug addicts and a whole bunch of other people who didn’t respect the sanctity of a hospital.

But she was a doctor. And Rhiannon and the baby were her patients. It was her duty to protect them.

The man scowled at her and left, muttering to himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ Rhiannon apologised. ‘He gets so paranoid sometimes but he’s harmless.’

Mia smiled. ‘It’s fine.’

A midwife from the maternity ward chose that moment to arrive. ‘The team’s going to be another twenty minutes or so,’ she apologised.

‘That’s all right,’ Mia dismissed. ‘I think this little tyke’s going to be fine.’

The ugly incident with Stan was forgotten as the midwife tended to Rhiannon, delivering the placenta while Mia gave the baby a check over. ‘They’ll probably want to keep him for the night in Special Care, given his early arrival, just to be on the safe side,’ Mia pronounced, ‘but everything checks out so far.’

She stood aside for the midwife to wrap the little boy up in that special way they did with babies so they looked just like glowworms, with only their little faces showing. Then Mia picked up the precious little package and asked, ‘Would you like to hold your son?’

Rhiannon nodded and Mia was walking the baby over to her when the curtain flicked back a little and Stan stood there, looking slightly mollified. The time away seemed to have helped. Mia changed tack. ‘Would you like to hold him?’ she asked.

In Mia’s experience, babies melted even the hardest of hearts. What man could resist such a gorgeous package? Hopefully this little impatient cherub would help Stan focus on what was important in life.

He looked uncertain for a moment then looked at Rhiannon. ‘Can I?’

She smiled at him and Mia could see the love shining in the other woman’s eyes. ‘Of course.’

Mia eased the little bundle into Stan’s arms. He seemed more dazed than elated but Mia knew that for some new fathers it was a big adjustment. He walked up and down the length of the cubicle with the baby, rocking him as he went, his gaze fixed on his face.

‘What are you going to call him?’ Caroline asked.

‘I like Michael,’ Rhiannon murmured.

The tight swaddling had loosened a little from the rocking and the baby stirred, displacing the wrap covering his head. Stan stopped as he stared down at a shock of red hair. He whipped around to face his wife. ‘Is that his name?’ he demanded. The baby started to cry. ‘Michael? The man you’ve been sleeping with?’

Rhiannon groaned. ‘Stop it, Stan. I’m sick of these accusations. You know there’s only ever been you.’

‘I want a paternity test,’ he yelled.

Mia looked at Caroline then at a near-to-tears Rhiannon. ‘Stan—’

Stan swung wildly around to face her and the baby cried louder. ‘I want you …’ he jabbed the air with an index finger ‘… to do a paternity test.’

‘Stan this is ridiculous,’ Rhiannon wailed, a tear trekking down her face.

Stan swung back. ‘Are you refusing?’

‘Okay, Stan, enough,’ Mia said firmly. Stan turned abruptly and faced her. ‘That is no way to be talking and certainly no way to be flinging a baby around. Listen to him, you’re making him cry.’

She walked briskly towards Stan, her arms extended. ‘Give him to me.’

Stan leapt back, his eyes wild again as he pulled a pocket knife out of his back pocket, flicking the blade open with one hand while he clutched his son in the other.

‘Stay back,’ he screamed. Caroline gasped, Rhiannon wailed and Mia stopped in her tracks. ‘Don’t come near me.’

Stan swung wildly from side to side, brandishing the knife as he backed slowly away from Mia.

Oh, good Lord! Mia felt a spurt of annoyance. She did not have time for this.

‘Okay, Stan.’ Mia summoned her most placatory voice as she put her hands out to calm the situation. She didn’t think that Stan would harm anyone but that wasn’t the way to play it when he was holding a brand-new thirty weeker in one arm and a knife in the other.

‘Okay, I can do that for you,’ she soothed, deftly placing her own body between Stan and Caroline.

Caroline, bless her cotton socks, picked up on her cue and quietly crept out of the cubicle. Mia knew one push of the panic button located under the desk in the nurses’ station and every security guard rostered for the shift would be here in under two minutes.

‘But you’re going to need to give me the baby first.’ She took another step towards Stan, tuning out the lusty newborn’s cries and Rhiannon’s pleading.

Stan slashed the blade through the air. ‘No! Get back,’ he yelled.

Luca di Angelo, who was passing the resus bay, frowned at the raised voice, louder even than the squalling baby. He strode in through the partially open curtain, surveying the scene rapidly.

A man with a knife. A bawling baby being held to ransom. A crying woman. A terrified nurse. And gutsy Dr Mia McKenzie—aloof, frosty little Mia—standing in the thick of it.

‘What the devil is going on here?’ he demanded.

Stan swung around again, slashing the air in Luca’s general direction. ‘Stay back,’ he yelled.

Luca stopped. ‘Dr McKenzie?’

‘It’s fine, Dr di Angelo,’ she said, a placid smile plastered to her face as she inched closer to Stan. Very soon there’d be maximum force at her disposal—she could do without the Lone Ranger potentially ramping the situation up in the mean time.

Even if he did look good enough to spread on toast.

Mia’s stomach rumbled.

‘Stan here just wants a paternity test so he’s going to give me the baby and I’ll draw some blood. Right, Stan?’

‘No.’ Stan looked wildly between the two of them. ‘The baby stays,’ he insisted.

Luca watched Mia in his peripheral vision as she crept forward at a snail’s pace. ‘But how can we take blood when you’re holding a baby, Stan?’ Luca reasoned, distracting the man.

Mia, grateful if a little surprised that Luca had caught on really fast, took another step closer.

‘Stay back,’ Stan bellowed. The baby’s cries rose another octave.

‘I can’t take your blood from here, Stan,’ Mia soothed.

The adrenaline flowing through her system brought everything into sharp focus. The sweat on Stan’s brow. The harsh suck of his breath as he heaved air in and out of his lungs. The white spittle forming at the corner of his mouth. The way he turned the knife over and over in his palm and constantly shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his gaze darted between the two doctors.

But she was probably even more aware of Luca. Somehow it was he who dominated the room, not Stan. He towered over the knife-wielding man, all lean and broad shouldered, in sharp contrast to Stan’s stocky stature. And despite the deceptive casualness of his hands-in-pocket stance, Mia could see the hard clench of his jaw and sense the coiled rigidity in those muscles barely contained behind the snug-fitting polo shirt.

She reminded him of a taipan, ready to strike. Swift and deadly.

Just then there was a commotion behind them as several security staff arrived at once.

Stan looked over Mia’s shoulder. ‘What are they doing here?’ he roared, his hold on the baby tightening and causing further lusty protest.

Luca held out his hand as Stan’s agitation increased. ‘It’s standard hospital procedure,’ Luca soothed, moving a little closer. ‘It’ll be all right, though. I’m going to ask them to stand back, okay?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Doc,’ the chief security officer said.

‘Back! You heard him, get back!’ Stan shouted, brandishing the knife a little too close to the baby’s head.

The midwife gasped.

Luca turned to the security contingent. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured them. Then he turned back to Stan. ‘They’re going, see?’ Luca said as he heard the guards shuffling away.

Mia kept her gaze focused on Stan and the baby. ‘Okay, Stan, now we’ve done something for you, you’ve got to do something for us.’ She covered up her next step closer by holding out her arms. ‘Give me the baby. He’s scared and hungry. Listen to him. I’m sure a nice feed will settle him down and we can talk about this without upsetting him any more.’

And, frankly, the infant’s cries were getting on her last nerve. The situation was fraught enough without the distinct urgency of an escalating newborn baby’s cries.

‘She’s right, Stan,’ Luca agreed as he edged nearer too. ‘This isn’t something a baby should be part of.’

‘It’s not my fault.’ Stan’s voice cracked as his face beseeched them. ‘I work hard all day and she repays me by sleeping with half the neighbourhood.’

Mia felt a chill as if a ghostly hand from the past had stroked down her spine. She ignored it.

Luca nodded. ‘I know. Believe me, I know.’ And he did. He understood the desperation that Stan was feeling, the sense of betrayal. Intimately.

Mia glanced sharply at Luca. There was empathy, real empathy, in his tone.

‘We can talk about all that, Stan,’ Luca continued. ‘Just give the baby to Dr McKenzie.’

Stan looked from one to the other and Mia saw the uncertainty on his face, saw that even Stan in his crazed state had registered Luca’s compassion. She took advantage and moved forward slowly, unsurprised to sense Luca doing the same.

‘It’s okay, Stan, you’re doing the right thing,’ Mia reassured him.

Stan shook his head from side to side. ‘I just need to know.’

‘Of course,’ Luca murmured. ‘Of course you do, Stan.’

They were close now and Mia could sense Stan weakening. His grip on the knife had slackened. But so had his hold on the baby. Everything inside her urged her to leap forward and snatch the bawling infant from him but she knew any sudden movements would be a bad idea.

‘Give your little boy to me, Stan,’ she implored quietly.

Stan looked down at the crying bundle, the red hair even more vivid against the white of the wrap. He shook his head, his grip tightening again.

‘He’s not my baby!’ he roared, lunging the knife at her.

Everything slowed as Mia watched it come towards her chest. She wasn’t conscious of anything else, just the hypnotic arc of the blade as its point drew closer to her heart.

‘Mia!’

Luca reached out and grabbed her, pulling her towards him. The sweeping slash of the knife missed her torso completely but sliced into the flesh of her upper arm. Mia gasped as bright, piercing pain stole her breath.

Luca swore in his native tongue as his hand shot out and crushed Stan’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Stan yelped and dropped the knife.

‘Security!’

His voice cracked like a whip into the charged atmosphere and in an instant five burly guards had entered the fray. The fight instantly went out of Stan at the sight of overwhelming force.

‘The baby,’ Luca demanded, and the midwife leapt forward, snatching the squalling infant.

‘Go easy,’ Luca ordered as the guards hauled a now passive Stan away. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked switching his attention to Mia.

She nodded automatically as the baby, now safe in his mother’s embrace, began to settle. ‘I’m fine.’ Even though the hand that had instinctively covered the wound to apply pressure was sticky with her own blood. It had quickly oozed through the material of her cotton shirt.

Luca looked at the dark red blood running down her arm and shook his head. Most women he knew would have been hysterical by now. But not Mia. She’d kept her head in the face of an emotionally overwrought father with a knife and had dismissed what looked like a substantial wound as if it were a paper cut.

‘Go to the minor ops room, I’ll take a look at it.’

‘It’s fine, just superficial,’ she said dismissively.

Luca pointed. ‘Blood is running down your arm.’

Mia looked down at the thick trickle, surprised to see it. ‘I’ll get Evie to look at it.’

‘I sent her home.’

‘Dr di Angelo?’ Caroline interrupted them. ‘The psych reg is on the phone. He wants to speak with you.’

Luca quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘I can’t have one of my staff expiring from blood loss. It wouldn’t look very good. Minor ops. Now. I’ll be along after the call.’

Mia watched him go, a well of resentment rising in her. She’d been looking after herself for a lot of years, she didn’t need Mr Tall Dark and Handsome pulling the boss card and she certainly didn’t need him fussing over her.

No one had ever fussed over her. And that was just the way she liked it.

A couple of steri-strips and she’d be fine.

A few minutes later, Mia pushed into the on-call room and plonked herself down at the table in the kitchen area, spilling her supplies on the cluttered top. Her arm hurt like hell and all she wanted to do was crawl into one of the private rooms off to her left and collapse on one of the pull-out beds.

The adrenaline had worn off and her earlier tiredness had taken hold and intensified.

And if she was asleep, the memories that Stan’s actions had unleashed tonight couldn’t bother her.

It was quiet in the room as she fumbled one-handed with the buttons of her blouse. The sleeves had a firm cuff that sat snugly around her biceps and couldn’t be rolled up enough to gain a good visual of the damage. She winced as she slipped the blouse off, every movement jarring though her lacerated deltoid.

She tossed it on the floor—that was going straight in the bin.

She inspected her spaghetti-strapped top, pleased to see that no blood had seeped into it. This kind of undergarment was a permanent fixture beneath whatever shirt she was wore on a night shift. The hospital air-conditioning seemed to reach freezing point at around four in the morning and, even in summer, the extra layer helped.

Mia was especially grateful for it tonight.

She looked down at the wound on her upper arm. The blood had dried and crusted, making it difficult to tell the extent of the laceration. It looked ugly, though, as she gently probed it with her index finger. It was quite long and for a moment she let herself think about what could have happened had Luca not pulled her out of the way.

She noticed her hand was trembling and she dropped it from the wound, clamping down on her thoughts.

She hadn’t been stabbed in the chest. She hadn’t died.

Luca had pulled her out of the way.

But it didn’t stop the trembling from spreading to all her limbs and then to her insides. She took a couple of deep breaths, desperately trying to quell the outbreak.

It was a reaction, that was all. It would settle.

But the longer she sat, trying to get control of her breathing and the shaking, the more vulnerable she was to her emotions and thoughts. And she hated that—she’d learned long ago they didn’t get you anywhere.

But tonight she didn’t seem to be able to stop them.

Was that how her own father had felt when he’d found out about the paternity of her stillborn sister? Like Stan? Desperate and enraged? If there’d been a knife or a gun handy, would he have used it on her mother?

He’d walked away from them that day but she hadn’t known why until years later. Years of blaming him for abandoning them, years of hating him, only to find out that it had been her mother’s infidelities that had driven her father away.

Mia shook her head. Stop it. Stop it!

This situation tonight had come too close to home but there was no need to fall apart. She wasn’t ten years old any more. She was an adult.

Clean yourself up and get back out there again!

Mia forced herself to action. To tend to the wound. Open the dressing pack, pour in some antiseptic lotion, pick up the gauze, work away at the dried blood.

It was awkward and hurt like the blazes but she welcomed the distraction from her thoughts and her shaking hands settled with a familiar routine.

Two minutes later Luca strode through the door. Mia glanced up at him, feeling strangely naked with her blouse discarded. Which was ridiculous—she was more than adequately covered. She ignored him, returning to the task at hand.

Luca lounged against the table and smiled to himself as Mia barely acknowledged his arrival. ‘You’re making a mess of that,’ he mused.

Mia glared at him. ‘It’s a little difficult.’

‘I do believe I told you I would attend to your wound.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘But you don’t like asking for help, do you, little Mia?’

His slight accent gave his deep baritone a very sexy edge as it rolled over her. ‘It’s Mia, or Dr McKenzie. Please refrain from addressing me any other way.’

Luca chuckled as he pushed off the bench. ‘Okay, Mia.’ He sat on the chair next to her. ‘Allow me,’ he said as he picked up some gauze and dabbed at the wound.

Mia didn’t protest—she was making a hash of it anyway. His touch was gentle as he coaxed the dried blood from the cut and she shivered. His fingers were dark against her paler skin and long.

Her father had long fingers. A pianist’s hands. He was tall too, like Luca. He’d told her he was her prince and she was his princess and they’d be together for ever.

And then he’d left.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop it. Stop it.

Luca watched her. It was the first time he’d spent any length of time in her company and he was curious. He’d already noticed on their brief acquaintance she was a good-looking woman with a cute mouth and a sassy swagger.

But up close she was really quite exquisite.

Her face was long, as were her eyelashes. A frown appeared between her brows and her lips parted. She looked in pain.

‘Am I hurting you?’ he murmured.

Mia’s eyes fluttered open. How had he got that close? She could see the individual whiskers making up the smooth blue-black of his jaw and just make out the black pupil in the middle of his bottomless brown eyes. His hair, as dark as his eyes, was thick with a slight wave that brushed his forehead and the tops of his ears.

And his mouth. The full curve to that bottom lip was wicked.

His fingers stroked gently over her skin as he cleaned the wound and it reminded her it had been a while since a man had touched her.

She lowered her gaze to the column of his throat. ‘No.’

Luca was captivated by the slide show of emotions in her large blue eyes as magnificent and as transparent as a stained-glass window. The husky timbre of her voice wove between the bands of steel around his heart. ‘Are you okay?’

Mia nodded, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on his throat. The long tanned column of his neck was also shaded in blue-black smoothness. She remembered how she’d loved the sandpaper roughness of her father’s neck as he’d cuddled her close to read to her at night.

Damn it! She gripped the back of the chair hard. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’ve been through an ordeal tonight. That knife came very close to—’

‘I said I’m fine,’ Mia interrupted, raising her face to scowl at him. ‘Just clean the damn wound.’

CHAPTER TWO

LUCA paused in his ministrations for a moment, the blue of her eyes frosty now. He’d only known her for a few short weeks and while he’d been impressed with her empathy for patients and her good rapport with her colleagues he’d also sensed she was a woman who preferred to keep herself pretty much to herself.

But she’d always been polite about it.

Something was definitely eating at Mia McKenzie tonight.

He shifted his attention back to the wound.

‘It’s borderline,’ he mused, looking at the clean ten-centimetre laceration. ‘It’s deeper laterally, could probably do with a couple of sutures there.’

Mia nodded to the pile of medical supplies on the table. ‘Steri-strips there somewhere.’

‘Sutures would be better.’

‘Steri-strips will be fine.’

‘The scarring will be worse if we use steri-strips.’

Mia shrugged. ‘I don’t care about a scar.’

Luca looked at her for a moment then fished around for the strips. ‘Most women would,’ he murmured when he located them. He doubted he’d ever been with a single woman who didn’t obsess over the slightest blemish.

‘I’m not most women.’

Luca chuckled. ‘Yes. I think you are right.’

Mia sat still as he opened the packet and secured the wound edges together, applying firm tension through each sticky strip. Then he applied an adhesive dressing over the top. She watched as he absently brushed the pad of his thumb back and forth over the dressing as if he were a parent, rubbing a boo-boo better.

Just like her father had done.

‘You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,’ he murmured.

Unfortunately, he was right. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her father since Stan’s episode. It had probably been the first time ever she’d been confronted with how emotionally untenable it had been for him to stay.

‘It’s busy,’ she said brusquely, rising from the chair and clearing away the detritus from her dressing and tossing it in the bin. ‘We can’t just skulk in here all night.’

‘The team have got it covered. And you’re not going back out there until you’ve had a break. Try and get some sleep.’ She opened her mouth to protest and he stood. ‘That’s an order.’

Great! What in the hell was she going to do alone in here with a bunch of unwanted memories that wouldn’t quit? Things she just wanted to forget.

‘What if a bus crash comes in?’

Luca grinned. ‘I’ll come and wake you.’

Mia felt the grin right down to her toes. It twinkled in his eyes and gave the devil a whole new degree of wicked.

The fact that she noticed his twinkling eyes rankled. ‘Are you flirting with me?’ she demanded, crossing her arms.

Luca chuckled. She didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Would it be a bad thing if I was?’

‘Yes,’ she said. Something told her he wouldn’t be an easy man to walk away from. Not disposable, like the others. ‘Stop it. I have no desire to become a notch on what I understand is your very crowded bedpost.’

Luca regarded her for a moment. In her top and jeans, arms crossed, a frown knitting her brows, she looked quite fierce. But Luca knew women. He knew them well.

And Mia McKenzie was definitely protesting too much.

His gaze slipped to her mouth. ‘Are you sure?’

Mia felt her lips tingle beneath his heated stare and felt her resistance ebb. Now, he was something that could make her forget for a little while.

Luca grinned, pleased to have discomforted her. ‘Goodnight, Mia. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

By four a.m. Luca was ready to head home. The craziness had settled and things were quiet—for now anyway.

He’d checked on the MVA from earlier—the laparotomy had found a perforated bowel. Stan had been admitted to the psych unit on a ninety-six-hour hold. The baby was settled into the special care nursery for overnight monitoring.

And his paperwork was up to date.

Just one last thing to do—check on Mia.

He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob of the on-call room. Prickly little Mia probably wouldn’t appreciate being checked up on.

Her prim I have no desire to become a notch on what I understand is your very crowded bedpost, had played on his mind ever since she’d uttered it.

She obviously disapproved.

What the hell was wrong with indulging in a little flirtation here and there? Spending an enjoyable few hours with a woman who was fully aware that one night was all he was interested in?

He was always open and honest about his intentions. And he never made the mistake of giving false hope by going back for seconds. He knew his limitations where relationships were concerned—had learned them at a very early age.

Best not to set expectations—that way you couldn’t let anyone down.

He loved women—bronzed, natural, fun-loving Australian women in particular—and they loved him. And he was a healthy adult male.

Still, Mia intrigued him. Her resistance even more so. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want her.

He twisted the knob and opened the door. She wasn’t around and the light had been turned out. Sleeping room one had its door shut and he padded over to it, knocking lightly when he reached his destination.

No reply was forthcoming. He hesitated again before gently twisting the knob and opening the door a crack—checking on her was the right thing to do.

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

She had fallen asleep in a semi-upright foetal position on the triple-seater couch. Her head was snuggled against the fat cushions of the sofa, her spine propped up against the squishy arm, her legs, tucked in close to her bottom, had fallen sideways to rest against the back of the couch.

She’d taken her hair out of its clasp and it fanned around her shoulders and the couch cushions. Her feet were bare. A medical journal lay open on her chest.

The lamp on the table beside the couch illuminated her relaxed profile in a warm yellow glow. His gaze tracked the outline of her nose, the slope of one cheekbone, the plump fullness of her mouth.

He was satisfied to see the journal on her chest rise and fell in a regular rhythm. His eyes dropped to the white dressing covering her upper arm and he absently noted there was no fresh ooze.

She was obviously fine.

As he watched, a little frown wrinkled her forehead and a soft mew escaped her mouth. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Her near-death experience? The flash of a blade? The bawling of a baby?

His question—are you sure?—from earlier?

She mewed again and he realised he was staring at a sleeping woman who would most definitely not appreciate the attention. He left the door ajar and turned away.

Mia was trapped in a dream she didn’t seem able to fight her way out of. It was one she hadn’t had since she’d been a little girl but it was disjointed, jumping back and forth between now and then. Between Stan and her father. Each slash of the knife through the air shunting the dream to the other person, to another time.

Her mother was there too somewhere, holding a wrapped bundle that Mia knew was her stillborn sister. Her mother was sobbing those deep, gut-wrenching sobs that had been indelibly woven through the fabric of Mia’s life.

She was holding her father’s hand, her little ten-year-old fingers tugging at his long ones, asking him not to go. And then Stan would yell to get back, get back as the knifepoint came ever closer.

Daddy, don’t go. Don’t go.

Slash. Back, get back. Slash.

Please, Daddy, don’t go.

Slash. Slash. Back! Get back!

Daddy!

‘Daddy, come back!’

Luca was almost at the door when he heard her cry out. Without thinking, he hurried back to her, pushed open the door and strode over to the couch as Mia cried out again, flinging her head from side to side. The journal had already fallen to the floor.

Luca took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake, mindful of her injury. ‘Mia! Mia.’

Mia heard a voice. A different voice. And the urge to run towards it, to run away from the feelings of hopelessness, was overwhelming.

Luca? Luca?

‘Mia.’ He shook her again. ‘It’s Luca. Wake up. Wake up.’

Mia’s eyes flew open. Luca? Luca was here?

The mellow lamplight bathed his strong masculine features, softening them—his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth—and he finally looked like that angel. She blinked away the crazy thought as tendrils of dread clung to every heartbeat.

Mia tried to sit up but her limbs wouldn’t co-operate and her arm throbbed. ‘Luca?’

‘Shh,’ he murmured, the pads of his thumbs absently stroking her shoulders. Her large blue eyes reflected her confusion. ‘It’s okay, you were having a bad dream.’

Mia nodded. ‘It was … there was …’

‘Your father?’

Mia blinked up at him. He pronounced the th softly, giving the word a gentleness it hadn’t had in the dream. Her head was crowded with memories. One after the other, battering her brains and beating against the locked door to her heart.

Old and long forgotten. Supposedly.

She had to make them stop.

‘Are you okay?’ Luca asked.

She looked at him, into eyes so deep and brown it was like falling into a well.

He could make them stop.

‘Mia?’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ But she would be.

Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Luca stilled at the tentative touch. He pulled back and searched her eyes. ‘Mia?’

She shook her head and, supporting herself on her good arm, leant in close, locking her gaze with his. ‘Kiss me,’ she murmured, her mouth a whisper from his.

In fact, she was close enough that Luca could almost feel those two little words branding his lips from the sudden heat rising between their bodies. He dropped his gaze to her mouth—so near, so luscious—and he was instantly hard.

‘What happened to not wanting to be a notch on my bedpost?’

‘Stan,’ she muttered.

After that Luca wasn’t sure who closed the hair’s-breadth between them. But he did seize control.

His mouth opened over hers and demanded she follow suit. And follow him she did, opening to him eagerly. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and the little whimper at the back of her throat implored him to keep going.

He tunnelled his hands into her hair, angling her head back to accommodate more, and the kiss escalated. Got deeper, wetter, hotter. His body moved over hers, forcing her knees down, crowding her back against the cushions, imprisoning her against the couch, her head falling back over the arm.

His hand brushed the side of her breast and she moaned deep and low. He drew it lower, to her waist, her hip as his mouth broke from hers to ravage her neck, stretched out before him, the pulse at the base beating as madly as his own.

Mia felt the memories disappear into the ether as a veritable storm of sensations swept through her body.

Yes, yes, yes.

‘Yes,’ she cried out as Luca licked along her collar bone. ‘Yes,’ as he nipped at the base of her neck. ‘Yes,’ as his hand squeezed the exact spot where, beneath her jeans, butt met thigh.

One-handed, she pulled his polo shirt out of his jeans and ruched it up his back, his skin hot and vibrant beneath her palm. She kept pulling till it was past his shoulders and gave a triumphant cry when Luca ducked his head through the opening and she pulled it off him entirely.

His smooth chest was totally bare to her touch and she pressed a kiss to a flat brown pec, then his collarbone, then the hollow at the base of his neck.

She breathed him in, his scent intoxicating. Potent. Virile. Male. It filled up her senses. Like a drug.

And left her wanting more.

He claimed her mouth again, pressing her deep into the cushions, and she revelled in his weight, in the tangle of his legs, in the oh-so-right angle of his pelvis.

Luca felt the agitated circling of her hips and ground himself against her. He swallowed her gasp, making her moan more deeply as his hand travelled back up her body, pushing beneath her top. He needed to touch her breasts. To see them. Taste them. To feel them rubbing against his chest.

He pushed the fabric up, his hand filling with soft, delectable female. Satin, lace and heaven all in one sweet handful. He rubbed the hard point with his thumb and she gasped.

Luca broke away from her mouth, his lips instinctively following the dictates of his body as his tongue stroked down her neck, over her collarbone, the slope of her breast then finally her nipple. The lace was rough against his tongue as he sucked the tip right through the material of the bra.

Mia’s breath hissed out as her back arched involuntarily. It jarred painfully through her sore arm and she cried out in pain this time, her eyes squeezing shut.

‘Mia?’ Luca broke away. ‘Oh, sorry, did I hurt your arm?’

Mia shook her head, her eyes still shut. ‘It’s okay, it’s settling.’

Luca groaned, dropping his forehead onto her chest. Her heart beat frantically there as her ribcage heaved in and out. His own breathing was loud and ragged in the silence.

Mia’s eyes slowly fluttered open as the pain ebbed. She looked down at his head, his thick wavy hair tousled from their ministrations. It was suddenly absurdly funny and she felt a bubble of laughter rise in her chest. She bit down on her lip to stop it from spilling out.

But her ribcage shook with the effort to keep it in and it bubbled up anyway.

Luca felt the vibration against his forehead and glanced up just as she laughed. Their breathing was still erratic, they were both half-undressed and thoroughly bedraggled, he had a raging hard-on—and she was laughing.

It was absurd. So he laughed too.

‘You’re crazy,’ he said after their laughter had died down.

Mia shook her head. ‘This is crazy.’

Luca had to agree. Even if his hard-on didn’t. ‘You want to stop?’ he murmured.

His husky voice thickened his accent and a surge of lust welled deep down low in her. Mia shook her head. She couldn’t have stopped now even if a bus had crashed right through the walls of the on-call room.

She was a healthy adult woman, and it had been a couple of weeks since her last liaison. ‘That would be even crazier.’

Luca grinned, dropping his mouth to her chest, running his nose lightly along the slope of a breast and upwards to nuzzle her neck. ‘Pure insanity.’

She stretched her neck to give him better access. ‘Certifiable,’ she agreed.

Luca laved the pulse half way up her neck with his tongue. ‘Utter lunacy.’

‘I think we should get the door, though,’ she managed through the haze of lust descending on her.

Luca’s head snapped to the doorway. He swore softly against her neck at its partially open state and was rewarded with another throaty laugh. He kissed her hard on the mouth.

‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, before pushing off her, padding over to the door and locking it.

‘You do realise this is a one-off, right?’ she said as she tried to wiggle out of her jeans essentially one-handed.

Luca turned and watched her. He could clearly see her nipples through the lace of her bra and it made him harder.

He undid his zip and peeled off his jeans. ‘Of course. My bedpost is littered with one-offs. Or hadn’t you heard?’

Mia went to grin but it died on her lips as the pure male beauty of his physique was fully exposed to her. Long, lean legs, dusted with black hair. Flat, flat belly. Broad in the shoulder, narrow in the hip.

And if the bulge in his snug cotton boxers was anything to go by, large, in all the right places.

She’d seen a marble statue just like him in Rome many years before. Luca di Angelo had Made in Italy stamped all over him.

Then he came to her, towering over her, snapping the lamp off, helping her out of her jeans, kissing her everywhere, arching her back over the arm of the lounge, thrusting her breasts upwards towards his eager mouth. Making her sigh. Making her whimper. Making her come.

And, best of all, making her forget.

Three days later Dr Finn Kennedy, chief of Surgery, strode into the emergency department on what he was sure was going to be a fool’s errand. He was tired. His upper arm had ached all night despite several shots of whisky, and he rubbed at it absently. His eyes felt scratchy and his damn nuisance thumb was numb and tingly.

He pulled up short as Evie approached him. Great, just what he needed. Dr Evie Lockheart. Princess Evie. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, working in her granddaddy’s hospital, a place still generously supported by the Lockheart family trust and her father in particular, who was treated like royalty by the boffins upstairs.

With absolutely no idea how hard ordinary people had it.

And the only woman in the entire hospital who seemed to be able to push his buttons. She didn’t simper or cower. Just looked at him patiently with those damn hazel eyes.

‘Dr Kennedy,’ she greeted him.

‘There’s a consult for me?’ he asked, not bothering to acknowledge her greeting. He had a feeling that she saw beyond his curt exterior and he didn’t like it.

The only other woman to have done that had been Lydia—his brother’s widow—and that had been an unmitigated disaster.

Evie refused to give Finn the satisfaction of seeing how his brusqueness grated. He wasn’t in the army any more and she wasn’t one of his soldiers to be ordered around. Instead, she launched straight into her spiel. Still, it didn’t stop her heart from pounding like a runaway train in her chest—she’d made an amazing incidental find and despite his gruffness she was desperate for his approval.

‘Twenty-two-year-old female, with a painful lump in her breast. Ultrasound identified a small benign cyst—’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Finn glared down at her, hands on hips. ‘You do know I’m a cardiac surgeon, right? That means stuff to do with the heart.’

Evie held his gaze and her tongue and continued as if he hadn’t just rudely interrupted her. ‘She also complained of fatigue, shortness of breath and intermittent chest pains. Incidental finding reveals bicuspid aortic valve with associated ascending aortic aneurysm.’

Finn stared at her. Was in hell was she on about? ‘Sure,’ he said sarcastically as he held out his hand. ‘Radiographer report?’

‘There isn’t one. Radiology was backlogged and the ultrasound was performed in the department.’

‘I see. By who, exactly?’ he demanded.

Evie’s gaze didn’t waver as his piercing blue eyes dared her to blink. ‘By me.’

Finn snorted. ‘You? You diagnosed a complex heart condition through a breast ultrasound?’

Evie crossed her arms too. ‘Yes.’

‘That’s not even remotely possible,’ he snapped.

Until right now, Evie would have agreed. ‘It is if the woman in question has very small breasts.’

Finn glared at her. Princess Evie—her place at the prestigious SHH emergency department no doubt paid for by her father’s huge donations—wasting his time. ‘Where’s the patient?’

‘Cubicle fifteen,’ she said calmly.

‘What have you told her that I’m going to have to untell her?’ he asked silkily.

‘I told her I couldn’t get a good enough angle and I was going to call for someone more experienced,’ Evie bristled. ‘I did go to medical school, Dr Kennedy,’ she said frostily.

‘Really? Daddy couldn’t fast-track you, then?’

Evie ignored the dig. ‘I graduated top of my year.’

‘He gives to the university too, then?’ Finn retorted, before turning on his heel and heading for the indicated cubicle.

Evie’s heart tripped in her chest as she struggled to keep up with his long-legged stride. But even falling flat on her face would be worth it just to see the look on Finn’s when her diagnosis was confirmed.

Finn snapped back the curtain and introduced himself to a petite young woman in a hospital gown who was chewing on her bottom lip. He smiled at her. ‘Hello. Bethany, is it?’ he asked, consulting her chart. ‘I’m Dr Kennedy. Dr Lockheart’s asked me to have a look at you.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Bethany asked, looking from one doctor to the other.

Finn patted her hand. ‘Give me one minute and I’ll be able to tell you.’

He turned away to the compact mobile ultrasound machine and shot Evie an exasperated look. It was hardly the most sophisticated machine in their radiology arsenal. He found it hard to believe anyone could diagnose a potentially fatal heart problem on something so basic.

He picked up the transducer from its cradle fiddled with the pulse settings and the screen brightness and turned to back to Bethany, who’d already opened her gown and put her arm above her head.

Finn squeezed a blob of warmed gel on Bethany’s chest, noting that she did indeed have practically nonexistent breast tissue. ‘Okay, here goes,’ he murmured as he ploughed the transducer through the middle of the gel.

He ignored Evie, who was standing at his elbow, and concentrated on the small screen as the grainy grey and black image of Bethany’s pumping heart came into view. It took him less than a minute to concur with Evie’s very impressive diagnosis.

He flicked a glance at her and met her unwavering hazel gaze. There was no triumph or smugness there, just complete confidence in her diagnosis, and he felt a rather foreign feeling of grudging respect.

Maybe there was more to her than the Lockheart name.

‘Is everything okay?’ Bethany asked.

Finn shook his head. ‘No. There’s a problem,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s okay,’ he added quickly. ‘I can fix it.’

Evie listened in awe while Finn sat with Bethany and explained how the small benign-looking cyst in her breast was nothing compared to the real problem, and what he could do about it. For such an arrogant, rude, human being he had amazing rapport with patients.

When they walked out of the curtain thirty minutes later Evie had seen an entirely different side to the infamous Dr Finn Kennedy. She’d known he must have had a heart in there somewhere but it was the first time she’d ever seen any evidence of it.

‘Organise a bed for her in CCU,’ Finn said briskly, handing Bethany’s chart to her.

Evie nodded as she accepted it, trying not to feel discouraged. She hadn’t really thought he’d congratulate her, had she?

‘Good catch, Dr Lockheart,’ he murmured. ‘Maybe you’re not Daddy’s little girl after all.’

And then he turned in the opposite direction and strode away.

Evie blinked as the back-handed compliment sank in.

High praise indeed!

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN Mia came on duty later that afternoon the first person she spied was Luca. Which wasn’t difficult, given that his very presence seemed to attract attention. She’d bet whoever had invented the term chick magnet had met Luca di Angelo.

Of course, she could also just have conjured him up—she couldn’t deny she’d been thinking about him and their illicit liaison in the on-call room a little too often on her days off.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a few seconds then opened them again. Nope—still there.

And looking right at her.

Smiling at her, actually. Like he knew all her dirty secrets. And that he was one of them.

She graced him with an indifferent glare and a cool nod of the head as she slung her stethoscope around her neck and deliberately walked in the opposite direction.

Luca chuckled to himself as he watched the hypnotic swish of her blonde ponytail. She seemed all prim and neat, her dark grey tailored trousers classically elegant, her high-necked, capped-sleeve blouse in sapphire blue crisp and stylish.

Not a wrinkle. Or a hair out of place.

Very different from the Mia of the other night. Who had looked rumpled and disturbed and hadn’t cared about either.

A hum coursed through his blood at the mere thought. It certainly hadn’t been the way he had envisaged that night would turn out. In fact, if someone had asked him who’d be the woman least likely to sleep with him, he would have said Mia McKenzie.

But it had been pretty damn amazing. Once she’d made up her mind she hadn’t held back. She hadn’t done that irritating talking/fishing-for-compliments thing that a surprising amount of women did during sex. Or tried to twist herself into some uncomfortable position because she knew it was her best angle.

She hadn’t even asked him what he liked in an effort to make it all about him.

No. She’d known exactly what she’d wanted and she’d taken it. But she’d given, too. She’d been confident and assured and had met him as an equal.

It was the most uncomplicated one-off he’d ever had.

Now, if he could just stop thinking about it …

Mia moved through the shift with her senses on high alert. Her skin prickled when he was near. The hairs on her nape stood to attention. Her nipples seemed to stay in a state of permanent erection. It seemed every cell in her body was well and truly tuned in to Luca.

And it didn’t help that they kept running into each other.

The first time had been in the lift after she’d been on for half an hour. She’d just caught it before the doors had shut and squeezed in with several other people sharing the space with a transport bed. The patient had been almost lost amidst the equipment on the bed and the stuff hanging off the rails had made it an even tighter fit.

She’d smiled at the patient as the doors had shut and turned to stare at the opposite wall, only to be confronted by Luca’s slow, sexy smile.

‘Dr McKenzie,’ he murmured.

‘Dr di Angelo,’ she replied, dropping her gaze to the knot of his tie rather than the knowing look in his eyes.

‘How were your days off?’ he asked innocently.

Mia couldn’t believe how intimate it could feel between them in a lift full of onlookers. She kept her gaze firmly on the knot at his throat.

His long, tanned throat she’d licked every inch of.

‘Fine, thank you.’ Apart from daydreaming about you.

His grin broadened as if he could hear the words she hadn’t said. ‘I trust your arm is getting better?’

Mia had felt sure that if his voice could cure wounds hers would have miraculously healed on the spot. She kept her gaze resolute, trying not to think how erotic the smooth glide of his jaw had been against her breasts.

‘Thank you, yes.’

‘I can look at it later, if you like. I think there’re still some dressings left in the on-call room.’

Mia’s eyes flicked up before she could stop them and his smile gained a slight triumphant edge. A blast of heat arced between them and Mia was surprised that it hadn’t incinerated everyone in the lift.

‘Thank you Dr di Angelo. I can manage,’ she murmured as the lift doors opened and she walked out on legs that felt like wobbly jelly.

The second time she’d worked with him on a fifty-two-year-old construction worker who had come in from an industrial accident, having sustained major chest and abdominal injuries. He’d placed a chest tube and done the intubation while she’d inserted a central line.

They’d worked in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, but she’d been aware of him and his every move every second. Their gazes had locked regularly. At one stage their heads had even bumped together, competing for the same line of sight. He’d apologised, but their faces had been very close. His gaze had dropped briefly to her mouth and her mind had strayed to exactly where she’d put it on his body.

The third time she’d been plastering a fifteen-year-old-boy’s broken arm when he’d lounged in the doorway to the plaster room. He hadn’t announced himself but something had alerted her and she’d looked up to find him propped against the doorframe.

‘Haven’t you got something better to be doing?’ she asked testily, returning her attention to the job. How was she supposed to avoid him when he seemed to be wherever she was?

Luca shook his head. ‘All quiet. I thought I’d skulk here for a while.’

She’d glanced up at his use of the word ‘skulk’ and he grinned at her. He advanced into the room and she tried not to notice how his beautifully cut trousers and khaki business shirt fitted him to perfection. He could easily have been strutting a Milan catwalk.

‘You the boy who was having a light-sabre fight with your little sister?’ he asked the teenager.

The boy nodded glumly. ‘She’s never going to let me live it down.’

‘Sisters can be very unforgiving.’

‘You’ve got sisters?’

Luca nodded. ‘Three.’

‘Man, that’s harsh.’

Mia slid him a sly glance. His accent had thickened and his words had seemed tinged with something she hadn’t been able to put her finger on. Then the two of them got into a conversation about Star Wars and Mia gritted her teeth and pretended Luca and his mouth were in a galaxy far, far away.

By the time he passed her in the hallway at ten o’clock she was walking a very fine line between homicidal mania and sexual frustration. The man was everywhere—in the department and in her head—and, heaven help her, she wanted to push him into the nearest available private space and tear his clothes off.

But it had been a one-off.

They’d agreed.

‘Oh, Dr McKenzie, I meant to tell you earlier, I’ve arranged for a debrief session with John Allen from Psych for you.’

Mia slowed and turned. How could she want to kill him and kiss at the same time? ’Cos she did. She wanted to kiss that smug Sicilian mouth so badly she could scream.

‘I don’t need a damn debrief,’ she snapped, tossing her head, daring him to push her. ‘I’m fine.’

Luca smiled at the flash in her eyes—like sun shining on a cathedral window. He liked the way her chest rose and fell just a little bit too fast. And how it pulled at her blouse in all the right places.

He pushed back. ‘I’m sure you are. But you’re having one, anyway.’

That was it! Mia put her hands on her hips, barely suppressing the juvenile urge to stamp her foot. ‘Oh, no, I’m not.’

He nodded. ‘Ten tomorrow morning.’

Her gaze locked on his mouth the same time his locked on hers. Something stirred deep in her belly. A primal recognition of attraction. A potent force.

She lifted her chin. ‘You can’t make me.’

Luca felt a subtle shift in the signals emanating from her. Had that challenge been sexual? A nurse bustled past and gave them a strange look.

Luca inclined his head to a nearby door. ‘Shall we discuss this in private?’

Mia knew it was the on-call room. ‘Fine,’ she muttered, her heart rate suddenly trebling.

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