The Italian's Touch. Carol Marinelli
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“You’re running yourself ragged, trying to take the blame for everything and compensate for all that has happened.
“You need to see what a great job you’re doing and stop imagining the worst.”
Fleur stiffened at the rather backhanded compliment.“I think you’re being rather premature in drawing your conclusions about me, Mario. We’ve known each other for barely more than a couple of weeks.” His hands were still on her shoulders and Fleur was suddenly conscious of his touch. Casting her eyes down she waited for the next tirade of Calm down and Don’t blame yourself.
“Has it really only been two weeks?” The genuine bewilderment in his voice made her look up.“I feel I have known you so much longer.”
Her mind drifted back to last night on the balcony, and the emotions that had coursed through her then. Could so much have happened for them both in such a short space of time?
CAROL MARINELLI did her nursing training in England and then worked for a number of years in Emergency. A holiday romance while backpacking led to her marriage and emigration to Australia. Eight years and three children later, the romance continues…. Today she considers both England and Australia her home. The sudden death of her father prompted a reappraisal of her life’s goals and inspired her to tackle romance writing seriously.
The Italian’s Touch
Carol Marinelli
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
‘WHAT time do you call this?’ Bleary-eyed, Kathy pulled open the front door. ‘Whose bright idea was this job share again?’
‘Yours,’ Fleur said pointedly. ‘And next time you have one, please, don’t run it by me.’
‘You know you can’t wait really. Ben’s in the living room, watching cartoons.’ She smiled at Alex who was nervously clinging to Fleur’s leg. ‘Time for a cuppa?’
Fleur looked at her fob watch.
‘Come on,’ Kathy urged. ‘You don’t want to put the rest of us to shame.’
Realising Alex wasn’t going to let her go without a fight, Fleur nodded her acceptance, taking a reluctant Alex through to the lounge before joining Kathy at the kitchen table.
‘Getting nervous?’ Kathy asked, placing a steaming mug on the kitchen table along with a saucer of chocolate Tim-Tams.
‘Terrified,’ Fleur admitted, automatically reaching for a biscuit. ‘I would have thought toast and Vegemite would be more the go at this hour.’
‘It’s not every day you go back to work. I’d say chocolate was definitely more appropriate.’
‘I’m beginning to wonder what on earth I’ve taken on,’ Fleur said gloomily as her Tim-Tam dissolved into an unsalvagable wreck in her coffee.
‘You’ll walk it,’ Kathy said brightly, pushing the saucer towards Fleur.
‘If you tell me it’s like riding a bike, I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ Fleur replied, carefully choosing another biscuit. ‘I’m so rusty I’m even struggling to keep up with the medical dramas on television. Maybe I should have done a refresher course.’
‘Rubbish,’ Kathy said fiercely. ‘You’ve only been away two and a half years, and you’re going to have a reorientation program organised by Super-nurse Danny. You told me yourself that you weren’t going to be in Resus for a few weeks until you got your confidence back, so what’s to know? The sink in the sluice still blocks up. Len the porter is still moaning about his back and Danny ‘‘Mr Unit Manager’’ still thinks that he’s God’s gift to the nursing profession, though I don’t know how, considering the fact he spends most of his day in his office. Mind you,’ she said lowering her voice, ‘there has been a considerable improvement in the EB stakes.’
‘EB?’ Fleur enquired anxiously. Another thing she didn’t know!
‘Eligible bachelors. Namely the dashing Mr Mario Ruffini—he’s the new visiting consultant I’ve been going on about. Let me tell you that when God made that man he certainly had his contact lenses in. Mario Ruffini is reason enough to put your lipstick on in the morning. Now before you say, ‘‘But you’re a happily married woman,’’ I know all that. So happily married, in fact, that I can appreciate a fine specimen when I see one. When you meet him in the flesh you’ll see what I mean!’
She glanced over to the clock on the cooker. ‘Time you weren’t here, I think.’
Fleur never cried—well, almost never and even then only in private—but as she stood to go she felt the sting of moisture as her eyes filled. ‘I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Kathy? With Alex, I mean. He’s so clingy at the moment, so scared of any changes…’
Kathy, ever practical, handed her a tissue but, realising a bit more was needed in this instance, enveloped her friend in a warm hug. ‘Of course you’re doing the right thing, Fleur. It’s been over two years since Rory died. It really is time to move on a bit.
‘Look, today you start back at work; it’s a whole new chapter