Tempted by the Bridesmaid

by Annie O'Neil

  He scanned the collected staff including Gianfranco Torino—a GP who had retrained in psychotherapy when he’d suffered his own irrecoverable spinal injury. He, too, would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

  “Dr. Torino, would you be able to meet up with Cara later today? Maybe for an afternoon roll around the gardens?”

  “Absolutely.” Dr. Torino gave Cara a warm smile. “Three o’clock at the pergola? Is that enough time?”

  Cara nodded. “Si, Dr. Torino. Grazie.”

  “Prego, Cara. See you then.”

  Luca scanned the staff, everyone of them focused on Cara as a unit.

  This is the Mont di Mare I imagined.

  His eyes lit on Francesca, who lifted her gaze from Cara’s hair. She’d been running her fingers through the girl’s long dark locks. Soothing. Caressing. When she saw him looking at her and smiled, it felt as if the heat of the sun was exploding in his chest.

  Perfection.

  And perfectly distracting. Smiles didn’t pay bills. Patients did.

  He moved his hands in a short, sharp clap. Too loud for the medium-sized exam room. Too late to do anything about it.

  “All right, everyone. I think Cara and I need to chat over a couple of things.”

  Cara reached over her shoulder and grabbed Francesca’s hand, shooting Luca an anxious look. “Can Fran stay? She was going to plait my hair—right, Francesca?”

  “Ah! You’re a hairdresser now?”

  He saw the flutter of confusion in Fran’s eyes and then the moment she made her decision.

  “One of my hidden talents.” She gave Cara a complicit wink and gathered her hair together as if it were a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. “I promise I won’t distract you from what you two are talking about.”

  Her pure blue eyes met his. There were a thousand reasons he should say no, she couldn’t stay, and one single reason to say yes. His patient.

  The motivation behind everything. Not Fran. Not desire. Not love.

  The thought froze him solid for an instant, but quickly he forced himself into motion.

  “I may need you to help for a moment before the hairstyling session begins.”

  “Of course,” Fran replied. “Anything you need.”

  Despite himself, he risked another glance into her eyes and saw she meant it. She wasn’t there to take. To demand. To change him. She was simply there to help.

  Removing the cold compress from Cara’s face, Luca ran a hand across the girl’s brow, satisfied the hot flush was now under control. With Fran’s help, they triple-checked for bedsores and ensured her clothing was fitting comfortably. A tight drawstring on a pair of trousers could trigger one of these potentially deadly incidents.

  Once they were settled, and Fran had magicked a hairbrush from somewhere, he brought over the portable blood-pressure gauge, straddled a stool and wheeled himself over to Cara.

  “Arm.” He gave her a smile and held out the cuff.

  “You already took my blood pressure.”

  “It’s good to do it every five minutes or so when this happens. Here—let’s slip your legs over the edge of the table to help your blood pressure. C’mon. Stretch your arm out.”

  Cara obliged him with a reluctant grin and soon he was pumping up the pressure in the cuff.

  “I know you’ve had a lot to get used to since the accident, and this is another one of those scary learning curves. Basically, your bladder can’t tell your brain it’s full, so it’s best if you have some sort of schedule. Have you ever set up a regular voiding timetable?”

  “I did for the couple of months I was back in school, but over the summer I guess I let it lapse a bit.” She shot him a guilty look.

  “Did your doctors explain what might happen if your bladder was full and you didn’t empty it?”

  Another guilty look chased up the first. “I forget...”

  “They’re pretty strong symptoms—as you just found out. I know you’ve only been here a few days, but if you have a voiding timeline in your schedule it’s a good idea to follow it.”

  “I was just waiting for my parents to go. You know—making the most of the time they were here.”

  “I thought you were out in the field on your own? That Francesca found you?”

  Instinctively, his eyes flicked up to Fran’s. The soft smile playing on her lips as she listened to them talk reminded him to do the same. A smiling doctor was much easier to listen to than the furrowed-brow grump he’d been of late.

  Cara was remaining stoically tight-lipped.

  “Either way, here’s what’s happening. Autonomic dysreflexia is your body’s response to something happening below your injury level. You’re a C6, C7 complete, right?”

  Cara gave him a wry grin. “Can’t get anything past you, can I, Dr. M?”

  “Let’s hope not, if it means getting you to a place where you’re in charge of your own life. So.” He gave the reading on the gauge a satisfied nod and took off the cuff. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but this time let it sink in. There are any number of things that can kick off an AD response. Overfull bladder or bowel.”

  “Ew!”

  “I know—it’s gross.”

  “No grosser than picking up dog poop who knows how many times a day!”

  * * *

  Fran’s fingers flew to cover her mouth. Oops! So much for staying out of the doctor-patient talk!

  Cara gave her a toothy grin. One Fran was pretty sure contained a bit of bravura.

  “Actually...do you think an assistance dog would be able to remind me?” Cara had switched from doleful teen to bargaining expert.

  Ah! That was why the teen had asked her to stay. Not for her sure-handed approach to a fishtail braid.

  “That’s not really my terrain.” Luca pressed his lips together. “Francesca?”

  Fran shook her head in surprise. Was Luca including her in this?

  “Sorry, hon. What exactly is it you want to know?”

  “If an assistance dog—one like Edison, maybe—were to help me, couldn’t he remind me of things?”

  Fran’s instinct was to look to Luca, seek guidance. But to her surprise he just smiled, then widened and raised his hands, as if opening the forum to include her.

  She gulped. This was... This was getting involved. Becoming interwoven in the fabric of things here on a level she’d told herself was a danger zone. A little dog training here. A bit of physio there. But advising a patient...?

  “Francesca?” Luca prompted. “This is your area of expertise.”

  Dropping her gaze from his, she stared at the plait her fingers was weaving by rote and started speaking.

  “Of course assistance dogs can certainly respond to alarms, and help you to remain upright in your wheelchair if you were ever to slump down. They can do a lot. But this sounds to me like something you and Dr. Montovano had better work out.”

  “But couldn’t a dog have told you if I was dead or dying?”

  “You mean when I found you out in the field? Absolutely. It would’ve barked. Tried to get someone to come and see you straightaway.”

  “Like Lassie?” Cara’s voice squeaked with excitement. “If you hadn’t found me then a dog could have saved my life!”

  “Well...” Fran’s fingers finished off the plait and she swirled a tiny elastic band she’d dug out of her pocket onto the end.

  She’d overstepped the boundaries before. She really didn’t want to do it again.

  “Cara, you’re with us for the rest of the summer, right?” Luca interjected. Mercifully.

  Cara nodded.

  “How about you and Fran spend a bit of time with Pia’s dogs—if it’s all right with Pia, of course. See how you go. I’m sure assistance dogs suit some people
and aren’t quite right for others. Am I right, Francesca?”

  She’d expected to see some sort of triumph in his eyes. A way to catch her out. But there was nothing there but kindness. Possibility. Respect.

  And for one perfect moment she was lost in the dark chocolate twinkle holding her rapt like a... Ha! The irony. Like a giddy teen.

  Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and frowned. Her father didn’t normally ring this early.

  “Sorry, I’ve just—”

  Luca waved her apologies away. “I think Cara and I have plenty to talk about.”

  She gave Cara a quick wave, then accepted the call, closing the door softly behind her as she went.

  “Si, Papa? Va tutto bene?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “GOT A MINUTE?”

  Fran looked up to find Luca at her doorway, striking the pose that had reduced her to a pool of melted butter a handful of weeks ago—arm resting on the low sling of the beam above her door frame, body outlined by the setting sun.

  If she knew how, she’d let out a low whistle of appreciation and give him a one-liner an old-time Hollywood starlet would envy.

  Somehow she found her voice. “I was just opening a bottle of wine. Fancy a glass?”

  Luca didn’t answer straight away, his eyes narrowing slightly as if inspecting her for ulterior motives. Which only succeeded in making her think of all the illicit things she could do with him right here and now, if only he’d duck his head, step inside her cottage and kick the door shut behind him.

  Desire flared up hot and intense within her.

  Bad brain. Naughty thoughts. Quit staring at the sexy doctor.

  “Grazie. I’d love a glass of wine.”

  Good, brain. Excellent thoughts. Run to the bedroom to check it doesn’t look like a hurricane has hit it.

  “Mind if we sit out here? On the bench?”

  What? Does not compute.

  Then again, not a lot of what passed between them computed. Their tempestuous nights of lovemaking chased up by...absolutely nothing. No talks. No explanations. Just complicated silences.

  Perhaps a talk was exactly what they needed.

  “Here.” Fran threw him a couple of pillows from the sofa. “Makes it comfier.”

  She pulled on a light sweater, grabbed another glass and cascaded an arc of gorgeous red wine into the goblet, all the while rearranging her features into something she hoped looked like casual delight that Luca had chosen sitting outside on a bench over ripping off his clothes.

  “Everything all right with your phone call?” he asked.

  “Mmm, yes.” She quickly swallowed down a spicy gulp of Dutch courage, then topped up her glass. “It was my father.”

  “All’s going well on the home front?”

  “Very. So good, in fact, he’d like to come over.”

  She stepped outside the cottage in time to see Luca’s eyes widen in surprise.

  “I know. It freaked me out, too. My dad’s never visited me before. Must be all these video calls we’ve had. I’ve been showing him Mont di Mare.”

  “Oh?” Luca’s tone was unreadable. “Did he like what he saw?”

  “Very much.”

  She looked up into Luca’s eyes as she handed him his glass. His hand brushed hers, lingering just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and with the connection a rush of heated sparks raced up her arm and circled around her heart.

  “How did your day go with Pia?”

  Luca stared deep into his wineglass before taking a thoughtful draught, tasting it fully before swallowing it down.

  Had he felt it, too?

  “Really well,” Fran managed as nonchalantly as she could, tucking her feet up under her on the broad wooden bench. “She and the dogs have a whale of a time together.”

  “I meant as regards the training.”

  Killjoy! It wasn’t her fault that their being together made them all fizzy and full of lust and desire and...and other things.

  “Getting along with the dogs is part of the training,” Fran began carefully. “If they don’t sync—you know, make a love match as it were—the relationship isn’t going to work out.”

  “A love match?”

  “For lack of a better turn of phrase,” Fran mumbled.

  Could she be digging herself into a bigger hole? It wasn’t as if she—oh, no.

  She looked at him, then away and back again, before realizing what had been happening to her for these past few weeks.

  She had fallen in love with Luca. It was mad. And foolish. And totally never going to happen. But—

  Did he feel the same way?

  She turned to him, seeking answers, only to catch Luca’s gaze dropping to her mouth as her lips grazed the edge of her wineglass. An urge to throw caution to the wind took hold of her. Why shouldn’t she just go for it? Fling her glass away and climb onto his lap so he could claim what was already his?

  His lips parted.

  For an instant she was certain she could see it in Luca’s eyes, too. The exact same exhilarating rush of realization that he’d found love in the least likely of places. With the least likely of people.

  He hesitated.

  Was he...? Was he about to tell her he loved her, too?

  “What are the actual practical things Pia is taking away from this? What, precisely, are you enabling her to do by having a dog?”

  Fran’s heart plummeted, finding itself on all too familiar terrain. She was a solitary girl, seeking her place in the world, only to realize she’d read the wrong page. Again.

  She scrunched her eyes tight, conjuring up an image of Freda and Edison. She could do with a dose of canine cuddles right now.

  “If you’d been spending any time with Pia, you probably would’ve noticed for yourself,” she snapped.

  Luca’s eyes widened at the level of heat in her voice.

  Tough. You just broke my heart.

  She looked away, drew in a deep lungful of mountain air and forced it out slowly before continuing.

  “Pia and Freda have already mastered a lot of the drop-and-retrieve tasks that will help in her day-to-day life. Right now we’re working on Freda responding to very specific verbal commands.”

  “Like what?” Luca asked—with genuine interest rather than the disdain she’d been expecting. Good. At least she’d made some sort of a mark.

  Ha! Take that, you doubting...sexy Italian, you.

  “Freda can go and get other patients, for example. By name. Scent, really. It’s amazing how quickly they learn who is who.”

  “Why would Pia want her to fetch other patients?”

  “Oh...I don’t know.” Fran took a big gulp of wine before answering that one. “Maybe she’s enjoying having some people to spend time with. Friends.”

  “What would she—” Luca began, then stopped himself, his jaw tensing as his lips pressed together and thinned.

  Fran gulped down the rest of her wine, then stood up, hands on hips, to face Luca.

  “It may not be my place to say this, but you’re letting your niece grow up without you. Take it from me. Once that opportunity is gone, it’s hard to claw it back.”

  A complication of emotions crossed Luca’s face as he looked up at her. As if he was having a fight with himself.

  “You’re right. It’s not your place.”

  Something deep within her flared, hot and fierce.

  “That may be so, but let me tell you this. Crush the hearts of all the women you want, Luca Montovano. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. But Pia...? You’re all she has. You lose this chance to show her you love her and you might lose her for good.”

  * * *

  Luca looked away, a searing blast of emotion pounding the
breath out of his chest in one sharp, unforgiving blow.

  Lose Pia?

  Unthinkable.

  And what had Fran meant about crushing hearts? Marina wasn’t crushed—

  “I’ll be fine,” she’d said.

  Did Fran love him? Had she invested her heart in those nights they had spent together? Nights he hadn’t acknowledged since...since she had become a vital part of his work team. One of the people he kept at arm’s length in preparation for the bank’s inevitable foreclosure.

  He knew she enjoyed sparring with him, working with him—but love? It wasn’t something he had ever allowed himself to consider. Not with so much at stake.

  He looked back at her, saw her eyes blazing with indignation. The fury of a child who had been where Pia was now. The rage of a woman who loved a man who could never love her in return.

  He pushed himself up to standing after placing his drained glass on the floor and faced her. “You’re a very brave woman, Francesca Martinelli.”

  She shifted her feet, eyes held wide-open as they had been on the very first day they’d met. When she’d been the only one courageous enough to stop her friend from doing something she’d regret forever.

  “You never shy away from hard truths, do you, Francesca?”

  She gave her head a little shake in agreement.

  Luca couldn’t help but give a self-effacing laugh. “I suspect moments like these are why Beatrice always speaks so highly of you. Why she insisted you come up here. She said you’d be good for me.”

  “She did?” Fran’s eyes brightened, endearing her to him more than he should allow.

  “Often,” he said. “And with great affection.”

  He fought the urge to reach out and touch Fran. Stroke a finger along the length of her jawline. Smooth the back of his hand along the downy softness of her cheek.

  “That’s good,” Fran whispered.

  Whether she was referring to Beatrice or to the frisson fizzing between them, Luca couldn’t tell. How it had shifted from rage to zingy chemistry, he didn’t know, but it had.

  Luca took a step back, intentionally breaking the moment in two, and gave his thoughts over to Beatrice—his dear friend who’d all but had the world ripped out from under her feet and yet had remained true, kind. A loving friend who had never, even in her darkest hour, withdrawn her emotions as he so often did. Barring his heart from the aches and pains that loving someone entailed.