The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride

Yes. Danielle did look perfect.

As babies went, this one was a stunner.

Jenna had met a lot of babies in her career as a paediatric nurse and could almost always find something appealing about them. Some looked like they should be advertising baby food in glossy magazines. Others had heart-melting smiles. Some were placid and cuddly and easy to care for, others noisy and fascinated by the world around them.

They were all different and yet this one—nine-month-old Danielle Romano—was in a class of her own.

She looked ready for a photographer’s attention in the beautiful pink smocked dress, long white socks and pristine patent leather shoes. A band that matched her dress squashed some of the silky-looking black curls on her head and sported a bow on top as perfect as the similar decoration on the shiny white shoes.

Small fingers were playing with the bow on one shoe right now. Carefully. As though Danielle was confident she had all the time in the world to explore the shape and feel of the object. The wealth of bright toys surrounding her in the playpen couldn’t compete for her interest.

She must have sensed the direction of the women’s attention, however, because her fingers stilled and she looked up. Big, dark eyes regarded Jenna with no hint of alarm at the presence of a stranger. There was no hint of a smile either, but that was hardly unexpected, especially in a child serious enough to find the bow on her shoe so compelling.

Jenna’s smile faded as she looked back at the women sitting opposite her.

Danielle’s grandmothers.

‘Your advertisement specified a qualified nurse. Someone experienced with children.’

‘That’s right.’

‘But the position you’re describing is looking after a perfectly healthy child. It’s a job for a nanny, not a nurse.’

The older of the two women, Maria Romano, looked away quickly, giving an impression of discomfort. If it hadn’t been a weird thought, Jenna would have described her as being nervous.

The younger woman, Louise Gibbs, looked almost smug as she nodded less than subtle agreement.

‘I said that, Maria,’ Louise murmured. ‘She’s not suitable for the position.’

Not suitable? Jenna bristled. Surely the decision should be hers, given that she was over-qualified for the work being offered. If she took it, she wouldn’t be using more than a fraction of the knowledge and skill she had worked hard to attain so far in her career.

‘Jenna’s more qualified than anyone with just a diploma from a nanny school, Louise. We want the best for Ella, don’t we?’

‘Danielle.’ The correction seemed to be automatic. Louise dropped her gaze to Jenna’s CV, now lying on the coffee-table between them. ‘You’re a little younger than I had in mind.’

‘I’m thirty-one.’ Getting rapidly older, in Jenna’s opinion. All her friends seemed to be married and starting families by now. Only Jenna remained single and childless. Destined to silence the ticking of her own biological clock by caring for the children of other people?

Awful thought. Maybe she’d made a mistake even fronting up for this interview. The idea of being a private nurse in a new city had been appealing, however. An easy job. Time to come to terms with the difficult changes life had presented recently and reset herself. A chance to meet new people in a place that wasn’t haunted by too many memories.

An old friend she had kept in touch with since they had trained together had applauded the notion.

‘Do come to Christchurch,’ Anne had urged Jenna. ‘It would be so good to spend some time together again.’

‘And you’re single.’ Louise made it sound like some kind of disease.

‘Yes.’ Jenna straightened her back. The last man in her life had done his best to leave her feeling she hadn’t made the grade. She wasn’t about to let someone’s grandmother dent the fragile self-esteem she had managed to restore. ‘I wouldn’t be applying for a live-in position if I wasn’t single.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ Maria agreed. ‘And you’re quite old enough to be very experienced. How long have you been a paediatric nurse?’

‘Six years. And before that I worked in the emergency department.’

‘There you go, Louise. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone who could cope with any emergency or illness that Ell—Danielle might have?’

Maria’s smile was warm. An Italian woman, her English seemed almost flawless, though quite heavily accented, and she used her hands a lot when speaking. She was a little on the plump side and her clothes, while of the best quality, appeared to have been chosen for comfort rather than style. With her lovely smile and hair a natural silver, she reminded Jenna quite strongly of her own mother and so she smiled back with a genuine response to that warmth.

‘Hmm.’ Louise’s gaze was still blatantly assessing and cold enough to provide a startling contrast to the eye contact Jenna had just broken with Maria.

Not that she had to try and hold this gaze. Louise dropped hers deliberately to take in the plain black skirt and blouse Jenna had deemed suitable for this interview and the way her long hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail. It even seemed to take particular note of her lack of jewellery and her short, neatly trimmed, unpainted fingernails.

And then it suggested comprehension of her single status. Annoyingly, Jenna felt a stain of colour touching her cheeks. OK, maybe she wasn’t model material like this woman’s beautiful grandchild or the gorgeous blonde woman that featured in numerous photographs dotting the mantelpiece of this room, but she wasn’t unattractive.

Involuntarily, her gaze flicked to one of the larger images. A wedding photograph, which looked too perfect to be real. The man was gorgeous. Tall, dark and in command, with his hand possessively covering the one linked through his arm that belonged to the blonde princess in the cloud of silk and tulle.

There was a resemblance there to the younger of the two women opposite Jenna. More than simply the wealthy, over-groomed look. There was a sharpness to the features that didn’t exactly scream warmth. Jenna wasn’t at all sure she liked Louise Gibbs and she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this job wasn’t what she was looking for.

She shifted in the chair. ‘I feel I may be wasting your time.’

‘No, no!’ Maria reached out a hand, a gesture designed to pre-empt any further movement on Jenna’s part. ‘Please, stay.’

For an instant, Jenna saw something new in Maria’s face. This was more like fear than nervousness. It was gone too quickly to identify reliably but it resurrected that undeniable curiosity. There was something rather strange about this interview and it would be unsatisfying to leave without discovering what it was.

Jenna stayed put.

‘Danielle’s father is Paul Romano,’ Louise said into the silence. She was watching Jenna carefully. ‘A paediatric surgeon here in Christchurch. You will have heard of him, I expect?’

The Paul Romano? Jenna couldn’t help looking impressed. He was well known as a specialist in dealing with the removal of childhood tumours. In conjunction with the paediatric oncologists, the reputation was enough to have children sent long distances to receive treatment here.

‘Of course. We often referred our more complicated cases here. He’s well respected.’

‘Yes.’ The simple word spoken simultaneously by both women carried a weight of pride.

‘Paolo’s my son,’ Maria added. ‘My only child. My only family in this country. Sadly, his father passed away three years ago. We—’

‘Paul was married to my only child,’ Louise interrupted. ‘My daughter Gwendolyn. Tragically, she experienced massive complications from an embolism following the Caesarean needed for Danielle’s birth and…and she died when Danielle was only three hours old.’

Louise looked away, struggling for control, and Maria tutted sympathetically, murmuring something soothing in Italian as she reached out again, this time to pat her companion’s arm. Jenna couldn’t help warming to them both.

‘I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘It must have been a dreadful time for you.’

Louise rallied. ‘Paul was devastated, of course. He still hasn’t come to terms with losing Gwen, and having Danielle doesn’t help.’

‘Oh?’ This was puzzling. Surely having a child, a living part of someone you had loved, would be the greatest comfort possible? A man with the intelligence necessary to become such a renowned surgeon couldn’t blame the infant for her mother’s death or had his love for his wife been such that any reminder could only keep the grief alive?

‘Paolo moved home so that I could help with raising Ella,’ Maria said.

So this house belonged to the Romano family. Maybe Louise was not a key player after all.

‘And I moved to Christchurch.’ Louise made it sound as though she was sacrificing more on behalf of her grandaughter. ‘Although I would have been—still am—more than happy to take on the full responsibility of raising Danielle.’