Dr. Romano's Christmas Baby

by Amy Andrews

  Rilla responded automatically, vaguely listening to the handover while Julia, who had joined them, worked around her to get Irene hooked up to the monitor.

  ‘Temp is thirty-three,’ Julia announced.

  ‘Let’s get some warm fluids running and switch the heater lamps on,’ Luca ordered.

  The cubicle was bathed in bright light as someone flicked the light on and Rilla felt the intense heat instantly on her hair.

  Things weren’t looking good for Irene but Rilla knew Luca wouldn’t give up on this patient until her core temperature had normalised. Heart and brain activity slowed right down in hypothermia and that needed to be reversed before the true condition of the patient was known. The cardinal rule—a patient wasn’t dead until they were warm and dead.

  She paused her compressions so they could see what rhythm the monitor was showing.

  ‘Coarse VF,’ Luca said, a little cheered to see some electrical activity. Some evidence that the heartbeat was still there. A fine VF would have been a worse prognosis. The sign of a heart fading fast. Still, Irene was up against it. Only a small percentage of out-of-hospital arrests ever made it. ‘Let’s defib.’

  Julia handed the pads to Rilla, who slapped them in place. ‘Everyone clear,’ Julia announced. Rilla stood back from the trolley. Luca dropped the ambu-bag and stood back also.

  She pushed the button and the machine delivered one hundred joules, Irene’s chest arching off the bed.

  ‘Still VF,’ Rilla said.

  ‘Charge it to two hundred,’ Luca ordered.

  They shocked Irene several times and managed to get a slow junctional rhythm with a reasonable cardiac output.

  ‘What’s her temp now?’ Luca asked.

  ‘Thirty-four point five,’ Rilla replied, reading it off the monitor. Julia had placed an oesophageal probe so they could assess their patient’s core temperature better.

  ‘OK. Good. Getting there.’ Hopefully, as Irene warmed further her heart rate would improve.

  Stan had returned from X-Ray and was now just a thin cotton curtain away. He was calling to his wife, telling her he loved her and begging her not to leave him and Rilla felt an almost desperate need for her elderly patient to make it. Fifty years. She didn’t want to have to look into Stan’s eyes and see half a century crushed into the dust.

  She accompanied Luca into Stan’s curtained-off cubicle a few moments later and they relayed the news. Irene was critical but her condition had stabilised.

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ Stan muttered, taking Rilla’s hand, tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘She’s my everything. She’s all I ever wanted.’

  ‘Stan, I need you to realise there are no guarantees,’ Luca emphasised. ‘Irene had extended downtime, things could still go either way, and if she pulls through we have to look at the possibility that she may have sustained brain damage.’

  The older man looked at him. ‘I hear you, Doc. We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. I just wasn’t ready for her to go. Not yet.’

  Rilla nodded and let Stan talk some more. She and Luca both just listened.

  ‘You look after this girl, Doc,’ Stan said, patting Rilla’s hand. ‘You never know when it can all be snatched away.’

  Only he did. Luca did know love could be snatched away. Eroded. Had lived through it once. He patted the older man’s hand, the thought of losing Rilla again acutely unbearable. ‘I will, Stan. I will.’

  Rilla caught his eye and wished she could read his thoughts. Something was there. And it didn’t look very platonic.

  Stan went to Theatre to have his leg fixed as Irene was being transferred to ICU, and the night got busier. Two hours later, when Rilla was due to knock off, Luca was still caught up in Resus, working on an epileptic woman who had presented via ambulance with continuous seizures. They had only just managed to bring the fitting under control.

  ‘I shouldn’t be too much longer,’ Luca assured her.

  She nodded. ‘I’ll see you at home later.’

  Rilla showered and fixed herself a snack while Bing serenaded her in the background. She plunged the house into darkness and hummed along as she flicked on the tree lights. She pulled a cushion from the couch, tucking it under her head as she lay back on the carpet and stared up at the tree.

  It was beautiful, and the baubles, silver bells and red tinsel reflected the light. The presents already piling up looked even more enticing, with colorful little spotlights enhancing their festive wrappers. The angel looked down at her with a serene all-is-well-with-the-world smile.

  And Rilla did have a sense that all was well. She covered her stomach with her hand and almost wriggled at the thought that next year she would be sharing this experience with her baby. With Luca’s baby. They both would. As a family. And that was the true meaning of Christmas. Surely?

  She couldn’t wait. OK, the baby would only be six months old but every year would be more wondrous than the last and Rilla just knew their child would grow up with a love for this season as deep as her own. She would see to it.

  She shut her eyes and let Bing and her inner peace drift her away into a snowy moonlight field alive with sugarplum fairies and the tinkle of sleigh bells.

  It was midnight when Luca finally arrived home. He heard Bing and smiled as he shook his head. He must get Rilla another CD of carols. He stopped in the doorway, his breath stuttering to a halt in his throat. Rilla was lying on her back, asleep on the floor near the tree. Her knickers were brief, her T-shirt had ridden up and her hair lay loosely around her head in rumpled disorder. His mouth felt suddenly dry and he clenched his hands by his sides.

  Dio! Was she trying to kill him?

  He should go to bed. Just get the hell out of the lounge and go straight into bed. But he knew he couldn’t leave her on the floor all night. Mornings weren’t her best time and she didn’t want to add backache to her woes.

  ‘Rilla.’ He moved closer until he was standing looking down at her. He nudged her gently with his foot.

  She murmured something and rocked her head from side to side but didn’t wake up. Luca sighed and hunkered down beside her. He lifted a hand to shake her shoulder but was caught by the play of colourful lights against her skin and the protective way her fingers were splayed low on her belly.

  His baby lay beneath that hand. Their baby. He shook his head at the wonder of it all and gave in to the urge to lie down beside her. He lay on his side, his elbow bent, his head propped on his hand, and gazed down at her, watching her abdomen as the skin changed hue from pink to green to blue to yellow.

  He had never thought he’d get a second chance at this. Never. When things had ended between them he hadn’t even been able to contemplate something this wonderful ever happening again. The end had been too painful, too soul-destroying to ever want to be here again. But he was. And he wanted to hold his baby so badly he couldn’t resist putting his hand out to touch her.

  She murmured again as his fingers slid lightly over hers and he stilled, not wanting to disturb her. After a few moments he brushed the pad of his thumb over her wedding ring and then gently interwove their fingers to compare his wide platinum band with her narrow gold one, remembering the day they’d exchanged them.

  Her skin felt warm beneath his hand and he was excruciatingly aware of the life force pulsing beneath his palm. He stroked her belly with his thumb. Released her fingers and placed his hand fully against her, absorbing the beauty of her skin and the promise of the life growing inside her.

  Rilla came awake slowly, gently drifting out of the wonderful fantasy to the soft strains of music, a smile on her face. Luca’s face loomed above hers and for a moment it felt like she was still caught up in the dream.

  ‘Luca,’ she murmured. ‘Is it Christmas yet?’

  Her mouth was so near and his gaze was drawn to it as she spoke. Luca sucked in a breath as her sleepy eyes blasted him with a heady, sultry power. ‘Not yet,’ he croaked.

  Rilla was suddenly very much awake. Even in the
subdued light she could see Luca’s eyes were glittering with desire. His hand felt white hot against her stomach and she wanted to give a great feline stretch and have it move lower.

  She could hear his unsteady breathing, or was that hers? She could smell the heady mix of his aftershave and something more basic and harder to pinpoint. Pheromones. The crispness of his business shirt grazed erotically against the bare flesh of her side and she itched to place her palms against it, undo the buttons, strip it from his chest.

  Since waking up to find him watching her, his hand on her stomach, the sizzle between them had been building. Hell, it had been building for weeks.

  Her blood pooled low in her belly and heated her breasts and it took her a beat or two to gather her scattered thoughts. She swallowed. ‘Luca?’

  He could hear the desperate edge to her voice and knew they were both teetering on the edge of something that involved a very long drop. Luca could feel her gaze on his mouth. His lips tingled.

  His hand was still on her stomach and she was looking up at him like she used to do, like she had before he’d kissed her the other night. Reminding himself that this wasn’t a real marriage was not helping.

  ‘Rilla.’

  She could hear the note of foreboding in his voice but she could also hear how strained it sounded. How achy and needy, his accent even more pronounced from the want lacing his words.

  ‘I…I miss kissing you,’ she whispered and lifted her hand to stroke her index finger along the seam of his lips.

  Luca felt her husky words go straight to his groin. He swallowed. ‘This isn’t going to happen.’

  He sat up abruptly, his legs bent up, his arms loosely slung around his knees, his hands locked together in case they decided to operate without his authority.

  Rilla hissed out a pent-up breath. She was so hot she felt sure she’d combust at any second. She sat up too, their arms close, their combined breathing loud in the room. She looked at him. The reflection of the coloured lights played across the stubble on his jaw and he looked darker and more Latin than ever.

  She wanted him so much her vision was just a red haze of lust, too far gone to heed any sensible thoughts of caution. ‘Just kiss me, Luca. Please. Just one kiss.’

  The sensible, rapidly evaporating side of Luca knew there could be no such thing as just one kiss. ‘Rilla,’ he warned again. But even to his own ears the words sounded more like an invitation than a caution.

  ‘Fine. Looks like I’m just going to have to kiss you instead,’ she murmured, her gaze trained on his mouth.

  She gave him a beat to deny her. To pull away. To tell her to stop. But he didn’t and she could barely see through the haze as she leaned forward, her lips eagerly seeking the heat of his.

  Luca pulled back slightly from the kiss, his lips moist from her. Her taste in his mouth, on his tongue. Like a drug. A drug that he wanted more of. Needed more of.

  And then they both combusted. Before she knew it Luca was pulling her onto his lap, his fingers clamping onto her thighs, urging them to part so she was straddling him.

  And he tasted good and he smelled amazing and she could feel him hard against the barrier of her knickers and she rocked against him to bring his heat closer to hers. She needed him there. The ache was unbearable and she ground her pelvis into his and felt a shudder run right through him.

  And they were kissing and kissing and kissing. Kissing like there was no tomorrow. Deep and drugging. Desperate and urgent. And then his hands were on her T-shirt, pulling it over her head, and her nipples brushed against the cotton of his shirt and she moaned out loud at the blatant eroticism. He lowered his mouth and captured an already tortured peak and she cried out at the shaft of pure pleasure that pierced her.

  Of their own accord her fingers were at his buttons, surprisingly nimble in their haste to get to his naked chest. And then he was kissing her again and finally, finally his shirt was undone and she could feel the lushness of her breasts squashed against the roughness of his hair. ‘Oh, God, Luca,’ she moaned against his mouth.

  Her words pulled Luca back from the brink a little. They were going too fast. He was being too rough. Like the first time, against the door. She was pregnant now. He needed to be gentle. He needed to go slower.

  Damn it all—he should stop. But he’d been denying himself too long. He just wasn’t capable of stopping.

  ‘Rilla,’ he whispered, pulling away from her mouth, hushing her whimper, kissing her nose, her forehead, her cheek, stroking her lips, kissing the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Hush…Slow down…slow down,’ he murmured, fighting for control of his breath as he stroked her arms, brushed the sides of her breasts, rubbed her back, pulling her into him.

  ‘Oh, Luca, please, don’t do this. Don’t stop now,’ Rilla pleaded, her face on his neck as she desperately scrambled for breath. If he left her like this, she’d go mad. She was too aroused. Had wanted it for too long.

  Luca lifted her head away from his shoulder and looked into her eyes, glazed with need. He brushed her hair back from her face. ‘I’m not stopping. It’s just…it’s too fast. I’m too out of control. The baby…I need to be gentle.’

  Rilla was fairly out of control herself. Her breath was laboured, her hands trembled, her pelvis ached unbearably, but she knew what a big leap this was for Luca. He had been adamant this wouldn’t happen at all. Now he was telling her he couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to. But he wanted to try and contain it as much as possible.

  Rilla nodded and kissed his lips gently. ‘OK,’ she whispered, raining kisses over his face. ‘OK.’

  Her hands went to his fly and she deftly undid the button.

  ‘Dio! Rilla.’ Luca grabbed her wrist.

  ‘Shh, it’s OK.’ She gave him a slow, deep kiss full of smothered heat and leashed passion. ‘Slow.’ She kissed him again. ‘I know.’ Another kiss. ‘It’s OK. I know.’

  Her hands were stroking him through the fabric of his trousers and he was dizzy with the sensation. Her tawny gaze was begging him to trust her and he leaned back on his hands, her naked breasts glorious with the light playing across them and he shut his eyes and gave himself up to her.

  Rilla eased down his zip and freed him from the confines of his underwear. His deep groan empowered her as she revelled in the velvety length of him.

  ‘Rilla.’

  Her name came out desperately as he pushed off his hands and gathered her closer, grasping her buttocks in both hands, bringing her centre into intimate contact with his. His mouth closed over a nipple and she held his head, sucking in her breath fast as his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.

  There was no easy way to remove the lacy barrier of fabric separating them without her moving, and Rilla knew she wasn’t capable of that. She eased the fabric aside and gripped Luca’s shoulders hard as his erection nudged at her.

  ‘Easy,’ Luca groaned as he felt her heat slowly surround him. He buried his face in her neck as every cell in his body ground to a halt.

  ‘I know,’ Rilla gasped as she stretched slowly around his passive penetration. It felt so good. God help her, it felt so good.

  He slid up into her with unbearable slowness until she had taken him all and then neither of them moved. All that could be heard was their ragged breathing. Even the Christmas music had faded totally into the background.

  Rilla moved slightly and she felt her internal muscles contract. She was so close.

  ‘Easy,’ Luca said again, gripping her hips, hard, determined to keep it slow and steady.

  ‘Luca,’ Rilla pleaded. She needed to move. Or he did. She was so close. And by the way his skin trembled beneath her touch, she knew he was too.

  ‘Shh,’ Luca whispered as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, his fingers stroking her back. ‘It’s OK. Let me.’ He moved slightly and moaned against her skin as her muscles gripped him hard.

  Rilla felt him move again and she moved with him, once, then twice, setting up a torturous rhythm that stoked and sa
ted, stoked and sated.

  Luca breathed into her neck, breathing the essence of their joining as they became locked in the sensations they were creating. Cocooned in their embrace, moving as one, feeling as one. Joined in the most intimate way possible.

  Their climaxes came quickly despite Luca’s deliberate measured pace. Rilla cried out his name, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, and he joined her seconds later. They shuddered together, the flickering Christmas-tree lights melding into a kaleidoscope of colours behind half-shuttered lids as petty earthly restraints fell away and they soared to new heights.

  It was minutes before either of them spoke. Minutes for the last spasms of pleasure to fade and die. Minutes before their pulses settled and their breathing returned to normal.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Luca asked, one hand splayed against the small of her back and one on her hip.

  She nodded, Luca shifted and she was surprised when he laid her down on her side facing the tree, adjusting the cushion for their heads, and snuggled in behind her.

  ‘Luca?’

  ‘Shh.’ Luca kissed her neck. He didn’t have the answers to any questions. ‘Go to sleep.’

  Rilla sighed. Whatever the catalyst had been for tonight, she was just going to be grateful it happened. Her eyes drifted shut, the glorious sight of the tree lighting the darkened room in front of her and the even more glorious feel of Luca behind her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RILLA woke at seven, a half-dressed Luca still enfolding her in his embrace. She lay there unmoving. Bing still played in the background and the tree lights still flicked on and off. The gaily wrapped presents at eye level were temptingly tactile and she reached out a hand and ran her fingers over the pile.

  A little thrill ran through her and she sighed happily as she snuggled her bottom in closer to him.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Luca growled, coming slowly awake as his body leapt ahead of him. He was more than ready to go again and his hand tightened around her waist.

  A smile split her face. ‘What? This?’ she asked innocently, and wriggled again.

  Luca sucked in a breath as his morning erection twitched painfully. He rolled on his back, releasing her. ‘Yes, that.’