One Night, Twin Consequences (The Monticello Baby Miracles)

by Annie O'Neil

  Harriet silently tsked at herself. Too many romance novels during the overnight shift. Nevertheless, she did a quick check to see if he really did have thick, dark eyelashes. The final dab of icing on a very tasty-looking cake.

  Yup! Of course he did.

  “Matteo! You found us. I’m so pleased.” Dr. Bailey reached out to shake his hand.

  She watched as Matteo—Matteo!—extended his long, lovely fingers with sun-bleached hairs, not too thick, running along the length of his forearm, and shook hands with her boss. They turned to her, an expectant look in Matteo’s eyes, which was when Harriet realized the entire time he’d been walking towards them in slow motion she’d been wiping her disintegrated biscuit into the fabric of her dress right...over...her breast. Classy.

  Cheeks properly on fire now, she stuffed her hands into the front patch pockets of her dress, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in a lame attempt to regroup.

  “And if I’m not mistaken,” she heard Dr. Bailey continue, either oblivious to or trying to cover for her gaffe, “this young woman here is the reason you’ve come along to see us!”

  Harriet’s eyes popped open to take an involuntary glance over each of her shoulders. Had one of their colleagues arrived without her knowing? She thought she’d left the rest of the nurses deep in discussion over how to rearrange the supplies cupboard.

  Nope. Still just her. All alone with... Matteo...and, of course, Dr. Bailey, who was now looking at her with a particularly bemused expression. Maybe she should shut her mouth. Gape-jawed wasn’t really her look.

  “This is Sister Monticello?”

  Oh, sweet wonders of the universe. He had a scrummy accent to boot. Of course he did! The man was Argentinian. What did she expect? Cut-glass British? Even so... It was all sexy and smoky. Yum.

  She was pretty sure they didn’t make men this—this male over here on the sceptered isle. Or if they did, they were already taken and hidden away by their lucky wives and girlfriends. Too bad she’d all but shelved dreams of having a family of her own... Stop dreaming! She adjusted her gaze, eyes narrowing just a bit. Maybe she could dream just a little bit?

  Matteo made her want to howl. He probably ate steak. Lots of it, searing it nightly over a naked flame. Without wearing a shirt. Just buckskins and a deep caramel tan illuminated by the flickering fire and a splash of starlight. At which point Matteo turned to her with a smile so warm she hardly knew what to do with herself.

  “I was expecting...” Matteo stopped to give a self-effacing laugh. “I am such an idiot. Sister Monticello! I’ve heard so much about you and I’m still not used to calling the nurses ‘Sister.’ I was expecting a nun!”

  “Aha-ha-ha!” Harriet could hear herself giving a weird, cackly, laugh-along laugh. The oh-ho-ho wasn’t that funny variety, but if there was anyone in the world who could bewitch the knickers off a nun she would bet her entire sensibly accrued pension Matteo could. Not that her knickers had fallen off or anything. Yet.

  He reached out and took her hand, his cheek moving towards hers faster than she could react. As their cheeks met, she inhaled a delicious waft of peppery gingerbread and heard a kissing noise, but didn’t feel the touch of his lips. Pity.

  “Encantada.”

  Oh, blimey. Had he just whispered a sweet nothing into her ear?

  “It’s nice to smell—I mean meet you!” she all but shouted.

  What was that? She didn’t even know this guy and she was falling to bits right in front of him. Sure, she’d been watching him from afar for the past fortnight. But afar was safe. And right here was...really, really close. He smelled distinctly delicious. So much so, she mused, he really should be a cologne. Eau de Argentine Doc. Man Scent by Matteo. The ad campaign would be a cinch.

  Why did her sister have to be eight blinking thousand miles away in Los Angeles just when she’d be incredibly handy? Claudia could dig her out of this socially awkward moment without breaking a sweat. Then again, Claudia was drop-dead gorgeous and if she met Matteo before Harriet did, it wouldn’t be very good, would it? Even heavily pregnant with twins, her sister was a knockout. She had the pictures to prove it. Harriet felt an unexpected attack of let-him-be mine come over her.

  She’d never really cared when the hot man in the room took a shine to her sister in lieu of her. That was how things had always been. But this time...

  Calm, calm, calm yourself, Harriet.

  It wasn’t like she stood even the slightest of chances in the universe of having a man like this one desiring, let alone falling completely and madly in love with her. Like she already virtually was with him. Just a few more minutes and she’d have their china pattern and curtains all picked out.

  She ran a hand through her blonde pixie cut, jutting out her lower lip as she did so to blow some air up into the fringe. Another sexy move she’d crafted in how-to-look-like-an-idiot class.

  “Nice to meet you, Sister.” Matteo held out his hand, which she took and pumped up and down too hard because she was already picturing her cobweb-laced spinsterhood spreading out before her now that she’d ruined any chance of marrying the man of her dreams.

  “Harriet’s fine—uh...” She made her, yeesh, I don’t know what to call you face.

  “Matteo works—or Dr. Torres if you prefer. I know how formal you Brits are.”

  “Yes, well...yes.”

  Was it too soon to dive into the nearest broom cupboard?

  “Harriet,” Dr. Bailey interjected. “Perhaps you’d like to show Dr. Torres around the hospital? Give him your perspective on how St. Nick’s works. He’s been trying to track you down for the past fortnight and for some peculiar reason has found it near impossible to find you.”

  “Excuse me?” Harriet tried her best to wipe the horrified expression off of her face, realizing in an instant she hadn’t been successful.

  “Seeing that you could be working together in the longer term, it’s probably a good idea to get to know each other.”

  Harriet’s jaw dropped again. Who’d stolen Dr. Bailey and replaced him with this man who was yanking away all her safety blankets?

  Matteo grinned, a glint in his eye betraying something akin to frustration. “Dr. Bailey didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Her voice was so strangled she was pretty sure the dogs of London would be howling in unison if she continued.

  “This trip—my ‘visit’ here...” He left a small silence to see if she could fill in the air quotes, but there was nothing jostling away the question marks careening round her mind.

  Dr. Bailey jumped in. “Harriet, I was going to tell you all about this in good time, but—”

  “It looks like—in the hope of some funding—you might be coming to Buenos Aires,” Matteo finished for him, an appraising eyebrow arching upwards as he spoke. “To assess me.”

  His expression shifted into something strangely neutral. It was difficult to tell if he was pleased by the scenario or resentful. Something told her it was the latter. Great. Five seconds with Mr. Perfect and already he hated her.

  How did one respond to that? Her head swung from Dr. Bailey’s consternated face to Matteo’s unreadable smile. Funding was very dependent on conditions. Lots of i-dotting and t-crossing—

  Uh-oh. Wait a minute. She forced her brain to play catch-up.

  Was he saying she was the condition? She sought each of their faces for answers, feeling a bit like she was watching a tennis match at close range minus the tennis bits.

  “Buenos Aires?”

  She had been hoping to sound casually interested. Noncommittal. What came out instead was a high-pitched, dog whistle screechy thing. Not really what she’d been going for. Particularly since a trip to Buenos Aires would be about the scariest, most exciting, incredibly interesting, totally top of the list of things she’d never be brave enough to ever consider
doing sort of trip. Which was why she had barely ever left the hallowed borders of London town.

  “Don’t worry.” Matteo waved away her response. “I know what it’s like to be handed something unwelcome when you least expect it.”

  “I didn’t even know I had been invited anywhere and now I’m unwelcome?” She didn’t mean to sound churlish, but c’mon! Every single speck of this was news to her.

  “No, no. It wasn’t meant like that—but don’t worry. It might not even happen. Nothing’s set in stone.”

  “What if I wanted to see the stone? Part of the stone even?” Harriet pinched her fingers into her best little-bit visual aid. Could you miss something you hadn’t even known was going to happen?

  * * *

  Matteo considered Harriet a moment before answering. Apart from looking entirely different from what he’d anticipated, she struck him as a woman who preferred facts over spin. Action over coddling. Someone he could, potentially, work with. Which made a change from most of the research-based medical personnel he came in contact with.

  “It’s all to do with a possible expansion. More of a new build, actually,” Matteo corrected himself. “A clinic. A proper one. And one that’s dependent, I am afraid, on charitable donations. Strangely, homes for pregnant teens and orphaned babies aren’t big money spinners.”

  Matteo enjoyed seeing the light enter Harriet’s blue eyes at his words. The click of recognition. The spark of interest.

  “If they did, I bet Casita Verde Para Niños would rake it in!”

  “You know it?” Impressive. Most people couldn’t name an orphanage in their hometown, let alone one on the other side of the world.

  “Of course I know it!” She gave an embarrassed giggle. “Even if I can’t pronounce it properly.”

  All tension dropped from her face and was replaced by utter engagement. Work talk, it seemed, put her at ease. Interesting. Maybe the stories floating round St. Nick’s were true. All work and no play made Harriet Monticello a delightful woman—because work was her play. The pretty blonde was a far cry from the dried-up nun he’d been picturing.

  “Didn’t you single-handedly drag children’s homes in Argentina into the twenty-first century?”

  “Well...” Matteo felt an unfamiliar wash of modesty come over him. “People don’t usually see what I do that way.” Particularly his socialite parents, whose business dealings saw more money change hands in a single day than he had as annual budget. “Black hole with no economic return” was the more frequently used description. “Of course, you’ll know it’s quite specialized. It’s a place pregnant teens can receive the support they might not be getting at home or are afraid—” He caught himself on the brink of speech-making and held back. “It’s nice to hear someone thinks highly of the Casitas.”

  She gave him a flustered smile and looked away, sidetracking Dr. Bailey with a question about rosters. Matteo examined Harriet again. Given she didn’t look a thing like the mental image he’d conjured up, it was little wonder he hadn’t singled her out over the past couple of weeks. Particularly given the role her bosses seemed keen for her to play: The Woman Who Would Deign Him Worthy of Funding.

  And now she didn’t know a thing about it? If the joint clinic meant that little to the board of St. Nicholas Hospital, he may as well turn around and go home. He’d enjoyed the two-week secondment to the high-tech hospital’s obstetrics unit, but his main aim was a clinic for his own. Then again... Harriet knew Casita Verde and the work he did without so much as a prompt. Best not to be too hasty...

  He’d been prepared to go into his usual charm offensive routine. It worked a treat in Argentina’s moneyed circles. The elite of Buenos Aires rarely if ever went for earnest, over-keen do-gooders. Appearing as though he could live with or without their money always seemed the best tack. That, and a lavishing of compliments. He had yet to meet an ego that didn’t like to be fed. Something told him cocktail-party chatter and superficial compliments wouldn’t work with this woman.

  She was pretty, in a completely natural way. Gamine, honey-blonde hair, a single swish of mascara on lashes overhanging a doey pair of bright blue eyes. A sweet splash of pink grew on her cheeks when she realized he was looking at her. She seemed...kind. A far cry from the dolled-up heiresses his parents wished he spent more time courting.

  “You can’t expect your grandfather’s trust fund to keep Casita Verde’s doors open forever!” they warned on a regular basis—making it more than clear which way their wills wouldn’t be bent. Which was fine. He’d done all right so far. And they were family. Definitely not perfect, but they were all the family he had left.

  “Great!” Dr. Bailey clapped his hands together and gave them a quick rub as if they’d all just agreed on a ground-breaking deal. “I’ll leave you two to it, shall I?”

  “No!”

  Matteo couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed Harriet disliked the position of the “chooser” as much as he hated being the beggar.

  “I’m pretty good at being invisible, if you need to get work done.” Matteo gave her an out. The last thing a busy nurse needed was a hanger-on weighing her down.

  “Sorry, Dr. Torres, I didn’t mean you. I just...” The pleading look she sent in Dr. Bailey’s direction brought another smile to his face. Harriet Monticello didn’t just wear her heart on her sleeve—what she felt was written all over her face. From the looks of things? The idea of spending time with him was pretty low on her list.

  Perfect! That made two of them, then. She didn’t want someone tagging along after her and he didn’t really want a research nurse being posted in the heart of Casita Verde to see whether she deigned him worthy of funding.

  But unless teenaged pregnancy became a thing of the past, there would never be a day when the center didn’t need more money. Not to mention the fact that money wasn’t printed on tears and there would be plenty of those if he didn’t get the go-ahead. Their resources were limited, and he was having to toughen his already thick exterior with each girl they were forced to turn away because of a lack of resources.

  “Could you tell me just a bit more about this Argentina thing before you disappear off to your candlelit dinner?” Harriet had a hand on her boss’s arm now, her blue eyes virtually begging him not to leave.

  Dr. Bailey looked like a deer caught in headlights. Matteo leaned against the nurses’ counter, trying to look casually interested instead of downright humored. If his own fate hadn’t been dangling from the threads of their conversation he would have laughed out loud.

  “The board of directors thinks you need some fieldwork. After speaking with Matteo about how things stand at the casitas—the board suggested seeing how you go tonight. How you present yourself.”

  “So you’ve known all along I needed to give the speech tonight?” Harriet’s eyes opened so wide she almost looked like a child.

  “If—when—everything goes well...” Her boss stopped to clear his throat and throw an apologetic look Matteo’s way. “The board would like you to go out to Buenos Aires for a few weeks—maybe months—to see whether your research could be implemented at Casita Verde. If so, St. Nick’s would open a clinical outpost—in cooperation with Matteo, of course. A partnership.”

  Interesting.

  Matteo hid his surprise. She was the one being played. Not him. Unusual.

  “You’re bartering me?”

  And it sat with her as well as it sat with him. He was genuinely starting to warm to this woman. Again—unusual.

  “One good turn does deserve another, Harriet,” Dr. Bailey continued with a patient smile. “You hardly ever leave the hospital, let alone Britain. I thought putting your research into practice in a different—”

  “Apologies, Dr. Bailey.” Matteo stepped forward, his expression quite sober as he nodded in Harriet’s direction. “I probably shouldn’t interfere, partic
ularly with the board’s decision pending. But I must be clear. Sister Monticello’s nursing skills would be valued at Casita Verde, but as far as her research goes? She is welcome to come, to observe and to offer suggestions. Lend a hand where necessary. But changes are down to me. In my experience, academic studies are often just that.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Harriet’s hackles went straight up. “I think you’ll find my study comprehensive enough to see the changes we’ve implemented in numerous children’s homes here in the UK, including St. Nicks, are making a very, very big impact on the children’s well-being. My methods work.” She ground out the word with an imperiously arched eyebrow for emphasis.

  Matteo rocked back on his heels and smiled broadly. He liked this woman. She was passionate and about as into playing politics as he was. Not at all.

  But if Harriet were to come to Buenos Aires, she would need to toughen up to deal with his “every day”. St. Nick’s had amenities. Lots of them. He watched as the set of her jaw tightened enough for a muscle twitch. Then again...maybe a stint on his patch would be good for her. And him.

  “Shall I leave you two to the ward tour, then? It’s Harriet’s showcase!” Dr. Bailey had already turned to go, not leaving them much of a choice. Harriet nodded curtly, just the tiniest hint of “don’t leave me” left in her eyes as he and Dr. Bailey shook hands.

  “Sister?”

  Matteo couldn’t help grinning as she unclenched her lips and forced on a “guess we’re stuck with each other” smile.

  His amusement increased as Harriet excused herself for a moment to fiddle round with some charts in faux preparation for his tour. She obviously wasn’t happy about the avalanche of information she’d just been handed. Not to say he was ready to click his heels up in the air in a fit of glee, but none of this was of her making. An unfamiliar urge to make sure Harriet came out of this unscathed niggled away at his conscience. If anything, she was the biggest pawn in the scenario. No point in dumping all of his reservations onto her plate. She tugged her form-fitting uniform down a notch, accenting the perfect swoosh of waist to hip ratio.