One Night, Twin Consequences

It wasn’t like she was a complete novice in the world of romance. There’d been a handful of boyfriends over the years. Sort of. All of whom she’d parted from amicably. No point in letting them know they hadn’t really baked her cake. But responding to a virtual stranger on such a primal level? Brand spanking new.

Was this what blossoming was? At a few months shy of thirty, she was a bit late for that, wasn’t she? Love at first sight? Or just pure, undiluted desire?

Each microscopic change in her body was wholly in response to him. And utterly involuntary.

He was taller than her, which wasn’t difficult—her being the “petite” one to her sister’s “statuesque beauty”. As he neared, Harriet’s chin tipped upwards, opening up the length of her throat in a way that almost felt suggestive. Her shoulder blades shimmied down her back as her shoulders gave a little wiggle to better present themselves. As if such a thing were possible in a staff dress. Sure, it had a clingy cheongsam cut, but it was, at the end of the day, a uniform.

She felt her breasts pressing against the well-worn cotton of the snap-fronted dress, and for the tiniest of moments wondered what it would feel like if Matteo were to trace a finger along the diamond shaped neckline then begin, one by one, to pop open each of the snaps. Would his fingers be rough or smooth? How would it feel if he were to draw one of his hands across her belly and begin to explore elsewhere? Would she touch him back? Or, for the very first time, luxuriate in letting herself be caressed before seeing to her lover’s needs? Would his unruly black hair feel as silky as it looked? Would he moan if she scratched his back in an untamed moment of desire? Or call out mi corazon! Or whatever hot Latin doctors called out in a moment of passion.

The roar of blood in her ears shot up a few decibels.

When he arrived in front of them—a smile playing across his full lips—a heated flush flashed across her cheeks. Could he read minds as well? Anyone with eyes so lusciously green surely had access to the deeper reaches of a woman’s soul.

Er... Get a grip!

Harriet silently tsked at herself. Too many romance novels during the overnight shift. Nevertheless, she did a quick check to see if he really did have thick, dark eyelashes. The final dab of icing on a very tasty-looking cake.

Yup! Of course he did.

“Matteo! You found us. I’m so pleased.” Dr. Bailey reached out to shake his hand.

She watched as Matteo—Matteo!—extended his long, lovely fingers with sun-bleached hairs, not too thick, running along the length of his forearm, and shook hands with her boss. They turned to her, an expectant look in Matteo’s eyes, which was when Harriet realized the entire time he’d been walking towards them in slow motion she’d been wiping her disintegrated biscuit into the fabric of her dress right...over...her breast. Classy.

Cheeks properly on fire now, she stuffed her hands into the front patch pockets of her dress, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in a lame attempt to regroup.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” she heard Dr. Bailey continue, either oblivious to or trying to cover for her gaffe, “this young woman here is the reason you’ve come along to see us!”

Harriet’s eyes popped open to take an involuntary glance over each of her shoulders. Had one of their colleagues arrived without her knowing? She thought she’d left the rest of the nurses deep in discussion over how to rearrange the supplies cupboard.

Nope. Still just her. All alone with... Matteo...and, of course, Dr. Bailey, who was now looking at her with a particularly bemused expression. Maybe she should shut her mouth. Gape-jawed wasn’t really her look.

“This is Sister Monticello?”

Oh, sweet wonders of the universe. He had a scrummy accent to boot. Of course he did! The man was Argentinian. What did she expect? Cut-glass British? Even so... It was all sexy and smoky. Yum.

She was pretty sure they didn’t make men this—this male over here on the sceptered isle. Or if they did, they were already taken and hidden away by their lucky wives and girlfriends. Too bad she’d all but shelved dreams of having a family of her own... Stop dreaming! She adjusted her gaze, eyes narrowing just a bit. Maybe she could dream just a little bit?

Matteo made her want to howl. He probably ate steak. Lots of it, searing it nightly over a naked flame. Without wearing a shirt. Just buckskins and a deep caramel tan illuminated by the flickering fire and a splash of starlight. At which point Matteo turned to her with a smile so warm she hardly knew what to do with herself.

“I was expecting...” Matteo stopped to give a self-effacing laugh. “I am such an idiot. Sister Monticello! I’ve heard so much about you and I’m still not used to calling the nurses ‘Sister.’ I was expecting a nun!”

“Aha-ha-ha!” Harriet could hear herself giving a weird, cackly, laugh-along laugh. The oh-ho-ho wasn’t that funny variety, but if there was anyone in the world who could bewitch the knickers off a nun she would bet her entire sensibly accrued pension Matteo could. Not that her knickers had fallen off or anything. Yet.

He reached out and took her hand, his cheek moving towards hers faster than she could react. As their cheeks met, she inhaled a delicious waft of peppery gingerbread and heard a kissing noise, but didn’t feel the touch of his lips. Pity.

“Encantada.”

Oh, blimey. Had he just whispered a sweet nothing into her ear?

“It’s nice to smell—I mean meet you!” she all but shouted.

What was that? She didn’t even know this guy and she was falling to bits right in front of him. Sure, she’d been watching him from afar for the past fortnight. But afar was safe. And right here was...really, really close. He smelled distinctly delicious. So much so, she mused, he really should be a cologne. Eau de Argentine Doc. Man Scent by Matteo. The ad campaign would be a cinch.

Why did her sister have to be eight blinking thousand miles away in Los Angeles just when she’d be incredibly handy? Claudia could dig her out of this socially awkward moment without breaking a sweat. Then again, Claudia was drop-dead gorgeous and if she met Matteo before Harriet did, it wouldn’t be very good, would it? Even heavily pregnant with twins, her sister was a knockout. She had the pictures to prove it. Harriet felt an unexpected attack of let-him-be mine come over her.

She’d never really cared when the hot man in the room took a shine to her sister in lieu of her. That was how things had always been. But this time...

Calm, calm, calm yourself, Harriet.

It wasn’t like she stood even the slightest of chances in the universe of having a man like this one desiring, let alone falling completely and madly in love with her. Like she already virtually was with him. Just a few more minutes and she’d have their china pattern and curtains all picked out.

She ran a hand through her blonde pixie cut, jutting out her lower lip as she did so to blow some air up into the fringe. Another sexy move she’d crafted in how-to-look-like-an-idiot class.

“Nice to meet you, Sister.” Matteo held out his hand, which she took and pumped up and down too hard because she was already picturing her cobweb-laced spinsterhood spreading out before her now that she’d ruined any chance of marrying the man of her dreams.

“Harriet’s fine—uh...” She made her, yeesh, I don’t know what to call you face.

“Matteo works—or Dr. Torres if you prefer. I know how formal you Brits are.”

“Yes, well...yes.”

Was it too soon to dive into the nearest broom cupboard?

“Harriet,” Dr. Bailey interjected. “Perhaps you’d like to show Dr. Torres around the hospital? Give him your perspective on how St. Nick’s works. He’s been trying to track you down for the past fortnight and for some peculiar reason has found it near impossible to find you.”

“Excuse me?” Harriet tried her best to wipe the horrified expression off of her face, realizing in an instant she hadn’t been successful.

“Seeing that you could be working together in the longer term, it’s probably a good idea to get to know each other.”

Harriet’s jaw dropped again. Who’d stolen Dr. Bailey and replaced him with this man who was yanking away all her safety blankets?

Matteo grinned, a glint in his eye betraying something akin to frustration. “Dr. Bailey didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Her voice was so strangled she was pretty sure the dogs of London would be howling in unison if she continued.

“This trip—my ‘visit’ here...” He left a small silence to see if she could fill in the air quotes, but there was nothing jostling away the question marks careening round her mind.

Dr. Bailey jumped in. “Harriet, I was going to tell you all about this in good time, but—”

“It looks like—in the hope of some funding—you might be coming to Buenos Aires,” Matteo finished for him, an appraising eyebrow arching upwards as he spoke. “To assess me.”

His expression shifted into something strangely neutral. It was difficult to tell if he was pleased by the scenario or resentful. Something told her it was the latter. Great. Five seconds with Mr. Perfect and already he hated her.

How did one respond to that? Her head swung from Dr. Bailey’s consternated face to Matteo’s unreadable smile. Funding was very dependent on conditions. Lots of i-dotting and t-crossing—

Uh-oh. Wait a minute. She forced her brain to play catch-up.

Was he saying she was the condition? She sought each of their faces for answers, feeling a bit like she was watching a tennis match at close range minus the tennis bits.