Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon (8 page)

‘But you did it, and no one has said anything at all. Except me. And I have kept you all to myself.' Taking her glass from her hand, he gave her another warm smile. No—not warm. It was possessive. Hot. His hand brushed against hers and heat rippled through her. She tried to shake it off, but it stayed, curling into her, making her hot too. His voice was deeper when he spoke again, and it caressed her insides. ‘Ivy, do you have to get back for the boyfriend? The husband?'

‘No. I told you, I have work to do. I really do.'
Please, don't ask anything…more.
There was something about him that was different from other men, that connected with her on another level. Something about him… Her gaze slammed up against his, the warm tease now a molten heat. She wanted to…do so many things she'd promised herself not to do again. She didn't want to be beholden to a man. To fall too deeply in love with someone who would have a hold over her emotions and actions. She wanted to stay whole. To be herself, and so much more.

He shook his head. ‘Okay. I know I'm going to regret this, but I'll let you go this time. Next week I might not be so lenient.' Was it her imagination or was he flirting again? She didn't know. Panic and heat rose in her gut. The heat overriding the panic, squashing it. No. This was not how she wanted to feel—she didn't want to lose control with him. Knew that if that happened she'd be on a spiral to disaster. She didn't need that in her life, not when she'd finally got where she'd wanted to be. His hand touched her arm. ‘You're going to leave me to sing to these people, and I'll end up looking like a fool—as always—but it's worth it for the money. Don't work too hard, Ivy. Enjoy the videos.'

‘I will.'
Another lie.
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she pushed the door open and inhaled the late spring evening air. Thank God for that. What was happening to her insides she did not know, or want to even think about. But she knew she had to put some distance between her and Dr Delicious. Wrapping her coat around her, she began to walk towards the bus stop and realised…

My bag
.
Damn
.

Without it her evening, her whole weekend, would be lost. Besides, those files held confidential information that she could not lose on any account.

Twirling back round towards the pub, she
slammed hard into a wall of muscle. A dark collared shirt. Brooding eyes. A hand holding out her bag. ‘Ivy.'

‘Oh.' But now she was touching him she didn't want to let go. Should have but didn't. Underneath the soft linen of his shirt she could feel every nuance of muscle, every ripple of movement. And there, underneath her fingers, his heart beat strong and regular. Steady. ‘Matteo—'

‘Hush.' The bag fell to the ground. Then he placed his palm to the back of her neck, pulled her towards him, and pressed his lips against hers.

It took a moment to register that this was Matteo, this was a kiss—so unexpected, and yet everything that their conversations had been leading up to. His mouth was playful as he nipped across her bottom lip and she could feel his smile against her own. Then she stopped thinking altogether—because thinking would throw up too many barriers, and just for once in her life she wanted to be free, to take what she wanted instead of holding back. To open herself up to…
this
. He tasted exotic, of spice and man, and it set her gut on fire.

Wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her closer, he set the tone, and took control. His tongue slipped into her mouth and danced a fierce dance with hers. She gripped his shirt,
pressed her body against his, took everything he gave her and gave it right back to him. All the fighting and the humiliation and the anger and the deep sexual need she'd experienced since she'd crossed paths with him was in that kiss. So too was a longing and heat that she'd never experienced before.

This was bad.

This was good.

This was the biggest mistake she'd ever made. As reality seeped into her brain she stopped. Fighting for breath, she pulled away. ‘My God, Matteo. What the hell was that for?'

‘You looked like you needed kissing.' And he was all bravado and outward calm but she could see the slight tremor in his body as he inhaled a breath. So it had been an instinctive unthought-out action and had taken him by surprise too. ‘And I was right, you did. Kissing suits you. You should do it more often. Look at you now—alive. Vibrant. No words.'

She daren't imagine how she looked, but that was the least of her problems. ‘Well, that's not the way I do things. And now I'm going home.'
Don't even think of asking to come with me
.

‘Okay. If you insist.' As he appeared to get used to the idea that smile was back on his mouth. A mouth she'd actually, really, truly just
kissed, in the street like a…an out-of-control teenager.

Kissing Matteo! She swiped a hand across her lips to remove all trace of him. What the hell had she been thinking? He was all mouth and smug and… Oh, my God, he was good. And she couldn't find an inch of her body that didn't want to do it again—but her conscience, oh, dear, her conscience was very unhappy with such a strange and unexpected turn of events.

‘My bag? Please.' She reached for it.

‘Sure. Here you go. Sweet dreams, Ivy.' With that he handed her bag over, turned and disappeared back inside the pub, leaving her breathless and hot and shaking.

Sweet dreams? Not if they were going to be filled with him.
Please, no.
Thanks goodness her bag was stuffed to the gills with papers that would keep her occupied into the early hours, because somehow she was going to have to keep her mind on her work and not on a peachy backside, startling eyes and smug mouth.

Good luck with that.

‘S
ERIOUSLY
, I
HAVE
to sit in a circle and discuss hypothetical scenarios? Really? When there are real ones happening two floors down in ER…and an empty OR across the hospital?' Matteo looked around at the other members of the group in disbelief. Two doctors, a ward clerk and a phlebotomist. They were okay with this?

‘Okay, then.' Ivy was hovering around them, going from group to group checking on progress, a smile plastered to her face. A smile, he could see, that wasn't comfortable every time her eyes settled on him. ‘Why don't you share with everyone what the specific problems are for your department? We could do a brainstorm and set something in motion. It could be a true test of the skills you're learning here on the course.'

Marjorie, the ward clerk from ward three, nodded in agreement, her gaze homing in on Matteo. ‘Okay, big-shot bottom, tell us what you need.'

He smothered a grin. That photo had certainly
been one way of getting attention, unwanted but nevertheless—people certainly knew him now. ‘I need, in simple terms, a new dialysis machine, or funds to buy one.'

‘Ball park?' Ivy again.

‘Around thirty thousand.'

‘That's a lot of calendars you'd have to sell, Mr Finelli. How about you approach a fund starter website? That would be a great place to start. Some people are seeing amazing results…' Ivy certainly got impassioned and enthusiastic about some things. ‘Set up an account and get people to pledge money. Those kinds of forums work because it's a little more personal than just donating. You could have giveaways with each level of pledge—say, a plaque for a platinum sponsor. Plus a brochure and a personalised photograph or something…'

‘We've already got a perfect picture for that, eh, Matteo?' It was Marjorie again. His backside had certainly gone viral.

Ivy rolled her eyes. ‘That's enough about that picture, please. I am so over it. Really. As I've already explained to Mr Finelli, that's not the sort of image we want associated with St Carmen's—as we can clearly see it distracts us from our purpose. Still, great work. Brainstorming certainly helps.'

One of the other doctors chipped in, ‘How
about a charity run or a bike ride? A run might work better—around one of the parks? Hyde Park would be good. I know they allow a certain number of small events like that. Or Regent's? Or a skydive?'

Ivy beamed and shot an
I told you so
look at Matteo. ‘All of these things can catch the public's eye—given enough warning, they would embrace it. We could get the message out via our usual social media outlets—contact radio stations directly, and get their followers to get involved—it's a chain reaction. A personal message in a public forum often gets huge hits and a better positive response. Something like
Want to fly high for St Carmen's? Charity fundraising skydiving event—have fun and do some good! DM us back for details
… Or something. That's off the top of my head, and you'd need to do it in conjunction with marketing.'

Matteo nodded, impressed with the enthusiasm, although daunted by the amount of time it would need to do all this. ‘It sounds like a lot of work.'

‘And we're not afraid of that.' Ivy tapped her marker pen against her mouth as she thought. ‘It would be a team effort, anyway. Small amounts of time and energy spent efficiently, in the right ways.'

He preferred it, he mused to himself, when
that mouth was not talking. When it was kissing him. Who would have thought that was how the evening would pan out? It had been a surprise even to him. More so, the way she'd kissed him back with such hunger had stoked a fierce heat inside him, one that had him wanting more from her in a way that he hadn't wanted someone in a very long time.

Which was warning enough. No more kissing.

The afternoon crawled along and eventually the workshops came to a close, and he wasn't sure whether it was such a coincidence that he was, once again, the last person to be leaving the room. His feet seemed to have started a revolution and were taking their time in walking towards the door.

‘Mr Finelli. May I, please, have a word?' She sounded like a schoolteacher. Which made him grin to himself. That kiss had shaken her. And it had probably been wrong of him to have done it—but,
Dio mio
, she had looked so uptight and uncomfortable and after the kiss it had been like looking at a different woman. Her hair had become messed a little and her lips had swollen, her cheeks pink, but her eyes—man, her eyes had been alive. That intense green flecked with gold, and sparkling. Just sparkling.

Despite that, he knew bone deep that it had been a crazy thing to do. He had no business
kissing Miss Poison Ivy. They were poles apart in everything, not least that he was a one-night-stand man and she looked, as far as he could see, like a one-man-only woman. No—it wasn't going to happen again.

He turned, but made sure he stayed where he was at the door—all the better to make a quick exit before any more kissing happened. ‘Sure. What can I do for you?'

‘Nothing. That's exactly it. I don't want you to do anything else. Ever.' She walked towards him, her mouth fixed and determined. Her gait, as always, just the tiniest bit off balance. ‘No touching. No kissing. Nothing.'

‘The kiss? You want to talk about it? I thought you would almost burn up with the heat. It was good, yes?' Just thinking about it again sent hot, sharp need rippling through him.

She shook her head, holding her workbag against her chest. ‘That's not the point.'

‘You say that a lot.'

‘Say what?'

‘“That's not the point.”' He removed his hand from the doorhandle and tried not to touch her. ‘When you deny how you're feeling, or what you're thinking, you close off a corner of yourself.' And he should learn a lesson from his own words—but, hell, he'd learnt to close himself off to attaching any kind of sentiment to a kiss. It
was just human nature. It was lust. It was natural desire, that was all. This time he was in control and calling the shots and, besides, he had no intention of taking it any further. He just couldn't. ‘It is exactly
my
point. It is a simple answer, yes? Or no? You liked the kiss?'

‘Is not the poi— Oh…' she frowned and he thought for a moment she would stamp her foot in irritation, but instead she gave him a haughty smile. ‘You are insufferable.'

‘Hey, come on, I was there. I know that you liked it. Try to be honest, Ivy. Your eyes give you away anyway. You liked the kiss and you want to do it again, but you won't. You have a very strong resolve and kissing won't get you where you want to be. Is that right?'

‘Yes. Absolutely.'

‘But still you liked it.'

Now she looked like she was trying not to laugh, that pretty mouth curling at the edges, light in the green eyes. ‘You are very annoying, Matteo. Okay. If I say yes, will you shut up?'

‘Perhaps. Take a chance and see.' He raised his eyebrows and waited. And waited some more as the silence in the room became amplified and the lack of anyone else there became more and more obvious. They were alone and if kissing was on the agenda it could happen here. Now. And no one apart from them would ever know.
He perched on the edge of one of the tables. ‘And…?'

She glared at him, all humour and frustration and tight-lipped. And eventually she shook her head and tsked. ‘God, will you never give up? I liked the kiss, okay?'

As he'd thought. ‘Good. You said it and nothing bad happened, so it wasn't so hard to be honest and open, was it? I liked it too, but it wasn't a sensible move.'

‘No. It wasn't.'

‘And if we do it again?' What was it about her that made him so rash? He wanted to say things to her that he'd never said to anyone else. ‘You will slap me with a sexual harassment complaint?'

‘Oh, no. I wouldn't do that. I fully acknowledge my part in it.' The smile gave way to a frown. ‘It is mighty tempting.'

Indeed it was. Achingly so. And a lesser man might well have tried it again. But Matteo knew the score, he had nothing but respect for her and would not step over a line that she drew. But that didn't mean he couldn't be friends with her, somehow.