Redeeming Dr Riccardi. Leah Martyn
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And that, decided Toni, was where his effort to be polite stopped.
‘Could someone turn that racket off?’ he growled, making his way to the electric urn. He selected a tea bag from a canister and slammed it into a mug. ‘Now,’ he said levelly as he waited for his mug to fill with boiling water.
Ed, one of the junior nurses, obliged and the Beatles’ version of All you need is love was strangled. ‘It’s Valentine’s Day, Doc,’ he protested with a laugh. ‘You need to get in the zone.’
Riccardi’s underbrowed look said, Are you for real?
‘We’ll all be going to the dance at the workers’ club tonight.’ Amy smiled, holding onto her little pot of flowers tightly. ‘You must come, Dr Riccardi.’
The registrar snorted. ‘I’d rather cut off my own feet.’ He dangled his tea bag briefly and then discarded it in the bin. ‘Without anaesthetic,’ he added for good measure, before he strode out.
Liz sighed. ‘Well, that went down well. Poor Amy. That was a bit unnecessary, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Toni felt her temper fray. She’d seen Amy’s expression falter; she’d bitten her lip and looked as though she hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry. For heaven’s sake, she was only trying to be friendly. She certainly hadn’t deserved to cop the brunt of Riccardi’s foul mood. Well, she wasn’t having it! ‘Lizzie, take handover, please? I need to sort this.’
Watching her friend take off out of the room, Liz muttered, ‘Oh, you’re for it, Riccardi.’ When it came to standing up for her team, Toni was like a lioness defending her cubs.
‘Dr Riccardi?’ Toni raised her voice, moving along the corridor with the speed of light. She caught up with the registrar outside his office. ‘I’d like a word, please?’
‘It’s Rafe,’ he said shortly. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Yes.’ Toni sucked in her breath. ‘Your attitude.’
One dark eyebrow arched and her less than diplomatic statement hung in the air between them. ‘You’d better come in, then.’
‘No, thanks.’ Toni shook her head. She didn’t want to go into his office. She just wanted to state her case and get on with her day. ‘I need time for a coffee before I start my shift.’
‘I have coffee.’ He flicked a hand towards his open office door.
Toni floundered for a second and then thought, Oh, what the heck. And followed him in.
He indicated the cafetière on the bench table near the window. ‘Maureen still insists on providing fresh coffee every morning as she did for Joe, even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary.’
Toni bit the edge of her lip through a reluctant smile. Maureen O’Dea had been Joe Lyons’s secretary for ever and definitely wasn’t about to be told to change her longstanding protocol. ‘You don’t drink coffee at all, then?’
‘Not much. Help yourself,’ he invited.
Toni did, drawing in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee as she poured. It was much nicer than the instant in the staffroom and she guessed she should be grateful for what was supposedly a small peace offering from Rafe Riccardi. But she wasn’t about to be sidetracked from her mission.
‘Have a seat,’ he offered.
Nursing her mug of coffee, Toni slipped into the chair, facing him across his desk. ‘I don’t want this to be confrontational.’
‘OK.’ He raised his mug and took a mouthful of his tea and studied her in silence for a second, then his mouth quirked. ‘I won’t bite. So, speak to me, Antonia.’
Toni took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. ‘I’m usually called Toni.’
‘Pity.’ His stormy green gaze tangled with hers. ‘Antonia is a beautiful name.’
Well, it was the way he said it, low and expressive and newly awake, early-morning sexy. And it completely trashed her defences. She regrouped jerkily. She had to say what she’d come to say. ‘Amy Chan is just getting over losing a baby at twenty weeks.’
A beat of silence.
‘And I need to know this because …?’ Riccardi leaned back in his chair and waited.
‘Because your response when she invited you to the Valentine’s party was offhand. In fact, it was bordering on rude. You embarrassed her and she’s only just returned to work—she’s still fragile. If we’re to work successfully as a team, we need mutual respect and at least a show of good manners.’
Suddenly the silence was as thick as custard. Toni tightened her fingers around her coffee mug. Had she gone too far? As the senior medical officer for the department, Rafe Riccardi’s toes were definitely not for treading on. ‘I realise you’re new to the place and getting to know everyone takes time …’ She stopped and wished she could dive under the desk and hide from his penetrating green gaze. But there was no chance of that.
‘Fine, then.’ A contained little smile played around his mouth. ‘You’ve made your point. I’ll straighten things out with Amy and with the department in general.’
‘And show your face at the Valentine dance?’ Toni jumped in where a lesser person would have feared to tread.
His jaw tensed. ‘You don’t give up, do you? What’s all the hype about St Valentine’s Day anyway? It’s for lovers, isn’t it? Then let the lovers of the world get on with it.’
Toni dropped her gaze. This was the oddest kind of conversation to be having with a man she’d only known for five minutes. She took a mouthful of her coffee and tried to marshal her thoughts. ‘I realise for some people Valentine’s Day is a pain but for the others it’s loaded with romance.’
He snorted.
‘Well, it is!’ Toni emphasised.
‘It’s commercialism at its worst.’
‘OK.’ Toni batted a hand in a kind of aggrieved acceptance. ‘We’ve established you’re not into it. But here at Forrestdale St Valentine’s Day is always set aside for the big fundraiser of the year. This year’s project is a state-of-the-art ultrasound. It will be mainly in use in Midwifery.’ Toni paused. If they’d had better scanning equipment for Amy … But that wasn’t the problem. As Amy’s Ob, Hannah Gordon, had assured the couple, the baby had just been too early, not viable. Toni blinked a bit. ‘Anyway, that’s about it. Tonight’s dinner-dance is about raising funds.’
‘I’ll give a donation,’ Rafe said flatly. And he’d make it a hefty one. Anonymously, of course.
‘Up to you.’ Toni got to her feet. There’d been a glimmer of hope she could have talked him round. She may as well have saved her breath. She placed her mug back on the side table. ‘I guess we’ll catch up sooner rather than later, then. Mondays are usually a bit full on.’
And then she turned and he caught the full force of her smile. It was so warm, so natural, as if she did it a lot. Smiled, that was. He stood courteously as she left, his breath jamming in his throat.
Antonia Morell was one sassy lady. He sank back into his chair feeling a bit dazed. He’d actually enjoyed sparring with her. And that incredible auburn hair … The way she wore it, wild and untamed, had to say so much about her personality. Out of nowhere, he imagined her on a speedboat on Sydney Harbour, cutting through the spray, her hair windblown, crazy curls all over the place streaming out behind her. Or snugly tamed inside a snow beanie with just some bright tendrils poking out. Or softly shiny spread on a pillow …
Hell. He yanked his X-rated thoughts to a halt. Get a grip Riccardi. You’re not on the prowl here, no matter how tempting the prize. You’re on a timeline. Three months to be exact. So, just keep your head down and do your