St Piran's: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride (11 page)

‘I’m not sorry.’ He allowed her to place only a small distance between them before shifting so he was facing her. ‘Thank you.’

Jess shook her head in confusion. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘Yes, you did. You listened, you understood. You cared,’ he added huskily, setting her heart thudding.

Knowing she was in big trouble, Jess sucked in a ragged breath, unable to drag her gaze free from the intensity of his. ‘W-what are you looking at?’ she finally asked, the electric tension increasing with every passing second.

‘Your eyes.’

Jess frowned. ‘What’s the matter with them?’

‘Nothing. They’re beautiful.’ He smiled, seeming closer than ever. ‘This is the first time I’ve noticed the little specks of silver-grey in them.’

‘Really?’ Was that her voice sounding so breathless and confused?

‘Mmm.’ Blue eyes darkened as they watched her. ‘I’ve meant to ask before.what is the gemstone in your earrings? They’re the same shade as your eyes.’

Again he had thrown her and she tried to focus on his question and not on the affect of his nearness. ‘Olive apatite. My grandmother had a passion for gemology and she gave them to me for my twenty-first birthday,’ she told him, thinking with sadness and gratitude of the woman who had died the previous winter and whose unexpected legacy had enabled her to buy her cottage.

‘They’re perfect for you,’ Gio told her, the approval and intimacy in his voice making her tingle all over.

Jess couldn’t help but shiver as Gio ran the pad of one thumb along the sensitive hollow between her chin and her lower lip. She couldn’t prevent her lips parting in response. It took a concerted effort not to sway towards him. Instead, Gio moved, oh, so slowly leaning in until warm supple lips met hers. Jess jumped. One of his hands still held hers and her fingers closed reflexively on his.

He tasted of things sinful, things long denied her but which she could know again if only she let go. Could she? Dared she? What if she did? How would she put the lid back on the box again afterwards? More than anything she wanted to forget common sense.

But she couldn’t.

Gathering all the strength and willpower she could
muster, she turned her head away, breaking the spell. She heard his soft sigh, his smothered exclamation of regret and frustration, but she hardened her resolve. It was for the best, she told herself over and over again, hoping that repeating the mantra often enough would make her believe it. But the thought of telling him the truth made it easier.

The truth.

Her secret.

The one that hung over her like the sword of Damocles. Nothing could happen without him knowing—and once he knew, he would reject her anyway. Like everyone else. She valued his friendship too much to risk spoiling everything by giving in to a moment of madness, one she knew had no future to it.

‘Jessica…’

‘Please, Gio, don’t,’ she begged before he could continue. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

His disappointment was clear, but he smiled, running one finger down her cheek. ‘It’s OK. I’m not giving up on you but there is no hurry. When you are ready, you will tell me… whatever it is.’

Jess had no reply to that, unable to imagine a time when she could ever reveal the truth to him.

‘Friends, remember?’ she said now, moving away and helping him pack their things ready to return to the boat for the journey home.

She’d told Gio to remember the rules, but she had been as guilty as him of ignoring them. With the boundaries becoming more and more blurred all the time, who most needed the instruction to behave… Gio or herself?

‘M
EGAN?’

Josh O’Hara looked at the fragile form of the woman who had caused much of the mental and emotional turmoil that had plagued him since he’d arrived at St Piran’s and discovered her here. A blast from the past. One with which he’d never come to terms.

She turned around, her gaze scanning the A and E staffroom, and a frown formed as she realised they were alone. He felt uncertain and awkward as the silence stretched between them. They had been tiptoeing around each other for weeks now. He had questions that needed answers, but attempts to confront the past had been futile… meeting with hostility and denial.

Yet despite the dark cloud that hung over them, when Megan, as registrar on call, had come to A and E from Paediatrics, they’d worked well together and been attuned to each other. Now he had a rare window of opportunity to talk to her alone.

‘Have you been in Cornwall all the time?’ he asked, daring to venture onto dangerous ground.

Her gaze flicked to his and away again. ‘Pretty much.’

At least she’d answered rather than walking out or telling him to back off. ‘How is your grandmother?’

‘She died three years ago.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Damn it, could he say nothing right to this woman? ‘I know what she meant to you.’

Her small smile was tinged with sadness. ‘I owe her everything.’

She’d told him once how her parents had been killed in a road accident when she’d been four and her grandmother had raised her. She’d not been in the best of health and Megan had been caring for her while going through medical school.

With Megan in a more conciliatory mood, he risked asking more of the questions that plagued him. ‘Why here, Megan?’

‘My grandmother lived in Penhally when she was young and she wanted to come home before she died. It seemed as good a place as any to be,’ she finished, sounding so lost and alone that his heart ached for her.

He’d forgotten her grandmother’s connection with Cornwall. Or had he? Was that why, when Rebecca had suggested leaving London, Cornwall had been the first place he had thought to go? Had he, some place deep in his subconscious, made the connection with Megan?

He remained as affected by her as he’d always been. The past would never go away. Neither could he change it. But he craved answers.

‘I know you don’t want to talk, and I won’t ask again if that’s what you choose, but I need to know, Megan—’ He broke off, capturing her gaze, his heart in his mouth. ‘Was the baby mine?’

He saw her shock and the pain his question caused as
she reeled back, anger replacing the hurt in her eyes. ‘Of
course
it was yours. Don’t judge me by
your
standards.
I
didn’t sleep around.’

‘Why didn’t you
tell
me?’ he demanded, his own hurt and anger rising with the confirmation of what he had known in his heart all along.

‘How could I?’ she threw back at him, her voice shaky with emotion. ‘When was I meant to tell you? You refused to talk to me. And what good would it have done? What would
you
have done? You’d made it clear I meant nothing to you. You wouldn’t have welcomed fatherhood… you never wanted children. Just as you rejected marriage—although
that’s
changed in the last eight years.’

Pain and bitterness rang in her tone. Her accusations hurt… the more so because he recognised the truth in them. He
had
behaved badly. He’d been anti-marriage—for himself—and he’d never wanted children. Something he’d made clear to Rebecca from the first, and the reason why he was refusing her latest demands for a baby.

But he didn’t want to think of Rebecca now. His thoughts were in the past. He’d had a right to know eight years ago. Hadn’t he? Megan’s challenge rang in his ears. What
would
he have done? He wasn’t sure but it would undoubtedly have been the wrong thing. Avoidance of the truth. Running away. He’d been good at that. But knowing it
had
been his lifeless son he’d once held in his arms was devastating.

‘You denied me any chance of making those decisions for myself.’ The depth of his emotion shocked him and his voice was choked. ‘You gave me no chance to say goodbye to my son.’

‘You have a nerve. What chance did
you
give
me
when you tossed me aside?’ Tears gleamed on her lashes. ‘You took my baby from me, Josh. And with him any chance of me having another child.’

‘God, Megan. Those weren’t my decisions.’ His tone softened as her pain sliced through him. She looked more fragile than ever and he fought the urge to comfort her—something he should have done eight years ago.

Eight years…

He was plunged back to that terrible night when A and E had been in chaos following a multiple crash involving a coach of schoolchildren. He’d been a junior doctor facing something far beyond his experience as the paramedics had brought in a woman in the throes of a miscarriage and haemorrhaging terribly. Discovering it was Megan had thrown him.

‘The obstetrician/gynaecologist did what was necessary to save your life. There wasn’t even time to transfer you to Theatre.’

The possibility of Megan dying had been real. The surgeon had pulled the tiny baby from her body and given it to him. He’d stared at the lifeless form, too premature to survive, trying to work out dates with a brain that refused to function. A nurse had taken the baby away, and he’d been drawn back into the emergency procedure, assisting as the surgeon had made the decision to take Megan’s womb.

‘I asked him—
begged
him—to leave you hope for the future, but he was adamant there was no other way to stop you bleeding to death. What else could I have done?’ he appealed to her, his stomach churning as he relived that awful night.

‘I don’t know.’

Tears ran down her cheeks and his heart, for so long
encased in a protective coating of stone, threatened to break at the depth of her sorrow and pain. He’d pushed the memories into the background, unable to deal with them. Megan had been living with them every day. He felt guilty, confused…

‘What did you call him?’ he asked, knowing he was tormenting them both but needing to know.

‘Stephen.’ Her voice was rough. ‘After my father.’

‘Thank you for telling me.’

They stared at each other, fighting the past, the pain, the memories—and the chemistry that, eight years on and despite all that had happened, still bubbled below the surface.

The sound of his pager announcing an incoming emergency cut through the tense silence, swiftly followed by the ring of Megan’s pager, bringing their conversation to an end. Although he now had confirmation about the baby, a sense of unfinished business still remained.

Eight years ago he had known that Megan was different, had sensed she was dangerous to him. And he’d been right. The night he’d let down his guard had been the most amazing of his life. He’d told Megan things he had never told anyone else, and she had touched a place inside him in a way no other woman ever had. It had scared him. And he’d done what Megan had accused him of. He’d blanked her, keeping as far from her as possible because she’d burrowed under his skin.

If only he had been mature enough to know what he knew now. That the sort of connection he had found with Megan was rare. Not just the incredible physical passion that had overwhelmed them both but the deep mental and emotional union he’d experienced with no one but
her. By the time he’d realised what he could have had and all he had thrown away, it had been too late.

He’d wobbled. Briefly. Then he’d gone on, focusing on his career and rapid advancement. Four years ago he’d met Rebecca and they’d seemed to want the same things, including no children. He’d cared about her, he’d been lonely and enjoyed having her to come home to. She’d wanted the doctor husband and the lifestyle. He’d convinced himself it was for the best, not the same as he’d had with Megan but safer.

Things had been wrong long before they’d left London. Bored, Rebecca had changed the rules, deciding she wanted a child. But as Izzy had said weeks ago when her daughter had been born, a child couldn’t hold a bad marriage together and shouldn’t be brought into the world for the wrong reasons. He wouldn’t have a baby he didn’t want with a woman he didn’t love and who didn’t love him.

Seeing Megan again, he saw with terrible clarity what he had thrown away, and he wished with all his heart that he had done things differently when he’d had the chance. As they walked down the corridor to the main A and E department, it occurred to him that he had still not asked Megan one of the questions that had been bugging him all along.

‘Why
did
you stay the night with me, Megan?’

Her sharp intake of breath was audible, but she pushed through the swing doors into the busy department, bringing further discussion to an end. As he was directed to Resus, Megan was called to a treatment cubicle and she walked away from him without a backward glance. He had no more idea what to do about her—and his feelings for her—now than he had in the past. She
was an itch under his skin that wouldn’t go away, affecting him in the same unique way she had done eight years ago.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ Jess asked, sitting beside the bed of the woman with whom she had spent a considerable amount of time over the last few days.

Faye Luxton, in her early seventies, had come in for a standard knee replacement but had suffered a severe bleed in her brain during her operation and had woken in Intensive Care to find her world turned upside down. She’d been handed over into Gio’s care and, just days ago, he had needed to operate on a second bleed to remove a clot and also to put a coil around a small aneurysm that had threatened to enlarge and cause even greater problems.

Unfortunately, the damage already caused could not be reversed, although the numbness and weakness down one side of her body and her difficulty speaking were improving. Faye could still have a good quality of life, but she would no longer be able to live alone or care for herself and her animals.

With no family, Faye faced the horrible necessity of selling her much-loved home and moving into an assisted-care facility. Jess had helped support her when Social Services had come to discuss the options.

Faye had faced everything with courage, but had been distressed at times as she tried to come to terms with the drastic changes in her life. Jess had done all she could, helping Faye deal with the emotional upset.

‘You’ve done so much.’ Her speech was slow and
slurred, but clearer than it had been. ‘I wouldn’t have coped without you.’