Seduction In Sydney: Sydney Harbour Hospital: Marco's Temptation / Sydney Harbor Hospital: Ava's Re-Awakening / Sydney Harbor Hospital: Evie's Bombshell. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ Ridiculous stinging in her eyes and she’d be mortified if she cried. ‘I’ll catch up on all the things I’ve been meaning to do.’ Forced brightness. ‘Lovely.’

      She leant over and kissed her daughter’s cheek. Avoided her eyes but, then, Annie seemed to be avoiding hers too. Maybe she realised she’d been an ungrateful little wretch. Wishful thinking probably. She had her friends coming. She didn’t need a mother. ‘See you tomorrow.’

      She walked hurriedly away but not hurriedly enough. Marco caught up with her in four strides. ‘Are you okay?’

      She paused, turned and stared at his tie. ‘Fine. I’m sorry. Perhaps we were both rude in the lift. Thanks for last night.’

      Then she walked away. Thanks for last night? She winced. What did she mean? Dinner. Great sex. Today was a difficult day but she’d got through others.

      She could feel his eyes on her back.

      She wasn’t surprised when he turned up at her house two hours later. He was bearing gifts. Well, food anyway.

      She stood back to let him enter. ‘I guess we do need to talk.’ A lingering trail of subtle exotic herbs and spices followed him.

      ‘And I wish to apologise again.’

      What was in that bag? ‘For what?’

      ‘For my comment in the elevator. For doubting you.’

      She forgot food and studied him. He had his mask face on again and she wondered where the smiling Italian gypsy had gone. But, then, again the smiling Emily seemed a tad AWOL at the moment as well. ‘Why are you here, Marco?’ Because I don’t want to fall for you.

      ‘To see you. To ask why you left this morning. To see if you are all right because I have been worried I made you unhappy.’

      ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big girl.’ Better on my own.

      ‘Last night at the fair you worried about my happiness.’

      ‘Last night was an illusion.’ She sighed. ‘A really fun one but still an illusion. Look, Marco. You’re a great guy. Too great. And I haven’t got the best track record in not falling for the wrong guys. You’re leaving in three weeks and I don’t want to get any more used to you being around. It’s too good. So there won’t be any repeats.’

      ‘What about lunch?’ He glanced at his parcel.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Please?’

      She couldn’t throw him out. ‘Lunch I could probably manage but only because I need to know what that incredible smell is coming from those bags.’

      He obliged in relief. ‘Let me show you.’

      ‘That’s what you said last night.’ She flicked a look at him from under her lashes and the other man was back.

      Emily sighed because she knew she was in trouble. ‘Come through to the kitchen.’ It was just too hard to maintain distance when he was grinning and producing delicacies like rabbits from a hat.

      ‘Si. The rolls are crusty, the butter fresh churned, and many cheeses.’ He pulled out some plastic takeaway containers and she realised the aroma came from there.

      ‘Fresh sage?’

      ‘No festive Tuscan meal would be complete without chicken liver crostini.’

      ‘We’re not having a party.’

      ‘It is Saturday. We should. Crostini di Fegatini di Pollo.’ Emily wasn’t really sure she could eat liver.

      As if he’d read her mind. ‘Even those who dislike liver enjoy this on thinly cut crusty bread. Trust me.’

      That was what it all boiled down to, she thought glumly. Trust him. Or trust herself. If either of them dropped control, she doubted trust would have a look in.

      He pulled out a dish of pasta. She could see mushrooms and red peppers, could smell the provolone cheese and the basil. It made her mouth water and he saw. He smiled.

      ‘We will have a picnic in your tiny back yard. Perhaps you could lay the table and I will serve these.’

      So now he was ordering her around in her own kitchen. Was opening and shutting Gran’s cupboards as he looked for dishes to serve from. She couldn’t take it all in. Was bemused by his energy and sudden good humour and becoming fixated on the way his shoulders moved and his biceps flexed as he reached for highly placed articles.

      Might be best to leave him to it and grab a checked tablecloth and some cutlery and bolt outside.

      The air cooled her cheeks. It was a glorious day. Funny she hadn’t noticed that this morning. Not too hot. Outside anyway.

      She glanced over her shoulder and he was singing in her kitchen. She’d never heard a man singing baritone in her kitchen before and she paused as the sound teased her. Made her smile. Chased away caution again because, darn it, it was good to have so much fun.

      She set the table with new vigour, wondered about that bottle of cold Chablis she had in the fridge, and a rainbow lorikeet flew down and scratched in the empty bird feeder and then glared at her.

      ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll get some.’ Gran had always fed the lorikeets. It was a bit early in the afternoon for this bloke but maybe he was having a bad day. She could relate to that.

      She almost walked into Marco and he put his hands out to steady her. ‘Who are you talking to?’

      ‘The lorikeet is complaining there’s no seed.’ She tried not to stare at his chest but it filled her vision. She wanted to bury her nose in him. ‘Do you need something?’

      ‘Glasses. I brought Lambrusca.’

      All she could think of was how good his hands felt on her arms. ‘Aren’t you driving?’ No matter she’d been going to offer him white wine.

      ‘Not yet, and we can have a glass. You keep the rest.’

      ‘Trying to loosen my morals again?’ She stepped past him and his hands fell.

      ‘There is nothing wrong with your morals, Emily. I look forward to sharing your lunch.’

      That had been rude. She turned back. ‘Sorry. I’m not good at this.’ Then she disappeared into the kitchen.

      Marco watched her go. She was very good at this. He was a mess.

      He didn’t follow. Gave her a moment to gather her composure. He should not have come but had been unable to stay away. He should know better.

      He stared at the brilliantly coloured bird on the steel feeder, iridescent red and lime green and vibrant yellow all mixed in the lorikeet’s plumage as if painted by a colour-hungry child. So much of this country was bright and brash and brilliant so it hurt your eyes.

      There might be more pain in store for him here. Seeing Emily’s pain hurt his eyes and СКАЧАТЬ