The Italian GP's Bride. Kate Hardy
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better.
He’d liked the way she’d been so cool and calm on the plane, got on with her job without barking orders or being rude to the flight attendants, and had even tried speaking the little Italian she knew to help reassure Giulietta’s daughter. There was a warmth to Eleanor Forrest that attracted him.
A warmth that had suddenly shut off when he’d asked her a personal question.
And he wanted to know why.
He ordered coffee and cantuccini, then carried a tray over to their table.
‘Biscuits?’ she asked.
‘Because I missed them in England,’ he said simply. ‘Your English biscuits fall apart when you dip them in coffee. These don’t.’ He smiled at her. ‘They’re nice dipped in vin santo, too, but I think for now coffee is what you need.’
‘Thanks. Odd how just sitting around can make you feel tired.’
‘Don’t forget you saved a life in the middle of all that,’ he reminded her.
She ignored his comment. ‘How much do I owe you for the coffee?’
An independent woman. One who’d insist on paying her way. He liked that, too: she wouldn’t take anyone for granted. She was the kind of woman who’d want an equal. ‘My suggestion, my bill.’
He caught the expression on her face just before she masked it. Someone had obviously hurt her—hurt her so badly that she wouldn’t even accept a cup of coffee from a man she barely knew, and saw strangers as a potential for hurt instead of a potential friend.
Softly, he added, ‘That puts you under no obligation to me at all, Eleanor. Whatever you might have heard about Italian men, I can assure you I’m not expecting anything from you. I haven’t put anything in your coffee and you’re not going to wake up tomorrow morning in a room you can’t remember seeing before with no clothes, no money and one hell of a headache.’
‘I…I’m sorry. And I didn’t mean to insult you or your countrymen,’ she said, looking awkward and embarrassed.
‘No offence taken. You’re quite right to be wary of strangers offering drinks. But I’m a doctor buying a mug of coffee for a fellow professional. And this really is just coffee.’
‘And it’s appreciated.’
He settled opposite her. ‘So, are you on holiday in Naples?’
‘Sort of.’
Not a straight yes or no. And she didn’t offer any details, he noticed. He had a feeling she’d clam up completely if he pushed her, so he tried for levity instead. ‘Your mamma told you never to talk to strangers, is that it?’
‘No.’ Her voice went very quiet. ‘Actually, my mother died just before Christmas.’
Six months ago. And the pain was clearly still raw. ‘Mi dispiace, Eleanor,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t intend to hurt you.’
‘You weren’t to know. It’s not a problem.’
But he noticed she didn’t explain any further. And those beautiful brown eyes were filled with sadness. He had a feeling it was more than just grief at losing her mother. Something to do with the man who’d made her wary of strangers, perhaps?
Yet she’d put her feelings aside and gone straight to help a stranger when the flight attendants had asked for a doctor. Eleanor Forrest was an intriguing mixture. And Orlando wanted to know what made her tick.
He switched to a safer topic. ‘You’re an emergency doctor?’
‘Yes.’
OK. He’d try the professional route: say nothing, just smile, and give her space to answer more fully. Just like he did with his shyer patients. If he waited long enough, she’d break the silence.
She did. ‘I work in a London hospital.’
Something else they had in common. Good. ‘London’s a beautiful city. I’ve just spent a few days there with the doctor I used to share a flat with, Max. It was his son’s christening.’
There was the tiniest crinkle round her eyes. ‘I don’t know if I dare ask. Were you the…?’
‘Padrino? The godfather, you mean?’ So under her reserve there was a sense of fun. He liked that. Enough to want to see more of it. He hummed the opening bars of the theme tune to the film. ‘Yes, I was.’
Though seeing the expression on Max’s face when he looked at his wife and baby had made Orlando ache. Orlando had stopped believing in love, long ago, when his mother’s fifth marriage had crumbled: every time she’d thought she’d found The One, she’d been disillusioned. But Max was so happy with Rachel and little Connor, it had made Orlando think again. Wonder if maybe love really did exist.
Except he didn’t have a clue where to start looking for it. And he wasn’t sure that he wanted to spend his life searching and yearning and getting more and more disappointed, the way his mother did. So he’d decided to stick to the way he’d lived for the last five years—smile, keep his relationships light, just for fun, and put his energy into his work.
‘You work in London, too?’ she asked.
‘Not any more. I did, for a couple of years, on a children’s ward.’ He spread his hands. ‘But then I discovered I wanted to see my patients grow up—not forget about them once they’d left the hospital. I wanted to treat them, just as I’d treated their parents and their grandparents and would treat their children. I wanted to see them with their families.’
Strange, really, when he didn’t have a family of his own. Just his mother, a few ex-stepfathers and ex-stepsiblings he hadn’t kept in touch with. The only way he’d get an extended family now was to get married: and that was a risk he wasn’t prepared to take.
Keep it light, he reminded himself. ‘And I missed the lemon groves. I missed the sea.’
‘And the sunshine,’ she said with a wry smile.
‘I don’t mind London rain. But I admit, although I like visiting London, it’s good to be back under the Italian sun. And I love being a family doctor.’
She smiled, and he caught his breath. Her serious manner masked her beauty—when she smiled, Eleanor Forrest was absolutely stunning. Perfect teeth and a wide smile and those amazing deep brown eyes.
It made him want to touch her. Trace the outline of her face with the tips of his fingers. Rub his thumb against her lower lip. And then dip his head to hers, claiming her mouth.
Then he became aware she was speaking. Oh, lord. He really hoped he hadn’t ignored a question or something. She must think he was a real idiot.
‘My best friend at medical school, Tamsin, did the same thing,’ Eleanor said. ‘She started in paediatrics and became a GP because she wanted to care for the whole family.’
‘There’s a lot to be said for it.’ But they were talking about him. He wanted to know about her. ‘You prefer the buzz of emergency medicine?’
‘I like knowing I’ve made a difference,’ she said simply.
She’d make a difference all right, he thought. Whatever branch of medicine she worked in. But before he could say anything, the man he’d spoken to about Eleanor’s luggage came over, carrying one bright pink case.
‘I am sorry for the wait, Dottoressa Forrest,’ he said politely. ‘No problem. Grazie,’ she said, taking the case and checking the label. ‘Yes, this is mine.’
He left after some pleasantries, and Eleanor stood up. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Dottore de Luca.’
‘You haven’t finished it yet.’
She made a face. ‘It’s getting late. I really ought to check into my hotel.’
He