Valentino's Pregnancy Bombshell

Paige sighed, too weary and plain heartsick to respond properly. ‘No. We’re not.’ She glanced at him, the epitome of cool, calm and collected, while she felt all at sea. There was still so much she couldn’t wrap her head around. ‘I don’t understand how you’re even here, now…in the country.’

‘Harry interviewed me months ago. He’s thinking of retiring—’

‘Retiring!’ Paige spluttered. ‘He never mentioned retiring to me!’

‘He’s sixty-eight years old,’ Valentino calmly pointed out.

‘Yes, but…’ Harry talked to her about everything. And he still had so much to give, to contribute.

‘I’ve wanted to work in Australia for a while now,’ Valentino continued, his gaze on the little frown nestled between her caramel brows. ‘I think there are things I can learn here to take back home with me. I have my visa, all I need is the right job. I was attending a symposium in Melbourne—’

‘“Bionic Ear in the Twenty-First Century?”’ Paige enquired absently, not really caring. Harry had given a paper at it two days before.

Valentino nodded. ‘Harry contacted me in the early hours of the morning and asked me to fill in. I got the five a.m. flight out of Melbourne.’

‘Oh.’ So they’d be working together too. This wasn’t how it was supposed to pan out. None of it was. But, then, when had her life gone according to plan over the last three years? Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. Wasn’t it her turn to catch a break?

Valentino pushed off the bench opposite, which he’d propped himself against, and took three paces until he was standing in front of her. ‘Watch me today, Paige,’ he murmured. ‘Then we’ll talk.’

Paige felt his husky tones wash over her, soothing the burn and the knot of worry that sat like an iron fist deep in her gut.

And before she could refute him, rebuff him again, he turned away and she watched as he exited the anaesthetic room.

So much for feeling positive. How could her day have gone to hell so early?

It took about ten minutes into the first surgery to convince Paige of Valentino’s capabilities. He was, indeed, an extremely good surgeon. Efficient, steady, sure and capable. Methodical in his approach, supremely knowledgeable, unfailingly polite and, despite the mask and being covered head to toe in green, devilishly charismatic.

There wasn’t one nurse he didn’t flirt with, including Di Hamilton, who’d been married for thirty-five years and had twelve grandchildren. It was obvious he adored women and Paige watched as every female fell under his spell.

But he was a man’s man too. From the nervous surgical resident who was assisting to the orderly adjusting the theatre light, he won them all over, talking football and Australian beers and the price of petrol.

They all loved him. Paige wished she could say the same. Between concentrating on her job, the thoughts circling in her head at a thousand miles an hour and the cataclysmic brush of his arm or fingers as she passed him an instrument, she was totally over him by the end of the day.

Every breath, every move, every chuckle or low request for something stroked along her pelvic floor and took her right back to that night. Being under him. The way he’d felt inside her. Which only agitated her even more. She had bigger things to worry about. Like poor Harry and his grandson. And McKenzie.

It was like she was in a bubble with him, just the two of them, everyone else fading into insignificance. She knew that was the way it often was between surgeon and scrub nurse, requiring a special kind of synchronicity. But it was more than that and she knew it. She’d anticipated Harry’s every move in Theatre for the last two years but had never felt this more base reaction.

She just wanted out. To get as far away from St Auburn’s and Valentino Lombardi as possible. To hug McKenzie and remember what was real in her life and what was fantasy.

When the last op was finished, Paige couldn’t get out of her gown quickly enough. Thankfully Valentino had left the theatre to go and do post-op checks in the wards and she was able to breathe again. To function without a pulse that kept racing and a stomach that wasn’t looping the loop. To clean up. To do her job.

She was back in the audiology department thirty minutes later, making notes in patient charts, very aware that she had the next six weeks off and conscientious enough to ensure everything was up to date on today’s operative cases.

‘Here you are. Gloria said you’d be here.’

Paige’s heart gave a jolt and she braced herself as she looked up from her chart. He was lounging in the doorway in trousers and business shirt, open at the neck and turned up at the cuffs, looking dark and tousled and incredibly sexy.

‘You have hat hair,’ she commented, before casting her eyes downwards again.

Valentino chuckled, ruffling his locks. ‘Yes.’ He guessed that was one of the advantages to her pixie cut. Not a lot of hair there to get bent out of shape.

‘I thought you might like to know that Ben’s condition has stabilised a little.’

‘Oh!’ She glanced up quickly. ‘What a relief!’ She’d tried to ring Harry during the break between lists but had got his message bank. ‘Thank you.’

If anyone knew what it was like to watch your child critically ill in an intensive care unit on life support, it was Paige. Her heart went out to Harry and his family. She didn’t envy them the days ahead.

Valentino nodded. ‘We’re all going for a drink after work. Why don’t you come? I can give you a lift if you like.’

Paige ignored the traitorous pull she felt at his invitation. Was he insane? ‘Sorry. I can’t.’

Valentino gave her a wry smile. ‘Can’t or won’t?’

Paige shook her head. ‘Can’t.’

‘Who takes care of McKenzie when you work?’

‘My mother.’

‘I bet she wouldn’t mind staying on for an extra hour.’

Paige knew for a fact she wouldn’t. But that wasn’t the point. She wanted to see her daughter. She missed McKenzie desperately when she was at the hospital and resented the hell out of Arnie for putting her in a position where she had to work to support them both.

Paige took in the lazy grace with which he lounged in the doorway, the charming smile on his face and those dimples, which thankfully the mask had hidden all day. What did an Italian playboy know of her mundane, hand-to-mouth, practically housebound existence?

‘Sorry. I can’t.’

Valentino pushed out of the doorway and sauntered towards her. He placed two hands on the desk where Paige was sitting. From his height advantage he could see the ridges of her prominent collarbones. And the unlined curve of breast which told him she wasn’t wearing a bra under her modest T-shirt. ‘You know you want to.’

This close he looked better still. And smelled absolutely divine. She put her pen down and plastered a bored look on her face. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, with your carefree, different-girl-every-night lifestyle, but I’m a mother.’ She said it slowly so he understood. ‘At the end of the work day I go home to my child. I even look forward to it. That’s what a parent does.’

Valentino gripped the desk hard. She was wrong. He did understand. There’d been a girl once, a long time ago. And, briefly, a baby.

He frowned. He hadn’t thought about Daniella, about the baby that never was, in years. He pushed off the desk lest the urge to speak about it, to tell her he did know, overcame him.

He folded his arms. ‘Suit yourself.’

Paige nodded. She intended to. His dimples and his lazy lounging had gone and he was all dark brooding intensity. It was equal parts sinister and sexy. ‘Hadn’t you better be going?’ she asked pointedly as the silence between them grew.

‘I was wondering if you’d had a chance to think over McKenzie’s operation?’

Had a chance? She’d thought about little else all day. And she knew she didn’t have it in her to postpone again over something so petty in comparison to her daughter’s deafness. Not when she had the services of a world-class surgeon and a place on his Monday-morning list.

Still, her pride, all she had left these days, made the words difficult and she hoped she wouldn’t choke on them. ‘Yes, I have.’ She nodded, dropping her gaze to the top button of his shirt. ‘I’ll not be cancelling.’

Valentino regarded her for a moment. He could see how hard it had been for her to say the words. He hadn’t wanted that. He’d sensed from the beginning that Paige was like a tightly coiled spring, just holding it all together. It wasn’t his object to break her. Not like this anyway. ‘Good. I guess I’ll see you Monday morning.’

And he turned away, heading for the door.