St Piran's: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride (10 page)

‘Are these necessary?’ Jess asked as he handed one to her.

‘Absolutely.’ He fastened his in no time. ‘I would never take risks with your safety.’

She knew that. They might not have known each other long but she trusted him implicitly. It was herself she worried about, she thought wryly as she struggled with the life-jacket, huffing with frustration as it defeated her.

‘Here,’ Gio chuckled, closing the gap between them. ‘Let me help.’

‘It’s OK…’

Her protest fell on deaf ears as he took over. Did he need to touch her that much? Or so slowly and intimately? And he was far too close—so close that every breath she took was fragranced with his musky male scent, weakening her resolve and tightening the aching
knot in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t stop breathing so she closed her eyes and tightened her hands into fists, praying for the exquisite torture to be over and reminding herself why she couldn’t succumb to temptation. He was taking longer than necessary, surely, the brush of his fingers burning her through the fabric of her T-shirt.

‘All done.’

His voice sounded huskier than usual and she opened her eyes to find herself staring directly into his. A tremor ran through her at the sensual expression he made no attempt to mask. Her body craved his touch, making it difficult for her to keep her distance, to step back now as she knew she must.

As if anticipating her retreat, he released her and moved away, but not before he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. Confused, Jess remained motionless for several moments. The tip of her nose felt warm and tingly… nothing to do with the late August heat and everything to do with the brush of his lips on her skin.

Why had he done that?

Why had she let him?

Panic welled within her. Maybe it would be best if she got off the boat now, before she did anything even more stupid. But while she was wrestling with indecision, considering her options, Gio effectively removed them by untying the moorings and firing the boat into life.

He settled her in the padded horseshoe-shaped seat adjacent to his, then he was manipulating the controls, inching the boat into the main harbour towards the open sea. The twin engines throbbed with leashed power,
straining for freedom. Despite her uncertainties, a new burst of excitement coursed through her.

‘I hate to confine your incredible hair, but you might want to tie it back—or I can lend you a baseball cap,’ Gio said as the harbour entrance approached.

Taking his advice, she accepted the cap he offered, pulling her untamed curls back into a ponytail before feeding it through the slot in the back of the cap. The brim helped shade her eyes from the August sunshine.

‘Hold on.’

Jess felt her heart thudding with excitement as they reached open water and gained speed, going west along the coast from St Piran. The sea was calm but the bow of the boat rose up and rode the crests and troughs. Gio opened the throttle and a whoop of joy escaped her. She felt free, truly understanding how he felt and how this blew away tensions and stresses.

‘This is incredible!’ She laughed, raising her voice so Gio could hear her above the noise of the engines, the whoosh of the wind and the sound of the boat hitting the water. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, savouring the sun on her skin, the occasional salty spray and the sense of speed. ‘It’s amazing! I love it.’

Lying face down on a towel stretched out on the sand in the secluded cove they had discovered, Jessica stretched and sighed. ‘I could get used to this.’

Gio smiled. She sounded sleepy and contented following their exhilarating morning flying across the waves. They had travelled miles, moving from the bay in which St Piran stood, through Penhally Bay and past the village of Penhally itself, with its horseshoe-shaped harbour and the rocky promontory at one end, off which,
Jessica had told him, lay the wreck of an old Spanish galleon.

They had headed part of the way back before finding their cove. After a swim, they had enjoyed their picnic lunch. As Jessica relaxed, he finished his apple, his gaze straying over her deliciously curvy figure. She had pulled her shorts on over her one-piece costume but that didn’t spoil his view. Everything male in him responded to her voluptuous femininity. And her hair continued to captivate him. Freed from the cap, it seemed alive in the sunlight, the strands fanning across her shoulders like tongues of fire.

Her delight at the boat made Gio glad he’d brought her. He’d had doubts. He’d never taken anyone out with him before. Time on the boat was guarded jealously. It was his escape, his retreat, his guilty pleasure, and he’d been worried… not that Jessica wouldn’t enjoy it but that having anyone with him would detract from what he gained being alone on the water. The desire for Jessica’s company proved how fully she had breached his defences in the weeks since they’d met. Today he’d discovered that sharing the boat with her made the experience better than before.

‘Why is your boat called Lori?’

Jessica’s softly voiced question made him tense. She was looking at him through those sexy green eyes, and he dragged his gaze free, staring out to sea. Maybe it was time to tell her about Sofia. If he wanted Jessica to trust him and share the secrets that held her back from relationships with people, then he had to trust her, too. Which meant placing his broken heart in her hands. He cleared his throat, the emotion building before he even begun to speak.

‘Lori was my wife’s nickname,’ he began, hit by a wave of memories. ‘In Italy it is common to shorten someone’s surname to use as a derivative. Sofia’s maiden name was Loriani.to friends she was Lori. At school everyone called us “Lori and Cori”.’ A smile came unbidden. ‘We used the names for each other into adulthood.’

Jessica’s smile was sweet, interest and understanding in her eyes. ‘That’s lovely. You’d known each other a long time?’

‘Since we were six.’

‘Six?’ she exclaimed with surprise. ‘Wow!’

‘Sofia’s
mamma,
Ginetta, came to work for my parents,’ he continued. ‘She lived in, originally caring for the house—and me—while my parents worked long hours with the business. Ginetta rapidly became indispensable, and she and Sofia were soon part of the family.’

Gio paused and took a drink of water. ‘Sofia and I were the same age and were friends from day one. We scarcely spent a day apart. Many people believed we’d go our separate ways with time, but it never happened. It wasn’t something we planned.’ He frowned, trying to find the best way to explain. ‘We just never wanted anyone else, you know?’ Jessica nodded and turned more towards him. ‘We married at eighteen. I did my medical training and Sofia trained to be a teacher. Throughout everything we remained best friends.’

‘Soul mates,’ Jessica added, her voice husky. ‘Yes.’

Leaning back on his elbows, enjoying the feel of the sun against his skin, he found himself telling her all
kinds of stories as happy memories flowed so quickly it was difficult to catch hold of them.

‘We were in no hurry to start a family of our own. Being together was all we wanted. We thought we had time… but it ran out,’ he added, choking on the words.

‘What happened, Gio?’

Jessica’s whispered query took him back into the darkness. Voice thick, he told her of the moment they had found out that Sofia was dying.

‘It is ironic, no, that Sofia should be struck down by the kind of brain tumour I now operate on often?’ He heard Jessica’s shocked gasp, aware that she was sitting up but too lost in his thoughts to stop now. ‘Sofia’s tumour was inoperable. It was virulent and resistant to treatment, claiming her quickly.’

What he didn’t add aloud was how guilty he felt. And that he couldn’t forgive himself for being unable to save her, tormenting himself as he relived those terrible weeks… to the signs he must have missed and failing to catch the tumour early enough to make a difference. His head knew it wasn’t true, Sofia’s doctors had told him time and again that it wouldn’t have made a difference, but still he wondered and beat himself up over his failings.

‘Gio, you’re not in any way to blame.’ Jessica was closer, he could feel her behind him, feel the kiss of her breath against his shoulder as she spoke, her voice gentle but firm. He heard the emotion she was keeping in check as she continued. ‘It is too unspeakably cruel, for Sofia and for you.’

‘I wish I had her courage. She faced death with the same warmth, bravery, humour and gentleness of spirit with which she embraced life. I was at her side every
second of her brief but futile fight, and I was holding her hand when she took her final breath.’

His colleagues and the staff who had cared for her had left him alone with her. For the first time in his adult life, he had wept—for Sofia and for himself. And then he had shut down a significant part of himself, closing off his heart because it was the only way he could cope with going on alone. As he had somehow emerged from the blackest of days after her loss, he had thrown himself into his work, into making himself better, and in trying to stop others dying the way Sofia had.

‘Life was nothing without her. We’d been inseparable for twenty-one years. I felt lost, cast adrift,’ he admitted, the emotion catching up with him.

‘Gio…’

Jessica came up onto her knees behind him and wrapped him in her arms, shocking him. Full, firm breasts pressed against his back and, as she rested her head on his shoulder, he felt her tears against his skin. As he drew in another unsteady breath, it was fragranced with the subtle aroma of her chocolate-scented shampoo and body lotion. Drawing on her comfort, he raised his hands, finding hers and linking their fingers.

‘You worked so you wouldn’t think,’ she said, her voice throaty with emotion.

‘Yes.’ She understood, he suspected, because she did the same, focusing on other people’s problems to escape her own.

‘And the trust you told me about…’

‘I set it up in Sofia’s name, funding research, raising money to provide scanners and equipment for hospitals around the world and providing information and support
for those struck down by neurological conditions, especially tumours.’

‘Sofia would be so proud of you.’

‘She would also be kicking me for not getting on with life,’ he added wryly.

‘But you have,’ Jessica protested. ‘You did what you needed to do for you and you’ve helped countless others through very difficult times.’

Her generosity touched him. And he savoured the closeness and physical contact, hoping Jessica would not suddenly remember her no-touching rule and take flight.

He took a deep breath, feeling calmer, telling Jessica of his discovery of the album Sofia had made of their lives, packed with photos and letters and memorabilia from childhood, through their wedding and to their last days together. He treasured it. It gave him solace, made him grateful that she’d been his life, but it also made him grieve for what would never be. Sofia was the only woman he had ever loved, the only woman with whom he had ever
made
love. In the last five years his bed had felt too big and cold and lonely, but nothing and no one had ever tempted him.

Until Jessica.

As Gio fell silent, Jess thought over all he had told her, feeling devastated for him and his wife. Many times she had wondered about the woman who had claimed Gio’s heart. Sofia. She envisaged a glamorous, beautiful woman with a model-like figure. Whatever she had looked like, Sofia had been lucky to win Gio’s love, devotion and loyalty. And cruelly unlucky to have been taken from him at such a young age.

Gio’s fidelity and love for Sofia was in stark contrast to the thoughtlessness and infidelity shown by Duncan, Jess’s ex-fiancé and the man who had changed her life for ever. Discovering Duncan had been unfaithful on too many occasions to count had been hurtful and shocking enough. Being eight weeks away from the wedding she had dreamed of for so long had made it worse. The wedding had never taken place. And the dream would now never come true for her.

There were so many things Duncan had taken from her, including her trust in people. And herself. Her life had changed beyond recognition. Her fiancé?
ex-fiancé,
she corrected with the anger and bitterness that had never left her—had seen to that.

The thought of never being close to anyone again was depressing, so she kept busy and absorbed helping others so that she had no time to think of herself. So she understood Gio’s need to lose himself in work after such a heart-wrenching loss. That he blamed himself was terrible, and yet driving himself as he had meant he had given hope, care and fresh chances to his patients. Patients he tried so hard to save as he had not been able to save Sofia.

Her situation was different but the outcome had been similar. A lonely life devoting herself to caring for others. Now and again, in a weak moment, a stray thought crept in. A yearning for intimacy. Not even sex.just a need to be held and cherished. As she and Gio were holding each other now.

The reality of it was a shock. She’d acted on instinct in response to his pain, forgetting the need to keep distance between them. Now, pressed against him, her arms around his shoulders and their hands locked together,
she battled the awareness and desire that were coursing through her.

How she wished she could satisfy the urge to bury her face more fully into his neck and breathe in his scent… the earthy aroma of man mixed with the subtle but arousing fragrance of his soap and warm, sun-kissed skin. It was crazy! But everything in her was drawn to him on some basic level. She couldn’t give in to it. To do so would involve telling him her secrets and she couldn’t do that. If she did, he would run in the opposite direction, just as everyone else in her life had done when they’d found out. She was tarnished, spoiled goods, untouchable. And she would do well to remember that when she indulged in any foolish notions about Gio.

Drawing in one last breath of his intoxicating, delicious scent, her desire for him threatening to melt her bones and turn her resolve to dust, she began to withdraw.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,’ she apologised, disconcerted when he kept hold of her hands.