Hot Single Docs: Waiting For You

‘Independent, aren’t you?’

‘You could say that.’

Torn between wanting to see him suffer and not wanting him to exacerbate his injuries, Tasha tilted her head. ‘The crutches won’t be much use while your ribs are so bruised. We might need to think of other options.’

‘This is fine.’ Shifting to the edge of the sofa, Alessandro picked up the crutches and stood up, taking his weight on his good leg.

Tasha flinched.

That had to hurt.

‘Alessandro—’

‘I can do it. Just give me space.’ There was a stubbornness in his tone. A grim determination to succeed despite the agonising pain. Reluctantly impressed, Tasha stood there, careful not to touch him and distinctly unsettled by how much she wanted to do just that.

‘Look, I could call one of those burly security guards—’

‘It would help if you could check the route to my bedroom is clear. So far I haven’t mastered doing this with obstacles.’ His face was chalk-white as he slowly eased his way forward. ‘I’ll just use the bathroom on the way so that I don’t have to make two journeys.’

Tasha watched as the muscles in his powerful shoulders flexed and knew that every movement had to be causing him agony. ‘I think you need help.’

He cast her a look that told her he’d be long dead before he’d accept help from anyone. A crooked smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re offering to assist me in the bathroom? Now, that could be interesting.’

Trying to work out how the atmosphere had shifted to intimate, Tasha felt her face turn scarlet. ‘I just don’t see how you’re going to manage to do what you have to do without help.’

His eyes lingered on hers for a long moment. Mockery mingled with something else that she didn’t even want to put a name to. ‘You want to come and watch how it’s done, tesoro?’

He’d called her that at seventeen and her heart rushed forward, doubling its rhythm. ‘Don’t speak Italian.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because...’ Her mouth was dry. ‘Because I don’t speak it and it’s rude to talk a language someone doesn’t understand.’

‘It’s my native tongue.’

‘I know. But you’re fluent in English so that’s no excuse.’ She scowled at him. ‘I just don’t want you falling and fracturing more bones. I’m not sure my patience with this whole nursing thing is going to last that long, so you’d better heal quickly.’

He shifted the position of the crutch. His knuckles were white where they gripped the handles. ‘I won’t lock the door. If I find myself in trouble, I’ll shout and you can come to my rescue. But not on a white charger. I’ve had enough of horses for one week.’

Pinned to the spot by that dark, sexy gaze, Tasha felt as if she were the one who had eaten the chilli. Her entire body was caught in a fiery rush of heat and suddenly she didn’t feel like the one in control. ‘Fine,’ she croaked, ‘leave the door unlocked. Good idea.’

Feeling the heat in her face, she moved through to his bedroom and cleared the suitcase off the bed. His bed was enormous and faced out towards the sea.

How many hearts had he broken in that bed?

Trying to push aside disturbing images of Alessandro’s strong body tangled with a slender female frame, Tasha ripped the duvet back so that he could get into the bed and wondered why on earth she’d volunteered for this job. Why had she ever thought she could make his life difficult? The herbal tea had been moderately irritating but the chilli hadn’t even registered on his taste buds, and all her digs about surfing hadn’t had much impact either.

And now she was stuck here with a man who made her think things she didn’t want to think. It had always been like that, she remembered crossly, even as a teenager. When Alessandro had walked into the room there had never been any confusion. She’d known she was a woman.

If she really wanted him to suffer then she needed to do something drastic.

What was a man like Alessandro likely to be missing more than anything?

Tasha gave a slow smile as she thought about the other items in her shopping bags.

Time for Plan B.

* * *

The pain in his ribs was excruciating. Even small movements resulted in blinding agony, as if a burning-hot poker was being forced into his chest.

But at least it distracted him from the parts of his life he was trying to forget.

Taking advantage of the privacy of the bathroom, Alessandro gave in to the pain.

He balanced himself against the washbasin and reached for a glass. To add to the pain in his ribs and his ankle, his mouth felt as though someone had started a bonfire. Chilli, he thought, gulping down water. When he’d taken the first mouthful of food he’d thought she must have made a mistake but then he’d seen her eating hers happily. Clearly she liked her food hot. Not wanting to offend her, he’d forced his down, eating it as quickly as possible. If she walked out, he’d be back in hospital and there was no way he was going back to hospital. So he’d forced himself to eat with enthusiasm the food she’d prepared.

He drank deeply, wondering how long it took nerve-endings to recover. There wasn’t a single part of his body that wasn’t burning.

Frustrated by his own weakness, accustomed to being at the peak of physical fitness, Alessandro used the bathroom and then clenched his jaw against the pain and hobbled back towards the bedroom, trying in vain to find some way of distributing his weight so that the movement didn’t exacerbate his injuries.

Tasha had turned back the duvet and smoothed the sheets.

Never before had his bed looked so inviting, but the short distance from the door felt like running a marathon. It didn’t help that she was watching him, those cool eyes steady on his face.

‘Aren’t you taking your nursing duties a little too seriously?’ He wished she’d turn away so that he could give in to the pain. ‘You’re off duty once I go to bed.’

‘I’d better help you undress.’

Was she serious? Marvelling at the discovery that extreme pain didn’t seem to interfere with sexual arousal, Alessandro gritted his teeth. For his own sanity he knew he didn’t dare let her touch him. ‘I’ll manage.’

‘How? At least let me help you change your shirt for pyjamas.’

‘I don’t own pyjamas.’

‘I thought you might say that, so I bought you some when I was out shopping.’ Pleased with herself, she picked up a bag and produced a pair of pyjamas.

Distracted from the ache in his loins by the flash of vivid colour, Alessandro blinked. ‘Pink?’

‘It was the only colour they had.’ Her expression was anxious. ‘Oh, dear. Are you one of those guys who believes wearing pink makes them less masculine? Sorry. I hadn’t thought of that. Only I know some guys wear pink shirts these days and I thought these might be OK...’

Was she winding him up? His swift glance at her face suggested nothing but concern. Wondering just how far he was going to have to go not to offend her, Alessandro reminded himself that without her he’d be back in hospital.

Her generosity was the reason he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight.

All he had to do was keep his hands off her. Which shouldn’t be that hard, surely, given that every movement was agony.

‘I don’t have a problem with pink.’ He eyed the pyjamas in disbelief, wondering which idiot had thought there was a market for such a vile creation. ‘But I don’t think they’ll fit over the cast.’

‘Leave that to me.’ Beaming at him, she picked up a pair of scissors and cut a slit down one of the legs. ‘There. Simple.’

Reflecting on the fact that the wretched garment now looked more like a dress than trousers, Alessandro manoeuvred himself onto the bed and let the crutches fall to the floor. Pain lanced his side and he sat still, breathing slowly, hoping it would pass. The helplessness was driving him mad.

‘I’ll help you take off your shirt.’ Tasha sat next to him on the bed and gently eased off his shirt. As she exposed his chest, the breath hissed through her teeth. ‘I’ve never seen bruises like those, Alessandro. How are you still walking around?’ Her tone altered dramatically. Light and flirty gave way to crisp concern.

‘I’m fine. To be honest, walking isn’t any more painful than breathing.’ He was taken aback by the change in her. The girl had gone and in her place was a doctor. A concerned doctor. Her fingers gently traced the bruises and when he glanced at her face he saw that her expression was serious.

‘Does this hurt?’

‘No.’

She gave him an impatient look. ‘Honest answers only, please. A man wearing pink is allowed to express his true emotions even if the resulting language is colourful.’

‘All right. It hurts like crazy and I want to punch something?’

‘And when I do this?’ She pressed lower down and Alessandro swore long and fluently.

‘OK.’ She didn’t blink. ‘Now I know you’re telling the truth.’

The pain was a blinding, agonising flash. Once again he had that sick dread that the doctors might have missed something. Something that was going to keep him bedridden for longer than a fractured ankle and a few broken ribs. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ He spoke through his teeth and she straightened, her hair sliding over her shoulders.

‘Actually, no. I’m checking you over. I don’t like the look of those bruises. Just sit still. I’m going to check your breath sounds.’

‘I’ve already been examined by about a hundred doctors. They kept wheeling in yet another expert to give an opinion.’

‘Sorry, but the only opinion I trust is my own.’ She disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a stethoscope in her hand. ‘Good job I packed this in my box of tricks, although I haven’t listened to an adult’s chest for quite a while.’

‘If that’s supposed to fill me with confidence, it doesn’t.’ It was a lie. Strangely enough, he was relieved to have her opinion. He remembered Josh telling him that Tasha had astonishing instincts to go with her sharp brain. He had no doubt that she was a skilled doctor. Unfortunately that didn’t make things any easier and he sat still while she touched the bruising, trying not to think about how her fingers felt on his skin. ‘Do you have to prod me?’

‘I’m checking there’s no underlying trauma. Those bruises are very impressive. Must hurt a lot.’

Alessandro spoke through his teeth. ‘Not at all.’ As if the pain wasn’t enough, he also had the extra hit of sexual arousal. As she tilted her head, her hair slid forward and brushed against his arm. He tried to move backwards but every movement felt as though he were being slammed into a wall.

‘Bones have a lot of nerve-endings,’ she murmured. ‘That’s why it’s painful.’

‘Thanks for the explanation.’

‘Generally, when someone breaks a bone, the treatment is to immobilise it. We can put your ankle in a cast to protect it. Unfortunately we can’t do the same thing for your ribs.’ Tasha put the stethoscope in her ears. ‘Every time you breathe, you hurt yourself again.’

‘Can’t they strap my chest or something?’

‘No. Now stop talking while I listen.’ She narrowed her eyes and moved the stethoscope on his chest. Her hair whispered across his arm. ‘Breathe in for me.’

Alessandro did and almost passed out. Pain skewered him and darkness flickered around the edges of his vision, muting the lust.

Her eyes locked on his. ‘Breathe in and out through your mouth.’

Was she trying to torture him?

But when she finally removed the stethoscope from her ears, her expression was serious. ‘Your breath sounds are fine, but I’m going to keep an eye on you. To answer your question, they actually did used to strap chests in the old days, but not any more. It impedes movement and stops you breathing deeply—you can’t shift the secretions in your lungs and you can end up with a vile infection. Then you’re back in hospital on yet more antibiotics.’

The word ‘hospital’ was enough to make him ride the pain and breathe deeply. ‘I get the message.’

‘Don’t worry—a young, fit guy like you can cope with a couple of broken ribs and heal quickly. It’s older patients who suffer.’ Digging her hand into her pocket, she pulled out her phone. ‘I’m just going to call your doctor. I want to add in a drug.’

‘I’m already swallowing the contents of a pharmacy.’

‘I want to give you a non-steroidal alongside your painkillers. I don’t know why he didn’t give you that. You don’t suffer from stomach problems, do you?’

‘I’ve never suffered from anything,’ Alessandro growled, ‘until a horse fell on me.’ Watching Tasha talk on the phone, he found his eyes lingering on the curve of her cheek and the thickness of her eyelashes. She was brisk and professional, giving her opinion bluntly and firmly to a man at least twice her age. Impressive, he thought. And he could imagine her working with children. As a teenager, she’d had an irrepressible sense of fun. Remembering some of the tricks she’d played on her brothers, he allowed himself a faint smile.

‘OK, so that’s done.’ She slid the phone back into her pocket. ‘In the morning I’m going to pick you up some extra tablets. I think it will help and so do the guys at the hospital. They should have thought of it, but sometimes it takes a woman to get these things right. Now, then—pyjamas.’

‘I can dress without your help.’ Alessandro, who had never felt awkward with a woman in his life before, suddenly felt awkward. She was behaving as if they had no history. As if—

Tasha picked up the pink pyjamas and dangled them in front of him, her expression bored.

‘I’ve seen it all before, Alessandro. I’m a doctor.’

‘You haven’t seen m—’ He was about to say that she hadn’t seen his body before, but then he remembered that she had. And he’d seen hers. All of hers.

And he didn’t want to mention that. If she was going to act as if nothing had happened, so was he.

He looked at her cautiously, but her face revealed nothing but professional concern.

‘I want to examine the rest of you. Lie back for me.’ Her expression serious, her hands moved down his body, sliding and pressing. ‘Does this hurt?’

‘Everything hurts.’ Feeling her cool fingers on his abdomen, Alessandro sucked in a breath. How low did she intend to go?

Lust slammed through him and Alessandro grabbed the duvet and pulled it higher, ignoring the avalanche of pain that rained down on him. ‘I’m fine. I can manage. Go to bed. You must be tired.’ He wished she’d step back a bit. Her scent was playing havoc with his libido and this close he could see the smoothness of her skin. How the hell could a guy be aroused when his broken ribs were virtually impaling his lungs? ‘Goodnight, Tasha. Thanks for all your help.’

‘If the pain changes, let me know.’

The pain had changed. Suddenly it was all concentrated below his waist and it had nothing to do with being trampled by a four-legged animal. ‘Get some sleep.’

‘Don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need to.’ She walked briskly across the room to close the blinds.

‘Leave them—I prefer to keep the doors open.’

‘You won’t be able to sleep.’

He didn’t tell her that he rarely slept. ‘I’ll be fine. I like the fresh air.’

‘Well, if you change your mind, just shout out.’ Her hips swayed as she walked from window to door. She held a stethoscope in her hand but she walked like a seductress. ‘I hope you have a really good night’s sleep. I’ve chosen the bedroom right across the hall and I’ll leave the door open so I’ll hear you if you shout.’

Great. There were three guest bedrooms, the other two at the far end of the house. Couldn’t she have chosen one of those?

After she left, Alessandro spent a frustrating and agonising fifteen minutes removing his shorts. Exhausted, he didn’t bother replacing them with the pyjamas. Instead he flopped back against the pillows, drained of energy.

He lay without moving until a noise from across the corridor made him look up.

Tasha was walking across the guest room towards the en suite bathroom, undressing as she walked. First she pulled off the scarlet jumper and dropped it in a heap. Her full breasts pushed against a silken wisp of a bra. When her hands moved to the snap of her jeans, Alessandro wanted to groan out a request that she stop, but he couldn’t make a sound and the jeans went the way of the jumper and this time the lace was so brief it was almost irrelevant.

His muscles tensed, sending spasms of pain shooting down his bruised body.

Finding it impossible to breathe, Alessandro wondered if one of his broken ribs had suddenly punctured his lung. There was no air in the room. He was suffocating. He lifted his hand to undo his collar and then remembered that he was naked.

As he watched, she stretched upwards to clip her hair on top of her head, the movement accentuating her lean, flat stomach and her long, slim legs. He felt like a voyeur at an erotic floor show. Clearly she’d forgotten that she had both doors open. Either that or she was just assuming he was asleep.

If he called out, he’d embarrass her, and he couldn’t look away because his head refused to move.

Telling himself that any moment now she was going to lock the bathroom door, Alessandro kept watching. And he was still watching when she turned her back to him, unfastened her bra and stepped out of her knickers.

CHAPTER FOUR

MEGAN’S hand shook as she opened the door that led to the neonatal intensive care unit.

All day she’d been in a daze of happiness. A daze of happiness that nothing could blunt—not even the knowledge that technically she’d slept with a married man.

Married, but not together, she told herself, wondering why the fact that Josh and Rebecca were almost divorced didn’t make her feel any better.

Her head was in a spin and she’d found it almost impossible to concentrate.

She’d thought of nothing else all day, ever since that knock on the door that had sent Josh springing from the bed before they’d had the opportunity to talk about what they’d shared. She had no idea who had been at the door, but whoever it was had been important enough to make sure that Josh didn’t return.

Megan had waited for twenty minutes then dressed quickly and exited the on-call room quietly. Her heart had been working double time all the way back to the paediatric ward but she was fairly confident that no one had seen her.

She’d spent the rest of her day stopping herself from checking her phone every two minutes to see if Josh had called. It was like being a teenager all over again.

The extended silence made her jittery and sent her imagination into overdrive.

Was he embarrassed? Did he regret what they’d done?

Reminding herself that Josh was a senior doctor whose working day was ridiculously intense and demanding, she tried to rationalise the fact that he hadn’t called. She told herself that it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t want to publicise their relationship. They were colleagues after all, and affairs between colleagues could so easily become messy.

Having convinced herself that she wasn’t likely to see him that day, it came as a shock to see Josh sitting at the computer at the nurses’ station.

Megan felt a tiny thrill of excitement bloom inside her.

He wasn’t avoiding her. He was here, on her ward.

Her heart pounded against her chest and she was relieved that the other staff appeared to be occupied elsewhere.

Just for this first encounter she wanted to be alone with him. She didn’t want to share the memories of the night with anyone but Josh.

Remembering the look he’d given her just before he’d left the on-call room, she gave a little smile and her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

‘Hello, Josh.’

‘Ah, Megan, I’m glad you’re here. We had an emergency delivery in the department. Thirty-four-weeker.’ He turned to her, his tone crisp and professional. ‘Showing signs of respiratory distress, so we’ve transferred him to you.’

There was nothing intimate in his gaze—nothing to hint that they’d spent the night together.

Taken aback, Megan glanced behind her but there was no one within earshot.

The baby was ill, she reasoned, and he was an exceptional doctor. Josh would never put his personal life before the well-being of a patient.

Slowly, she put her bag on the floor, controlling her disappointment. ‘Was it a normal delivery?’

As he told her, she found herself looking at his hands and the dark hairs dusting his forearms. Those same hands had touched her. Everywhere. Held her. It had been genuine, she had no doubt about that. She still remembered the look in his eyes as he’d driven her wild.

That knowledge gave her confidence. ‘Josh—’

‘I need to get back.’ He rose quickly to his feet, interrupting her before she could finish her sentence. ‘You might want to spend some time with the mother. She’s very upset. The whole thing took

about twenty minutes from start to finish. Precipitate doesn’t begin to describe it.’

It was a verbal dismissal but it may as well have been a physical slap for the pain it caused.

‘Of course.’ Megan pushed the words through stiff lips and stood frozen to the spot as he walked past her, careful not to touch. He was as cold as he’d been eight years before. It was as if their night together hadn’t happened.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to grab his arm and demand to know what was going on in his head. She wanted to know why he was hurting her like this.

But his face was a frozen mask and her pride kept her hands by her sides as she let him walk away.

* * *

Tasha took her time strolling towards the shower.

He was watching her. She could almost feel the heat of his eyes on her back.

Get a load of that, she thought happily as she stepped into the shower. Flat-chested? I don’t think so.

From the moment she’d decided to do her striptease, her heart had been hammering. First she’d checked he was awake through the crack in the door, then she’d choreographed her walk across the room to ensure that he witnessed every move.

After that all she’d had to do was not give in to temptation and look round. She’d done everything in her power to push up his blood pressure. What she hadn’t done was ask herself why she would want to.

Until now.

Muttering to herself, she turned the shower to cold.

Ten years hadn’t done anything to make him less attractive. Unfortunately. In fact, he’d filled out in places where it counted. His shoulders were wider, his chest stronger and his arms thickened with muscle. Less of the boy and more of the man. Too much more of the man.

Despite the cold water, her body felt scorching hot again and she wondered why on earth she’d agreed to this.

Another one of her stupid ideas.

She’d thought her feelings for him had been no more than a childish crush. She’d thought the pain he’d caused would have inoculated her against his lethal charm. She’d thought she was immune. If you’d been infected with something once, you shouldn’t catch it again, should you?

So why the explosion of chemistry?

Tasha gave a groan of frustration and turned off the shower.

Her brother was right. She needed to get out more.

Wrapping herself in a huge towel, she opened the bathroom door and risked a glance towards his bedroom. It was in darkness. The feeling of superiority drained out of her. If he’d been watching her, he wasn’t now. He wasn’t lying there tortured with unfulfilled desire after seeing her in her underwear.

He was asleep.

Which said it all. You couldn’t torment a man who didn’t even bother looking.

Feeling cross and hot and all sorts of things she didn’t want to feel, Tasha flopped onto the bed and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to have taken one look at him and wondered what she’d seen in him. She wasn’t supposed to be having the thoughts she was having now. Why couldn’t he be a total wimp like all the other men she met on a daily basis? Her last relationship had floundered after less than a week when the doctor in question had taken to his bed with a dose of man-flu. Tasha, who had endless patience with sick children, had been exasperated by his dying-duck impression but she’d dutifully made hot drinks, dished out tablets and made sympathetic noises until finally calling a halt, reasoning that there was no future in a relationship where one of the partners wanted to strangle the other.