Italian Doctor, No Strings Attached. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ it was the adrenalin rush from the abseil still scrambling her common sense, but it had been too long since she’d let herself have fun.

      He was only going to be at the London Victoria for six months. And he was asking her out on a date, not suggesting a long-term commitment. So on a need-to-know basis he didn’t actually have to know about her neurofibromatosis, did he?

      There was only one other reason she could think of why she ought to say no. ‘We work together. It’s usually not a good idea to date someone in your department,’ she hedged. ‘Things can get a bit—well, awkward.’

      ‘We’re both adults,’ he said softly, ‘and I think we can be professional enough to keep what happens outside work completely separate from what happens inside work.’ He paused, keeping eye contact. ‘So will you have dinner with me tonight?’

      Clearly the adrenalin from the abseil was still affecting her head, because Sydney found herself returning his smile. ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

      ‘How about we go out now, straight from work?’ he suggested. ‘Then neither of us has to go home, dress up and drag ourselves out again.’

      She looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Marco, you’re already way more dressed up than anyone else in the department. I hate to think what your definition of “dressing up” might be.’

      He laughed. ‘Before they retired, my parents designed clothes. My older brother and sister run the business now, and they tend to use me as a clothes horse—which is fine by me, because it means I never have to drag myself round the clothes shops, and my wardrobe’s always stocked.’

      ‘What happens if they give you something you really hate wearing?’ she asked, sounding curious.

      ‘They only did that when I dated their favourite model,’ he said. ‘To make the point that they didn’t approve.’

      ‘So you’re an Italian playboy,’ she teased.

      ‘Sometimes,’ he teased back. ‘Actually, I’m starving. Where do you recommend we go?’

      ‘Normally if I go straight from work it’s to a pizza place or a trattoria.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that I’d dare suggest either of those to an Italian.’

      He laughed. ‘I’m not that fussy.’

      ‘Do you like Chinese food?’

      ‘I love it.’

      ‘Good. Then I know just the place.’

      The restaurant wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic; it was very workmanlike, with bright lighting, but the food was terrific and Marco was glad that she’d suggested sharing several dishes. Well, apart from the fact that their hands kept accidentally meeting as they served themselves, because the touch of her skin against his was sending little flashes of desire up and down his spine—desire he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He had a feeling that she was affected in just the same way, because her pupils were huge; in this harsh lighting, he’d expect them to be almost pinpoint.

      He really hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this attracted to someone. The times he’d dated during the past year had been in a failed attempt to forget Sienna, and the relationships had fizzled out by the end of the second date.

      But there was something about Sydney. Something that felt different. Something that intrigued him and made him want to know more.

      ‘So are you enjoying London?’ she asked.

      ‘Very much.’

      ‘What made you decide to come to England?’

      ‘It was a good opportunity,’ Marco prevaricated. He could hardly tell her the truth—that he’d needed to get away from Rome. Away from the memories, away from the guilt. Two years of toughing it out had just worn him down, and all that trying hadn’t stopped the bad feelings. At least here he didn’t have to think about it all the time. He could simply block it out, because he and Sienna had never been to London and there were no memories of her here to haunt him. ‘It’s one of the busiest departments in one of the busiest hospitals in London. It’ll be good experience for me and, when I go back to Rome, I’ll have a better chance of promotion.’

      Last time he’d been promoted, it had ended in heartache. In his life falling apart completely. Next time, he was determined it would be different.

      He kept the conversation light until the meal had ended. ‘Can I see you home?’ he asked.

      Her eyes widened slightly. Fear? he wondered. But why would she be afraid of him? Worried that he was taking this too fast, maybe?

      ‘That wasn’t a clumsy way of saying I’m expecting you to take me to bed just because I took you out to dinner tonight,’ he said softly. ‘You’re female, and you had dinner with me, so I need to see you home safely. That’s all.’

      That made her smile. ‘That’s very gallant of you. Old-fashioned, even.’

      ‘It’s how I was brought up.’

      ‘Nice manners. I like that.’ She bit her lip. ‘And thank you.’

      He frowned. ‘For what?’

      ‘For not taking this thing between us too fast. I’m …’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not really used to dating. I’ve been focused on my career.’

      ‘I’m not really used to dating, either.’ He’d been in a relationship with the same woman since he was eighteen. Since his first day at university. Until the day two years ago when he’d taken that phone call and his world had fallen apart. ‘And I’ve just started a new job in a new hospital.’

      ‘And a new country,’ she finished.

      He nodded. ‘So. This thing between you and me—no pressure. We’ll just see where it takes us, yes?’

      ‘Thank you. That works for me,’ she said softly.

      When they reached her flat, she looked at him. ‘If you want to come in for a coffee, you’re welcome.’

      ‘Coffee meaning just coffee,’ he checked.

      She smiled, and he was glad to see a tiny bit of the wariness fade from her eyes. So had she had a bad experience with someone who’d pushed her too far, too fast? Was that why she avoided dating and concentrated on her career—why she’d thanked him for not taking this too fast? Not that it was any of his business; and now really wasn’t the right time to ask.

      He followed her into the kitchen, noting that her flat was small but neat. There were lots of photographs everywhere, and they were people who looked quite like her; clearly she was as close to her family as he was to his. Another thing they had in common.

      ‘I’m afraid it’s only instant coffee,’ she said as she switched the kettle on.

      ‘Instant’s fine.’

      She gave him a sidelong look. ‘I bet you only have fresh coffee at your place.’

      He СКАЧАТЬ