The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride

Paul nodded but then frowned. ‘I am a little concerned that there are time constraints on your availability,’ he said, ‘but, then, poor Danielle has had several changes already.’ He hesitated for a moment, as though undecided whether to expand on his comment, but then his gaze dropped to the papers on the coffee-table. ‘It would certainly be to our advantage to have someone with skills such as yours, even temporarily.’ His nod was decisive as he looked up again. ‘I want the best for Danielle. The job is yours if you want it.’

Jenna opened her mouth to say that she would have to think about it. That she had a few major reservations about a working environment that included the influence of someone like his mother-in-law. But it would hardly be politic to criticise his child’s grandmother and, in any case, Jenna’s momentary hesitation cost her the opportunity to say anything at all.

Paul was on his feet and the interview was over. A pager on his belt sounded as he opened the door for Jenna and he moved swiftly past Maria and Louise, who were still in the foyer, towards a phone on a small table.

Within seconds he was clearly in communication with a paediatric intensive care unit,

‘What was the CBC differential?’ Jenna heard him query. ‘Electrolytes? Ultrasound results?’

He listened for a longer time, seemingly oblivious to everyone else standing in the foyer.

‘OK. Sounds like it’s only a partial obstruction but I don’t want a three-day-old baby deteriorating any further. Get a consent form for Theatre signed. I’m on my way.’

With concise, well-practised movements, Paul was on the move again. He collected his briefcase, gave his mother an apologetic smile and made perfunctory farewells.

And then he was gone, as suddenly as he had arrived.

‘I’m sorry,’ Maria said. ‘It was obviously an emergency.’

‘I should probably go now as well,’ Jenna said.

A grandfather clock chimed.

‘Goodness, is that the time?’ Louise moved towards Maria, preparing to hand over the baby. ‘I have a dinner date tonight.’

Danielle and the toy giraffe were passed into Maria’s arms as Jenna turned to make her farewell, and at the sight of the small girl’s face, her heart lurched. Danielle was staring at the door through which her father had just disappeared. Her eyes were swimming with tears that had just started to overflow but she was making no sound.

What kind of baby cried silently?

Lifting her gaze, Jenna had the feeling that Maria was reading her mind and a snatch of their private conversation replayed itself.

Ella needs her papa. He needs her. He just hasn’t realised it yet.

And maybe he didn’t realise that a cuddle was a far more precious gift than a soft toy could ever be. Ella apparently had a whole zoo of stuffed animals but how much physical contact did she get with her only remaining parent? Not much, if any, Jenna suspected. How sad was that?

Louise was putting on her coat. ‘Same time tomorrow?’ An answer wasn’t expected. ‘Goodbye, Jennifer. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you find the kind of job you’re looking for in Christchurch.’

Jenna waited until Louise was on the other side of the door. A flash of anger at the blatant dismissal from this very unpleasant woman had been enough to put her back up.

To make her want to protect someone as innocent as a baby from such a person. It was a feeling strong enough to shunt aside the considerable misgivings she had about taking this job.

Jenna reached out and stroked a tear from Danielle’s pink cheek and then she smiled at Maria.

‘How soon would you like me to start?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU’RE up very early today, Jenna.’

‘Only because someone else decided to get up so early.’ Jenna smiled at Paul but quickly dipped her head to drop a kiss among the silky black curls resting on her shoulder. To hide any expression that might reveal embarrassment.

This was the first occasion since that initial interview that she had been in Paul’s company without one—or both—of the grandmothers being present. She had only been half-awake as she’d responded to the cry over the baby monitor but why hadn’t she taken the time to brush her hair? And why had she just pulled on the clothes lying on the end of her bed in her haste? Her oldest jeans and a faded, racer-back T-shirt were hardly likely to impress her employer.

Ella was still in her pink, fuzzy sleepsuit. The busy conversation of unintelligible but happy sounds she had been entertaining Jenna with on the way downstairs stopped suddenly. The baby had her thumb in her mouth as she watched her father’s movements at the kitchen bench. A pot of coffee was waiting for the plunger to be depressed. Paul was busy buttering a piece of toast.

‘Would you like coffee, Jenna?’

‘I’ll get one later, thank you. I just came down to find some more formula for Ella. We’ve run out in the nursery.’

‘How is she today?’

‘She seems much better. Her nose is still a bit runny and it was her coughing that woke me, but she’s certainly a lot happier than she’s been in the last couple of days. I’ll keep up the paracetamol and hope her temperature stays down today.’

‘Good.’ Paul was slicing the toast into soldiers, one of which he offered to Ella. She accepted the gift with a coo of surprise that made both Paul and Jenna smile.

‘It seems my mother was right,’ Paul said. ‘It is very reassuring to have a trained nurse caring for Danielle.’

‘It’s only been a mild virus.’

But the praise was warming. Or was it the unexpected bonus of Paul’s company that was creating that warmth? Maybe Jenna should encourage Ella to wake early more often to try and increase the time Paul spent in the company of his daughter. So far, they very rarely saw him in the mornings and only for an hour at the most before Ella’s bedtime in the evenings. A period that could easily be missed or curtailed thanks to an existing or emergency case that required the surgeon’s professional expertise.

They needed more time together. A lot more.

Ella and Paul, that was. Not Paul and Jenna. Her own inclusion was desirable simply because it was necessary as a facilitator. She may have only had time to gather impressions and set an agenda so far, but her goal was crystal clear. In the space of only a week, ever since she had seen those silent tears, Ella had won her heart to the extent that the challenge now ahead of Jenna was paramount. She had six months to try and foster the bonding of a father and daughter, and success had never seemed so important.

‘She likes that toast.’ Smears of butter and Marmite were spread across fat pink cheeks. Any thoughts of offering to let Paul hold Ella were squashed. Imagine if he had to go and change that pristine white shirt?

Paul offered Ella another thin slice of toast, which she accepted but didn’t eat. This time she held it back out, as though trying to return the gift. Paul didn’t notice because he was glancing at his watch.

‘It’s nearly six. I’ll have to run.’

‘Yes. It’s Wednesday.’ Jenna nodded. ‘It’s one of your heavy theatre days, isn’t it?’

An eyebrow rose. ‘You know my schedule so well already?’

‘Let’s see.’ Jenna ducked as the piece of buttery toast was waved too close to her hair. ‘You operate on Mondays and Fridays as well, have outpatient clinics on Tuesday and Thursdays and you do ward rounds at least once every day. You also have umpteen departmental duties, teaching slots and, of course, way too many emergencies.’

Both of Paul’s eyebrows had risen to meet the flop of dark, wavy hair on his forehead.

Jenna tried not to blush. Instead, she took advantage of the opportunity provided.

‘Ella doesn’t get to see that much of you,’ she explained, ‘and your mother always looks forward to any time you have at home.’

Maria probably didn’t get that weird sensation of having swallowed a whole tribe of butterflies on anticipating Paul’s company, though, did she?

A sneaking sympathy for Louise had been inevitable. It was no surprise that Danielle’s other grandmother was convinced that any woman coming within an inch of Paul would want to throw herself at the man. He was, without doubt, the most physically attractive man Jenna had ever met.

Tall and dark. Lean and lithe—with the kind of dark, brooding aura that so many women found irresistible. And there was the voice. Like rich chocolate with that barely discernible but intriguing foreign inflection, not to mention the ability to switch to fluent Italian as he sometimes did with his mother. You wouldn’t be a heterosexual female if you didn’t respond to that attractiveness at some level.