The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Bride (4 page)

Exactly what Max would expect from the Petrellis, being there to help with practical things in a crisis. Part of him wondered: had he and Marina lived in London instead of Bristol, would her family have rallied round them and kept them together, helped them to work things through?

Too late for that now.

‘So when are they going to induce you?’ he asked.

‘It depends how things go. I know that it’s best to deliver the baby as late as possible, but the idea of being stuck here for another seven weeks, having injections and blood taken…’ She grimaced. ‘I tell you, if I was ever scared of needles, I’ve learned to overcome my phobia! Anyway, enough about me. We’re doing fine—aren’t we, Bambino?’ She rubbed the bump and smiled. ‘So, how are you doing?’

‘I’m fine.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. And that’s why you’ve got dark shadows under your eyes and you’re too thin. Don’t try to bluff me, Max.’

‘New city, new job. It takes time to settle in,’ he said lightly.

‘Maybe.’ She gestured to his name-tag. ‘But you’re also working in the emergency department with my sister. That can’t be easy—for either of you.’

He shrugged. ‘We’re professionals. Our patients won’t suffer.’

‘I’m not talking about the
patients
—I know you’re both professionals. I was talking about you two.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘I was really sorry when you and Marina broke up.’

Tell me about it.
He forced himself to keep the words back. ‘Things happen,’ he said lightly.

‘So are you with someone now? What’s she like?’

He’d forgotten the other thing about Marina’s family: they had no scruples about asking personal questions. For a moment, he considered making up a story, but Rosie would know he was lying. ‘There’s nobody,’ he admitted. And then, to stave off further questioning, he added, ‘I spent a few years working for Doctors Without Borders. There wasn’t time for anything other than work.’

He wished he hadn’t said it when Rosie gave him a very perceptive look. ‘So
that’s
why we never got a Christmas card from you. Hmm. I happen to know someone else who throws herself into work. Someone who either finds excuses not to date, or makes it friends-only after just a couple of dates.’

Rosie wasn’t even trying to be subtle and, although part of him was annoyed, part of him was also amused. The Petrellis were notorious fixers. They were the kind of people who made lemonade out of lemons, who always saw the bright side. It was one of the things he’d adored about Marina; she was unlike anyone else he’d ever met.
And the complete opposite of his mother: she saw sunshine where Kay Fenton saw clouds, was light where Kay was intense. Just like the rest of her family. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Rosie. Marina and I are colleagues. End of.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words.

‘It’s four years now since you split up. You’re both still single. That,’ Rosie said, ‘is extremely telling.’

‘And I think you’ve been teaching too much
Romeo and Juliet
,’ he said, still managing a smile. It was impossible to be offended with someone who so clearly wanted life to be happy. ‘A nice story.’

She scoffed. ‘Of course it isn’t a nice story. It’s a tragedy, Max. They both die at the end!’

‘And it unites their families.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘You know what I mean. Marina and I won’t be getting back together, Rosie. There’s way too much water under the bridge.’

Rosie gave him a telling look, but to his relief she didn’t try to labour the point. ‘Marina didn’t tell me you were working here.’

He shrugged. ‘I only started a couple of days ago.’

‘Hmm,’ Rosie said.

‘And neither of us knew the other was working here. It was a bit of a surprise for both of us.’

‘I’ll say,’ Rosie said drily.

He ruffled her hair. ‘I have to go. Iris says you have to sit still and be good, or she’ll scalp me. Is it OK if I come back tomorrow?’

‘Of course it is.’ She frowned. ‘Why are you even asking me that?’

‘I don’t want to make things awkward.’

‘With Marina, you mean? Or the rest of my family?’ She
patted his hand. ‘Stop worrying. Of course it’s not going to be awkward. If anything, they’ll be pleased I’ve got someone else to come in and nag me to rest.’

He couldn’t help laughing. ‘Good.’

She smiled at him. ‘Thanks for coming, Max. It’s been really good to see you again.’

‘You, too.’ He hugged her, and left for the emergency department.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Rosie had told him.

Marina didn’t date.

He hadn’t dated much since he’d split up with Marina, either. Most of the time, he’d been too busy at work to bother with a relationship. But when he’d come back to England and had started dating again something had always been missing. He’d always ended up finishing a relationship before it had even got started.

If he was honest with himself, he knew why: because nobody had ever matched up to his ex-wife.

And Rosie had told him that there was nobody serious in Marina’s life, either.

Quite what that meant, he didn’t know. Did Marina still have feelings for him? But, in that case, surely she would’ve talked to him and asked him to give their marriage another try, instead of sending divorce papers to him? Or maybe marriage to him had disappointed her so much that she wasn’t prepared to try again with anyone else.

The only way to find out was to ask her.

Though, it wasn’t the easiest of subjects to broach. Particularly as they had to work together. Right now, they had a guarded working-relationship; not an easy one, but a tolerable one. Asking the wrong questions at the wrong
time could tip it over into being intolerable—which wouldn’t be fair to their colleagues.

Last time, they’d rushed into things, and it had gone spectacularly wrong. This time, maybe he should try being patient.

And when the time was right, Max decided, then he’d ask those questions.

O
VER
the next week, Marina found herself growing more and more aware of her ex. She knew exactly when Max walked into the department, even if she was busy treating a patient in cubicles and couldn’t see him. And, when they were working together in Resus, she was conscious of every single movement he made. Time and again she found herself glancing at him, only to find that he was looking at her too.

This was insane. They’d crashed and burned last time round. So why couldn’t they keep their eyes off each other?

Every time his hand brushed hers as she handed him an ampoule, or he passed her a syringe, or they looked at an X-ray together, her pulse started racing—because her body still remembered the way he used to touch her: the feel of his skin sliding against hers, the roughness of the hair on his chest, the softness of his mouth as he’d kissed her awake. The scent of his skin, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and dimples appeared in his cheeks when he laughed, the way desire flared in his eyes and turned them from slate-blue to hot black whenever he looked at her.

She really had to get a grip. If this carried on for much longer, she’d go crazy.

She and Max were
not
an item. They were never going to be an item again. And it was about time her head got that straight.

Rosemary; Max would’ve known that scent anywhere. So Marina still used the same shampoo, then.

Her hair was driving him insane. She wore it in a French pleat at work, but he could remember what it looked like when it was down, glossy and spilling over her shoulders. Flowing over his pillow, soft and sensuous. He’d loved brushing her hair, playing with the ends and feeling its silkiness against his skin.

It would have been so much easier if she’d had her hair cropped. At least then he wouldn’t have had to keep battling with the memories.

He glanced at her mouth, and wished that he hadn’t. Because he could remember that beautiful mouth exploring every inch of his skin, her eyes full of mischief as she’d turned him on so much that he couldn’t even see straight. Even the memories made his whole body tingle with desire.

Working with Marina was becoming more and more of a challenge for Max. She was a great doctor, and he’d never been one for throwing his weight around, so team-work on the ward wasn’t a problem.

It was Marina herself, and the way his body seemed to operate completely independently from his head. Every time his hand accidentally brushed hers, or he caught the scent of her hair, he wanted to yank her into his arms, dip his head, brush his mouth against hers, tease her until she slid her hands into his hair, opened her mouth and kissed him back.

For pity’s sake. He knew he didn’t have the right to do that. But he still wanted to touch her.
Needed
to touch her.

This was crazy, particularly as he didn’t have a clue how she felt about the situation. She was perfectly professional with him, and since their brief chat in the staff kitchen she’d stuck to first-name terms and treated him just like she treated everyone else on the ward. But whenever he caught her eye there was something unreadable in her gaze. He couldn’t even begin to work out what it was.

Get a grip
, he told himself savagely.
Be professional
. Because he knew it was way too late to go back. No way would Marina give him a second chance.

‘Max has been to see me,’ Rosie said.

Marina frowned. ‘He hasn’t upset you or anything, has he?’

‘No. He’s good company. And he’s dropped in every day.’

Every day? From what he’d said, she’d expected him to visit Rosie maybe once—not every day. And he hadn’t said a word to her about it.

Rosie took her sister’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I always liked him, Marina. We all did.’

‘I know.’ Marina sighed heavily, guessing what Rosie was going to say next, and knowing that she had to head her sister off right now. ‘But it didn’t work out and we’ve both moved on.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ Rosie paused. ‘You know, Max isn’t seeing anyone.’

‘That’s none of my business, Rosie.’ Trust her sister to have asked the question. Marina deliberately hadn’t.

But now she knew.

And it sent a weird mixture of delight and panic through her.

Delight, because it felt as if Max had waited for her. And
panic, because it had gone so badly wrong last time; did they really have a chance to get it right, second time round?

If Max had wanted them to try again, he would have followed her to London years ago. He would’ve refused to sign the divorce papers. He would’ve
talked
to her.

But, all the same, she couldn’t help wondering: why was Max still single? OK, so their marriage had been a disaster, but Max was a nice guy. A good doctor.

A thoughtful lover.
Marina suppressed that line of thought immediately. She really didn’t need to remember how she’d felt in Max’s arms. How his clever hands and mouth had made her blood feel, as if it were singing. How he’d taken her to the edge of pleasure.

‘Did you know he spent three years working for Doctors Without Borders?’ Rosie asked.

‘No.’ But it explained why he’d taken a while to respond to her solicitor’s letters—and it also explained why he was single. No way would Max have had any spare energy to start a new relationship, working under those kinds of pressures.

‘I think,’ Rosie said, ‘that it’s time you two sat down and talked. Properly.’

Ha. That had been one of the biggest blows to their marriage. After she’d lost the baby, they’d stopped talking. ‘There isn’t anything to say.’

‘Isn’t there?’ Rosie arched one eyebrow.

‘No. Now, stop worrying.’ Marina patted her hand. ‘As I said, we’ve both moved on.’

Rosie folded her arms. ‘Right. Which is why neither of you are dating.’

‘If he’s been working for Doctors Without Borders, he wouldn’t have had time to see anyone,’ Marina pointed out. ‘And I’m training to be a specialist registrar in paediatric
emergency—which means I don’t have time to see anyone either.’ She gave her sister her brightest smile. ‘Right now, my career needs to come first.’

‘I worry about you, Marina. I want you to be happy.’

‘I
am
happy.’ Though, even as she said it, Marina realised it wasn’t strictly true. She still missed Max. Or maybe she missed the idea of him: the man she’d thought she’d married, who’d turned out to be not quite the same as the man she’d actually married. ‘Stop fussing and let me look at your chart,’ she said to put Rosie off the scent.

Rosie groaned. ‘They hate you doing that, you know.’

Marina laughed. ‘No, they don’t. Iris knows that I’m not going to interfere with the way they’re looking after you. And this saves her some precious time—she doesn’t have to spend ages with me while I grill her about how you
really
are.’ She took the clipboard from the holder next to her sister’s bed. ‘Good. Your temperature’s fine, your urine’s fine…Hmm; your blood pressure’s still not what I’d like it to be, but it’s holding. And Bambino here seems to be doing very nicely, thank you. Excellent.’

‘I’ve been here for ever and ever,’ Rosie complained. ‘I want to go home and play with my little girl.’

‘I know you miss her, but she’ll be here in a minute.’ Marina gave her sister a hug. ‘Hang on in there, sis. You’re doing brilliantly.’

As if perfectly on cue, their mother walked in, holding Phoebe’s hand.

‘Mummy!’

Louise Petrelli lifted her granddaughter so Phoebe could sit next to her mother, and Rosie enfolded her in a hug, holding her tightly and pressing her face to the little girl’s hair so she could breathe in her scent.

If things had been different, Marina would’ve met her baby from school with that same mother-daughter hug. The one that said how much they’d missed each other, even though both had been happily busy all day. The one that said how glad they were to be together again.

She envied Rosie that closeness. Funny; she thought she’d cried herself out over the miscarriage. But even now she was still yearning. Still wishing things had been different. Still not really over it.

Whereas Max…She had no idea how he’d felt about it, back then, and even less idea as to whether he still thought of their baby that might have been. He hadn’t broken down the way she had—which didn’t mean that he’d felt nothing—but he’d pushed her away, hadn’t let her comfort him. Hadn’t given her the support she’d needed so desperately.

Pushing the thoughts away, she gave her own mother a hug. ‘Hi, Mum. Have you both had a good day?’

‘Brilliant. We went to the park this morning and played on the swings, and this afternoon we’ve been busy making cookies, and pictures with glitter and glue—oh, and singing songs.’

Just the kind of thing that Marina remembered doing in her own childhood. The Petrelli household had been noisy, chaotic and messy, and chock-full of love. There had always been a tin full of fresh-baked cookies or cupcakes in the kitchen, and all the neighbours had seemed to congregate at their house. The mums would be round Louise’s kitchen table with mugs full of good coffee, and the children would be playing noisy, messy games in the huge conservatory that opened off the kitchen, far enough away to feel independent, and yet near enough to be scooped up and kissed better within seconds if they fell over.

Completely the opposite of Max’s family home, where nothing was ever out of place and the silence was practically deafening. She’d just bet that Max had never been allowed to do anything with glitter, and there wouldn’t have been a cork board in his mother’s kitchen where his newest paintings from school had been pinned up—because a cork board would have looked so out of place and scruffy in Kay Fenton’s immaculate designer-kitchen.

‘Sounds like fun,’ Rosie said, looking as wistful as Marina felt.

‘Hey, Mum, guess who’s been visiting me this week?’ Rosie asked.

Uh-oh. Marina had hoped that the delight of seeing her daughter would push the subject out of her sister’s mind. Now she’d have two of them on her case.

‘Who?’ Louise asked.

‘Max.
Marina’s
Max.’

‘Oh, really?’ Louise looked intrigued.

‘He’s not
my
anything. We just work together.’ Marina rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, don’t listen to her. She’s bored and making up stories to amuse herself.’

‘I am not,’ Rosie said indignantly.

Phoebe snuggled into her mother. ‘Story?’ she asked hopefully.

Marina took the chance to escape before her mother could grill her any more, but she knew that the reckoning was only being delayed.

And, just as she’d expected, her mother phoned later that evening. ‘So, what’s the real story about Max?’ Louise asked.

‘There isn’t one. He joined the team last week, so we’re working together. We’re both professional enough to put our patients first, so it isn’t a problem.’

‘Hmm.’ Louise sounded as suspicious as Rosie had. ‘Are you sure you’re OK about this?’

‘Really, Mum, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s fine.’

Louise sighed. ‘All right. I won’t nag. Your sister can do enough of that for both of us. But if it gets tough you know where I am.’

‘I know, and I appreciate it,’ Marina said, meaning every word. ‘I love you, Mum.’

‘Max, we’re one short for Friday night,’ Eve told him. ‘Are you busy?’

‘One short for what?’ he asked.

‘Ten-pin bowling.’

He smiled. ‘Thanks for asking, Eve, but I haven’t done that for years. I’d just let the side down.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t. Now’s your chance to brush up your skills. And it’s a good way of getting to know people outside work.’

Max had already worked out that Eve was the sort of person who took new members of the team under her wing and made sure that they felt welcome. And he knew that Marina was off duty on Friday, so it was highly likely that she wouldn’t be there—she was bound to be doing something with her family. So Max judged that it was pretty safe to agree. ‘Sure. Just let me know where and what time you want me to turn up.’

‘Brilliant.’ She gave him a broad smile. ‘You won’t regret it.’

Though he did regret it, the moment that he walked into the bowling alley and saw the group of people there.

Seeing Marina in a white coat was one thing. Seeing her
in figure-hugging jeans and a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt with her hair down was quite another. At work, she was professional and detached; here, she looked like the girl next door. Just like she’d looked when she’d been his wife.

Five years ago, he would have strode over to her, swept her off her feet, spun her round and kissed her lingeringly, not caring who was watching. Five years ago, she’d have been sitting on his lap, laughing with him and stealing kisses while they were waiting for their respective turns at the bowling alley.

But this was now.

And, with the emotional distance between them, she might just as well have been standing on the moon.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, just in case he was tempted to reach out and smooth his palm over the curve of her bottom. For pity’s sake. He’d told himself this enough times; he knew he didn’t have the right to touch her any more. The fact that he wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless and had forgotten the rest of the world…

They really needed to have that talk.

And it looked as if it had better be sooner rather than later.

‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d be here tonight, or I would’ve made some excuse and not come,’ he said quietly as he joined the group.

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘Nothing to apologise for—you’re part of the team. You have as much right as I do to be here.’

She sounded all cool, calm and neutral—though he could see the tension in her face, in her mouth, and knew that she too was wishing herself thousands of miles away. This was as much of an ordeal for her as it was for him.

As luck would have it, they ended up on the same team of four. Max’s turn to bowl was right after Marina’s; short of standing with his back to her when she was bowling—which would’ve made it look way too obvious that he was trying to avoid her—there was nothing he could do but stand and watch her. The sight of the curve of her bottom, encased in soft, soft denim, sent his blood pressure up a notch, and he had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop himself reaching out and touching her. Stroking her. She was still the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met, all softness and lush curves. He wanted her so badly, it was a physical pain. Worse, because he could remember how it felt when she touched him, could remember how it felt to lose himself inside her.