One Night, Twin Consequences

No bets on that one. Matteo knew himself enough to know he’d wanted to be close to Harriet, had wanted to touch her. Just a couple of hours wandering around the hospital together and he’d felt a connection he rarely felt. Something genuine. Something real. Not the confident, rule-setting guy who flew to conferences to show his wares in exchange for shiny new clinics. The Matteo whose heart was every bit as much a part of the Casitas as Harriet’s was with St. Nick’s. The part that was searching for...enough and having no idea where to find it.

“I guess I’ll see you at the hall?” She shifted from foot to foot, not unlike a skittish colt.

“Yes, perfect.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wodge of papers he’d folded and refolded into ever-decreasing squares. “I’ve got all of the details here. What do you call it? The bumph?”

Harriet smiled, a little dimple he hadn’t noticed before appearing in her cheek. It made her appear pretty and vulnerable all at once, bringing out a protectiveness in him he hadn’t felt for a woman in a long, long time.

“Yes. The bumph. Well done. You’re going to have to teach me Argentinian lingo—”

“Spanish? No problem. Dinner afterwards?”

“Uh...I don’t know about that.”

“Of course you do. Come to dinner with me after the lectures and we can toast your public speaking success.”

“I’m not so sure—”

“Sister, can you come?” A nurse knocked and stuck her head in the door, her face looking strained with worry. “It’s Cora.”

“Is she seizing?” Harriet scooted round him and was in the corridor in an instant.

“SFS. She says she tastes pickles and has the seasick feeling. She won’t move until you come.”

Matteo didn’t even stop to think. He followed Harriet to the play area the nurse indicated. A simple focal seizure could quickly lead to another much more dramatic attack. Grand mal seizures weren’t uncommon.

“Does she usually have a stage two?”

“Yes.” Harriet kept up the quick pace. “Childhood absence. Unresponsive to voice, automatisms. Eyelid flickering and some lip smacking,” she explained.

“So nothing violent?” Matteo matched her stride for stride.

“No.” She shook away her own answer. “She’s had one tonic-clonic, but overall she’s been responding well to meds.”

“Sodium valproate?”

“In combination with lamotrigine. It seems to work well for her. We wanted to steer clear of phenobarbital and phenytoin.”

“Adverse affects on cognitive development?”

Harriet nodded. They’d both clearly read the same studies.

Harriet headed towards a skinny little redhead standing in the center of the play area.

“Hey there, Cora.” Harriet’s tone was soft as she gently lowered herself to the girl’s eye level. Matteo nodded approvingly at how Harriet moved—careful not to give the girl any rapid movements to take in. If she was already feeling unwell, too much commotion could make her feel worse. “What do you say we get you to your bed?”

“I don’t feel well.” Cora’s gaze remained static on the wall.

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why I’m here. Shall we get you to your bed?”

“I’m too dizzy.”

“How about I put my hands on your eyes for a bit and you think of your bed?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Harriet shifted behind Cora. “I’m going to do it now, Cora. All right?”

“Okay.” The girl’s voice was tiny and frightened. The more stressed she became, the more likely another seizure was.

“Matteo.” Harriet’s voice was a near whisper. “Could you grab that chair, please?” She nodded towards a well-worn wing chair with high sides and a deep seat.

“Absolutely.”

Harriet moved to the side, fingers still covering Cora’s eyes, as Matteo brought the chair round—aiming it at a portion of the wall that contained a single horizontal line. When Cora felt well enough to focus her eyes on something, that line could help. Another one of Harriet’s touches? He wouldn’t be surprised.

“All right, sweetheart. Ready to sit down? We’ve got Christopher here.”

Matteo shot her a questioning look. Christopher?

Harriet nodded at the chair. Apparently it was called Christopher.

His instinct was to laugh but common sense caught up with him as they each took hold of one of Cora’s arms and guided her into the chair. The girl was feeling panicked, needed her eyes closed, and required reassurance all at once. If she knew she was going to settle back into Christopher, it would be reassuring. Simple. Clever. He was pretty certain he knew who had thought up the idea and couldn’t stop a big ‘Aha!” smile from forming as they tucked Cora into the chair along with a couple of throw pillows so she’d feel extra cozy and safe.

A few minutes later, Cora was feeling much better and asked Harriet to take her to her room for a rest.

After she’d been tucked into her bed, they each took a side of the door frame to lean on and watch her for a bit, with Harriet making a few notes in Cora’s chart. When she’d finished, Harriet looked across at Matteo, their eyes meeting with a look of mutual understanding. She was much more than an academic. He’d been quick off the mark to slot her into a “books and flowcharts only” file and, while the incident hadn’t been an extreme one, she’d shown swift and effective responses to the girl’s plight.

He’d need to be a bit more generous in the Doctor Knows Best department. Be open to her input.

A little zip of anticipation surged through him at the idea of Harriet at Casita Verde. There could be more advantages to her visit than he’d thought. A clinic at the casita—a proper one—so that they wouldn’t have to send the children away to hospital would be a godsend. It near enough gave him physical pain each time they had to sign a child over to the state but their resources were stretched beyond reason. Perhaps with Harriet on their side...

Would she wear that form-hugging nurse’s uniform? he wondered. Then stopped himself. Re-dressing Harriet Monticello was not the route to getting funding. Not the way to stay focused.

He shook his head to clear it as Harriet slipped the chart onto a hook just inside Cora’s door. “I’m off to see a couple more of the kids. Did you want to come?”

It didn’t sound like an invitation and he needed to get his head straight.

“I think I’ll leave you to it. Make sure I’m at my best tonight.” He was about to give her a wink and a smile, but thought better of it. He was no Casanova, and this was a business trip...

He cleared his throat a bit too pointedly. ¡Qué quilombo! Wasn’t he the one who liked keeping things professional?

He tipped his head towards Cora’s room as they walked away. “Has she been here long? She seems to rely on you.”

“Only a couple of months. She’d been in foster-care, but the parents... The parents weren’t up to it.” Her lips tightened before she quickly shook off any judgment she’d been going to make.

More kudos to her. He was judgmental as hell when it came to backing out on a commitment like that. Better not to make one at all. That’s what he did. The only commitments he made were professional. It made life much easier.

Harriet pointed to a large, colorful chart with names and times on it. “The children know the shifts and have one person of their choice to call on when they’re feeling anxious. She hasn’t chosen yet, so I’m the interim ‘go to’ girl.”

“Is this part of your staffing thing?” How about sounding a bit more patronizing? He could’ve kicked himself.

“It’s part of being consistent with the children. Something, as you well know, most of these kids haven’t had.” She swept away a lock of blonde hair before continuing. “Cora, like a lot of the residents here, had been in a foster home. Well, several foster homes, and she also has minor ADHD that kicks up a notch with each change. The more anxious it makes her, the worse her epilepsy becomes, and the worse her epilepsy becomes—”

“The harder it is to place her,” Matteo finished for her. It was the same drill where he came from. The worse the medical condition, the less likely it was they’d find adoptive parents, let alone foster parents. Who wanted to open their wallets, let alone their hearts, to a child with so many hurdles to leap?

“Got it in one!” She smiled up at him, another one of those hits of connection pinging him straight in the chest. Practical, emotional and as committed as they got. This woman was a medical triple threat.

“It looks like we might have more in common than I thought.” Matteo gave her a rueful smile. “Professionally speaking, of course.”

Her smiled disappeared in an instant.

Why had he said that?

He knew exactly why he’d said it. To keep his emotions where he liked them. All tucked up in his very own...er... Christopher. But taking away that smile of hers? A bad move.

“Of course. Well, then...” Harriet’s voice became clipped. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish seeing the pa—the children and then get home to work on my lecture. I don’t want to be letting you down tonight. Professionally speaking, of course.”

Touché.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU STOOD ME UP.”

Harriet screamed and flew out of her office chair at the sound of Matteo’s voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find my dinner date.”

“What?”

“You said you’d have dinner with me.”

“But that was...” Before I made such a hash of things.

“That was what you agreed to do after the speeches. So...” He looked around what he could see of the ward from Harriet’s doorway. Low lights, a couple of nurses huddled at a station farther down the corridor, some classical music coming from one of the children’s rooms...exactly the type of mellow atmosphere she’d needed after Speech-gate. Being at St. Nick’s always centered her.

Well, it had always centered her before a certain Argentinian doctor had started creeping round corners, insisting on people going out to dinner with him.

“C’mon. Your shift ended hours ago. Get your coat.”

See? There was no telling the man.

“I’m not really hungry.”

That should shush him.

“Keep me company, then?”

Um... Waver, waver, waver.

His voice was gentle. It was obvious he was trying to make her feel better and she was grateful to him for that. She tangled a couple of fingers into a loose twirl of hair just to up her maturity factor a notch.

“It’s my last night in London. You can show me the sights!”

Harriet laughed. “I think I’d be about the worst tour guide ever.”

“Why? This is your home, isn’t it?” He spread his arms wide as if to encompass the whole of London.

“This is my home is more like it.” Harriet indicated the ward.

“Well, then, you’re all dressed up. It would be a shame not to go out and explore together—at least a little.”

Harriet shot him a noncommittal look. She didn’t do spontaneous! Didn’t he get that? Then again... Another image of herself draped in cobwebs, an aged version of her “public speaking dress” layered with dust flitted past her mind’s eye. Not particularly appealing...

“C’mon. I have a few more hours left. Shall we explore together?” He jigged his shoulders up and down in anticipation, then held out a hand. A lovely hand. All five fingers gave a little open-close gesture indicating she should take it. Her temperature went up a degree. Or seven.

He looked so...sweet! Like a young man arriving to pick up his first date. A few nerves, a bit of bravura.

He had come back all this way to find her. How had he known to—? Okay. Okay. She was predictable and it had taken him less than a day to work it out.

She felt a grin forming. It was the first time she’d seen him look...not vulnerable... Equal? On the same level. That was it. Two colleagues. One night. And a handful of hours.

She didn’t do spontaneous. She didn’t do flirty. But Matteo was flying back to Argentina before she began her next shift. What could go wrong in just a few hours? Or...what could go right?

She pressed her nails into her palm as if it would give her more courage.

Claudia would say yes. She would’ve already been out the door.

“Why not?” Harriet grabbed her discarded pashmina from the back of her chair and twirled it round her shoulders à la Claudia. If her sister was brave enough to have twins on her own then she could surely manage having dinner with a man she’d never see again. It wasn’t like she’d make a complete idiot out of herself. She’d already cracked that nut at the lecture hall.

She looked at her hand in his, felt a shiver of anticipation run up her arm then made herself give him a smile. In for a penny...

* * *

“Well, thanks for showing me what I won’t be having.”

Harriet tried to tack a fun, spirited laugh onto the end of her last bite of Argentinian steak but Matteo could see the words were forced.

“It’s just a glimpse.” He pointed his knife at the nearly empty plate. “This is passable. Not as good as at home but passable.” Matteo took a final bite of his steak, speckled with the piquant chimichurri sauce. “But the asado?” He made a mmm...yummy sound and licked his lips. “The asado is to die for. You can come here and have asado. I give you permission to think it is just like home.” He smiled, then clarified. “My home.”

Harriet stared at him, her forehead crinkling in a growing picture of dismay.

“I can’t believe I was so awful tonight!” She groaned, pushing her plate away and letting her head collapse into her hands. When she peeked through her fingers at Matteo she looked so adorable he had to resist reaching across and ruffling his fingers through her hair. And not in an aren’t-you-a-cute-kid kind of way. She’d lost her nervy edge over the hours, replaced by excitement at their shared passion for the work they did. He could’ve talked to her all night long. He hadn’t met someone who had kindled that sort of response in him in... Dios, was it ever? He felt something grow within him he hadn’t felt in a while.

Regret.

Regret that he wouldn’t have more time with her. There were so many dimensions to Harriet Monticello he had yet to discover and yet part of him felt he knew her already. A kindred spirit. He would’ve genuinely enjoyed taking his time getting to know her.

He leaned back in the booth seat and drummed his fingertips along the table’s edge. “Maybe it’s not all terrible. Look on the bright side. At least you got your message through to the person who counts most.”

She raised her blue eyes a fraction above her fingers. “Yeah, that’d be about right. And who exactly do you think I impressed?”

“Me!” He reached across and stole a forkful of leftover chimichurri sauce. “Don’t look at me like that! How often do you think I sit through four-hour dinners with uninteresting people? Particularly when I have a flight in...” he glanced at his watch “...about six hours from now.”

“Uh...not very often?”

“Sí, correcto. In fact, I think it’d be a safe bet to say never.” He looked her square in the eye. “Life’s too short. Too precious to waste time not doing what you believe in.”

Their eyes met for a moment and he felt a genuine hit of attraction for her. Not just the superficial one he’d enjoyed when they’d first met but a genuine tug of desire hitting him in the solar plexus. He looked away.

“I believe in what I said,” Harriet answered miserably. “I just couldn’t communicate it effectively.”

“You’ve been pretty coherent the last few hours.” He pressed his back into the booth seat and shifted his position. Mind over matter.

“That’s different.” She shook her head as if trying to get the facts straight.

“Why? Because you think you could show me a thing or two?”

“Yes.” Her eyes popped wide open. “I mean no! Oh, blimey. Do you see what I mean? If there’s a chance to stick my foot straight in it, I do it.”

“Stick your foot in what?”

“It,” Harriet answered. Then giggled. “Language barrier! Oh...let’s see.”

“Harriet.” Matteo’s voice went down a notch, latching onto droll. The English weren’t the only ones with a dry sense of humor. “I knew what you were talking about, I was just trying to see if you knew why you found addressing a crowd so difficult.”

“Oh. Right.” Her lips twitched, her eyes solidly on the plate.

“Cara, you’ve missed my meaning. I think what you have to say is wonderful. I’d be lucky to have you come to Casita Verde, even if...”

“Even if what? I tanked it in front of the people who were going to let me go?”

“You would’ve come if they’d said yes?”

She drew a smiley face in the remains of her sauce before the weary waiter scooped up their plates. He grinned at her and she smiled back, apologizing for keeping him so late. That was who Harriet was. A woman who did countless little kindnesses, expecting nothing in return.

“I would like to think I would have. If I would’ve been of any use,” she added quickly, popping her finger into her mouth where he could just see her tongue circling away, retrieving the remains of the sauce.

He shifted in his seat again and cleared his throat. Staying...neutral was becoming more difficult.

“I’m fairly certain you would have been nothing but an asset.” And he meant it.

“Well, that’s just grand, then, isn’t it?” She gave him a sad smile before trying to scrub away the frustration. “Too bad the board is no doubt busily shredding my name into oblivion and looking for another suitable candidate.” Harriet dropped her hands from her face and began to twist her serviette this way and that. “Hey! Maybe we could form a mutual admiration society across the seas!” She shimmied her serviette across the table to him, having folded it into the shape of a little swan, and grinned.

“It’s a shame.” Matteo picked up the bird and admired her handiwork. He was actually going to miss her, this woman he hardly knew. “I would’ve liked to work with you.”

“Me, too.” She raised her gaze from the table and met his eyes. “But I guess some people just aren’t meant to stray from their path.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing really. It’s just...” she reached across the table and took back the swan, untwisting it as she spoke “...sticking to what I know has always been a good idea.”

She smiled up at him, something clouding the azure clarity of her eyes. Disappointment? Sorrow?

“And what would happen, exactly, if you did something new?” He bridled on her behalf. “Are you going to sit there and just let them decide your future for you?” As the words came out, he was surprised to hear the heat behind them. He actually wanted her to come to Casita Verde. See what he’d done. Offer a new perspective. Just a few hours with Harriet wasn’t near enough. He wanted more.

“That’s more my sister’s terrain!” Harriet tried to laugh away his suggestion. “She’s the real star in the family,” she finished quietly. It sounded practiced. Something she was far too used to saying.

“And is that something you tell yourself or something someone else is telling you? If they are, they need their eyes and minds tested,” Matteo protested.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well, let’s see.” He held up a finger for each point. “You’re beautiful. Intelligent. You’ve turned the lives of countless children into something they can bear. Your sister must be pretty amazing to overshadow all that.”

“She is,” Harriet replied without hesitation, their eyes locking as she spoke. “She really is.”

There was no jealousy in her words, just admiration. The same way he’d felt about his sister. Just love. No expectations.

“I’m getting hot.” Harriet started fanning herself with the hem of her pashmina, her eyes suddenly keen to alight anywhere but on him. “Are you hot? I think maybe I could do with a walk.”

Harriet shot out of her chair without a second glance at Matteo. Their conversation was getting a bit overwhelming. Out on the street she gulped in a lungful of cool air as if she’d been suffocating.

Maybe she had been. Not from Matteo. Not by a long shot. But from the things he was saying. The cages he was unwittingly rattling? He was rapidly unzipping the safe, cozy cocoon she’d built for herself and had been terribly happy in, thank you very much. Her sister needed her to be the stable one, the one who didn’t change. That was her role. Wasn’t it?

Then again...what exactly would happen if she took some chances of her own?

She blew out a slow breath, trying to regain some perspective. But all she could see was herself through Matteo’s eyes: a woman too frightened to change.

“Harriet! Chuchera!” Matteo ran to catch up with her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, fine.” No. Not even remotely.

“Sorry, I was just paying the bill, and then you were—” He stopped, his hands taking ahold of her shoulders and turning her towards him. “Are you all right, chuchera?”

Harriet nodded dumbly. He was...divine. Exactly the type of man she’d never imagined being with and now he was hunting her down after failed speeches, paying supper bills she’d scarpered on and running after her to make sure she was all right?

One ticket for Matteo the Dreamboat Ride, please!

Her eyes widened. Not exactly a hostess with the mostest moment.

“You shouldn’t have paid the bill!” She started digging in her handbag for her purse and felt his hand slip down her shoulder to her wrist, stopping her frantic movements. If there was such a thing as sexy lava it was pouring through her everywhere Matteo’s fingers had touched and doing a swirly, pooling thing in her belly. She didn’t dare look at him. She was superimposing far too much on him. It was easy to make someone into perfection when you only had eight hours together. Eight amazing hours. The knowledge that they would quickly come to an end all but brought a cry of despair to her throat. She curled her lips in past her teeth, dragging them back out, no doubt pale with the absence of blood in them. Feeling the sting of pain at what she’d never have.

“How do you fancy a walk along the river?” She used her best tour-guide voice. “It’s really lovely at night. I’m sure you’ll just love the Houses of Parliament!”

* * *

It wasn’t much of a surprise to Matteo that their riverside walk was both bereft of conversation and came to an end at St. Nick’s. Something had passed between them after dinner and Harriet hadn’t looked him in the eye once since then.

He watched, smiling, as she peeked into each of the children’s rooms, pulling up a bit of duvet here or there, tucking in a wayward teddy bear or two. It was obvious to see the place was Harriet’s go-to comfort zone.

He couldn’t really judge. He actually lived at the original Casita Verde. The fact that it had been a monastery in its former life appealed to him. Solidified his future. Not that his life was entirely monk-like...he saw women. Occasionally. Women who wanted nothing more than a fling—because he never promised more. The likelihood of a woman agreeing to live at Casita Verde and never have children of her own? Pretty slim. So monk’s quarters suited him just fine.

“Now we have to be very, very quiet.” Harriet held a slim finger to her lips as they made their way across the open common area. “This bit of flooring is super-creaky and I promised the other nurses I wouldn’t come back.”

“Why?” Matteo grinned down at her, all hunched shoulders and poised on tiptoe. “Are you the big bad boss?”

“The research nurse with no life is more like it.” Harriet’s mouth shot into an apologetic oops position. A perfect red moue.

This time he laid a finger on her lips. She had a life, she just didn’t have confidence, and Harriet was a woman who should have confidence in herself.

In the instant their eyes met the atmosphere went taut with something he knew he didn’t want to fight again. Something that had been fizzing and crackling away between them from the moment they’d met.

Beneath the pad of his finger he felt the accelerated rhythm of her pulse beating in sync with her heart. Her pupils were dilated in the dim light of the corridor, nearly eclipsing the luminous blue irises. Her breath was held so tightly in her chest he could feel the release against his own when she let finally let herself breathe again. She blinked a couple of times, lips still pressed to his finger. It took him a moment to appreciate she hadn’t pulled back. She was responding to his touch.