Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon Read online

  ‘Yes. And he was impressed with the Minster, but it’s not as beautiful as Siena Duomo, apparently. As if. It’s a darned sight older. Or at least the foundations are.’ Ivy felt the smile in her voice. She just couldn’t help it. Cathedral wars, really? Seemed they had to differ on most things, or rather they both had opinions they liked to air. But it was a good challenge. Kept her on her toes. ‘The man’s a philistine.’

  ‘I said it was impressive. It is,’ he clarified. ‘I liked it, truly. It just doesn’t have the romance of the Duomo’s structure.’

  Angela gave him an interested smile, her lips twitching. ‘You’re right, there. I did love all that marble.’ Then she turned back to Ivy. ‘Did you bring my things? I need to freshen up.’

  ‘Sure.’ Ivy proffered the bag while taking in the plethora of tubes attached to her mum. ‘Do you need any help?’

  ‘Okay. Yes.’ Angela’s eyes flitted between Ivy and Matteo, and Ivy sensed a mother-daughter talk or something was brewing. Which would be novel. ‘Actually, that would be great.’

  As her mum hobbled off towards the bathroom, IV stand in tow, Matteo squeezed Ivy’s hand and she realised she didn’t want to let it go. It was nice to have someone on her side. Which was a whole crock of crazy considering that a couple of weeks ago they’d been at loggerheads. But he gave her a gentle push. ‘Off you go. Start now.’

  ‘Start what?’

  ‘Fixing things.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t want to?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Would you ever want to look back and regret that you didn’t give it a go? Just be honest.’

  ‘She might not want to hear it.’

  ‘How else can you work things through, without honesty?’

  ‘Okay. I s’pose.’ He was right. He was often right, goddamn him. Not always…but enough to annoy her just a little bit more. She hid her smile.

  As she followed her mum towards the ladies’ bathroom she felt his gaze on her back, realising that for the first time in years she hadn’t been conscious of her limp—that she was rarely self-conscious when she was with him.

  Sensing him still watching her, she injected her gait with a jaunty swing of her bottom. It felt good. Mischievous, and out of character. Or maybe she had a part of her that she’d repressed? Maybe there was a part of her psyche that did want the trappings, the sex, the man? A part that she’d chosen to deny?

  Wow. That was an eye-opening thought. But not one she was going to pay any more attention to. She hadn’t come this far in her life to give it all up for a life of compromise and dependency.

  As if to remind her of that, her mum’s bag handle dug into her palm. Ivy tried to ignore those feelings of regret and…well, fear. Fear of feeling things. Of hurting. Of being let down. Of rejection all over again. She’d spent a good deal of her life closing herself off to people. But if Matteo was right, she needed to stop being scared. At least where her mum was concerned.

  Let her in.

  Let her in.

  Let her in.

  And she wanted to. She did. She wanted a chance.

  ‘How do I look?’ Angela was looking in the mirror and patting her hair, which was matted and flattened at the back. In truth, she looked tired and washed out and old. Blue-red bruises bloomed on her papery skin and her eyes were clouded.

  ‘Like I said, you look great, all things considered, and getting better every day. You’ve just had a life-saving operation, you’re not meant to look like something out of a magazine.’ Lifting her mum’s arm, threading the IV bag up through her nightgown sleeve and then hanging the fluid bag on the stand, Ivy gave her a smile. ‘I was so worried about you.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’m fine. Listen, Ivy, I need to talk to you.’

  Ivy spoke to her mum’s reflection in the mirror. ‘Mum, you’re healing, you have to take it easy.’

  ‘There’s something I need to say.’

  ‘Save it for another time.’ Matteo’s big honest kick could wait until her mum was feeling better. ‘This isn’t the time or the place. You’re not well.’

  ‘But I need to talk about this.’ Angela nodded, still breathless, still pale, but clearly trying to act normal. Whatever that was. ‘I know I haven’t been easy to live with, Ivy. Things have been hard over the years. Depression has clouded so much, it was so disabling at times. But this scare has made me take stock of things. I want to put things right.’

  ‘Depression?’ Ivy had considered that over the years, but her mum had always seemed so content with a man and so unhappy without one that Ivy had thought her mum’s moods had been linked entirely with her relationship status at the time. Guilt shook through her again, but sadness too. ‘I didn’t realise. I should have, but I didn’t.’

  ‘You were too busy just being a girl, Ivy. I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. But I suspect you lived them anyway?’

  Her childhood had been no fairy-tale. She hadn’t exactly been shielded from the dramas, especially when her step-family had been ripped away from her. She’d lost her normal, and had been plunged into her mum’s darkest moments, borne the brunt of her insecurities.

  Even though this conversation was the last thing Ivy wanted, she nodded. If Angela felt up to saying this—and she really did seem to want to talk—then Ivy needed to let her say it.

  Angela looked genuinely sorry. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t very good at all that. I know you got caught in the cross-fire and I leaned on you a lot at times. But I was grateful to have you.’

  It never felt like it.

  Hurt surged through her. This truth gig wasn’t pleasant. In fact, it was downright painful. Ivy didn’t want to relive everything that had happened, she just wanted things to be different going forward. Why drag over the old pain? Why not just try to fix things from now? ‘I’m sure you did your best.’

  ‘I don’t know… Now that I look back, I can see so many mistakes.’ Holding onto the sink rim, Angela looked down at her thin hands, then back at Ivy. ‘I don’t know if we can make things better. Just a little? I don’t know…’

  ‘Me neither.’ Was it too late for them? Ivy didn’t know. What she did know was that she didn’t want her mother to die—that had to mean something. Stepping forward, she stroked a hand on Angela’s shoulder. ‘We could try.’ Whatever that meant. There was no blueprint for the next steps they were going to take. Did her mum really mean it? Or would she revert to her old ways once she’d regained some strength?

  It was a risk Ivy was willing to take. She pushed away the dark cloud hovering at the back of her mind. Things would be better now. Surely?

  Her mum’s smile was a little wobbly. ‘Yes, I think we should try, Ivy. I’d like to. I’m so glad you’re here to stay for a while, we can do some nice mother-daughter things together.’

  But, despite wanting to fix everything, Ivy’s heart lurched. And, yes, she knew it was terribly self-absorbed to be thinking of herself, but if she stayed too long in York and lost her job then everything she’d worked for would be gone. She’d have no security.

  And no seeing Matteo.

  That thought bothered her more than she’d thought it would. Over the last couple of days he’d become more than a colleague. Despite his annoying ways. Despite every barrier she’d put up.

  But, on the other hand, how could she leave her mum?

  Would this time to heal be any different from the rest?

  It was the first time they’d ever been so open with each other, that they’d acknowledged out loud that there had been problems. It felt scary. Strange, kind of wobbly, but hopeful. Angela looped her arm into Ivy’s as they made their way slowly out of the bathroom, dragging the IV stand with them. ‘Your man seems nice.’

  ‘He’s not my man.’ Ivy lowered her voice—even though he was metres away. Healing the rift with her mother was one thing, but she hadn’t envisaged diving straight into confidences about her personal life. ‘He’s just a friend.’

  Angela threw her a sideways look. ‘Yes, I hold
hands with my male friends too. All the time. And the way you look at him—that’s not the way a friend looks at another friend.’

  ‘Oh, no. Really? Eurgh. Really?’ Was it obvious to everyone? Somewhere along the line he’d wriggled his way under her skin. She cared for him. A fierce panic gripped her chest. ‘Great. Brilliant. It’s so not the right thing to do.’

  Her mum looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘Calm down. It’s not a crime to have a bit of fun.’

  ‘That’s just it, Mum. I haven’t really done this before and I don’t know what to do.’ Was she really asking relationship advice from the serial divorcee? Apparently so. ‘I don’t want anything from him, I don’t want a relationship. I just want to do my job and to be left in peace.’

  But I do want him. That’s the damned problem.

  ‘Hey, don’t overthink it like I do—that’s the kiss of death to any relationship. Just enjoy it. That’s what I’m going to do with Richard, anyway.’

  ‘Richard? Really? You’ve only just met him.’ Ivy came to a halt so the men couldn’t hear her. What was her mum saying? She was unbelievable. She hadn’t changed a bit, she was the same old lady saying the same old things, doing the same old routine. She’d spent the best part of her working life as a doctor fixing people, but in the end the only person she’d failed to fix was herself.

  She’s fragile, Ivy reminded herself. She’s had a scare and is reaching out for comfort.

  Or was she just up to her old tricks again? Her mum needed people around her, she couldn’t function on her own, and regardless of anything Ivy did or said, she couldn’t change that. Happiness was fleeting, she’d learnt. And if Richard made Angela happy, even for a short while, who was she to interfere?

  But she needed to say how she felt, just to know that she’d tried to protect her mum from yet another relationship disaster. ‘You’re in hospital. You had a heart scare. A serious medical problem. You can’t start flirting with someone’s visitor.’

  ‘Ah, there you go again, overthinking. To tell you the truth, Ivy, I’m lonely, I need a little companionship. It’s not as if you’re living next door, popping round for sugar every other day. You’re miles away and I never get to see you.’ Angela gave Ivy’s hand a pat. ‘And that’s you through and through, always so independent, doing your own thing, forging your way in the world. You never accepted any help from being about four years old. I have no idea where you got that from.’

  Necessity. ‘My dream job is in London, Mum, I have to go where the work is. I’m sorry I can’t be here all the time, but that doesn’t mean you have to jump into a…friendship…with the first person you meet. You need to be careful. Remember what happened with the others…’ The tears, the drama.

  ‘Of course I’ll be careful, dear. But I need to do what I need to do, too. I just want some company. It’s not a lot to ask for after everything I’ve been through. Really, darling, I know we’ve never done the heart-to-heart thing, but when you’re ready I can listen. Mind you, don’t ask my advice. I’m useless with men.’

  ‘Oh?’ Ivy threw her a smile. There was only so much she could say or do to stop her mum following her well-trodden path. Angela seemed undeterred. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  When they arrived back at the bed Matteo and Richard were discussing something to do with an article in an open newspaper on the table. Matteo looked up as she arrived, helped her settle her mum back in bed, all concern and interest and polite nodding.

  He’d been so nice Ivy wanted to give something back, even if it meant sacrificing something for herself. Drawing him to one side, she whispered, ‘Matteo, I know you’re probably thinking about heading off back to London soon, but I wondered—when we’ve done here, could we go to the pub? Watch the game on TV? What do you think?’

  Those dark stubborn eyes glinted. ‘I was going to listen to it on the sports radio on the drive back.’

  ‘Oh. Well, that’s okay, then.’ Disappointment rattled through her. She had an insane desire to spend just a few more minutes with him. ‘I feel as if the last two days have been all about me. You’ve sacrificed your days off to be here, I just thought it would be a way of saying thank you. It’s not… I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. It’s just a pub, maybe some food. The game. I’m not offering any more than that.’

  Was it her imagination, or did he look just a little relieved? ‘Well, I would prefer to watch it than listen to it. But what about your work? I thought you had too much to do already?’

  She shrugged. ‘So maybe I can take a little time off? Just a couple of hours.’

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Whoa. Watch out, Ivy Leigh, you might get into the habit of relaxing. Then what would happen?’

  Staring into his eyes, his heated gaze focused on her, she felt relaxed and excited and scared and comfortable all at the same time. This man was too easy to fall for and she was tumbling deeper and deeper. But she could handle it. She’d laid out the parameters. ‘I can’t imagine, Matteo. I just can’t imagine.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘COME ON, ENGLAND! Yes! Yes! Yes! Go!’

  So this was the unleashed version of Ivy Leigh? Matteo laughed as she stood, eyes glued to the huge wall-hung TV in the sports pub, body tensed and fists punching the air. ‘God,’ he groaned into his pint. ‘This is terrible. Less than an hour ago you did not know a thing about rugby. Now look at you—England’s most fervent fan.’

  High-fiving the two open-mouthed English supporters at the next table, she beamed. ‘This is fun. We’re beating you, Matteo, that’s all that matters.’

  ‘There’s time yet.’ He shrugged, far more entertained by her reactions than the game.

  ‘You think? In the history of the Six Nations championship there have been over twenty games between England and Italy, and England have won them all. Your chances are zero, Mr Hero.’

  ‘Twenty games—how the hell…? Since when did you know that?’

  ‘The wonders of the internet. You just have to know where to look.’ She winked at him. ‘I did my research. You didn’t think I’d invite you to watch a game we had the remotest chance of losing, did you?’ On-field action caught her attention again, she paused, breathing heavily as her eyes glued themselves to the game. ‘Come on, mate. Pass it. Yes. Yes!’

  Thank God for half-time. She sat down, all flushed and hot-cheeked, her chest heaving with excitement. ‘This is brilliant. Why did no one ever tell me that watching sport was such fun?’

  He drained his glass and put it back on the table. The fun was in watching her watching the game. ‘It is when you’re winning. And I have to say you are very entertaining.’

  She patted his arm condescendingly. ‘Poor pet, you’re a very sore loser. But still glad you came?’

  ‘To watch you beat us? No.’ Yes. But he was confused as all hell now. He should have gone when he’d had a chance, instead of being drawn in by those large green eyes sparkling so coyly at him, offering no more than a game of rugby. And despite every brain cell screaming at him to climb into the car and head down the motorway, he’d grabbed the chance for a couple more hours with her, like a starving man thrown paltry crumbs.

  Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he was mesmerised by the action, every part of him wanting to taste her. She gave him a smile. ‘I mean, are you glad you came to York? I know it wasn’t exactly for your benefit but I hope it hasn’t been too bad.’

  ‘What? Spending my non-hospital hours in a hospital, not sleeping with a ginger cat that purrs like a drill? Sure, it has been the best weekend ever.’ He felt a laugh rumbling from his throat. Being here with her, on the other hand… ‘And now we are losing. It is getting better all the time.’

  ‘I hope it does, for your sake. Although I’m not sure I want to give up that win—so you’ll have to find something else to make you smile.’

  He let that thought hover for a while, not wanting to admit the way he was feeling so conflicted about how much she made him smile. ‘It’s to
o late, Ivy. The weekend is doomed.’

  ‘Oh, poor sweetheart. Things can only get better. So, tell me, when did you come to live in England, and why?’

  He did a quick mental calculation. ‘It was about six years ago. I wanted to work with Dave Marshall, he has such a great international reputation—the very best and cutting-edge work in our field—so when we met at a conference in Milan and he invited me to join his team, I jumped at the chance. I haven’t looked back.’

  ‘And you already spoke English? I’m impressed.’

  ‘I was pretty rusty. We had learnt it at school from a young age, but even so I was pretty terrible when I first got here. It has been a steep learning curve.’

  ‘I’ll bet. Where did you train to be a doctor?’

  So she wanted his life history, which was fine by him. He could give her a short version and veer away from anything that might make her ask deeper questions. ‘In Florence. Then I went to Milan to specialise, they have a great renal unit there.’

  She took another drink of wine. ‘You said you don’t go home. Why not?’

  Straight to the point. Now he wished he hadn’t encouraged her to be like this. ‘I see you have taken notice of your lawyer training, you have…how do you say it? Cut to the chase. You can do it to me but not for yourself.’

  ‘That, my boy, is called self-preservation.’ She twiddled with the stem of the glass then focused her gaze at him again, which made him hot under the collar. ‘Now answer my question. Why don’t you go home?’

  ‘I’m too busy. Work takes up my time. And there’s not a lot there for me.’

  ‘What, a whole load of siblings and parents? That’s a lot of reasons to go home.’

  Not enough. ‘Some of them come here. I see them. Liliana, my little sister with the renal problems, lived with me for a year in London. You can imagine how much fun that was. She is years younger and about five times the trouble of all the others put together.’

  ‘But you love her, I can tell.’ Ivy smiled again. It was sweet and soft and real and for a moment he wanted to do nothing but stare at that mouth.