The Italian's Passionate Proposal

He was a desperate man.

If she turned and walked away, he’d have to consider kidnapping her.

‘You can’t come with me on my call.’ She clutched the bin bag more tightly. ‘It’s a professional visit. I can’t just take a man I picked up on the street.’

‘I picked you up,’ he pointed out, and she rolled her eyes.

‘Details. Details.’

He gave a lopsided smile. ‘Would it help if I confessed that I’m an obstetrician?’

Her eyes widened in disbelief and she started to laugh.

He frowned at her. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘I’m just trying to imagine any of the obstetricians I know fighting like you did.’ She shook her head slightly, still laughing. ‘I’m failing dismally. They’re all very puny and academic. They’d have trouble wrestling with a microscope.’

He lifted an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. ‘You don’t think I’m academic?’

‘You mean you’ve got all that muscle and a brain?’ She batted her eyelids and he grinned appreciatively.

‘I certainly have.’ He adored her sense of humour. ‘So, now do you believe I’m an obstetrician?’

‘No.’ Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. ‘I’ve worked with loads of obstetricians and none of them look like you.’

Was that good or bad?

‘So what’s wrong with me?’

Her smile faded and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and something else that had a serious effect on the fit of his jeans. ‘Oh, there’s nothing wrong with you at all. That’s what I mean.’

His blood heated and he had to stop himself grabbing her again. ‘Well, until you see me in action you’re just going to have to take my word for it. So, can I come?’

She tipped her head to one side. ‘Well, if you’re truly an obstetrician, then tell me where you work.’

‘I’m doing a locum job at St Catherine’s from tomorrow.’

Using a false surname that only he, his security team and the most senior member of the hospital were aware of.

Her eyes widened. ‘That’s spooky! I work there, too.’

Did she, now? That was the best news he’d had for months.

‘Which definitely means I can come on your visit,’ he said smoothly. ‘We’re colleagues. And after that I’m walking you home and we can heal each other’s bruises.’

Her lips parted slightly and he held his breath. If she said no, he was in big trouble.

‘I—I don’t know…’

The wary look was back and he gave her a smile that he hoped was non-threatening.

‘Look, I know this was an unconventional meeting, but you don’t need to be scared of me. If I step out of line you can always black my other eye.’

Maybe he was playing dirty by appealing to her conscience but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let her walk out of his life.

‘All right.’ She hauled the bag onto her shoulder and jerked her head towards a high-rise building in the next street. ‘Come with me to see Kelly and then we’ll go back to my place and sort your face out. It’s the least I can do after having tried to half kill you.’

Resisting the impulse to punch the air in triumph, Carlo shortened his stride to match hers and followed her up seemingly endless flight of soulless concrete steps that intersected the flats.

He glanced around with a deepening frown.

No wonder she didn’t like coming here at night. The place was menacing and rough. Definitely not somewhere to be after dark. Especially for a woman on her own. The walls were covered in graffiti, there were smashed windows and boarded-up doors and, even this close to Christmas, there was very little evidence of festive cheer.

The girl came to a halt in front of a door, tugged the woollen hat back on her head and stuffed her hair back underneath it.

‘All part of the disguise.’ She tossed him a smile that made his whole body ache, and tapped on the door.

‘Kelly?’ She leaned closer to the door. ‘Kelly, it’s Zan. Let me in.’

Zan? Carlo blinked in surprise.

What sort of a name was Zan?

He was still trying to work it out when the door jerked open and a burly man stood there.

If ever a man was looking for a fight it was this one, and instinctively Carlo straightened his shoulders and prepared himself for trouble.

What the hell was the girl doing in a place like this? This certainly wasn’t his idea of midwifery.

‘Hi, Mike.’ Zan didn’t seem remotely nervous. Instead, she just gave the man the same warm smile she’d used on him earlier and peeped round him into the flat. ‘Can I see Kelly? I brought some stuff…’

She jiggled the black bin back temptingly and Mike’s face darkened.

‘We ain’t taking no charity!’

Zan shook her head. ‘Of course you’re not. It isn’t charity,’ she said easily, her tone relaxed and friendly. ‘Mothers swap clothes all the time. Someone I look after was having a clear-out—I just thought you might find it useful, but I can offer it to someone else if you prefer…’

Mike glowered at her and then opened the door wider. ‘And while we’re at it Kelly ain’t going to hospital, so don’t even think about suggesting it.’ He looked over her shoulder and his eyes narrowed as they fixed on Carlo. He looked at him man to man, his eyes resting on the width of Carlo’s shoulders. ‘Who’s he?’

Zan opened her mouth but Carlo spoke first.

‘I’m a doctor. Carlo Bennett.’

He almost stumbled over the surname, because it wasn’t his and he wasn’t used to it yet, but it was the name that everyone had agreed he should use while he was hiding out in London. As a qualified surgeon he was actually entitled to call himself Mr, but he didn’t think this was the time to worry about the finer points of titles. ‘I’m going to be working in this area and Zan said I could come with her on some visits.’

Aware that Zan was staring at him, Carlo gave the other man a friendly smile and reached out a hand.

There was a moment’s hesitation and then Mike shook it briefly, but his expression was still unfriendly.

‘You don’t look English and you don’t sound English.’

‘Part Italian,’ Carlo lied smoothly, denying some of his heritage in the interests of discretion. Mike pulled a face, leaving no one in any doubt of what he thought of foreign doctors.

‘Well, you can come in as you’re here, but you might as well know that I hate doctors and I’m not having one of them near my woman. Zan’s the only one I’ll let look at her.’

‘No problem.’ Careful to be non-confrontational, Carlo strolled into the flat after Zan, trying not to show his shock as they walked into the tiny sitting room.

The room was filthy and stacked high with old newspapers and half-eaten plates of food. In the middle of the carpet a German shepherd dog lay with its head on one paw, eyes fixed warily on Carlo.

The place was damp and freezing, and in the corner was a thin wisp of a girl with a rounded stomach and skinny legs.

‘Hi, Kelly.’ Clearing a space on the sofa, Zan sat down and opened the bin bag. ‘How are you feeling?’

Kelly glanced nervously at Mike, who gave a nod. ‘I’m doing OK,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but I’m pretty tired. Well, very tired, actually.’

And he would have bet half his fortune that she was anaemic, Carlo thought, running a professional eye over the patient and her surroundings. Judging from the remains of the food on the plate, she wasn’t eating properly.

‘I think it’s possible that you may be anaemic,’ Zan was saying as she delved into the bag for a blood-pressure cuff. ‘That basically means that your blood isn’t carrying enough oxygen. It can happen very easily when you’re pregnant, especially if you don’t eat properly.’

Carlo blinked with admiration. So she’d homed in on the same problem immediately.

She checked Kelly’s blood pressure and then glanced at Mike. ‘I really want to take a blood sample, Mike.’

‘No way.’ His tone was unfriendly. ‘I’m not having you sticking needles in her. Just do what you have to do and leave.’

Zan’s expression was understanding. ‘I’m just trying to help her, Mike. She’s thirty-four weeks pregnant. If she is anaemic then that could be the reason she’s so tired, and we need to get it sorted out before she has the baby. I want to check the iron levels in her blood.’

‘No needles.’ Mike moved towards Zan and Carlo took a step forward, ready to intervene.

No way was that thug going any nearer to Zan.

‘If you’ve got iron in your bag then just give it to her,’ Carlo said smoothly, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

‘There’s a strong chance that you are anaemic, and obviously we’d like to check that out.’ He spoke directly to Kelly. ‘But if you’d rather we didn’t then the next best thing is to just give you the iron.’

‘Will it hurt the baby?’

‘It could hurt you if you don’t have it,’ Carlo said gently. ‘Being pregnant and giving birth to a child place huge demands on your body. We need to correct it or you could have problems during your delivery and you’ll be exhausted afterwards. When you come into the hospital we—’

‘She ain’t coming into the hospital!’ Mike growled, and Zan cleared her throat.

‘Don’t let’s worry about that now. You’ve got my number, and you know that I’ll deliver Kelly any time you want me to, anywhere you want me to, but we really do need her to take some iron.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of tablets. ‘Will you take one a day for me?’

Kelly glanced at Mike for approval before taking the bottle, and he gave a brief nod.

‘And now can I just check the position of the baby?’

‘Not with him in the room.’ Mike glared at Carlo, who strolled towards the living-room door immediately.

‘I’ll wait in the hallway.’

Whatever had happened to the man to make him so suspicious?

Five minutes later Zan called him back in.

Her eyes were troubled as they met his. ‘I don’t think the baby is growing quite as fast as it should—She’s small for thirty-four weeks.’

Carlo lifted his eyes to Mike. ‘Can I examine her?’

‘No!’

‘Mike, please?’ Zan’s voice was soft and reassuring and Mike hesitated, his jaw set.

Finally he nodded. ‘All right.’ He glared at Carlo. ‘But I’m watching you.’

‘That’s fine.’ Carlo moved his hands skilfully over the mother’s abdomen, thinking that he’d never seen such a half-starved waif in his life. Normally he dealt with the pampered wives of the hideously wealthy, and the contrast was extreme. As he examined the girl he realised just how bored he’d become, working in his world-famous Women’s Unit in Milan. The case he was seeing now presented so much more of a challenge, both medically and socially.

‘Well?’

Mike was looking at him threateningly and Carlo picked up the tape measure that Zan had used and measured Kelly from the top of the bump to her pelvic bone. The measurement was supposed to correlate roughly to the number of weeks of pregnancy, but in this case Zan was right. The baby seemed small.

‘Do you smoke?’

Kelly shook her head, but her eyes slid nervously to Mike and Carlo deduced that the man probably smoked heavily and that she was therefore subjecting the baby to passive smoking.

‘The baby does seem slightly smaller than we would like,’ he said gently, talking directly to Kelly. ‘Ideally I’d like to get you to come to the hospital for a series of scans. Nothing scary. We just slide a clever device that’s basically a camera over your stomach and we’re able to measure the size of the baby’s head. That gives us an indication of what size the baby should be, and we can then take a look at the rest of him.’

Kelly glanced at Mike, who shook his head.

‘She’s not going to hospital.’

Carlo frowned. ‘But—’

‘That’s fine,’ Zan interrupted quickly, shooting Carlo a warning look. ‘But if you change your mind then come and see us any time. I brought you some clothes, Kelly.’

She delved into the bin bag again and pulled out another bag full of tiny baby clothes, vests and a gorgeous blanket.

Carlo’s eyes narrowed.

If those clothes were second-hand then he was an Englishman.

Kelly gave a gasp and her face suddenly shone like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

‘Someone was giving this away?’ She fingered one of the outfits in disbelief and Zan smiled.

‘They were no use to her.’

Oh, sure.

‘But they’re like new.’ Kelly looked at Mike, her expression pleading. ‘Can I keep them—please?’

Carlo found himself holding his breath and finally Mike nodded. ‘I suppose so,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, and I’ve had a word with the council,’ Zan said casually, ‘and they’re trying to rehouse you in a flat on the first floor.’

Kelly looked at her with hope in her eyes. ‘Really?’ Her slim shoulders sagged slightly. ‘I just can’t let myself get excited in case it doesn’t happen.’

‘It will happen, Kelly,’ Zan said firmly. ‘There’s no way you can stay here. The weather is getting colder, the flat is damp and there’s fourteen flights of stairs between you and the ground floor. How are you going to manage that with a baby when the lift’s out of order? I’ve been talking to Social Services about rehousing you and they’re doing their best.’

Carlo listened to her and wondered if the couple had any idea how lucky they were to have Zan to fight their corner.

‘She can take the tablets, but she ain’t coming to hospital for that scan thing,’ Mike said, and Zan looked him in the eye.

‘The baby isn’t big enough, Mike. We really need to—’

‘Get out!’

Kelly flinched and shrank back into her chair.

Carlo’s eyes narrowed slightly and he drew himself up to his full height, preparing himself for trouble.

‘We’re leaving,’ Zan said calmly, smiling at Mike as though he hadn’t just yelled at her in the rudest way possible. ‘We’ll talk about it again next time.’

‘She ain’t going to the hospital and that’s final.’

Zan stood up. ‘That’s fine, Mike.’ She turned to look at Kelly, her gaze direct. ‘Any problems, call me.’

With that she looked meaningfully at Carlo and walked out of the flat with him following close behind.

CHAPTER TWO

‘DOES he hit her?’ Carlo followed her down the dark staircase and back onto the streets.

‘I don’t think so.’ Zan turned sharp left and then right down a wide road that stretched along the river. ‘I think he’s just very controlling.’

‘And why does he hate hospitals so much?’

‘He’s never told me, and I don’t push it or I won’t get to see Kelly at all.’ She glanced sideways and tried not to stare.

She’d never met anyone as strikingly good-looking as Carlo before. Tall, dark-haired and loaded with sex appeal, he exuded a strength and confidence that was magnetic. If she’d had to pick one word to describe him, it would have been male. Carlo was very, very male.

And he had good shoulders.

She remembered the weight of his body when he’d lain on top of her and smiled slightly. For once she could walk home without worrying.

Who in their right mind would pick a fight with him?

Carlo was frowning. ‘Do you have to visit them?’

‘Well, if I don’t then she gets no antenatal care whatsoever,’ Zan told him, crossing over the road so that they could walk next to the river. Fairy lights had been strung between the trees and their reflection danced over the surface of the water. ‘Social Services first told me that she was pregnant, but she hasn’t seen a doctor once in her whole pregnancy. To start with Mike wouldn’t let me in, but I’ve worked on him and now I get to see her. I’m hoping that if she sees enough of me I’ll be able to get her to trust me.’

‘She needs a biophysical assessment,’ Carlo said, and Zan nodded.

He was referring to an established technique using ultrasound to look at the baby and to measure the heart-rate.

‘I know. The truth is she needs a lot of things she isn’t getting. It’s very worrying, but we can only do the best we can. It’s hard enough getting access at all.’

She felt his eyes slide over her. ‘Presumably that’s why you dress like that? Because they’re suspicious of authority?’

He was smart; she’d give him that.

‘That’s true, but I also hate walking around this area at night,’ she confessed. ‘I might be a black belt in judo but I’m not stupid. If I have to do it then I dress down and I wear trainers. If anyone suspected I was medical they’d be attacking me for drugs.’

‘It isn’t a suitable place for a woman to be working.’ His gaze darkened ominously and she chuckled.

‘Are you always this macho?’

‘Of course.’ Carlo’s arrogant dark head lifted and a wry smile touched his handsome face. ‘I’m Italian, remember? Despite our efforts to be politically correct, deep down we still expect our women to stay at home and warm the bed for us.’

The mention of bed brought a faint colour to her cheeks. Whoever warmed his bed would be a very lucky woman, but she wasn’t telling him that. ‘Someone must have forgotten to tell you that this is the twenty-first century.’

He didn’t smile, his gaze disturbingly direct. ‘It’s not a safe area for you to work in.’

He was breathtakingly good-looking and Zan was finding it hard to peel her eyes away from him.

‘I work here because it’s challenging and I’m really doing some good.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘This isn’t what you’re used to, is it? You looked pretty shocked when you saw the flat.’

He pulled a face and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. ‘Was it that obvious?’

‘Only to me. Don’t worry about it. I was pretty shocked myself when I first came here after twenty years of middle-class upbringing. It’s a real eye-opener. Lots of teenage pregnancies, lots of unmarried mothers with several children by different men, and every flat you visit has a German shepherd dog the size of a wolf.’ She stepped gingerly over a patch of ice. ‘I suppose I’d have one, too, if I lived in this area. The dogs used to be the worst part of the job for me, but generally I’ve got used to them. Do you have dogs at home?’

He hesitated and then nodded. ‘Yes, dogs don’t bother me. So, why did you learn judo?’

Zan smiled and huddled more deeply into her coat to keep out the cold. ‘I have four older brothers. My father was going for a five-a-side rugby team but then they had me.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, they all decided that I needed to know how to take care of myself just in case they weren’t around to do it for me.’

‘Sensible.’

‘No, massively over-protective,’ she said dryly. ‘They’ve scared off every boyfriend I’ve ever had.’

Carlo looked at her curiously. ‘But you’re close?’

‘I adore them,’ she said simply. ‘Growing up with four big brothers was just the best thing in the world. We had such fun.’

‘But they’ve taught you to be wary of men?’

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, they have. I may love my brothers but I’d hate to be anything other than their baby sister. They’re rogues, and when they were growing up they treated women appallingly. I’ve learned lots about men by watching them. And because they know exactly how men think and act, they scare off anyone male who shows an interest in me.’

‘Ouch.’ Carlo gave a rueful smile and glanced around him at the dark shadows. ‘So can I expect to be pounced on any moment?’

Zan looked at his shoulders and laughed. ‘I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about. So, now you know about me, how about you? All I know is that you’re part-Italian. What I want to know is, which part?’

He shot her a suggestive smile that was so sexy she almost stopped breathing.

‘If you’re good, I’ll show you later.’

His teasing drawl made her blush, but she couldn’t help smiling. There was something so good-humoured and honest about him.

‘Well, judging from your slight accent and the fact that you were muttering something incomprehensible when you were lying on top of me, I assume that Italian is your first language. Which must mean that you live over there usually. So what are you doing in London?’

‘Having a change from Italy.’ His answer was so smooth and glib that she looked at him closely, wondering if he was hiding something. He caught her look and smiled. ‘Plenty of doctors from EC countries come and work in England. It isn’t unusual.’

‘So where were you working last?’

‘In a private clinic outside Milan.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Most of my patients were nothing like Kelly, I’m afraid.’

‘Too posh to push?’

He smiled in appreciation. ‘Something like that.’

‘Well, it was decent of you to take a look at Kelly for me.’ She glanced at him. ‘Don’t think I don’t know that most doctors would have refused. Too worried about litigation.’

Carlo looked unconcerned. ‘I’m well insured.’

And very experienced and self-confident. She also suspected that he would never refuse to help a patient. He was that type of man.

‘This is where I live.’ Zan stopped outside a block of flats and Carlo leaned against the wall, his eyes watchful.

‘So…’ he drawled softly. ‘Are you going to invite me up?’

She stared at him, caught by the intensity of his gaze. Excitement curled in the pit of her stomach and she struggled to be sensible.

‘I don’t usually invite strangers up to my flat.’

His smile had a peculiar effect on her knees and she felt them wobble alarmingly. ‘I’m very glad to hear that.’ He moved fractionally closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘But we’ve already kissed twice and spent an evening together so we’re not exactly strangers.’

She laughed to disguise her awareness of him.

‘We spent the evening in a filthy flat with a man who wanted to hit both of us. Is that your idea of a perfect first date?’

‘It was different,’ he admitted, his gaze dropping to her mouth and lingering there. ‘You can trust me, Zan.’

She hesitated, common sense wrestling with temptation.

‘I don’t know anything about you.’

Except that he was strong, clever and stunningly good-looking.

‘What do you want to know?’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’m Italian, I’m an obstetrician, I have one older brother and one younger sister. I also have a black eye.’

She smiled back and then looked at him cautiously. ‘You’re not married?’

His gaze didn’t shift from hers. ‘No wife. No kids.’

She bit her lip. Would it be such a big mistake to invite him up?

She paused a moment longer and then made up her mind. She pushed open the swing doors and led him into the deserted entrance hall. ‘I’m on the top floor.’

They walked towards the lift and she pressed the button, watching the lift doors close and wondering what on earth she was doing, taking a total stranger back to her flat.

Was she mad?

Her brothers would have thrown a fit.

But then she’d spent most of the past twenty-four years being cautious, and frankly she was getting impatient with herself. It was time she lived a little. Time she trusted her own instincts.

And her instincts about Carlo were all good.

She loved his wicked sense of humour, the way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled, and she loved his easy confidence. There was something about him that was tough and kind and, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, the fact that he’d stepped in and rescued her made her insides squishy. It might not be politically correct to have a tough man looking after you but the truth was it had felt good.

Better than good.

It would be a long time before she forgot the feel of that hard muscle pressing her down onto the snowy pavement or the taste of his warm lips as he’d kissed her.

She shivered slightly with nerves and excitement as she remembered that kiss. Until tonight she’d always thought that kissing was a very overrated pastime.

She’d obviously been kissing the wrong men.

She sneaked a sideways look at him, still finding it hard to believe that he was a doctor. All the doctors she’d ever met were mild-mannered and academic or just plain arrogant. Carlo was none of those things. He was all muscle and strength, mixed with a wickedly sexy sense of humour.