The Spanish Doctor's Love-Child

She felt the colour stain her cheeks. ‘I want you to…to touch me.’

‘Here?’ He stroked the backs of her knees, keeping his gaze trained on hers.

She shivered. ‘North a bit.’

His smile widened and he stroked her inner thighs. ‘Here?’

‘North a bit,’ she said again.

He laughed. ‘You do realise you’re giving me two-dimensional directions?’

‘Then how…?’ She couldn’t think straight.

‘Show me.’ His voice was low and sent heat flickering down her spine. ‘Show me where you want me to touch you.’

Oh, lord. Everything she’d ever heard about Latin lovers was true.

And Leandro Herrera made her blood fizz.

She placed her hand over his and drew it up until he was cupping her sex, still through her knickers. ‘Here.’

‘Just here?’

A tiny murmur of frustration escaped from her. ‘Don’t tease me.’

He smiled. ‘I’m not going to tease you, estimada. I’m going to make love with you. And I want to take it slowly.’ Again, he circumvented her knickers, but this time, instead of pushing a finger inside her, he used his fingertip to brush lightly against her clitoris, skating back and forth until her knees went weak and she grabbed his shoulders with both hands, afraid that she was going to fall over.

‘I’m not going to let you fall,’ he said, guessing her fears. ‘Well, not in that way.’

She closed her eyes as he continued caressing her and the pleasure built higher, higher.

And then he stopped.

She opened her eyes wide and stared at him in disbelief. Why had he stopped now, when she was so near the peak? ‘Leandro?’

‘I want your eyes open,’ he said. ‘I want you to see me. And I want to see your eyes.’ With his free hand, he removed her knickers and looked up at her. ‘Madre de Deu, Becky,’ he said softly. ‘Ets bella. Te desitjo. I want you.’ He punctuated every word with a tiny movement of his hand that had her quivering. Just the right pressure and the right speed.

And then, unbelievably, her climax hit. Wave upon wave of pleasure.

‘Oh-h-h. Leandro. Yes.’

Little aftershocks of pleasure were still rippling through her when he pulled his duvet aside, lifted her, and laid her gently against the pillows.

‘Thank you. That was…’ She couldn’t find the right word. ‘Amazing.’ More than amazing.

He slid her a sultry look. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’

And then she realised he was still wearing his trousers. While she was completely naked. Abandoned.

She felt her eyes widen. ‘You’re—’

He stopped her protest with a kiss. ‘It’s OK. I wanted the first time to be for you. And, as I said, I haven’t finished yet.’

Oh, lord. If he could reduce her to a quivering heap with just one finger, what would it be like when his body finally slid inside hers?

He undressed swiftly. Gracefully—well, as a fencer, of course he’d be graceful. And Becky sucked in a breath as she saw him naked for the first time. ‘You’re perfect.’

‘Gràcies.’

He joined her on the bed and traced the curve of her jaw with a fingertip. ‘And you, too. Curvy, not a stick insect.’ As she instinctively sucked in her stomach, he smiled, leaned over and traced a circle round her navel with the tip of his tongue. ‘I said “curvy”, not “fat”. A real woman. Mateia bella. Very beautiful,’ he translated, rummaging in his bedside drawer for a condom.

He took it out of its foil wrapper, rolled it on, then slid his hand between Becky’s thighs and teased her with his clever fingers until she was quivering again. ‘Now?’ he asked.

‘Oh-h-h. Now. Yes. Please.’ She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man so much. It had been years.

Leandro knelt between her thighs, gently fitted himself to her entrance and then eased in, in one long, slow thrust.

She’d forgotten how good making love could be. How long had it been?

But, no, she didn’t want the bad memories to seep in and spoil this. Live for the moment, she reminded herself. And this moment was good. Really, really good.

She stroked his back, his buttocks—lord, his gluteal muscles were as perfect as his pectorals—and then, when he ran one hand lightly up her thigh and cupped her buttocks, she wrapped her legs round his waist. Took him deeper.

Every thrust took her nearer and nearer the edge.

‘Look at me, estimada,’ he reminded her softly.

She did. And at the precise moment her climax hit again, she could see it reflected in his own eyes, in the way his pupils dilated until his eyes were almost completely black.

He wrapped his arms round her, holding her close and muttering words in Catalan which she didn’t understand, though his tone told her he was as moved by what had just happened as she was.

Eventually, Leandro withdrew. ‘Excuse me for a moment,’ he said politely.

She knew he needed to deal with the condom, but as he left the room she started to wonder what the protocol was here. She’d never had a one-night stand before. Should she stay or should she leave now?

Just as she was about to get out of bed and find her clothes, so at least she’d be dressed when he came back and wouldn’t feel quite so embarrassed about discussing it, he returned to the room—completely naked and uninhibited by his nudity—smiled at her and joined her in the bed.

‘I’m glad you didn’t decide to go.’ He put his arm round her, drawing her close so her head was resting on his shoulder. ‘I know we said neither of us want a relationship, and that hasn’t changed. But stay with me for a while.’

This was what she’d missed even more than sex.

Being cuddled.

Being held as if she were someone precious.

Something that had definitely been missing from the last months of her marriage.

And the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; she didn’t feel the need to break it. Right here, right now, in Leandro’s arms, she felt warm and safe and wanted.

Her eyelids started to drift down; although she knew she really ought to leave, maybe a few minutes’ nap wouldn’t hurt…

She stopped resisting and fell asleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

BECKY woke feeling warm and comfortable. Then she remembered it was Sunday morning and she was on a late shift. Which meant that she could have a lie-in: she could just drowse and go back to sleep.

And then two things burst into shocking clarity.

Firstly, this wasn’t her bed.

And, secondly, she was wrapped spoon-style around a hard male body, her face against his back and her arm slung comfortably round his waist.

Leandro Herrera.

Her gorgeous Catalan lover—for one night.

Oh, lord. She really shouldn’t have stayed. They’d both said this wasn’t going to be a relationship. She should’ve taken a taxi home last night.

From the regularity of his breathing, she knew that he was still sound asleep. Well, that was hardly surprising. They’d spent much of the night exploring each other, finding out just where each other liked to be stroked or kissed.

Forget the lie-in. She needed to leave. Now.

Slowly, cautiously, she slid her arm from around his waist and wriggled backwards. Leandro stirred for a moment, then rolled over onto his front.

Lord, he was gorgeous, she thought. A perfect back, broad shoulders and good muscle tone, and that beautiful smooth olive-toned skin. She was, oh, so tempted to kiss her way down his spine. Wake him up nicely.

But she knew what would happen next—and she’d end up being late for work. Which wouldn’t be a good idea.

In some respects, she really regretted what she was about to do. Physically, she and Leandro were compatible. Very compatible. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. But, more than that, she’d enjoyed his company last night. Leandro was good to talk to, he was a great cook, and she’d felt comfortable with him.

Though the sensible side of her knew this was the right thing to do. Make a clean break. They weren’t going to see each other again. And even though she was tempted to break her personal rule and maybe see where their relationship took them, she didn’t want to end up in the same mess as last time—involved with a man who wanted completely different things out of life and expected her to make all the compromises. Because although Leandro seemed more domesticated than Michael had ever been, there were limits: Leandro had made it clear the previous night that his new job was going to take up all his time. Just like Michael, Leandro would be focused on his career. His job would come first, and hers…

Well, Michael had made it clear that her job wasn’t as important as his. And Becky had done with compromising.

She wasn’t prepared to give up all the years of studying and hard work she’d put into her career. She wanted to go right to the top. To become nurse consultant, and then maybe nursing director; she enjoyed helping develop her junior staff almost as much as she enjoyed treating patients.

So she dressed quietly and swiftly before tiptoeing out of Leandro’s bedroom and down the stairs. Although she could do with a shower, she didn’t want the noise of the water to wake him. Besides, it wouldn’t take her long to get home and she’d have plenty of time for a shower there.

Though she wasn’t going to vanish completely without saying goodbye—she’d been brought up to be polite.

If you could be polite with someone who’d given you mind-blowing sex the previous night.

She rummaged in her handbag for her personal organiser and removed a blank page. She wrote him a note and propped it against the kettle where he was bound to see it:

Thank you. Sorry, had to leave. B.

And she was sorry. Sorry that she couldn’t give Leandro a chance. But she had good reasons not to want to get involved, and no doubt his reasons for not wanting a relationship were equally sound.

‘Be happy,’ she said softly, glancing up the stairs, and let herself out of the house, closing the door quietly behind her.

Becky had assumed that Tanya, being on a day off, would still be asleep. So she crept into her own house as quietly as she’d crept out of Leandro’s. But when she’d clicked the door shut and turned round, Tanya was standing in the hallway. Fully dressed. And, unlike Becky, Tanya wasn’t wearing the same clothes she’d worn the previous night.

‘So where did you get to, then?’ her housemate asked with a knowing grin.

Becky smiled back. ‘Morning. I wasn’t expecting you to surface until this afternoon.’

‘It wasn’t that late a night.’ Tanya laughed. ‘Though the same clearly can’t be said for you, you dirty stop-out.’

Becky groaned. ‘Enough with the teasing.’

‘I know you sent me that text saying you were going to dinner with that guy from the party—but are you telling me you actually spent the night with him?’ She frowned. ‘I was a bit worried about you when I got your text.’

Becky flushed. ‘OK, so it was a bit of a rash thing to do. But I told you exactly where I was going and who I was with. And I kept my phone switched on. And I’m never going to take a risk like that again.’

‘He must’ve been really something,’ Tanya mused, ‘for you to break the habit of a lifetime.’

Yes. Leandro had been really something.

‘Actually, it probably did you good,’ Tanya continued thoughtfully. ‘You’ve dated such utter losers since Michael—and don’t give me that look, Rebecca Marston. You know you have.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘It’s because you’re scared of commitment—you always date dreadful men who couldn’t possibly have a future with you so they’re absolutely safe to go out with.’

‘Hey, I thought you worked in paediatrics, not on the psych team,’ Becky said lightly. Though she knew her friend had a point: she was avoiding commitment. One unhappy marriage was enough for her. She wasn’t interested in a second chance at failure—or giving her family another stick to beat her with. ‘And I have to have a shower and change or I’ll be late for my shift. Catch you later, OK?’

Tanya clapped a melodramatic hand to her chest. ‘So you mean I don’t get any of the gory details? None whatsoever?’

‘Nope.’

‘Spoilsport.’ Tanya rolled her eyes, but let her go.

When Becky she arrived at the hospital for her shift, she found the usual Sunday afternoon mix waiting for her—pulled muscles and sprains from people playing sports, plus backache from gardeners who’d made the most of the sunshine but had overdone things after a winter with no real digging, and small children who’d stuffed beads up their noses. Some of them she had to refer to the doctor, but most of the minor injuries she could deal with herself.

And the best thing about her job, she thought, was that people left with a smile. They came in to the department worried sick or in pain, and left knowing what was wrong with them and with the injury treated.

But at the end of the shift she still couldn’t get the gorgeous Catalonian man out of her head.

Maybe she should contact him.

After all, she hadn’t given him any of her details, so he had no way of contacting her—but she knew exactly where he lived…

No. Best to leave it as a fabulous memory, no complications.

To her relief, Tanya didn’t bring up the subject of the beautiful stranger that evening. Becky was on a late shift again the following morning, and when she walked into the changing room Irene, one of the staff nurses, was on her break.

‘Hi. Nice day off yesterday?’ Becky asked.

‘Brilliant. Lee and I went to my parents for the day. I love family get-togethers. I mean, we ended up having the kids all sitting round a pasting table for Sunday lunch and the rest of us crammed in around the dining table, but that didn’t matter because we had such a laugh. And Mum, bless her, always makes my favourite pudding—even though it’s three years since I lived at home.’

How different other people’s lives were, Becky thought. And how nice it must be to look forward to visiting your parents, knowing there were going to be warm hugs and conversation, instead of silences, accusations and looks of disappointment. Grandparents who spoiled you and made a fuss of you, instead of criticising everything from your dress sense to your career.

Maybe she should’ve divorced her family at the same time as she’d divorced Michael.

She shook herself. ‘So dare I ask what the new consultant’s like? Up to David’s standard?’

‘Yes.’ Irene fanned herself. ‘And I can see why Human Resources kept the information to themselves.’

Becky frowned. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘Because there would’ve been queues of nurses—not to mention all the female doctors—who suddenly needed emergency treatment, and really needed to see our new consultant personally,’ Irene said with a grin. ‘He’s gorgeous. If I wasn’t happily married, I’d be tempted.’

Becky rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me. Tall, dark and handsome?’

‘That doesn’t even begin to cover it. We’re talking definite sex-god status.’ Irene eyed her speculatively. ‘Actually, you could…’

‘No, I couldn’t,’ Becky corrected with a smile. ‘Work and relationships don’t mix. And, anyway, he might not be my type.’

‘Box of chocolates says you fall for him,’ Irene said immediately. ‘And I’m talking about a big box. My favourites—Belgian seashells.’

‘No way.’ Becky laughed. ‘I couldn’t be so mean. You’re on a definite loser there—it’d be like taking sweeties from a baby.’

Irene tapped her nose. ‘You just wait until you meet him. You’ll change your mind.’

‘He’s probably married, with kids. He must be at least in his thirties.’

‘No, no and yes. Karen—’ the department’s senior receptionist, who knew practically everything about everyone ‘—asked him. But… No, I’m not going to spoil the surprise.’ Irene grinned. ‘You just wait.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Becky changed into her uniform and took the handover from Sarah, the nurse practitioner who’d been working in the minor injuries unit during the morning.

There was no sign of their alleged sex-god consultant.

Not that it bothered her—she was more interested in doing her job.

Her next patient was a builder. According to the initial notes taken by the triage nurse, he’d slipped from scaffolding while working on a building site, and one of his fellow builders had brought him in.

‘So it’s your right ankle, Mr Barker,’ she said as he limped in. He could clearly bear weight on it, so that was a hopeful sign that it would turn out to be a sprain rather than a fracture. ‘Take a seat. Can you tell me what happened?’

‘Slipped off the scaffolding—I was only a couple of feet up.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Talk about stupid.’

‘Easily done,’ she said sympathetically. ‘How did you land?’

‘My right foot went under me—it felt as if I twisted my ankle.’

‘And how does it feel now?’

‘Throbs, and hurts like hell when I try to stand on it.’

‘Do you mind if I examine you?’

‘Sure.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry about the boots. They smell a bit. I’ve got sweaty feet.’

She smiled at him. ‘Trust me, we’ve had far worse in here.’ Gently, she examined his ankle. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s a sprain, but because of the way you landed I’m going to send you for an X-ray, just to make sure. Before I do, I just need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.’ She quickly took his medical history, checked that he wasn’t on any medication, gave him some ibuprofen to help with the swelling and pain, and wrote out a form. ‘If your friend can help you down the corridor to the X-ray department, take this form to the reception area and they’ll sort you out. Then come back here and I’ll see you when the results are back.’ She smiled at him. ‘Sorry about the wait.’

‘That’s all right, petal.’

She wrote up the notes and called in her next patient. Judging from the wet teatowel wrapped round the woman’s hand, she’d guess at a burn.

‘Can you tell me what happened, Mrs Tennant?’

‘I can’t believe I were that stupid,’ Mrs Tennant said, looking exasperated with herself. ‘I’d put the kettle on and I reached into the cupboard to get the teabags. My daughter’s home from school with a stinking cold and she called out to me—and I just stood there with my arm stretched over the kettle, not thinking, when I called back to find out what she wanted. Course, I moved me arm the minute I felt the heat, but it were too late.’

‘When did it happen?’

‘Half an hour back. I got a taxi. My neighbour did first aid at work and she put a clean wet teatowel over it, and she said I ought to come here because it’s my hand.’ She bit her lip. ‘She’s looking after my Jessie. I hate putting other folk out, but she said there were nowt for it but to come here.’

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