One Night, Twin Consequences

Dear Reader,

Welcome to One Night, Twin Consequences. This is the first time I’ve written a duet with someone—and let me tell you Susanne Hampton is fabulous to work with! Kind, thoughtful and, lucky for me, riding exactly the same train of thought. She was the ying to my yang, and I hope you enjoy the intertwined lives and love stories these two sisters share.

I absolutely fell in love with writing about Harriet and Matteo. Matteo because he’s totally gorgeous and I’m a sucker for an accent. Harriet because she has about as much grace and elegance as I do—read: very little!

So strap on your seatbelts—and I hope you enjoy the ride!

Annie O xo

PS Don’t be shy. Be sure to get in touch! You can reach me at my website, annieoneilbooks.com, or on Twitter @AnnieONeilBooks.

ANNIE O’NEIL spent most of her childhood with her leg draped over the family rocking chair and a book in her hand. Novels, baking and writing too much teenage angst poetry ate up most of her youth. Now Annie splits her time between corralling her husband into helping her with their cows, baking, reading, barrel racing (not really!) and spending some very happy hours at her computer, writing.

One Night,

Twin Consequences

Annie O’Neil

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I absolutely loved writing this book—in large part because it was about a big sister…even if she is older only by a minute! Always competitive, me! Whilst completely different, Harriet and Claudia share the unbreakable bond of sisterhood—and for that reason I dedicate this book with unfathomable love to my sister, Michelle. Xxx

Praise for Annie O’Neil

‘This is a beautifully written story that will pull you in from page one and keep you up late and turning the pages.’

—Goodreads on Doctor … to Duchess?

‘A poignant and enjoyable romance that held me spellbound from start to finish. Annie O’Neil writes with plenty of humour, sensitivity and heart, and she has penned a compelling tale that will touch your heart and make you smile as well as shed a tear or two.’

—CataRomance on The Surgeon’s Christmas Wish

Contents

Cover

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Praise for Annie O’Neil

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU WANT ME to do what tonight?” Harriet all but choked on her freshly dunked ginger biscuit. How did her boss know the perfect way to throw her off balance? Besides, didn’t he know nice cup of tea and ginger biscuit o’clock was sacrosanct?

“Give the lecture tonight. You never take enough credit for your work and this would be the perfect way to showcase your research.” Dr. Bailey handed her a serviette with a smile. “Crumbs.”

“Ack! Oops!”

More mortification. Disintegrated biscuit was now decorating the front of her navy uniform. Typical graceful behavior. Not! Normally the fitted dress flattered Harriet’s slim build—created the illusion she was more woman than tomboy. But with a mushy bit of biscuit on her front resembling something more akin to...well... You saw everything in a children’s hospital. She accepted the serviette with an embarrassed laugh. She’d had all sorts on her uniform through the years, so this was hardly a disaster. Not that scrubbing her bosom in front of her boss was the epitome of a comfortable moment.

“I don’t know...” She opted for the old reliable, “My sister needs me—”

“Your sister lives in Los Angeles. Nice try, Harriet.”

“Actually, she’s coming over?”

Hmm. That wasn’t meant to come out like a question.

“When?” Dr. Bailey was no stranger to Harriet’s advanced conversational duck-and-dive technique. This was their drill every time he wanted her behind a podium. Although this time she really did have a legitimate excuse. Maybe.

“She rang last night to say she was coming over.” That much was true.

“It’s a long flight from Los Angeles and in my experience they tend to arrive the next day. Which means you’re free to give your lecture tonight.”

“Yes, but she’s having twins!” Harriet explained, knowing, as the words came out that her very, very pregnant sister hadn’t strictly said she was arriving that night and was incredibly unlikely to be appearing until well after the twins were born. A good three months away. Flying weeks before you’re due with twins? Not a good idea. Probably not even allowed. Although when her sister set her mind to something, it happened. So that little problem about turning their childhood home into a baby friendly zone over the next few weeks was a nut that needed cracking. Not to mention it being the first time in years her independent sister had well and truly needed her. Enough to add a little kick to her step. Harriet the Reliable was back in action!

Harriet chanced a glance up at Dr. Bailey. Yes. He was still patiently waiting for her to answer.

“You know public speaking isn’t really my forte.” And that was putting it mildly.

“Since when have you backed away from a challenge?” her boss riposted.

“Since always if it involves public speaking!”

“Most people would kill to be the opening act for Dr. Torres.”

Harriet kept her lips tightly clenched to hold in a spontaneous sigh. Swoon! Dr. Matteo Torres—the unwitting man of her dreams.

“Harriet...” Dr. Bailey narrowed his eyes. “Has Dr. Torres done something to offend you during his stay here?”

“Uh...no?” Apart from being drop-dead gorgeous, intelligent, a leader in his field and so far out of her league she couldn’t see straight. Not that she’d talked to him or anything. Tactical avoidance had been her approach and it had worked just fine during his fortnight of “observation” at St. Nick’s. His presence hadn’t just made her feel jittery. It made her... Oh, blimey...it made her lusty.

Along with ever other red-blooded female in a mile or so’s range of the man.

Smokin’ hot. Burn the tips of your fingers hot with extra hotness.

And she never said that about anyone. She wasn’t trendy enough. By a long shot.

Just catching a glimpse of the man made her feel giddy!

No!

Distracting. Off-putting. Non-essential. Which was why she’d been playing her very own, proactive game of hide-and-don’t-seek whenever he was within a ward’s reach. If she didn’t see or speak to Dr. Torres, she wouldn’t go all rubber-kneed and act like an idiot. That was her plan anyway and she was sticking with it.

“Matteo is particularly interested in hearing your talk.”

“You mean your talk.” She grabbed hold of the counter edge and feigned a little finger drumming along the worn Formica. Nope! No rubber knees here!

“Harriet...there’s no need to be modest. It’s a chance to shine for our guest!”

“If he’s into muttering and stuttering, sure. No problem,” she grumbled. Fat chance she’d be able to form a sentence, let alone an entire speech in front of the Latin Lothario, as he was now referenced in the tearoom. Not terribly original, but everyone knew who they were talking about. It wasn’t like the corridors of St. Nick’s were overridden with gorgeous, swarthy obstetricians.

“Harriet.” Dr. Bailey put on his stentorian tone. The “dad voice” as she liked to think of it. “This is a chance for you to present your work to the world’s largest collection of pediatric elite. People who work with orphaned children all the time. What you’ve proved here at St. Nick’s, and elsewhere, is groundbreaking and could change how wards of the state are treated around the world. Don’t you want that for yourself?”

“No!”

Dr. Bailey’s expression crumpled to one of pure dismay.

Oops. Wrong answer.

“But I do want it for St. Nick’s.” A smile lit up her face when an idea hit her. “Hey! What if we have my sister do it by remote video link? She’s a gifted speaker and no one would know the difference!”

“Harriet Monticello.” Dr. Bailey lost his battle with hiding his exasperation. “You’re not an identical twin. What I recall from her odd visit here is that the only thing you two have in common is a surname.”

Just because she was a homebody and her sister was exotically thrilling didn’t make them all that different!

“Love, you’ve got this.” He gave her arm a reassuring pat. “There is nothing to be intimidated by. I know you prefer being ‘the girl behind the screen’ but it’s time to get you out there. Put yourself in the limelight.”

“Dr. Bailey, you’re really the public speaker for the department. I’m not sure the Child Care Symposium is really the place—”

“Tush and nonsense!” Her boss cut in. “You’re more than capable of delivering the lecture. Apart from which, my wife won’t hear of my doing it as it’s our anniversary tonight and...I may have accidentally forgotten last year’s so you’d be doing me quite a favor. I’m officially in the doghouse until she has a glass of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other.” His voice shifted back to the confident tone that had won him the trust of countless colleagues and patients. “You’re every bit as qualified as I am to give the lecture, Harriet. It was your research that got us the invitation to speak for the CCS in the first place. You should take the credit...” He leaned in for added emphasis. “For once.”

Harriet waved away his kind words. “You’re the one who gave me the time to do the research.”

“And you’re the one who connected the dots about the impact of staffing rotas on the children. Take some credit where credit is due! Don’t you think it’s time to stop hiding behind your sister’s shadow?”

“My sister has a very nice shadow, thank you very much,” Harriet replied primly, slightly abashed he’d seen through her. Again.

“It’s a fascinating topic and many orphanages could benefit. One I know a lot of health professionals will be keen to hear. Including...” Harriet watched the older doctor’s eyes scan the ward as if he’d misplaced something. Or, rather, someone.

Their eyes simultaneously lit on the man who’d just set the swinging double doors at the end of the ward in motion as if cued to make a dramatic entrance.

He was tall, ebony-haired and had an easygoing grace about him. Not movie-star-ish. More...cowboy...or fighter pilot. Not a drop of vanity about him. But, sweet cherry pies, did that man ever exude confidence. Hair long enough to see it had a sexy wavy thing going on. Was that a bit of a five o’clock shadow? And...mmm...he didn’t just wear clothes, he showed them off. Or did they show him off? Either way, the effect...oh, the effect! Trousers just skimming along his trim hipline. Long legs you could take a zip line ride on if you were into that sort of thing. Shoulders filling out his open-at-the-neck shirt. Not too much. But enough to know that if he lifted a child in his arms there would be some biceps action. Not that she’d imagined him doing that or anything.

Maybe once or twice?

The first time she had seen him—ensuring, of course, she’d been safely tucked behind the curtained confines of a patient’s cubicle—her eyes had nearly popped out of her head. Pretty much each time she’d seen him after that? No change.

Raw, unadulterated lust.

There was no other description for it. She had the hots for this man and hiding each time she saw him coming had been her only salvation. Not that she was five or anything. She was just acutely tuned into the child within. It helped with her work. Besides, behaving like a grown-up was highly overrated. Particularly if survival was a factor.

For her entire life, Harriet had been “the sensible twin”, the “shy twin”, the “wallflower twin” and for about as long as she could remember she’d always happily agreed. Her twin sister, Claudia—pronounced like a beautiful, fluffy cloud versus a gray, dull clod—was about as vivacious, gorgeous, gutsy and go-get-’em as a girl could get... And Harriet? Polar opposites was a pretty good starting place.

As the doors phwapped shut, a surge of energy shot through her so powerfully there was no doubt she would always remember this instant in time. Another daydream to tuck away for the years ahead when Dr. Torres was safely back in his homeland.

The dozen or so patients between them faded into soft focus, their chatter and laughter muted by the thump of her heartbeat ascending to her ears. Everything slowed down, sensations quadrupled and her very breath caught in her throat then released in a sigh as her gaze linked with his incredibly green eyes.

Was that heat she felt flickering away below her waist?

Heat?

How inopportune. And... What were those?

Tingles?

Harriet Monticello didn’t get tingles, for goodness’ sake! And now she was being tickled with flickering tingles of heat? What was going on?

The closer he got to them, the more she felt everything inside her shift and twist and lift... Good grief!

It wasn’t like she was a complete novice in the world of romance. There’d been a handful of boyfriends over the years. Sort of. All of whom she’d parted from amicably. No point in letting them know they hadn’t really baked her cake. But responding to a virtual stranger on such a primal level? Brand spanking new.

Was this what blossoming was? At a few months shy of thirty, she was a bit late for that, wasn’t she? Love at first sight? Or just pure, undiluted desire?

Each microscopic change in her body was wholly in response to him. And utterly involuntary.

He was taller than her, which wasn’t difficult—her being the “petite” one to her sister’s “statuesque beauty”. As he neared, Harriet’s chin tipped upwards, opening up the length of her throat in a way that almost felt suggestive. Her shoulder blades shimmied down her back as her shoulders gave a little wiggle to better present themselves. As if such a thing were possible in a staff dress. Sure, it had a clingy cheongsam cut, but it was, at the end of the day, a uniform.

She felt her breasts pressing against the well-worn cotton of the snap-fronted dress, and for the tiniest of moments wondered what it would feel like if Matteo were to trace a finger along the diamond shaped neckline then begin, one by one, to pop open each of the snaps. Would his fingers be rough or smooth? How would it feel if he were to draw one of his hands across her belly and begin to explore elsewhere? Would she touch him back? Or, for the very first time, luxuriate in letting herself be caressed before seeing to her lover’s needs? Would his unruly black hair feel as silky as it looked? Would he moan if she scratched his back in an untamed moment of desire? Or call out mi corazon! Or whatever hot Latin doctors called out in a moment of passion.

The roar of blood in her ears shot up a few decibels.

When he arrived in front of them—a smile playing across his full lips—a heated flush flashed across her cheeks. Could he read minds as well? Anyone with eyes so lusciously green surely had access to the deeper reaches of a woman’s soul.

Er... Get a grip!

Harriet silently tsked at herself. Too many romance novels during the overnight shift. Nevertheless, she did a quick check to see if he really did have thick, dark eyelashes. The final dab of icing on a very tasty-looking cake.

Yup! Of course he did.

“Matteo! You found us. I’m so pleased.” Dr. Bailey reached out to shake his hand.

She watched as Matteo—Matteo!—extended his long, lovely fingers with sun-bleached hairs, not too thick, running along the length of his forearm, and shook hands with her boss. They turned to her, an expectant look in Matteo’s eyes, which was when Harriet realized the entire time he’d been walking towards them in slow motion she’d been wiping her disintegrated biscuit into the fabric of her dress right...over...her breast. Classy.

Cheeks properly on fire now, she stuffed her hands into the front patch pockets of her dress, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in a lame attempt to regroup.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” she heard Dr. Bailey continue, either oblivious to or trying to cover for her gaffe, “this young woman here is the reason you’ve come along to see us!”

Harriet’s eyes popped open to take an involuntary glance over each of her shoulders. Had one of their colleagues arrived without her knowing? She thought she’d left the rest of the nurses deep in discussion over how to rearrange the supplies cupboard.

Nope. Still just her. All alone with... Matteo...and, of course, Dr. Bailey, who was now looking at her with a particularly bemused expression. Maybe she should shut her mouth. Gape-jawed wasn’t really her look.

“This is Sister Monticello?”

Oh, sweet wonders of the universe. He had a scrummy accent to boot. Of course he did! The man was Argentinian. What did she expect? Cut-glass British? Even so... It was all sexy and smoky. Yum.

She was pretty sure they didn’t make men this—this male over here on the sceptered isle. Or if they did, they were already taken and hidden away by their lucky wives and girlfriends. Too bad she’d all but shelved dreams of having a family of her own... Stop dreaming! She adjusted her gaze, eyes narrowing just a bit. Maybe she could dream just a little bit?

Matteo made her want to howl. He probably ate steak. Lots of it, searing it nightly over a naked flame. Without wearing a shirt. Just buckskins and a deep caramel tan illuminated by the flickering fire and a splash of starlight. At which point Matteo turned to her with a smile so warm she hardly knew what to do with herself.

“I was expecting...” Matteo stopped to give a self-effacing laugh. “I am such an idiot. Sister Monticello! I’ve heard so much about you and I’m still not used to calling the nurses ‘Sister.’ I was expecting a nun!”

“Aha-ha-ha!” Harriet could hear herself giving a weird, cackly, laugh-along laugh. The oh-ho-ho wasn’t that funny variety, but if there was anyone in the world who could bewitch the knickers off a nun she would bet her entire sensibly accrued pension Matteo could. Not that her knickers had fallen off or anything. Yet.

He reached out and took her hand, his cheek moving towards hers faster than she could react. As their cheeks met, she inhaled a delicious waft of peppery gingerbread and heard a kissing noise, but didn’t feel the touch of his lips. Pity.

“Encantada.”

Oh, blimey. Had he just whispered a sweet nothing into her ear?

“It’s nice to smell—I mean meet you!” she all but shouted.

What was that? She didn’t even know this guy and she was falling to bits right in front of him. Sure, she’d been watching him from afar for the past fortnight. But afar was safe. And right here was...really, really close. He smelled distinctly delicious. So much so, she mused, he really should be a cologne. Eau de Argentine Doc. Man Scent by Matteo. The ad campaign would be a cinch.

Why did her sister have to be eight blinking thousand miles away in Los Angeles just when she’d be incredibly handy? Claudia could dig her out of this socially awkward moment without breaking a sweat. Then again, Claudia was drop-dead gorgeous and if she met Matteo before Harriet did, it wouldn’t be very good, would it? Even heavily pregnant with twins, her sister was a knockout. She had the pictures to prove it. Harriet felt an unexpected attack of let-him-be mine come over her.

She’d never really cared when the hot man in the room took a shine to her sister in lieu of her. That was how things had always been. But this time...

Calm, calm, calm yourself, Harriet.

It wasn’t like she stood even the slightest of chances in the universe of having a man like this one desiring, let alone falling completely and madly in love with her. Like she already virtually was with him. Just a few more minutes and she’d have their china pattern and curtains all picked out.

She ran a hand through her blonde pixie cut, jutting out her lower lip as she did so to blow some air up into the fringe. Another sexy move she’d crafted in how-to-look-like-an-idiot class.

“Nice to meet you, Sister.” Matteo held out his hand, which she took and pumped up and down too hard because she was already picturing her cobweb-laced spinsterhood spreading out before her now that she’d ruined any chance of marrying the man of her dreams.

“Harriet’s fine—uh...” She made her, yeesh, I don’t know what to call you face.

“Matteo works—or Dr. Torres if you prefer. I know how formal you Brits are.”

“Yes, well...yes.”

Was it too soon to dive into the nearest broom cupboard?

“Harriet,” Dr. Bailey interjected. “Perhaps you’d like to show Dr. Torres around the hospital? Give him your perspective on how St. Nick’s works. He’s been trying to track you down for the past fortnight and for some peculiar reason has found it near impossible to find you.”

“Excuse me?” Harriet tried her best to wipe the horrified expression off of her face, realizing in an instant she hadn’t been successful.

“Seeing that you could be working together in the longer term, it’s probably a good idea to get to know each other.”

Harriet’s jaw dropped again. Who’d stolen Dr. Bailey and replaced him with this man who was yanking away all her safety blankets?

Matteo grinned, a glint in his eye betraying something akin to frustration. “Dr. Bailey didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Her voice was so strangled she was pretty sure the dogs of London would be howling in unison if she continued.

“This trip—my ‘visit’ here...” He left a small silence to see if she could fill in the air quotes, but there was nothing jostling away the question marks careening round her mind.

Dr. Bailey jumped in. “Harriet, I was going to tell you all about this in good time, but—”

“It looks like—in the hope of some funding—you might be coming to Buenos Aires,” Matteo finished for him, an appraising eyebrow arching upwards as he spoke. “To assess me.”

His expression shifted into something strangely neutral. It was difficult to tell if he was pleased by the scenario or resentful. Something told her it was the latter. Great. Five seconds with Mr. Perfect and already he hated her.

How did one respond to that? Her head swung from Dr. Bailey’s consternated face to Matteo’s unreadable smile. Funding was very dependent on conditions. Lots of i-dotting and t-crossing—

Uh-oh. Wait a minute. She forced her brain to play catch-up.

Was he saying she was the condition? She sought each of their faces for answers, feeling a bit like she was watching a tennis match at close range minus the tennis bits.

“Buenos Aires?”

She had been hoping to sound casually interested. Noncommittal. What came out instead was a high-pitched, dog whistle screechy thing. Not really what she’d been going for. Particularly since a trip to Buenos Aires would be about the scariest, most exciting, incredibly interesting, totally top of the list of things she’d never be brave enough to ever consider doing sort of trip. Which was why she had barely ever left the hallowed borders of London town.

“Don’t worry.” Matteo waved away her response. “I know what it’s like to be handed something unwelcome when you least expect it.”