The Doctor and the Debutante. Anne Fraser

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СКАЧАТЬ a chair and sat down. She couldn’t bear to leave, not until she knew for sure that Sofia was going to be okay. When she looked at her watch she was amazed to find that only an hour and a half had passed since the accident. Although desperately worried for the little girl, Alice experienced a gratifying sense of achievement. It had felt good helping and she hadn’t been squeamish at all at the sight of blood—at least, not after her first sight of the wound. She had surprised herself by staying calm and not panicking.

      Another hour passed before she looked up to find Dante standing next to her. Immersed in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him approach. He had changed out of his clothes and was wearing blue hospital scrubs. If anything he looked more handsome than when she’d first seen him on the park bench. The thin cotton material emphasised the breadth of his chest and his powerful thighs. In the hospital environment he was even more assured, as if this was where he belonged.

      ‘Sofia is going to be okay. The surgeons managed to remove the metal from her shoulder. Luckily it hadn’t torn any major blood vessels so she should be able to go home in a day or so.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You did a good job back there, Alice.’ She liked the way he said her name. It made her feel interesting, exotic even.

      ‘I was terrified at first,’ she admitted. ‘But since Sofia had much more reason to be scared than I had, I couldn’t let her see my fear. I’m so glad she’s going to be okay.

      Alice shivered.

      Dante picked up a blanket from one of the benches and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. ‘You have had a shock.’ He sat down next to her. ‘I am going to wait until Sofia’s parents get here, but you should go back to your hotel. Do you wish me to call you a taxi?’

      ‘No, that’s all right,’ Alice said. ‘I just need a moment.’

      Now the adrenaline was draining away, Alice felt exhausted. She leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Despite everything, she was acutely conscious of Dante. The skin on her upper arms tingled where his fingertips had brushed against her skin and she could almost feel the heat of his body next to her. Although his presence was disconcerting the silence that fell between them was comfortable. She was curious to know more about this man.

      It had been a huge relief to discover he was a doctor but it had also been a surprise. Out of all the jobs she’d imagined he’d do, medicine wasn’t one of them. Now if he’d been a model or a professional footballer, somehow that would have seemed more believable.

      ‘What kind of doctor are you?’ she asked.

      ‘I am a children’s doctor. How do you say it?’

      ‘A paediatrician.’

      ‘Sì, a paediatrician.’ he held out his hands as if in explanation. They were long fingered and smooth. An image of his hands on her bare skin flashed unbidden into Alice’s head and she flushed.

      ‘I saw you in the square,’ Dante said. ‘You were drawing. Are you an artist?’

      Alice felt her face getting redder. Had he noticed she was sketching him? She hoped to hell not.

      ‘If you saw my pictures you would know I’m not an artist.’

      ‘Is that your notebook?’ He pointed to her handbag where, sure enough, her notepad was peeking out of her bag. ‘Can I see it?’ Before she could stop him he had reached in and plucked it out of bag. Resisting the impulse to grab it out of his hands, she nodded when he raised a questioning eyebrow.

      Flushed with embarrassment, she waited while he flicked through her drawings. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t recognise himself. It wasn’t as if her sketch bore much relation to the real thing. It wasn’t much good and it certainly didn’t do credit to the real man.

      But when he paused at the last page and grinned she knew her hopes had been in vain.

      ‘I didn’t know I looked like that,’ he said seriously, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.

      Double damn. She peered over her shoulder. Her sketch was out of proportion, the figure listing to one side. Never mind. It wasn’t as if she wanted to make a career as an artist.

      ‘You don’t. You’re much better…’ Just in time, Alice bit back the rest of the words. ‘I mean I’m not very good at drawing,’ she said. ‘It’s only a hobby.’ She took the pad from him and replaced it in her bag.

      ‘What is it you do when you are not drawing?’ he asked her.

      Now there was the rub. She was reluctant to tell him that she acted as a social secretary for her father, his hostess whenever he was between girlfriends, that apart from her studies she didn’t actually do anything except run Granville House and attend lunches and dinners. Not that any of that was easy. Moreover, she had promised herself that she would be plain Alice while she was here and she saw no need to tell this stranger who she really was.

      ‘I’m a student in London. Studying History of Art.’ That much she could tell him.

      ‘Then you are a visitor in my city. You like it so far?’ He smiled at her and her heart did a little somersault.

      ‘I love it. It’s so beautiful. The history, the art—’ she wasn’t going to mention the pastry shops ‘—the lifestyle. I can tell you after a pretty miserable, wet summer in England it is heaven to feel the sun.’

      Dante’s eyebrows shot up and her heart did another flip-flop. She needed to get control of herself. It must be the Tuscan sun that was affecting her.

      ‘What did you see?’

      ‘Everything in the tourist guide. The Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the church of Santa Maria Novella. I’ve walked until my feet ache.’

      ‘What is this History of Art that you are studying?’ He crossed his long legs in front of him and settled back against his seat.

      ‘Oh, you kind of learn about the history of art.’ She flushed again. Talk about stating the obvious. But this man was addling her brain and making her tongue-tied. ‘I mean it’s learning about artists—like Michelangelo, for example, how he became a sculptor, all the art he did and why that’s considered important.’

      There was a pause and Dante frowned. ‘What do you do with this degree when you are finished studying?’

      Good question and not one that she wanted to answer. People in her position weren’t expected to do proper jobs. Modelling was okay, as long as it wasn’t glamour, so was PR, as was fundraising. Even these were considered to be ways of passing the time until marriage and children came along. Her role was to run her father’s house and carry out all the duties and responsibilities that went with her title.

      She realised Dante was still waiting for an answer to his question.

      ‘Actually, when I was a little girl I dreamt of becoming a teacher.’

      ‘So, why didn’t you?’

      Why hadn’t she? Because she’d always known that her life had been mapped out in an entirely different direction. One over which she had no control.

      ‘It was just a childish dream. Nothing more.’

      Brown eyes СКАЧАТЬ