Joanna Neil - The Rebel Doc - Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon / The Doctor's Redemption / Resisting Her Rebel Doc

Becca shook her head. ‘Actually, I’m heading over to the pub. Everyone goes there on a Friday night. It’s—’

As her heart fell Ivy interrupted, ‘Oh, you too? Let me guess, tradition, right?’

‘Tradition. Yes, most of the admin and support staff go—in fact, a lot of the hospital workers go. It’s always good fun and there’s karaoke later.’

‘All the more reason for me to stay here, then.’ Shuffling bits of paper on a Friday night, looking across the road at the lights in the pub. Listening to the laughter. God, she could have her own pity party right here.

Becca frowned right back. ‘It’s fun. Really. You should come. You don’t have to sing.’

It wasn’t the singing. It was the company. Certain company that she didn’t want to face again today. ‘No can do. I’m busy.’

‘It’ll wait. Turn your computer off.’ With a dramatic flourish Becca stepped forward, stacked the files on the desk into a large pile and handed them over. She grinned, with no hint of apology. ‘I know … overstepping again, but it’s Friday. Take your folders home and read all weekend if you like, but tonight you’re coming for a drink. We never did get to celebrate your arrival here. And it’s about time we did. I can’t tell you what a breath of fresh air you’ve been in here.’

‘But … I … Wait …’ To refuse would be rude. But to tell the truth would be embarrassing and refute what she’d just said about Matteo being nothing special. Because, really, he was a teensy bit set apart from other men she’d dated in her dim and distant past. He was attentive and could be gentle and funny in a macho kind of way. Plus, he made her heart skip just a bit. And she was intrigued by him, by a man who could hold her attention longer than any other had. And by that body, which had her pulse racing at the strangest and most inappropriate moments.

Which was exactly why she had no intention of stepping over the threshold of that pub door.

‘Really. No. I can’t. I’m just going to head right on home.’

‘Seriously, you’ve got this far, don’t be embarrassed. You’ll be fine, honestly. I bet it happens all the time anyway. People faint, get over it. Come on.’ Becca tugged on Ivy’s arm as she had been doing almost every step through the hospital corridors in an attempt to bring her down here to the pub, despite every excuse Ivy could think of. In the end she’d had to give in because, it appeared, no one was listening. ‘Last one at the bar buys the round.’

‘Fine. Just give me a moment.’ Ivy watched her assistant’s back disappear into the pub and took a deep breath. If she didn’t look at him she’d be fine. He’d be in the middle of a group, she’d shimmy past out of eye contact and hide in a dark corner with the rest of the admin staff. No problemo.

Taking another breath, she pushed the heavy door open and stepped in. The noise was bearable, people sat in groups and she could make out some familiar faces in the far corner, but as the door swung closed behind her everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

Huh-huh. This was her idea of hell. Even though no one spoke she could almost read their thoughts. She’s the one who fainted. Top lawyer who’s deep-down weak.

But at least Matteo was nowhere to be seen.

At the bar Becca was talking to the barman, and beckoned Ivy over. ‘Seeing as you’re paying, I’m having the biggest cocktail they do. A jug of Cancun margarita, I think. What would you like, Ivy?’

‘A glass of wine, please. Red.’ Make it a big one.

‘They do a nice merlot. Oh, look …’ Becca pointed across to the admin crowd, who were grinning and waving back. ‘Everyone’s so pleased to see you.’

‘Or they’re laughing at me.’

‘So, Miss Ivy Leigh, you decided to brave it out after all?’ Great. Matteo’s voice behind her thrilled down her spine. She couldn’t see him but every tiny hair on her body was standing to attention in some sort of annoying hormonal salute to his arrival. Maybe the admin crowd hadn’t been waving at her at all, maybe they’d all been giggling and flirting and fluttering their eyelashes at him.

As she turned she controlled her breathing. She would not be impressed. She would not be impressed. She would not … Wow. Every time she looked at him his eyes pierced her—so dark and intense. And right now they were sparkling with mischief. The shadows and dips of his cheekbones seemed more acute today and he certainly rocked the swarthy tall, dark and handsome cliché. In a collared black shirt that showed off his broad chest and snug jeans that hugged his legs he looked dangerous and sinful and so out of her league. Not that she had a league or even wanted to be in one. But, it was safe to say, if she did, he would be stratospherically out of it.

‘Good evening, Mr Finelli. Yes, I’m here. My assistant insisted and it looks like the whole hospital is here too, so that’s good, I’ll get the humiliation over and done with in one clean swoop. I’m just showing my face, having a quick drink and then …’ She lifted her overloaded workbag, the zipper almost splitting with the contents. ‘Work.’

‘Ah, yes. It never stops.’ Shoving a hand in his pocket, he pulled out a wad of notes and gave them to the barman. ‘I’ll get these.’

Becca grinned her starstruck thanks and went to join the group in the far corner. Double great. Thanks a bunch. Leave me here with him, why don’t you? Traitor. Ivy picked up her glass and nodded to him. ‘Thanks. I owe you one.’ Then she took a step towards her crowd.

‘Not so fast.’

‘Sorry?’ Ignoring the flustered feeling in her chest, she turned back to him, wondering what the Italian for cold shoulder was. Because that was what she intended on giving him. Freddo shouldero, matey. ‘I’m on my way over to Becca …’

But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he smiled. For a fleeting moment it was almost genuine. ‘How are you feeling, Ivy? No ill effects? No more fainting episodes?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. Absolutely hunky dory. I’ll see you … Thursday? For my workshop?’ Round two.

‘Again with this.’ His voice was grim, but his smile was infectious as he took her arm and gently steered her away from the busy bar to a quieter corner. And, to her chagrin, she went with him. Was it her imagination or could she feel everyone’s eyes on her back? ‘We’re away from work now on neutral ground, and it’s the weekend. People just want to relax and have a good evening, me included. How about we drop our guard a little?’

This could be interesting. ‘This is where you lull me into a false sense of security then you pounce, right?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t need to do that. We could just have a conversation and see where we get to?’

Nancy squeezed past them to get to the bathrooms. ‘Hey, Ivy. How are you feeling? Okay? Is Matteo giving you some tips?’ She winked. ‘He’s very good.’

Ivy looked at the curve of his mouth and imagined a million things he’d be good at. Then ignored the flare of heat circling in her gut. ‘I’ll bet he is.’

‘With fainting cures, that is …’

‘Obviously.’

As Nancy disappeared into the bathroom Ivy put her bag on the floor, took a long drink and felt the warmth of the wine suffuse her throat. ‘She’s a stirrer.’

‘She’s a joker, but she has a good point.’ Matteo’s smile hadn’t dropped. ‘How on earth are we going to get you ready to face the scalpel again next week?’

Aha. Plan A. ‘I’ll be fine. I was going to start by watching a few videos online. Type “kidney transplant” into a search engine and there are hundreds of operations right there to pick from. You get a bird’s-eye view, too, and commentary. It’s almost as if you’re actually there in the room, without all the smells or noises or …’ Without you , she thought, all large and looming and stealing her breath. So it would be videos all the way until she was inured to the gore, with the sound turned to mute and a decent bottle of wine for Dutch courage. Anything not to lose face again next week.