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CHAPTER TWO

COOL, calm, very English—and clearly as mad as hell at him.

And Nic couldn’t blame her, in the circumstances. He’d taken her job and he’d embarrassed her at the ball in front of all her colleagues…and friends? Nic wasn’t sure, yet, if Lucy Williams believed in friends.

She certainly didn’t believe in lovers. The shock on her face when he’d kissed her had told him that.

What he couldn’t work out was why. Why a woman who was clever and talented—enough to take on the role of acting consultant at the very young age of thirty—and beautiful wasn’t already spoken for. No, scratch the beautiful—she was more than that. She looked like an angel, with that alabaster skin and those clear blue eyes and the ice-blonde hair pulled back severely from her face—hair he wanted to see tumbling down over her shoulders or, better still, over his pillow. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud and he just hadn’t been able to resist kissing her at the ball.

And then she’d vanished. He’d looked for her immediately after the next dance, but she’d gone.

And then, when she’d faced him on the ward…

He took a swig of coffee. Leave her alone. That would be the sensible thing to do. Anything else would be breaking all his rules, professional and private.

Except…he couldn’t.

‘Down, boy,’ he said softly to his libido.

It didn’t take the slightest bit of notice.

Lucy somehow managed to avoid Nic for the rest of her shift. Usually she stayed later than she needed to, because the team on River was overstretched and she didn’t mind giving up her free time. She loved her job. But today she needed to get as far away from Nic Alberici as she could. Until she’d managed to get her hormones under control and could treat him with detached professionalism.

The next day, she thought she’d managed it.

Until Nic walked into the side-room where she was talking to Liza Andrews.

‘Mr Alberici.’ Liza was beaming. ‘Thanks so much for what you did for us yesterday—you and Dr Williams. You saved our lives.’

‘Pleasure,’ Nic said. ‘How are you both today?’

‘Tired, but fine. Lucy sleeps all the time.’

Nic cast a quizzical look at his senior reg.

‘This Lucy,’ Lucy explained, still holding the sleeping baby.

‘We called her after you both—Lucy Nicola,’ Liza told him.

‘Thank you. It’s an honour,’ he said quietly. He stroked the baby’s cheek. ‘She’s beautiful.’

‘And Rosemary says the white stuff on her skin—vernix—will wash off in a couple of days.’

‘When they’re overdue it goes the other way—they’re like little, wrinkled old men with very dry skin and you go through tons of moisturiser,’ Nic said.

To Lucy’s horror, he actually sat down on the arm of the chair she was using. Not quite close enough to touch—but close enough for her to feel his body heat. Why couldn’t he have sat in the chair on the other side of the bed? Why did he have to invade her space like this?

‘My turn for a cuddle,’ he said, holding his arms out.

For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he meant a cuddle with her. But, of course, he meant baby Lucy.

‘You’re worse than the midwives—want to keep the babies all to yourselves,’ he teased.

‘I’d better get on anyway,’ she said, gently transferring her tiny bundle into his arms and making sure that the baby’s head was supported.

You’re avoiding me, his eyes accused.

Tough, hers said back. ‘Bye, Liza. Catch you later, Nic,’ she said a lot more casually than she felt, and left the little room. Why did he have to look so—so sexy, holding baby Lucy?

‘Get a grip,’ she warned herself, and went to check the file of her next patient.

But her avoidance strategy didn’t last long. She’d seen two more patients when Mal met her in the corridor. ‘Boss wants a word with you,’ he said.

‘What about?’

‘Dunno. He did say as soon as you could manage it.’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘What have you been up to, Luce?’

‘Working, Malcolm,’ she said, clearly a shade too defensively because his grin broadened.

‘I’ll believe you, Luce.’

Lucy decided not to dignify him with a reply and went down the corridor to Nic’s office. She rapped on the door.

‘Come in.’

She put her head round the door. ‘You wanted a word?’

He nodded. ‘Come in and close the door, please.’

Her heart sank. What was she supposed to have done now?

He waited for her to sit down, and the knot in her stomach tightened. She hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did she feel as if she were about to be carpeted for some stupid mistake? The tension in the room grew until she wanted to scream.

And then he smiled at her. ‘I wanted to apologise,’ he said, ‘for embarrassing you at the ball the other night.’

She stared at him in disbelief. He was apologising?

‘If you want to slap my face, feel free—any time,’ he said, shocking her further. Did this mean that kiss hadn’t been a set-up? But, given what she now knew about him, thanks to an old friend she’d trained with, he could be teasing her again.

There was only one way to find out. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘Kiss you?’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Why do you think?’

‘You always have to rise to a challenge.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

‘Something like that.’

So it had been a set-up. She lifted her chin. ‘Then you’re very easily manipulated. And you’ll find certain junior staff more than willing to take advantage of that.’

He frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘If someone dares you to do something, you’ll just do it?’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Dares me to do what?’

It was her turn to frown. Weren’t they talking about the same thing? ‘You were dared to kiss me at the ball.’

Lucy thought someone had set him up him to kiss her? Nic just about managed to stop his jaw dropping. She really had that low an opinion of herself? But why? Didn’t she know how gorgeous she was? ‘Lucy…it wasn’t like that,’ he said carefully.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘So why did you kiss me, then?’

‘Because I wanted to.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘Why do you think I was dared to do it?’

‘Because…’

The words clearly stuck in her throat. Though he could guess what she was going to say. His brief getting-to-know-the-team conversation with Rosemary had told him an awful lot more than the senior midwife realised. Especially about Lucy. Which meant he had to handle this carefully.

‘You looked as if you wanted to be a thousand miles away,’ he said. ‘I wanted to…’ He lapsed into Italian.

‘Sorry. Latin, yes, as long as it’s medical—Italian, no,’ Lucy said.

He smiled wryly. ‘I said I wanted make you smile. It was all meant to be a bit of fun. Theatrical.’

‘It was that all right,’ she said drily.

Until their mouths had actually touched. Then it had become a whole new ballgame. A much, much more serious thing. He couldn’t help looking at her mouth now. Big mistake. It reminded him how she’d tasted. And he wanted to do it again. And again. Somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Here, a little voice said inside his head. Here and now. Your office door is closed…

He should be detached and professional. He was her colleague—a colleague who’d taken the job she’d been doing for weeks. So he was supposed to be treading on eggshells. He was supposed to keep his distance. He knew all that. And in spite of it, he found himself walking round to her side of the desk. Taking her hand. Turning it palm uppermost…And she didn’t pull away.

‘I wanted to kiss you, Lucy,’ he said. ‘I wanted to…’ The touch of her skin was too much for him. All his good intentions went straight out of the window. Unable to help himself, he bent his head and kissed the inside of her wrist. ‘I wanted to do this,’ he said huskily.

Nic’s Italian. A showman. A flirt. For goodness’ sake, you know what Pauline told you yesterday—the corridors at Plymouth hospital are littered with broken hearts. He’s a brilliant doctor and great to work with—but don’t be stupid enough to go out with him. He never dates anyone more than three times.

What’s he’s doing to you doesn’t mean a thing, Lucy warned herself frantically. That smouldering smile’s just a performance. As soon as you let him sweep you off your feet, you’ll have two more dates and then he’ll be off to the next challenge.

Her body wasn’t buying it. It went completely un-doctor-like. Her pulse quickened, her pupils expanded and she could feel her face growing bright red. ‘I…’

‘And this,’ he said, touching his tongue to the pulse that had started to beat crazily against her skin.

‘And—’ The harsh sound of his bleeper cut across his words.

‘Saved by the bleep,’ he said wryly, taking his pager from his pocket and glancing at the display. ‘But I think we need to talk, Lucia mia.’

Lucy stayed sitting exactly where she was as he left the room. What on earth was going on? She was the sensible one in the family—apart from the one huge mistake in her life that nobody ever talked about, she’d always been sensible and studious and never let anything get in the way of her work. She hardly knew Nic Alberici, only what she’d heard about him from her friend Pauline in Nic’s old hospital—that professionally he was wonderful and personally he was a walking disaster area.

So why was her body reacting to him like this? Why did her pulse race when she heard his voice or saw his smile? Why did her body go up in flames every time he touched her?

Why had he kissed the inside of her wrist like that?

And as for the way he’d Italianised her name—well, she wasn’t a glamorous and sexy Lu-chee-ah. She was sensible Lucy Williams, senior registrar. She wore sensible, comfortable shoes and tailored trousers to work; she kept her hair pinned back severely, never wore nail-varnish and her make-up was non-existent. Lucia, on the other hand, would be tall and elegant. She’d wear a little black skirt and kitten heels, with her dark pre-Raphaelite curls tumbling down her back, her dark eyes outlined with sexily smudged kohl and her lips with kiss-me-now red lipstick.

Lucy Williams wasn’t the sort of woman Nic Alberici wanted, and she wasn’t going to forget that. She wasn’t going to have some wild fling with him that would last no more than three dates anyway; she wasn’t stupid enough to think she was the one who could change him. She’d learned at a very young age that happy-ever-after didn’t exist. The one time she’d been tempted to take a risk had taught her only too painfully that she’d been right all along—and her judgement in men was rotten.

Lucia mia. The words made her heart miss a beat. And a second.

Don’t be stupid, she reminded herself. You’re not his. Nothing’s going to come of it. Next time you see him, you’re going to tell him to leave you alone.

‘You haven’t had a break for five hours.’

A shiver ran down her spine; Nic’s voice was like a caress on her skin.

Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy, she told herself crossly. ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped.

‘You need a break. So do I. And you know the hospital better than I do—you can show me where to find some decent coffee instead of the stewed stuff I had at lunchtime.’

‘I can tell you where to go.’

He grinned, deliberately misinterpreting her. ‘I’ll bet.’

‘I don’t need a break, Mr Alberici.’

‘OK—then I’ll pull rank, Dr Williams. Coffee. With me. Now.’

She walked in silence with him out of the ward, aware of the speculative looks cast their way and determined not to give anyone the excuse to gossip about her. She remained silent until they were well out of earshot of the ward.

‘I’d like you to leave me alone in future,’ she said. ‘What you did in your office—’ made my knees go weak again ‘—was sexual harassment,’ she finished stiffly. ‘I’d prefer you not to repeat it.’

He nodded and his face became impassive. ‘In future, Lucy, I’ll make sure I have your permission before I touch you.’

It was what she wanted. So why did his words make her feel as if the sun had stopped shining?

And why was he going to drag her through the torment of having coffee with him?

‘Though I prefer to be on friendly terms with my colleagues,’ he said.

Yeah, right. Three dates and you’re out.

‘So perhaps we should put all this behind us.’

‘As you wish.’ Lucy gave him a cool nod.

‘So, where are we having this coffee?’

She seized the chance to change the subject, turn it to something more neutral. ‘Pat’s Place, on the second floor. The mochaccino’s to die for. Not to mention the blueberry muffins—Pat makes them herself. Pat’s the one with the dangly earrings.’

Shut up now, Lucy. You’re babbling, she told herself.

Not that Nic seemed to mind. There wasn’t a trace of impatience in his tone. ‘Blueberry muffins, hmm? A woman after my own heart,’ he said.

She wasn’t anything of the sort. The man was a born flirt. And anyway, he was just trying to find common ground with a member of his new team, she reminded herself.

The walk to the coffee-bar was torture. With every step, she remembered the way he’d touched her. The way her skin had heated as he’d turned her palm over. The way his lips had brushed her skin, sending tingles down her spine. The way he’d licked her pulse point…

She glanced down quickly, relieved that her white coat was thick enough to hide the obvious signs of her arousal. Hell. She couldn’t let this happen. Not again. And she absolutely refused to let herself believe that Nic was different. She’d leave that line to her mother and her three sisters. Susie, Allie, Mum and Rach—every time they convinced themselves that ‘this one’s different’ and he never was.

As for Nic Alberici, Pauline had told her he was a heartbreaker—and what reason would one of her best friends from med school have to lie to her? No, Nic Alberici was just the same as all the rest. Love ’em and leave ’em. She should stay well clear.

He’s gorgeous, the voice in her head insisted.

That’s irrelevant, she told herself. Looks don’t come into it.

But you want to—

‘Lucy?’

She’d been so intent on arguing with herself she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said,’ she mumbled, embarrassed at being caught wool-gathering.

‘Mochaccino and a muffin?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Grab us a table. These are on me.’

She was about to protest that she’d pay for her own, but his eyes warned her it’d be better to accept with good grace. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

She found a small table in the corner. He joined her with a tray of coffee and muffins.

This is his part-of-the-team chat, she reminded herself. So let’s keep it work-related. ‘Settled in OK to Treverro?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘They’re a nice bunch on River.’

‘Yes.’

‘Spit it out,’ he said, surprising her.

‘Spit what out?’

‘You’re obviously dying to take me to task.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He grinned. ‘Lucy, your eyes go all schoolmarmy when you’re annoyed about something.’

Did they? She’d never realised she was so transparent.

‘You are to me,’ he said softly, and she realised she’d spoken aloud.

‘Nonsense,’ she said crisply.

‘So what am I doing wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Explain the schoolmarmy look, then.’

Well, he was asking for it…‘You’re right about the staff on River. They’re a nice bunch and I’d hate to see them hurt,’ she informed him.

‘You think I’d hurt them?’ He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘You have a reputation.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, not that Italian playboy stuff again! Lucy, I’m not a stereotype. Yes, I like to have fun—but I stick to the rules and no one gets hurt. Just take me as I am.’

Her libido fluttered and she stamped on it hard. Don’t go getting any ideas, she warned it. ‘Yes, boss.’

His lips thinned. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask yourself if your reputation’s deserved.’

She didn’t need to ask him which reputation. She was all too aware of it. ‘My career’s important to me.’

‘But that doesn’t make you a cold fish.’

She knew that. Her patients did, too. And as for the men she’d turned down—they just needed to grow up enough to realise they weren’t irresistible and it didn’t mean she was a challenge to be conquered. Her reputation didn’t bother her.

‘Or any less of a woman,’ Nic added softly, and her insides melted at the flash of sensuality in his eyes.

This conversation was definitely straying onto worrying territory. She sat up straighter. ‘My private life’s just that.’

‘And so is mine.’

‘Good. Then we’re agreed.’

He spread his hands. ‘Lucy, why are we fighting?’

‘Because…’ Her voice faded. She didn’t know why she was fighting Nic. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d rowed with a colleague. Bickering with Mal was different because it wasn’t personal and the SHO reminded her of one of her kid brothers, and she didn’t find Mal remotely attractive. Whereas Nic…

No. Focus. Career first, last and always, she reminded herself.

‘Because I kissed you?’ His voice grew husky. ‘It was before I knew who you were. And, yes, I lost it a bit in my office this afternoon. I shouldn’t have done what I did and I apologise. What can I do to make it up to you?’

Kiss me again.

Lucy prayed she hadn’t said that out loud. She hadn’t meant to think it either. And it had better not have shown on her face.

He took a sip of coffee, then broke off a piece of blueberry muffin.

Since when had eating cake been sexy? Lucy tried very hard to stop looking at his mouth. Or remembering what his lips had felt like against her skin.

‘This is good,’ he told her.

‘Mmm.’ She took refuge in her own coffee. Though she’d lost her appetite for her blueberry muffin. It was too dangerous. She’d already had to yank her thoughts away from the idea of Nic feeding her morsels of cake as he—

No!

‘Why are you so anti-relationship?’ Nic asked without warning.

Lucy almost choked on her coffee. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Being committed to your job doesn’t mean you have to spend your life alone,’ he said. ‘So what’s the real story?’

‘You’ve got a nerve!’

‘I just want to know what makes you tick. You’re my number two in the department,’ he reminded her. ‘The most important member of my team.’

‘All right, since you want to know.’ She folded her arms. ‘Both my parents are on their fourth marriages, all my brothers and sisters are divorced and I don’t see the point of wasting all that emotion when I could use the energy much more effectively in my work.’

‘Who says you’ll go the same way?’

‘Because there’s a pattern.’

‘You could be the one to change it.’

She wasn’t. Jack Hammond was living proof. Not that she was going to tell Nic about him. Nobody at Treverro knew about Jack, and she wanted to keep it that way. ‘I’m not. And you’re in no position to lecture me, anyway.’

‘No?’

‘Has anyone lasted more than three dates with you?’ She waited for a moment. ‘If you have to think that hard about it, clearly not many have.’

‘You know when you meet the right one,’ he said.

Lucy scoffed. ‘Come off it. Don’t the statistics show that one in three marriages end in divorce?’

‘Which leaves two in three that don’t.’

‘So you’re telling me you believe in happy-ever-after?’

He nodded. ‘Since you believe in patterns, there’s one in my family. My parents had a holiday romance—they didn’t even speak the same language when they first met—but my father followed my mother back to England and they’ve been married for more than forty years. And they’re still in love. My sisters are both happily married—Gina for fifteen years and Sofia for twelve.’

‘So why aren’t you following their pattern?’

‘Because I’m waiting for the right one.’

‘And that’s your excuse for a trail of broken hearts?’

‘That’s an exaggeration, Lucy. Do you expect your date to propose to you at the end of the first evening?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Exactly. If I go out with someone, it’s to have a good time and we both know the rules right from the start. I’m not a heart-breaker—and you’re not frozen.’

That look in his eyes was back. The one that made her insides smoulder. This really wasn’t fair. ‘What’s Nic short for?’ she asked, desperate to change the subject.

‘Niccolo.’

‘As in Machiavelli?’

He grinned. ‘Yup. But I’m not manipulative.’

‘No?’

‘I didn’t manipulate you into telling me things. Just as I’m not going to manipulate you into bed.’

That feeling flooding through her spine was not disappointment, she told herself. ‘Good,’ she said tightly. ‘So we know where we stand.’

‘I’m attracted to you, Lucy,’ he said softly. ‘Very. I’d like to get to know you better—a lot better—outside work. But you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I’m not going to push you into something you’re not comfortable with.’

‘Good,’ she said again, even though her heart was wailing You idiot! and doing the mental version of foot-stamping and hair-tearing.

‘So we’re colleagues. I’d like to think we can be friends, too.’

‘Of course.’

‘Good.’ Nic finished his muffin. ‘Aren’t you going to eat yours?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Would you mind if I…?’

She pushed the plate over to him. ‘Help yourself.’

‘It’s my mum’s fault. I have this weakness for cake,’ he said.

‘I’ll remember that,’ she said lightly.

He hadn’t taken more than a mouthful before his bleeper sounded. He glanced down at the display and raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you know about TOPS?’

‘Twin oligohydramnios-polyhydramnios sequence—also known as twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome,’ she said.

‘Good. I prefer to call it twin-to-twin transfusion—it’s more of a parent-friendly explanation. We’re needed downstairs in the antenatal clinic,’ he said. ‘Now.’