Hot Single Docs: Waiting For You: St Piran's: Prince on the Children's Ward. Carol Marinelli
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not big on early nights.’ Those dark eyes found hers. ‘Unless there’s a reason.’
‘A broken ankle and bruised ribs are a reason.’ Rejecting the chemistry, Tasha uncurled her legs and stood up. ‘The body heals better when it’s rested.’
‘So you’re good in the kitchen?’
‘I’m good in every room, Alessandro.’ Leaving him to dwell on that comment, Tasha walked back to the kitchen and closed the door firmly behind her.
The irony didn’t escape her. Normally she avoided the kitchen. Here, it felt like a refuge from Alessandro.
Trying not to think about him, she emptied her bags over the shiny black work surface and picked up a small bag of extra-hot chillies.
Stir-fry, she thought, with a kick.
She couldn’t kick him herself, but this should do the job for her.
But as she chopped and sliced she discovered that it was impossible not to think about him. And thinking made her wonder about the dark clouds she saw in his eyes. She’d been a doctor long enough to recognise when someone was suffering. And she didn’t think the dark emotions swirling around him had anything to do with the accident.
Might have caused the accident, though, she mused, slicing onion with surgical precision.
Minutes later she had noodles cooking in boiling water and she was stir-frying a generous quantity of garlic, red chilli and ginger. Making a guess at the timing, Tasha gamely tipped in vegetables and juicy prawns and finally added the noodles.
As it sizzled, she turned to the other pan and stirred the contents. It looked identical except for one ingredient—it lacked the copious amounts of red chilli.
Just don’t mix them up, she reminded herself as she plated the meal, adding a touch of garnish to make the dish extra appetising.
Pleased with the result, she walked through to the light, airy living room. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the evening was cool. Alessandro lay sprawled on the low sofa where she’d left him, staring with brooding concentration at the waves crashing onto the shore.
‘The first time I surfed here I was twenty. Josh brought me.’
And she’d followed them. Egged on by her best friend from school, they’d hidden, giggling, behind the rocks, watching as her brother and his sexy friend stripped down to board shorts.
Tasha put the plates down on the table with a clatter. ‘I would have thought a playboy with a private jet and your surfing skills would have chosen North Beach, Hawaii, or Jeffreys Bay in South Africa.’
‘I love Cornwall. Staying with your family was one of the happiest times of my life.’
The words pushed her control off centre and Tasha felt her stomach lurch. It had been the happiest time of her life, too. Which had made the abrupt ending even harder. ‘Our home wasn’t exactly big—it must have felt like a shoebox to you after palace life.’
‘It felt like a proper home. And I envied the way you could all just get on with your lives without having to think about crowds and security.’
As a teenager she’d thought it was impossibly glamorous having security guards, but now she could see that it might be an inconvenience, especially for an active, athletic guy like Alessandro.
‘I guess Cornwall is a pretty low-profile place.’
‘It’s not bad. Fortunately this house isn’t too accessible. How often do you surf?’
‘Me?’ Tasha handed him cutlery. ‘Not as often as I’d like to because I generally work long hours. Normally, that’s the way I like it. I’m a career girl. But now that I’m looking after you...’ she shrugged ‘...I intend to make up for lost time.’
‘So if you’re a career girl, how come you’re not working right now?’
Unwittingly he’d tapped into her deepest fears. That she might not be able to find another job. That her altercation with her last boss might have blown her reputation to smithereens.
Tasha opened her mouth and closed it again, unsettled by the sudden desire to confide. She stifled it, knowing that confiding was the first step towards intimacy. And she didn’t want intimacy with this man. ‘I’m in between jobs. I’ve cooked a stir-fry. I hope that’s all right with you.’
‘Looks delicious.’ He picked up a fork. ‘I can imagine you as a children’s doctor.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Do you want to try and eat at the table?’
‘No, this is fine. You’re right that moving around hurts. I think the journey to the bedroom will be enough of a challenge for one evening.’
As he shifted position, her eyes were drawn to his body.
No man had a right to be so good looking, Tasha thought as she registered the strength in those wide shoulders. It should have been enough that he was a prince. And rich. Looking like a sex god as well was just too many gifts for one person.
She might have been irritated if it hadn’t been for the fact he was about to eat her food. And that was going to be a real test of manhood.
Hiding a smile, Tasha turned her attention back to her own plate. ‘I love your kitchen. The design is fantastic. A whole different experience for me. Dinner for me is usually a cardboard sandwich from the hospital cafeteria at three in the morning.’
‘It didn’t look anything like this when I bought it. The rooms were small and the whole place was pretty dark. I worked with an excellent architect and we knocked down almost every wall, put in the skylights...’ He glanced up at the roof of the double-height sitting room. ‘We decided it was worth gutting the place because it had such potential. We opened it up, let the light flow in. This is delicious, by the way. You’re a good cook.’
Delicious? He thought it was delicious?
Tasha stared at him in disbelief. ‘You like it?’
‘After two weeks of hospital food?’ He twisted noodles around his fork with skill and precision. ‘This is heaven.’
He had to be kidding. It had to be a double bluff. Unless...
Tasha stared down at her own plate. Had she mixed them up?
Cautiously, she took a mouthful, waiting for her mouth to explode into flames from the chilli, but the flavours in her food were subtle and she knew instantly she didn’t have the wrong plate. Which meant he clearly had a mouth lined with asbestos.
‘Is there any more?’ Alessandro speared the last prawn. ‘You don’t seem to be eating yours.’
‘I am. And there isn’t any more.’ She hadn’t thought for a moment he’d eat what she’d served him. Clearly his mouth was as tough as the rest of him.
Feeling aggravated, Tasha finished her food. ‘Why did you fall anyway? Was the horse too difficult for you?’
He accepted the slight with a flicker of a smile. ‘The horse wasn’t difficult. I lost concentration for a moment, but that was long enough for the guy on the opposite team to bring us down. My ankle took most of the weight. My ribs took the rest.’ He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed.
She wondered why he’d lost concentration.
‘You were trapped under the horse? Ouch. So no physical activity for the rest of the summer?’
His eyes opened and he studied her from underneath lush, dark lashes. ‘Depends what you mean by physical activity.’
Staring into those dangerous dark eyes, her mouth dried. ‘I meant polo and surfing.’ Tasha felt the heat slowly spread through her body and wished she’d never mentioned physical activity. Even injured, the man was deadly. ‘You look tired. Do you want me to call your security team to help you from