by Amy Andrews
It had certainly been well after three last night before they’d worn themselves out. ‘I’m fine,’ she murmured.
Imogen removed a morphine ampoule and they counted the remainder. Nat drew up the injection as
Imogen signed the register then they left the room together and entered cubicle twelve.
Imogen smiled at the patient. ‘Can I have your full name, date of birth and any allergies, please?’ she asked.
Ellie prattled off the requested information as Imgoen and Nat checked it against her patient number in her chart and on the medication form. Satisfied they had the right patient, Imogen departed, leaving Nat to administer the needle.
‘Thigh or bottom?’ she asked.
‘Oh, God, I don’t care,’ Ellie groaned. ‘You can stick it in my eyeball as long as the damn pain goes away.’
Nat smothered a smile. ‘I think your thigh will be easier,’ she said, exposing her patient’s leg. ‘You don’t have to move.’ Nat prepped the area with an alcohol swab and delivered the morphine in a matter of seconds.
By the time she’d done another set of obs and drawn the blood Alessandro had requested, Ellie was already feeling relief. ‘Better?’ Nat asked.
‘Oh, God, so much better. Thank you.’
The curtain flicked back and Alessandro poked his head in. ‘Surgeon will be here in twenty minutes.’
Both the women nodded and Alessandro disappeared again, flicking the curtain back in place.
Ellie looked at Nat. ‘That man is totally dreamy. He can park his Italian leather shoes under my bed any day.’
Nat laughed, understanding the sentiment totally. She felt a surge of female pride, like that of a lioness, that Alessandro’s shoes were firmly parked under her bed. Or hers under his, anyway.
‘Seriously, seriously gorgeous,’ Ellie babbled. ‘You could just eat him with a spoon, couldn’t you? He doesn’t have a ring—is he married?’
Nat suppressed the sudden urge to turn on her patient and growl Back off, sister as a sudden shard of jealousy sliced through her. Her patient was smiling like a goon and her voice was a little slurred. Nat reminded herself it was the morphine talking.
‘Drugs have obviously kicked in, then,’ Nat said, forcing lightness into her voice. ‘I’ll be back with the surgeon. Here’s your bell if you need me for anything.’
Nat stepped out of the curtain and took a few deep breaths. Alessandro looked up from the desk at the same time her gaze fell on him and he blasted her with a dose of heavy-lidded heat. Every cell in her body leapt to attention.
‘Nat, I’ve just put a Mrs Rothbury into cube ten,’ Imogen said as she bustled by.
Nat dragged her eyes off Alessandro but not before she noticed a small smile touch his beautiful lips. ‘Right. Cube ten. Check.’ And she turned away without daring to look at him again.
It was like that for the rest of the shift. Wherever she was—he was.
Smiling at her with those private eyes as she handed over the twenty-six-year-old male who had accidentally ingested sterilising tablets instead of aspirin.
Brushing his fingers against hers as she handed him the chart of the forty-nine-year-old-woman who was having an allergic reaction to an unidentified substance.
Watching her intently as he moved his stethoscope around the chest of a twenty-year-old-male complaining of shortness of breath.
Grabbing her hips and lingering a little too long as he passed behind her in the cramped confines of a lift as they transported a thirty-six-year-old female who had suddenly gone blind in her right eye to CT scan.
And calling her Nathalie every chance he got.
By the time she was halfway through her shift, Nat’s body was humming with desire like a damn tuning fork. He was everywhere and each hour cranked the anticipation up another notch. She doubted they’d get any sleep at all tonight.
Just after lunch Nat opened the curtains to cube nine and greeted her next patient. Seventy-two-year-old Mr Gregory, a five-year prostate cancer survivor, was complaining of hip pain. ‘Hello, Mr Gregory, my name’s Nat. Pleased to meet you.’
Her patient gave a loud hoot. ‘Ron, please. Mr Gregory reminds me of my teaching days and as much as I loved it I’m damned pleased I’m not doing it any more.’
Nat laughed. He was a sprightly guy, tall and snowy-haired with crinkles around his eyes like he enjoyed a good laugh and clear blue eyes that contained a wicked sparkle.
‘Ron it is.’
‘Sorry to be such a damn nuisance. Bloody GP’s making a fuss about nothing.’
Nat could hear a strained note in his voice and sensed that beneath all the sparkle and bravado Ron was a worried man. ‘Better to be safe than sorry.’
‘Hmph!’
Just then Alessandro pushed back the curtain and entered, and Nat felt the wild clenching of her stomach as his presence filled the cubicle. His gaze on her was brief but no less cataclysmic before turning his attention to his patient. ‘Mr Gregory, what seems to be the problem today?’
Nat tried to listen to the examination but it was kind of hard to hear over the roar of her hormones. Even the way he doctored was sexy. He listened, he didn’t assume or begin with preconceived opinions. He put his patients at ease. He let them talk and gently herded them back with a pertinent question if they wandered off track.
Alessandro put the stethoscope in his ears and Nat helped Ron get into a sitting position so Alessandro could listen to both back and front.
‘I see you’re not married, missy,’ Ron said as he dutifully breathed in and out. ‘Are young men blind these days or just plain stupid?’
Nat laughed. She was conscious that Alessandro needed Ron to be quiet and also that he could hear every word magnified through the bell of the stethoscope. ‘Good question.’
‘Or maybe you’re just holding out for a more mature gent? Very wise. Take my generation, we know how to treat a lady.’
Nat laughed again. She was used to patients flirting with her, particularly men of Ron’s age. She knew the drill. It was a bit of harmless banter to pass the time and take their minds off their problems. And if it helped distract Ron for a while then it would have served its purpose.
‘What do you reckon, missy?’
‘Well, now, that depends. What subject did you teach?’
‘English.’
‘Ah.’ Nat sighed. ‘I had the hugest crush on my high-school English teacher.’
‘I see you’re a woman of very good taste.’
Alessandro frowned as he finished listening to Ron’s chest and eased the man back down. His patient was openly flirting with Nat and it was frankly annoying.
‘He used to quote poetry all the time. I think I was a little in love with him.’
‘Poetry? I can quote you poetry. Who’s your favourite? Shakespeare? Shelley? Browning? Wordsworth?’
Nat tapped the man’s wedding ring. ‘Oh, and what would your darling wife say to that?’ she teased.
‘Ah, well as long as it was Shelley she’d probably forgive me. She’s a sucker for Shelley.’
Alessandro blinked as Nat laughed and patted her patient’s hand. A surge of undiluted jealousy spiked his bloodstream and he suppressed the urge to pick up Nat’s hand and move it away from Ron’s vicinity.
‘We’ll get an X-ray.’
Nat looked up, startled at the steely note in Alessandro’s voice. Gone was the incendiary stare and the soft smile on his full lips. His mouth was a bleak slash and the planes of his face looked harsh and forbidding once again.
‘I’ll organise it.’ He nodded at Ron. ‘Excuse me.’
Nat frowned as they watched Alessandro leave. ‘He’s a bit of a grumpy old so-and-so, isn’t he?’ Ron dropped his voice an octave or two and gave her a sly wink.
Nat gave him a weak smile. ‘I think he’s just a little distracted.’
She did a set of obs on Ron, chatting with him a bit more about his heyday as an English department head. Then Nat excused herself, assuring R
on she’d be back shortly. Ellie was going to Theatre to have her appendix removed in half an hour and she needed to get her prepped and her pre-med given.
She headed to the small linen cupboard that was situated halfway down the main corridor that ran behind the cubicles for a theatre gown and hat. Alessandro strode towards her from the opposite direction. His powerful thighs made short work of the distance as he stalked closer.
His eyes commanded hers and held fast. She felt like he’d hypnotised her and she was powerless to resist as they moved inexorably closer. Even though his face was grim and his beautiful mouth, capable of such eroticism, looked almost savage.
They drew level and she frowned at him. ‘Are you okay?’
Okay? He felt unaccountably not okay. A cold fist was lodged under his diaphragm as a primal emotion he couldn’t put his finger on dripped icy poison into his bloodstream. He felt edgy and…tense. Like he needed to prowl. Or maybe go and hunt something…
Alessandro looked around the corridor. Satisfied no one was watching, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearby linen closet, shutting the door.
Nat pulled her arm out of his grasp, jostling her even closer in the tiny room usually only meant for one person. She glared at him as the stuffy air, heavy with the smell of starch, tickled her nostrils.
‘You like to flirt with other men?’ he rasped.
Nat blinked. His accent sounded more pronounced and, glowering down at her, his gaze as glacial as black ice, he’d never looked more Italian.
‘He’s seventy-two, Alessandro,’ she grouched, not quite believing she was having this conversation. ‘He’s worried, scared the cancer has come back. He needs someone to look at him as a person, not a chart number or a medical condition. It’s harmless.’
Alessandro understood what she was saying. Hell, he even empathised. With any other nurse he would have applauded it. But not her. When she did it he felt the caveman deep inside roar to life. She was his. And he didn’t care how crazy it was.
Without hesitation he backed her against the shelves, hands imprisoning her shoulders, and swooped his head down. Their lips met with a sizzle and his mouth opened wide, his tongue thrusting inside her already welcoming mouth. When she responded with a moan he pressed his body against hers harder so she was in no doubt that he desired her and she was his.
He pulled away as abruptly as he had pounced, taking a step back which was as far as the confines of the room would allow. His ragged breathing mingled with hers and filled the space as each stared at the other and caught their breath.
‘Don’t flirt with anyone, bella. I don’t like it.’ And then he turned, opened the door and left.
Nat reached for the shelf behind her as her knees wobbled and she practically swooned. She should be furious at such liberties. At such Neanderthal behaviour. But she didn’t think she’d ever been on the other end of such a blazing kiss and frankly she was too turned on to do anything other than stare at the empty space and grin stupidly.
Nat was slightly preoccupied when she picked Julian up from the crèche that afternoon. Alessandro’s kiss still blazed a tattoo on her lips and all she could think about was the coming night.
‘I think he’s coming down with something,’ Trudy commented. ‘He’s been so much more interactive lately but today he was really quiet. He didn’t eat much at lunch and he feels a little warm. We have had a couple of kids here coming down with flu.’
All thoughts of the night fled as concern rose to the fore. Nat placed her hand on Julian’s forehead. He did feel a little on the warm side. She knelt beside him. ‘Are you not feeling very well, matey?’
Juliano shook his head. ‘I feel sore all over.’
His usually bright little eyes looked dull and his cheeks were flushed. ‘Are your ears sore?’
Juliano shook his head. ‘No.
‘Your throat? Does it hurt to swallow? When you eat?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
It did sound like he was coming down with flu. She just hoped it wasn’t the dreaded swamp flu that was all over the news. Not that they’d had any cases in Australia to date.
‘Come on. We’ll get you home and give you something for the fever. Papa can look at you when he gets home, okay?’
Julian brightened a little and Nat’s heart did a little flip. It was gratifying to see that, even unwell, Julian was looking forward to seeing his father. They were making progress.
They arrived home half an hour later after stopping at the chemist to buy some medication for Julian’s fever. Nat administered a dose and ensconced him in front of the television with Flo and strict instructions to stay settled.
Half an hour later Julian was in the kitchen, Flo in tow, seemingly back to his old self.
‘I’m hungry.’
Nat quirked an eyebrow. ‘You better now?’
Juliano grinned. ‘Yep.’
Nat smiled. She hoped so but she wasn’t convinced—it could just be the medication talking. Alessandro came home two hours later and she got him to check his son out. He looked in Julian’s ears and down his throat and listened to his chest anyway.
‘It all seems okay.’
Nat nodded. Alessandro’s gaze bathed her in flame and it was hard to concentrate on anything other than him and what she was going to do to him when they were alone later.
By the time Julian was ready for bed a couple of hours later he was feeling warm again and looking a little subdued. She administered some more medicine which he took before Alessandro swept him up in his arms and carried him to bed.
Her heart gave a painful squeeze as Alessandro strode up the stairs with him. The way Julian’s skinny little arms clung to his father’s neck made her heart sing. They seemed like any other father and son and it was equal parts satisfying and, strangely, sexy.
Nat had a quick shower in her en suite, her thoughts bouncing from Julian’s state of health to the thawing of relations between father and son to the smoulder in Alessandro’s gaze that caused her skin to tingle everywhere as she scrubbed it.
She dressed in her pyjamas—a pointless exercise—and wandered out into her room at the same time Flo wandered out. Some kind of sixth sense alerted Nat to where her pet was heading. The cat didn’t like to intrude on father/son time and seemed to have developed a fascination with Alessandro’s bed—not that she could blame Flo.
‘Flo,’ she growled.
Flo ignored her, disappearing from sight. Maybe it was her mistress’s scent, so ingrained in the sheets, that attracted her so strongly. Or maybe it was just some primal recognition of pure animal lust. Whatever the reason, Alessandro hadn’t warmed as much to Flo as he had Julian.
She couldn’t hear any of the usual giggles or excited interaction coming from Julian’s room as she followed Flo’s twitching tail down the hallway. Julian was obviously not his usual self.
‘Flo,’ she whispered at the cat as she crept into Alessandro’s room to find her pet casually licking its leg in its favourite spot—the middle of Alessandro’s huge bed.
At least the room was looking more lived-in now than the first night Flo had strutted her way in. They’d all gone through boxes marked Master last weekend and personalised Alessandro’s room. Julian had been so excited when they’d come across a piece of pasta art he’d done for his father the previous year. When Alessandro had hung it in pride of place on the wall opposite his bed, his little chest had puffed out like a rooster’s.
‘Flo,’ she said again, hands on hips, her low voice holding a note of warning as the cat continued to ignore her. ‘You know you’re not allowed in here, madam. Alessandro will not be impressed.’
A fine lifting of the hairs on the back of her neck alerted her to his presence a second or two before his arms encircled her waist and she was pulled back into the hard muscles of his front.
‘Alessandro doesn’t care as long as you’re in here too,’ he growled in her ear, applying pressure through his arms so she turned to face him.
‘I’ve been thinking of you all day, thinking of doing this.’
He didn’t give her time to process that. Time to even suck in a breath as his mouth opened over hers and devoured every atom of oxygen in her lungs. He walked her backwards as she clung to him, dizzy from desire and hypoxia. And then his hands were plucking at the hem of her nightdress until somehow she was relieved of it and then his shirt was pulled out of his trousers and half his buttons were undone.
As they collapsed against the bed her hand had made short work of his zip and she could feel the heavy weight of his erection in her hand. His stubble scratched the soft flesh of her neck as he made his way down and she was parting her legs wider to cradle his hips, urging him closer.
‘Alessandro!’ She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to slow down or go faster. Her mind was a blank. An empty space devoid of any thought, filled only with his scent and the sound of his out-of-control breath.
His mouth closed over a nipple and she cried out, almost convulsing with desire. His hands pushed at her knickers as hers plucked at his trousers. As soon as he had access he entered her and she dug her nails into his back, gasping as he slid home, stretching her, filling her, making her feel more female, more powerful, more helpless than she’d ever felt before.
He pounded into her with frenzied strokes, like a man possessed, and all she could do was cling to his shoulders as each jab built her to a crescendo of lust that contracted her muscles and energised every cell, innervating them to an excruciating awareness.
Alessandro felt the first jolt of his orgasm and crushed her close, burying his face in her neck. The sensation seemed to come from his very soul and he groaned and cried out her name.
Nat wasn’t sure when it finished. It seemed to go for ever, suspending them on some plane that floated high even as it faded. It was almost as if she’d lost consciousness and wasn’t aware of anything other than him until he grew heavy against her and her body moved involuntarily, protesting the weight.