The Italian Doctor's Mistress

Obediently she sat down again, and he turned to the child. “So, Anita, explain yourself.”

His words might have been forbidding, but the smile that accompanied them took away their sting, and the girl knew it. Big brown eyes dancing with excitement, she said, “I did not knock, Papà, because Beatrice has gone home already, so I thought you also had finished working for today. I wanted to tell you that Bianca has had her babies. She has four, Papà! I found them when I came home from school.”

“That is certainly earth-shaking news.” Laughing, he pulled the child into the curve of his arm and turned to Danielle. “In case you’re wondering, Bianca is our cat, and as I’m sure you’ve gathered, this is my daughter, Anita.”

Despite her annoyance with the father, Danielle smiled warmly at his lovely daughter. “Hello, Anita.”

Tucking her hands against the navy pleated skirt of her school uniform, the girl dipped her head and replied, “How do you do? I am pleased to meet you.”

“Very good,” her father said. “At this rate, your English will soon be better than mine.”

“Si?” She gazed at him adoringly and wound her arms around his neck. “How much better?”

He touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “Not so much that I let you forget the rules. I hope you didn’t come here by yourself today?”

“No, Papà.” She shook her head so exuberantly that her braids swung back and forth like long, shining ropes. “Calandria walked with me. She is waiting downstairs. We are going to the market to buy fish for Bianca. Calandria says we must take extra care of her now that she is a mother.”

“Calandria is quite right.” He gave her little bottom a pat. “Don’t keep her waiting. Say goodbye to Signorina Blake, and be off.”

She peeped at Danielle from beneath her lashes and offered a shy, dimpled smile. “Arrivederci, signorina. Goodbye.” Then turning back to her father, she threw her arms around his neck again and gave him a smacking kiss on both cheeks. “Ciao, Papà!”

The entire scene left Danielle frozen with envy. She had never flung herself at her father like that. He’d have been horrified. He wasn’t a demonstrative man. She couldn’t recall his ever pulling her into his arms or onto his lap. Never teasing or complimenting her. He was much better at finding fault.

Carlo Rossi’s voice broke into the unwelcome memories of a childhood she’d been glad to leave behind. “I apologize for the interruption, signorina.”

“No need. I didn’t mind. In fact, I don’t know why you insisted I stay. I can’t see that there’s anything left to say.”

“Not so, signorina. You were explaining the reason for your delay in coming here and—”

“I don’t know why I bothered,” she said stiffly. “You’ve already judged me and found me wanting.”

“If I’ve jumped to hasty conclusions, I apologize. You were in Antarctica, you say? Not exactly a pleasant homecoming, then.”

“No, but I’ll cope. You explained my father’s condition very succinctly. I’m quite prepared for what might happen.”

“I beg to differ. You are in shock, signorina, and not quite as in control as you might like to think.”

“If you’re afraid I’m going to collapse in a soggy heap at your feet, please don’t be.”

“It would be healthier if you did. Fear, anger, sorrow, tears—they would be a more normal response. Anything but this cool, unnatural calm.”

“That might be the way things are done in Italy, Doctor, but I wasn’t brought up to give in to outpourings of emotion.”

“But you are human underneath that composed facade, yes? And I have seen this same reaction many times in people trying to come to terms with devastating news. At first, they turn away from the truth, but sooner or later, the dam bursts and reality hits them. When that happens, they need the comfort and support of family and friends. You, however, are in a foreign land, and very far away from those with whom you are close.”

Oh, yes! Much farther than he could begin to guess! In one cruel stroke of fate, she’d lost her fiancé and her best friend.

“But you’re not alone,” Carlo Rossi said. “When the pain becomes too much, I am here. You can turn to me.”

He was smashing away her protective outer shell with his kindness, and exposing that secret inner self still too bruised and tender to bear the harsh light of day. Determined not to let him see her vulnerability, she said bluntly, “You’re my father’s doctor, not mine.”

“Nevertheless, my offer remains.”

“As you wish.” She shrugged and stood up again, set on leaving this time, with or without his permission. “Thank you for your time, and goodbye.”

He inclined his head, his gaze watchful. “Arrivederci, signorina. Until the next time.”

There’d be no next time, she resolved. She found him too unsettling. Too attractive. And if that wasn’t downright immoral, given the circumstances, then it was surely utter folly. Because any fool knew it took at least a year to recover from being dumped practically at the altar, and that to allow oneself to be drawn to another man in the interim was courting nothing but trouble.

No. The less she saw of Dr. Carlo Rossi, the better.

CHAPTER TWO

HE HELD open the door to the outer office and watched as she walked past him and away down the hall. His first impression had been that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen; his second, that she was also the coldest. Antarctica was a fitting destination for such an ice queen.

She’d listened impassively as he described her father’s condition, and might have rehearsed her questions, so succinctly did she deliver them. She’d accepted without argument answers which other people would have refused to countenance.

He’d conveyed bad news before, more often than he cared to remember. And the responses he received fell into pretty much the same broad categories.

Please, Doctor, there must be something more you can do!

Money’s no object—we can pay any amount.

We’re praying for a miracle. We won’t give up hope!

But Danielle Blake? You should have let him die! He’d be better off!

And spoken with such vehemence that even he was shocked. Who could conjure up sympathy for such a woman?

The only other time her composure had slipped had been when Anita had greeted her. Then, for one brief and brilliant moment, she had smiled. Her chilly beauty had become suffused with radiant warmth, and he’d thought to himself, I was mistaken. There is a heart under that porcelain skin, after all.

Too soon, though, the mask came down again, and no amount of subtle probing on his part had succeeded in moving it. Immersed in her own needs, her own self-involved world, she had resisted his every effort.

Trained to observe the most minute detail, he’d picked up on the revealing way she’d clenched her clasped hands when he’d asked if she had a lover waiting at home. So that was it, he’d deduced. She was too caught up with some other man to spare any emotion for the one who’d given her life.

Usually he vented his rare anger at himself; at his inability to right all wrongs, to cure all ills. At that moment, though, it had been directed entirely at her. He’d wanted to shake her. Violently enough to shatter her brittle detachment and leave it lying in pieces at her feet.

Of course, he’d done no such thing. And noting now the rigid set of her spine, the proud tilt of her chin, the almost glassy determination in her eyes, he wondered if he’d misjudged her, after all. Was it just that she was exhausted? So stressed out that what he’d perceived to be indifference was really a fiercely self-protective barrier, erected to keep herself in check and everyone else at a distance?

Whatever the reason, she was so tense that it would take little for her control to snap. Like a marionette whose strings were being jerked unevenly, she walked away from him so rapidly that, at times, she almost broke into a run. Intrigued, he locked the outer office door and followed her, curious to discover why she was so anxious to escape. He was surprised when, instead of leaving the hospital as he’d expected, she turned into the ICU wing and made for Alan Blake’s room.

She didn’t hear him step in behind her. All her attention was focused on her father. She perched on the edge of the chair, and clutched the raised metal guardrails of the bed as if they were all that prevented her from losing her grip on sanity.

Not wishing to startle her, Carlo cleared his throat softly, but the way her entire body shuddered from the impact, he might as well have fired a cannon down the hall. She was too thin, too frail, and again he thought, I have judged her unfairly. She is close to collapse.

He came and stood next to her. “I understand you spent all last night here at your father’s bedside, signorina.”

“Yes,” she said bleakly, her gaze never wavering from her father’s face. “Did I break some unwritten law by doing so?”