Italian Doctor, No Strings Attached

‘Want to look at these with me?’ she asked.

‘Sure.’

She peered closely at the screen. ‘Hmm. Not all fractures show up on a chest X-ray, but it looks as if I’m right and it’s not flail chest, so that’s a good start.’ She grimaced at the X-ray of Colin’s elbow. ‘That’s a mess. It’s going to need fixators. I’ll refer him to the orthopods and warn them that he’s already had a pneumothorax.’

She went back over to Colin. ‘I’ve had a look at the X-rays. The good news is that your ribs will heal by themselves, though it’s going to be a bit painful for you over the next few days. But your elbow’s going to need pinning, so I’m going to take you out to one of the cubicles to wait for the orthopaedic surgeon, and he’ll take you to Theatre to fix your arm.’

Colin removed the oxygen mask. ‘Janey?’

‘She’s on her way. And if you’re already in Theatre by the time she gets here, our receptionists know to call me, and I’ll take her up to the right waiting area and make sure she’s looked after.’

‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded choked. ‘I …’

She laid her hand on his uninjured arm to reassure him. ‘It’s OK. That’s what I’m here for. You’re going to be sore for a while, but it could’ve been an awful lot worse. Everything’s going to be fine now,’ she soothed.

The rest of the shift was equally busy, and Marco thoroughly enjoyed the rush and the challenge. Moving to London for six months was the best thing he could’ve done. There were no memories here, no ghosts to haunt him. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally start to move on with his life after two years of being numbed by guilt.

At the end of the shift, he saw Sydney outside the restroom. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ She smiled at him. ‘So did you enjoy your first day?’

‘Yes. You were right—it’s a nice department.’ He smiled back. ‘And you’re definitely a better doctor than you are an abseiler.’ He’d liked the way she worked: confident, efficient, but most importantly putting the patients first and making them comfortable. Her people skills were top-notch. ‘I was wondering—are you busy?’

She looked slightly wary. ‘Busy?’

‘If you’re not, I thought maybe we could do something tonight.’

Her expression grew warier still. ‘What, a welcome to the team thing?’

‘No, just you and me.’ He paused. There was a question he really had to ask before this went any further. ‘Unless you have a significant other?’

CHAPTER TWO

SYDNEY’S head was telling her that this was a bad, bad idea. Going out with Marco—just the two of them. But she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head. The way he’d made her feel, those little sparkles of pleasure running through her as his mouth had moved over hers. Maybe it was the adrenalin rush from the abseil still scrambling her common sense, but it had been too long since she’d let herself have fun.

He was only going to be at the London Victoria for six months. And he was asking her out on a date, not suggesting a long-term commitment. So on a need-to-know basis he didn’t actually have to know about her neurofibromatosis, did he?

There was only one other reason she could think of why she ought to say no. ‘We work together. It’s usually not a good idea to date someone in your department,’ she hedged. ‘Things can get a bit—well, awkward.’

‘We’re both adults,’ he said softly, ‘and I think we can be professional enough to keep what happens outside work completely separate from what happens inside work.’ He paused, keeping eye contact. ‘So will you have dinner with me tonight?’

Clearly the adrenalin from the abseil was still affecting her head, because Sydney found herself returning his smile. ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

‘How about we go out now, straight from work?’ he suggested. ‘Then neither of us has to go home, dress up and drag ourselves out again.’

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Marco, you’re already way more dressed up than anyone else in the department. I hate to think what your definition of “dressing up” might be.’

He laughed. ‘Before they retired, my parents designed clothes. My older brother and sister run the business now, and they tend to use me as a clothes horse—which is fine by me, because it means I never have to drag myself round the clothes shops, and my wardrobe’s always stocked.’

‘What happens if they give you something you really hate wearing?’ she asked, sounding curious.

‘They only did that when I dated their favourite model,’ he said. ‘To make the point that they didn’t approve.’

‘So you’re an Italian playboy,’ she teased.

‘Sometimes,’ he teased back. ‘Actually, I’m starving. Where do you recommend we go?’

‘Normally if I go straight from work it’s to a pizza place or a trattoria.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that I’d dare suggest either of those to an Italian.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not that fussy.’

‘Do you like Chinese food?’

‘I love it.’

‘Good. Then I know just the place.’

The restaurant wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic; it was very workmanlike, with bright lighting, but the food was terrific and Marco was glad that she’d suggested sharing several dishes. Well, apart from the fact that their hands kept accidentally meeting as they served themselves, because the touch of her skin against his was sending little flashes of desire up and down his spine—desire he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He had a feeling that she was affected in just the same way, because her pupils were huge; in this harsh lighting, he’d expect them to be almost pinpoint.

He really hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this attracted to someone. The times he’d dated during the past year had been in a failed attempt to forget Sienna, and the relationships had fizzled out by the end of the second date.

But there was something about Sydney. Something that felt different. Something that intrigued him and made him want to know more.

‘So are you enjoying London?’ she asked.

‘Very much.’

‘What made you decide to come to England?’

‘It was a good opportunity,’ Marco prevaricated. He could hardly tell her the truth—that he’d needed to get away from Rome. Away from the memories, away from the guilt. Two years of toughing it out had just worn him down, and all that trying hadn’t stopped the bad feelings. At least here he didn’t have to think about it all the time. He could simply block it out, because he and Sienna had never been to London and there were no memories of her here to haunt him. ‘It’s one of the busiest departments in one of the busiest hospitals in London. It’ll be good experience for me and, when I go back to Rome, I’ll have a better chance of promotion.’

Last time he’d been promoted, it had ended in heartache. In his life falling apart completely. Next time, he was determined it would be different.

He kept the conversation light until the meal had ended. ‘Can I see you home?’ he asked.

Her eyes widened slightly. Fear? he wondered. But why would she be afraid of him? Worried that he was taking this too fast, maybe?

‘That wasn’t a clumsy way of saying I’m expecting you to take me to bed just because I took you out to dinner tonight,’ he said softly. ‘You’re female, and you had dinner with me, so I need to see you home safely. That’s all.’

That made her smile. ‘That’s very gallant of you. Old-fashioned, even.’

‘It’s how I was brought up.’

‘Nice manners. I like that.’ She bit her lip. ‘And thank you.’

He frowned. ‘For what?’

‘For not taking this thing between us too fast. I’m …’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not really used to dating. I’ve been focused on my career.’

‘I’m not really used to dating, either.’ He’d been in a relationship with the same woman since he was eighteen. Since his first day at university. Until the day two years ago when he’d taken that phone call and his world had fallen apart. ‘And I’ve just started a new job in a new hospital.’

‘And a new country,’ she finished.

He nodded. ‘So. This thing between you and me—no pressure. We’ll just see where it takes us, yes?’

‘Thank you. That works for me,’ she said softly.

When they reached her flat, she looked at him. ‘If you want to come in for a coffee, you’re welcome.’

‘Coffee meaning just coffee,’ he checked.

She smiled, and he was glad to see a tiny bit of the wariness fade from her eyes. So had she had a bad experience with someone who’d pushed her too far, too fast? Was that why she avoided dating and concentrated on her career—why she’d thanked him for not taking this too fast? Not that it was any of his business; and now really wasn’t the right time to ask.

He followed her into the kitchen, noting that her flat was small but neat. There were lots of photographs everywhere, and they were people who looked quite like her; clearly she was as close to her family as he was to his. Another thing they had in common.

‘I’m afraid it’s only instant coffee,’ she said as she switched the kettle on.

‘Instant’s fine.’

She gave him a sidelong look. ‘I bet you only have fresh coffee at your place.’

He laughed. ‘Yes. But I’ve been either a medical student or a doctor for sixteen years, so I’ve learned not to be too particular. Coffee’s coffee.’

‘I do have something to go with it.’ She rummaged in the fridge and produced a box. ‘My bad habit.’

‘Chocolate?’

‘Better than chocolate,’ she said with a smile.

He looked more closely at the packaging, and smiled as he recognised it. One of his own bad habits, too. ‘Gianduja. I’m impressed. You’re a woman of taste.’

She gestured to him to sit down at her kitchen table, and put some music on: a solo female singer, backed by guitar and piano, gentle stuff that he rather liked.

‘How do you like your coffee?’

‘Strong, no milk, please.’

She handed him a mug, and sat down next to him. But then they reached for a piece of gianduja at the same time and their fingers touched. He saw the sudden shock in her eyes, the way her mouth parted as if inviting a kiss.

And he really, really wanted to kiss her. Just like he had after the abseil. He needed to feel her mouth beneath hers, warm and soft and sweet and generous.

Except she’d thanked him earlier for not taking things too fast.

So, instead, he took her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm and folded her fingers over it.

‘What was that for?’ she asked. The wariness was back in her eyes.

‘Because I’m trying very hard not to take this too fast,’ he said. ‘This is a compromise. A kiss that won’t scare you off.’ A kiss that wouldn’t scare him off, either, if he was honest about it. The way she made him feel was unsettling, something he really wasn’t used to. His head was telling him that this was a seriously bad idea; did he really want to put himself back in a position where he could lose someone? Hadn’t he already learned that the hard and painful way? And yet there was something about her he couldn’t resist. Her warmth. Her sweetness.

Colour bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I feel like such a wimp.’

‘About this morning. Just so you know,’ he said, ‘I don’t make a habit of going around kissing complete strangers.’

‘Neither do I.’ The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘And I kissed you back.’

And he could see in her eyes that she’d enjoyed it as much as he had. That she, like him, had mixed feelings: part of her wanted to see where this took them, and part of her wanted to run back to her safety zone. ‘Tell me,’ he coaxed gently. ‘You feel the same thing, don’t you? Something you weren’t expecting or looking for, and maybe it scares the hell out of you because your head’s saying you don’t need the complications. But it’s there and you can’t get me out of your head—just as I can’t get you out of mine, and I’ve been thinking about you ever since I first met you.’

He could see in her expression that she was thinking about denying it; but then she gave in. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, her voice husky. ‘To all of that.’

He stroked the backs of her fingers with the pad of his thumb. ‘I like you, Sydney. You’re calm and you’re good with the patients. I like that. And you’re good company—well, when you’re not stuck on an abseiling rope.’

She groaned. ‘I’m never going to live that down, am I?’

‘If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would’ve said it was a vicious rumour. Someone as calm and confident and efficient as you, panicking. But it’s nice to know you’re not really superwoman. That you have panicky moments, like the rest of us.’

She blinked. ‘You’re telling me that you have panicky moments? I’m not buying that one. I’ve worked with you. OK, so you let me lead, this afternoon, but we both know you have more experience than I do. You were being nice and trying to restore my confidence after the abseil.’

Oh. So she’d picked that up. ‘Mmm,’ he admitted.

‘And I appreciated it. Because it worked.’

‘Good.’ He paused. ‘Do you trust me as a doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s a start. And so’s this.’ He leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. Briefly. Sweetly.

And the second he felt her lips part slightly, he was lost. He couldn’t pull away. He gave in to the desperate need to kiss her properly. Within moments, she was kissing him back, her hands were cradling his face, and it felt as if stars were exploding in his head.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both shaking.

This really wasn’t supposed to happen, Sydney thought. I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. This was meant to be just putting a bit of fun back into my life. Seizing the moment. Enjoying a casual date. And now I’m way out of my depth, because I want this to go further—a lot further—and I think he feels the same way.

Which means I’m going to have to tell him the truth about me.

Ice trickled down her spine. Down the scar. The physical reminder of the thing that had smashed up her marriage. The thing that had stopped her having a relationship since her marriage had broken up, because the scar on her back and the ugly patch of skin on her arm were constant reminders of Craig’s betrayal and the reasons behind it, making her want to keep her distance. And there was no way she could bluff her way through it, because if she went to bed with Marco it would mean getting naked. That he’d touch her. Look at her. He’d either feel the scar tissue or see it for himself—and then he’d ask questions. Of course he would. Anyone would be curious. And then … oh, hell, then she’d have to be honest.

She really owed it to him to be honest now. So he knew exactly what he was getting into, if he started seeing her.

But the words stuck miserably in her throat and refused to come out.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘Well, I’m not sorry for kissing you. I enjoyed it. But I am sorry for pushing you out of your comfort zone, for taking this faster than you’re happy with.’

‘I’m sorry, too,’ she whispered. ‘For—for being such a coward.’

He stroked her face. ‘You’re not a coward. I’m rushing you. So I’ll go home now.’ He took her hand again, kissed her palm and folded her fingers over his kiss, just as he had before. ‘And I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

‘OK.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you for this evening. I enjoyed it.’

‘So did I.’ The expression in his eyes was so sweet, so gentle, that Sydney was close to tears. She ached to be able to trust. To be normal. To be whole.

But that wasn’t going to happen. And somehow, she was going to have to find the right words to tell him tomorrow at work.

The truth.

CHAPTER THREE

‘HEY, Syd!’ One of the junior doctors met Marco and Sydney in the corridor on their way to Cubicles the next morning. ‘Got a question for you. Who’s the abseilers’ favourite singer?’ He grinned, looking pleased with himself. ‘Cliff Richard.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Pete, that’s terrible.’

He laughed. ‘I’ll pay up my sponsorship at lunchtime.’

‘Yes, and you can pay double if you make any more abseiling jokes,’ she threatened, laughing back. ‘Though I’ve got one for you. Two drums and a cymbal abseiled down a cliff. Boom, ba-doom, tssssh.’

‘Oh, that’s brilliant.’ Pete gave her a high five. ‘If I have any kids on my list today, I’m so going to use that one.’

Yet more things to like about her, Marco thought. Sydney didn’t overreact to good-natured teasing, and she thought on her feet. The more he saw of her, the more he liked.

He knew that she liked him, too, from the way she’d responded to his kiss last night. Then something had spooked her. Bad memories, maybe? Perhaps he could get her to open up to him.

Though that made him the biggest hypocrite in the world, because no way was he planning to open up and talk about Sienna.

Later, he told himself. Work, first.

Their first patient that morning was an elderly woman complaining of abdominal pain. It was a symptom common to a very wide range of conditions, making it difficult to diagnose what the problem was.

‘Mrs Kane, I’m Marco Ranieri and this is Sydney Collins,’ he said. ‘We’re going to find out what’s making your stomach hurt, and make you much more comfortable. How long have you been feeling like this?’

‘A couple of days. I wasn’t going to bother you, but then it started hurting when the postman came, and he called the ambulance.’

‘May we examine you?’ he asked. ‘We’ll be as gentle as we can, if you can tell us where it hurts most.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Gently, Marco examined her. There wasn’t any guarding or localised tenderness: just general abdominal pain.

Sydney checked her temperature. ‘You don’t have any sign of fever, Mrs Kane.’

Which ruled out a couple of things, but he still had a few questions. ‘I know this is personal, and I’m sorry, but may I ask when you last went to the toilet and passed a stool?’

Mrs Kane thought about it. ‘A couple of days ago. I tried yesterday and couldn’t,’ she said.

Constipation could cause stomach pain; but Marco instinctively knew it wasn’t that. There was more she wasn’t telling them.

‘Can I ask what you’ve eaten lately?’

Mrs Kane made a face. ‘I haven’t really been hungry.’

‘Have you been sick at all, Mrs Kane?’ Sydney asked.

‘No. I thought I was going to be, yesterday, but then I had a drink of water and I was all right.’

‘Again, I apologise for the personal question, but have you needed to wee more often?’ Sydney asked.

‘A bit.’ Mrs Kane wrinkled her nose. ‘But that’s my age, isn’t it?’

‘Could be,’ Sydney said with a smile. She caught Marco’s eye. ‘Quick word?’ she mouthed.

‘Mrs Kane, we just need to check something out, and then we’ll come back to see you, if that’s OK?’ Marco asked.

At her nod, he followed Sydney out of the cubicle.

‘I know appendicitis is much more common in teenagers and young adults, but I have a feeling about this,’ Sydney said.

‘I agree. The presentation of appendicitis doesn’t tend to be typical in very young or elderly patients—and if her appendix is retrocaecal, then it won’t show up as pain moving from around her navel to the right iliac fossa.’

‘And needing to wee more frequently—it could be an inflamed appendix irritating her ureter.’

‘We’re going to have to do a PR exam,’ Marco said.

‘It’d be more tactful if I do it,’ Sydney said.

‘Do you mind?’

She shrugged. ‘That’s what teamwork’s for. Keeping our patient as comfortable as possible.’

They went back into the cubicle. ‘Mrs Kane, we need to give you an internal exam,’ Marco said, ‘and then maybe a blood test and possibly a scan to give us a better idea of what’s causing your pain—we want to rule out a couple of possibilities.’ Diverticulitis and cancer were uppermost in his mind, though he wasn’t going to alarm his patient by mentioning them at this stage.

‘As an internal exam’s a bit personal,’ Sydney said. ‘Would you prefer me to do it?’

Mrs Kane looked grateful. ‘Thank you.’

‘Marco, if you can excuse us a moment?’ she asked.

‘Of course. Give me a shout when you need me,’ Marco said, and left the cubicle.

‘Ow, that makes my tummy hurt,’ Mrs Kane said during the exam.

Bingo: just what Sydney had expected to hear. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t intending to make it hurt. Let’s make you more comfortable.’ She helped the elderly lady restore order to her clothes and sit up. ‘I think your appendix is inflamed and we’re going to need to take it out.’ She wasn’t going to worry Mrs Kane by telling her, but elderly people were more prone to complications—and there was a higher risk of dying from a perforated appendix. ‘Though sometimes we suspect appendicitis and it turns out that the appendix is perfectly healthy, so before I send you off to the surgeon I want to do a couple more tests, if that’s OK?’

‘Are they going to hurt?’

‘You might feel a scratch when I take some blood,’ Sydney said, ‘but the scan definitely won’t hurt.’

The blood tests came back with a high white cell count, and the CT scan showed Marco and Sydney exactly what they’d expected. ‘Definitely an inflamed appendix,’ Marco said.

They reassured Mrs Kane that the operation was done by keyhole surgery nowadays, so she’d recover relatively quickly, and introduced her to the surgeon, who also spent time reassuring her before taking her up to Theatre himself.

‘Good call,’ Marco said to Sydney.

‘Thanks, but I could’ve been wrong—you know as well as I do how difficult it is to diagnose abdominal pain in elderly patients.’ She shrugged. ‘I just happened to read a few journal articles about it recently and they stuck in my mind.’

‘Still a good call,’ he said with a smile.

There was barely time for a break during the day; at the end of their shift, Marco caught Sydney just as she was leaving the hospital. ‘What shift are you on tomorrow?’

‘Late,’ she said.

‘Me, too.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do you fancy going to the cinema tonight?’

This was where she should make some excuse. Especially as she still hadn’t found the right words to tell him about her condition.

But would it really hurt to see a film with him? And maybe afterwards they could talk. Was it so wrong of her to want just a couple more hours of fun, of enjoying his company, of enjoying being someone’s girlfriend again? ‘That’d be lovely.’

He took out his mobile phone and pulled the local cinema’s details onto the screen. ‘Drama or comedy?’

Given what she was going to tell him tonight, she could do with some light relief first. ‘Comedy—if that’s OK with you.’

‘It’s fine.’ He consulted the screen. ‘It starts at eight. Pick you up at half seven?’

‘I’ve got a few things to sort out at home. Can I meet you there at quarter to?’

He smiled. ‘Sure. I’ll buy the tickets and you buy the popcorn.’

She smiled back. ‘Deal.’

Even though the film was one she’d wanted to see and starred one of her favourite actors, Sydney found it hard to concentrate. Firstly because she still hadn’t worked out a gentle way of telling him about the neurofibromatosis, and secondly because they’d finished the popcorn and Marco was holding her hand.

Just holding her hand.

How could such a light, gentle contact set all her nerve endings tingling? How could it make her whole body feel liquid with desire? How?

By the time they got back to her flat, Sydney was almost quivering with need.

She had to tell him. Now. Before things went any further. It wasn’t fair to let him think there could be any possibility of a future between them, when she knew she had nothing to offer him.

‘Marco—’ she began as she opened her front door.

‘I know,’ he said softly.

He knew? What? How could he possibly know? The only people at work who knew about her condition were Ellen and the consultants, and there was no way they would’ve broken her confidence.