Sydney Harbour Hospital: Marco's Temptation

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’ She glanced at her watch and took another sip of her cocoa. ‘I might see if Annie is back.’

He’d been abrupt. Closed her out like he always did when people asked about his family. No wonder she wanted to leave. What did he expect to happen? He never answered questions about himself. He’d learnt at a very young age when the police were eager for any news of his father. When neighbours had shunned his family as soon as they’d realised who they were.

But this woman would never do that. The voice came from nowhere. Just a whisper, like she’d whispered yesterday to his thoughts, and he closed his ears.

‘I apologise.’ He glanced down at her uneaten scone. ‘Your food.’

‘I’m not really hungry.’ She yawned. ‘Excuse me.’ He wanted to pick her up and carry her to a big feather bed and tuck her in to sleep. Or not to sleep.

He glanced around for the waitress and managed to catch her eye. She nodded and started their way.

‘We will go. See if Annie is back on the ward and then you must go home to bed.’ There was that thought again. Emily in bed. He dragged his mind away from her golden bob of hair lying next to his on the pillow.

She dug into her bag for her wallet and he shook his head. ‘Please. Allow me.’ He laid a note on the table and stood up to help pull out her chair. The waitress arrived and he smiled and gestured with his hand that she keep the change.

Emily stood and he followed her out of the kiosk back towards the wards. He wanted to ask if she would come with him tonight but he would not ask again. Perhaps after she’d seen her daughter he would know.

CHAPTER THREE

‘HI, MA,’ Annie whispered sleepily. ‘They said my baby’s fine.’ She lay in a twin-bed room and the other stood turned back, waiting for June to return to the ward. ‘I’m gonna call her Rosebud.’

Emily ached with the thick swell of love in her throat. At the moment her daughter could call her daughter Medusa and she wouldn’t mind. She was just glad Annie and her baby were okay. It was hard to realise her own baby was growing up. She didn’t want to think about the time when she left her completely. And her little gnome granddaughter was safe from further harm too. ‘That’s wonderful, darling.’ She squeezed the pale fingers on the sheet and stared mistily down at her daughter.

‘It all went very well, Annie.’ Marco’s deep voice rumbled in her ear and his presence felt like a man they’d known a lot longer than twenty-four hours.

Emily stepped back to think about that, but he must have stepped forward at the same time.

His hands came up to rest on her shoulders and her shoulders fitted snugly up against a wall of chest she’d only dreamed about. It felt too good to move but Emily’s attention flew to her daughter. Thankfully Annie’s long lashes rested on her pale cheeks as she drifted in a post-anaesthetic haze and she couldn’t see her mother’s weakness.

From the pillow Annie’s eyelids didn’t flicker as her voice faded away. ‘Thank you, Marco.’ In her semi-doze Annie’s palm slid across the sheet to protect the small mound of her stomach and Emily let herself relax for a moment.

Just enjoy the sensation of being held.

Take the comfort he was no doubt offering. She hadn’t had a lot of that lately. Especially since Gran had died.

But this was different from Gran’s gentle love. This was a virulent, protector of a man saying he was there for her, if only for the duration of her daughter’s recovery, and she’d be a fool to not accept it for what it was. She didn’t want to think about how some women had this twenty-four seven. It felt too damn good.

But it wasn’t reality. She stepped away. ‘I’ll visit this afternoon, darling.’

Annie opened her eyes. ‘Um. No. Don’t. I’m just gonna sleep. See me tomorrow, Mum. Have a rest.’

Emily winced. ‘If that’s what you want.’ She chewed her lip. ‘You sure? I’ll have my phone. Just leave a message on my phone and I’ll come in.’

Annie nodded sleepily. ‘Tomorrow. Love you.’

‘Love you, baby.’ She hesitated. Watched her daughter sink into a heavier sleep.

Marco steered her towards the door. ‘Come.’

She flicked a glance at him and he grinned. ‘I do not know another word. Leave does not seem to work the same.’

She smiled back. ‘Come is fine.’

‘Then—’ he deepened his voice to a tease ‘—come.’ They grinned at each other. ‘She looks well, your Annie, and we can hope not too much damage is done. But for now, sleepyhead, are you going to go home to worry?’

‘No. I don’t think I will.’ She’d try not to and think about leaning back into Marco’s arms. ‘I think I’ll sleep well.’

‘Good.’

Then she thought of tonight, of the empty house. Of waking this afternoon after the four hours’ sleep she never seemed to be able to improve on, and wondering what it would have been like to go out with this handsome man, do something that would take her mind off the worry. Or she could sit at home and think about Annie. And maybe one day she could go on a dinner cruise on Sydney harbour on her own.

‘I’m wondering …’ She hesitated but he’d stopped and his attention was fully on her. ‘Um. Dinner. What time?’

She had to guess he hadn’t found anyone between hot chocolate and now.

So that was how she came to be dressed, waiting, scanning herself in the mirror. Wondering if the top was too old, should she wear a scarf? Could she still walk in high heels—it had been so long!

The doorbell drilled her like a cold knife and she glared at the mirror. Nerves. She was a big girl, dump the nerves, put on the smile and let the man take you out. You know you fancy him and he’s only here for a month.

This would be good practice for the time when Annie left for her own life. He’d said he’d pick her up so he had a car, must have hired one if he was only here for a month. She kept coming back to that. Just a month. Too short to lose her heart. She hoped.

She peeked out from behind the lace curtain. She hadn’t expected an Aston Martin. Or the open-necked black shirt. He was standing at the door. Looking around. Waiting for her to answer, and she was watching him with nerves flapping like pelicans in her belly.

Marco breathed in. Was unexpectedly aware of the late afternoon light, as if he should remember this moment. The slosh of waves and chug of boats on the harbour a few houses away. The tang of salt and seaweed.

The drift of voices from homes close to Emily’s. People who saw this woman every day. Probably had for years. How could she still be alone? How had some man not scooped her up and carried her and her daughter off?

When would she answer this door? He checked the number again just as the door opened.

His breath was expelled in a sigh. A woman with such style. ‘Bellísima.’ Every time he saw her she captured more of his attention. Appeared more exquisite.

‘Thank you. Come through.’ She gestured to the quaint sitting area with the carved wooden archway between the rooms.

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