The Italian Doctor's Mistress. Catherine Spencer
Читать онлайн книгу.
clearly matters more to you than your father. Why else would you wait so long to come to his bedside?”
She sat up poker-straight in the chair, and returned his glance unflinchingly. “It just so happens, Dr. Rossi, that I was on a cruise to Antarctica when this tragedy struck my father.”
“Cruise ships do not have telephones, these days? No electronic means of keeping in touch with the rest of the world?”
“Of course they do, but in this instance your sarcasm is misplaced, Doctor,” she said sharply. “Had your hospital left a message with my office staff, they would have been in touch immediately, and I’d have been here as soon as it was humanly possible. But the message was left on my home answering machine, and since I live alone…” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
“We had no other recourse,” he replied. “That was the only telephone number listed on your father’s passport, in the event the next of kin needed to be contacted.”
He steepled his fingers and observed her silently for a second or two. Eventually, he said, “Signorina, I regret that we have—”
Before he could continue, the door burst open and a young girl, a beautiful child with long dark braids hanging down her back, came flying into the room. “Papà!” she cried. Then, seeing he was not alone, she skidded to a stop and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Mi scusi! La disturbo, Papà?”
“Yes,” he said severely in English. “And you know better than to come in here without knocking first.”
“Ma Beatrice non e—”
“Remember your manners, Anita. My visitor does not speak Italian.” He spared Danielle a brief glance. “I am right, yes? You do not?”
“A very little only, but don’t worry about that.” Danielle collected her purse and stood up. “We’re pretty much finished anyway, aren’t we?”
“No, signora, we are not quite done,” he said evenly. “Please allow me a moment to attend to the reason for this interruption, then you and I will resume our discussion.”
Obediently she sat down again, and he turned to the child. “So, Anita, explain yourself.”
His words might have been forbidding, but the smile that accompanied them took away their sting, and the girl knew it. Big brown eyes dancing with excitement, she said, “I did not knock, Papà, because Beatrice has gone home already, so I thought you also had finished working for today. I wanted to tell you that Bianca has had her babies. She has four, Papà! I found them when I came home from school.”
“That is certainly earth-shaking news.” Laughing, he pulled the child into the curve of his arm and turned to Danielle. “In case you’re wondering, Bianca is our cat, and as I’m sure you’ve gathered, this is my daughter, Anita.”
Despite her annoyance with the father, Danielle smiled warmly at his lovely daughter. “Hello, Anita.”
Tucking her hands against the navy pleated skirt of her school uniform, the girl dipped her head and replied, “How do you do? I am pleased to meet you.”
“Very good,” her father said. “At this rate, your English will soon be better than mine.”
“Si?” She gazed at him adoringly and wound her arms around his neck. “How much better?”
He touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “Not so much that I let you forget the rules. I hope you didn’t come here by yourself today?”
“No, Papà.” She shook her head so exuberantly that her braids swung back and forth like long, shining ropes. “Calandria walked with me. She is waiting downstairs. We are going to the market to buy fish for Bianca. Calandria says we must take extra care of her now that she is a mother.”
“Calandria is quite right.” He gave her little bottom a pat. “Don’t keep her waiting. Say goodbye to Signorina Blake, and be off.”
She peeped at Danielle from beneath her lashes and offered a shy, dimpled smile. “Arrivederci, signorina. Goodbye.” Then turning back to her father, she threw her arms around his neck again and gave him a smacking kiss on both cheeks. “Ciao, Papà!”
The entire scene left Danielle frozen with envy. She had never flung herself at her father like that. He’d have been horrified. He wasn’t a demonstrative man. She couldn’t recall his ever pulling her into his arms or onto his lap. Never teasing or complimenting her. He was much better at finding fault.
Carlo Rossi’s voice broke into the unwelcome memories of a childhood she’d been glad to leave behind. “I apologize for the interruption, signorina.”
“No need. I didn’t mind. In fact, I don’t know why you insisted I stay. I can’t see that there’s anything left to say.”
“Not so, signorina. You were explaining the reason for your delay in coming here and—”
“I don’t know why I bothered,” she said stiffly. “You’ve already judged me and found me wanting.”
“If I’ve jumped to hasty conclusions, I apologize. You were in Antarctica, you say? Not exactly a pleasant homecoming, then.”
“No, but I’ll cope. You explained my father’s condition very succinctly. I’m quite prepared for what might happen.”
“I beg to differ. You are in shock, signorina, and not quite as in control as you might like to think.”
“If you’re afraid I’m going to collapse in a soggy heap at your feet, please don’t be.”
“It would be healthier if you did. Fear, anger, sorrow, tears—they would be a more normal response. Anything but this cool, unnatural calm.”
“That might be the way things are done in Italy, Doctor, but I wasn’t brought up to give in to outpourings of emotion.”
“But you are human underneath that composed facade, yes? And I have seen this same reaction many times in people trying to come to terms with devastating news. At first, they turn away from the truth, but sooner or later, the dam bursts and reality hits them. When that happens, they need the comfort and support of family and friends. You, however, are in a foreign land, and very far away from those with whom you are close.”
Oh, yes! Much farther than he could begin to guess! In one cruel stroke of fate, she’d lost her fiancé and her best friend.
“But you’re not alone,” Carlo Rossi said. “When the pain becomes too much, I am here. You can turn to me.”
He was smashing away her protective outer shell with his kindness, and exposing that secret inner self still too bruised and tender to bear the harsh light of day. Determined not to let him see her vulnerability, she said bluntly, “You’re my father’s doctor, not mine.”
“Nevertheless, my offer remains.”
“As you wish.” She shrugged and stood up again, set on leaving this time, with or without his permission. “Thank you for your time, and goodbye.”
He inclined his head, his gaze watchful. “Arrivederci, signorina. Until the next time.”
There’d be no next time, she resolved. She found him too unsettling. Too attractive. And if that wasn’t downright immoral, given the circumstances, then it was surely utter folly. Because any fool knew it took at least a year to recover from being dumped practically at the altar, and that to allow oneself to be drawn to another man in the interim was courting nothing but trouble.
No. The less she saw of Dr. Carlo Rossi, the better.
CHAPTER TWO
HE HELD open the door to the outer office and watched as she walked past him and away down the hall. His first impression had been that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen; his second, that she was also the coldest. Antarctica was a fitting