Italian Doctor, Full-time Father

“The only thing going on here,” Catherine stated, “is that, as director of this clinic, I’ve come to welcome your brother to our facility and to help him get settled in and acclimated. It’s what I would do for any patient.” She was avoiding looking at Dante now, instead fixing her stare on his brother.

“Except I’m not just any patient, Catherine,” Dante said, drawing in a tense breath. “No matter how you want to frame it, you know I’m not!”

Cristofor took a long, hard look at the both of them and started to edge his way to the hall leading to the door.

“No,” Catherine admitted. “I don’t suppose you are just any patient.”

Dante eased out the breath he’d been holding. “Good, because I don’t want our past—”

“Our past is just that. Our past.”

“But you admitted I’m not just any patient.”

“You’re not. You’re a celebrity. You can afford our best suite. We’ve had celebrities before, and we have to take special precautions to keep their fawning public at bay. I’m sure it will be no different with you.”

Cristofor finally made it to the door, and as he slipped into the hall, he paused briefly. “Nice to meet you, Dr Wilder. I think I’ll leave you and Dante alone to settle this…whatever it is going on between you, and go find myself a cup of coffee.”

Before either Dante or Catherine could say a word, Cristofor was beating a hasty retreat down the hall, not even looking back.

“Looks like we scared him off,” Dante commented casually.

“Speak for yourself, Dante. You can read anything you want into this situation, but to me it’s strictly professional. I’m the doctor, you’re the patient. That’s all there is. We’ll heal your broken ankle and you’ll be gone. End of story.”

“Then sleeping together the way we did for all those months, and getting engaged, didn’t mean anything to you?” he challenged, not intending to be contentious as much as wanting to evoke something more than ice from Catherine.

She cocked her head, looking thoughtful for a moment. Then finally, she said, “That’s right. We did sleep together, didn’t we? I guess I’d forgotten about that part of my life.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it, and simply smiled. Sizzling, red-headed temper. Beautiful fire in those green eyes. He’d never seen that in her before, but he had to admit, he liked it in her now.

CHAPTER TWO

“HE’S w-what?” Catherine sputtered, not sure she’d heard that right.

“He’s requested you to be his physician here. I went in to explain his therapy schedule to him and he said he wanted Doctor Wilder to oversee his therapy.” Dr Friedrich Rilke shrugged casually. “Sorry, Catherine, but we do always bow to our patients’ requests if at all possible or reasonable. Dr Aeberhard insisted on that when he ran the clinic and I’m sure he wouldn’t have that changed now that he’s stepped down from admin duties. Dante Baldassare specifically said he wants you to be his doctor in charge so, unless there’s a good reason for you not to be, I’m literally handing his chart back to you.” Which was what he did.

A good reason? Did she ever have a good reason! “I admitted him, Friedrich. Went down to greet him, said hello, gave him a five-minute explanation of how we do things here at Aeberhard, then left. That’s all there was to it. And I don’t want to be Mr Baldassare’s doctor. I don’t like him, I have a full schedule of other patients, and you’re much better with ankles than I am. I specialize in knees, for heaven’s sake. Did you explain that to him, that you’re the ankle specialist?”

“Explained it, and he wasn’t interested.”

“Do you think you could you talk him into using one of the other staff members?”

Rilke gave his head an adamant shake. “The man was damned insistent about wanting you. He made that perfectly clear, and he threatened to call Dr Aeberhard personally if we don’t grant his request.” He paused for a moment, looked thoughtful, then finally said what he seemed almost reluctant to say. “Is there something personal between the two of you? He seems almost… proprietorial. Well, maybe that’s not the best word to describe it, but he does act like he has some connection to you. And you’re protesting this whole situation much more than you should be.”

Dante being proprietorial after all these years. Now, wasn’t that funny? Like he had the right to be anything where she was concerned! “Maybe it’s because I was the first doctor he met here. Patients do become attached, you know.”

“After five minutes?” Friedrich shook his head. “I shouldn’t think so, but if that’s what it is, I’d call it more a fixation. And that still doesn’t explain your reaction, Catherine.”

“Not a fixation. We worked together briefly back in Boston, years ago. Didn’t get along then. But I suppose he’s requested me because he knows my qualifications better than he knows yours.” It sounded logical, although Friedrich’s eyes were squinting, indicating he still wasn’t convinced. “He’s a very controlling man…” To say the least!

“So, you worked together? How’s that? He’s a race driver.”

Catherine nodded. “He used to be a surgeon.” Odd, to say that. Used to be a surgeon. On the occasions she’d listened to sports reporters mentioning his name, even then the image of Dr Baldassare had not dissipated. Simply a case of her own stubborn mind not moving forward.

“That’s awesome. I didn’t know any of the Baldassares had done anything other than auto racing.”

“You’re a fan of the sport?” she asked, a little surprised by that.

He nodded. “And of the whole Baldassare family. They’re legends. One of the best race teams in the world. Dante’s so close to the title, and after Dario was killed…”

“Dario,” Catherine stated. She knew the story. Painful. Sad. Not much was ever said about him, and she understood that. She’d suffered her own losses, which was why she’d never asked questions. Dario Baldassare had died in a race in Spain several months before she’d met Dante, and that’s all she knew. Naturally, when Dante’s father had suffered a heart attack, and Dante had assumed the grief over Dario’s death to be a good part of the reason for it, she’d encouraged him to stay close to his family in Italy for as long as he was needed. That was all part of the story she knew. But the part she hadn’t expected had been the announcement she’d seen on a television sports program that her future husband would be staying there permanently and, on top of that, racing for the Baldassare team. That had been painful and sad, too. At least, for her.

Talented man…. men,” Friedrich said. “Both of them. Such a pity about what happened to Dario. He had the potential to become a legend in the sport. Although Dante is well on his way to accomplishing that himself. “

“I don’t like auto racing,” she said bluntly. “Not a thing about it.” Too many risks, and she hated risk-taking.

Friedrich shrugged. “Then I’d suggest you not mention that to Dante while you’re treating him, as he’s a world renowned figure in the sport.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t want you, Friedrich,” she said genuinely. “I’d honestly thought you’d pair up well as doctor and patient.” She meant that, too. Friedrich was excellent and he had a way about him that wouldn’t have let Dante bully him. But that wasn’t meant to be, she supposed.

He shrugged again. “You’ll do fine with him, but watch yourself, Catherine. He’s got a reputation, lucky man.” Friedrich gave a knowing wiggle to his eyebrows, leaving Catherine with no doubt about what the reputation was. She lived with it, after all. And once was enough.

“It won’t be long,” Dante assured Gianni. “And if you keep asking, maybe your grandfather will bring you here on a weekend holiday.” His father, Marco Baldassare, was a tough man. He ran one of the leading race teams in the world and expected strict obedience from his sons and daughters. Even after he’d cut back on his responsibilities, he still worked harder than most men. Tough as nails all the way round, yet when it came to his grandchildren, Marco was a pushover. A real softy. “Just give him a big hug, then ask him.”

“Can I stay with you?” Gianni asked. “I can sleep in a chair if there’s not another bed. Or on the floor.”

“No. This is a rehabilitation clinic. You can stay for a night or two, but that’s all they’ll allow.” Dante truly was sorry about that, too, because he would have loved having his son there with him, but Gianni was better off with his grandparents for the time being. Since he’d adopted his nephew, they hadn’t spent too many nights apart, and Dante counted on that stability in his son’s otherwise hectic life. Marco and Rosa Baldassare were the stability the boy needed right now.

“Couldn’t you rest at home?” Gianni whined. “I can help you walk on your broken foot. Help you use your cane, and get things for you when you don’t feel like walking.”

“Can’t rest at home, not the way I’m supposed to. And they have things here that will help my foot feel better.”

“Maybe Papa Marco will bring me this weekend!”

“Maybe he will.”

Dante and Gianni talked another few minutes, mostly about school work and new friends Gianni was making now that he was living with Papa Marco and Mama Rosa. When the phone conversation was over, Dante clutched the phone receiver another minute, like holding it kept him closer to his son.

He hadn’t expected to keep Gianni permanently. After Dario’s death, Gianni had gone immediately to live with his grandparents, Marco and Rosa, and no one had questioned that. Then, after Marco’s heart attack, Dante had agreed to keep the boy for a while. A few weeks at the most, while Papa Marco had been recovering and Mama Rosa taking care of him. There had never been any talk that Dante would become a full-time parent then, all of a sudden, he had been. It had been a letter from Dario, something that had been misplaced after he’d been killed. In it had been a heartfelt and sad plea from a lonely man who’d just lost his wife, desperately begging his twin to raise his son in the event anything ever happened to him.

So, how could he not? It was his duty to honor his brother’s wish but, more than that, it was what he’d wanted to do. Of course, his own parents had expected to raise their grandson, but they had been good about respecting Dario’s wishes. And, Dante suspected, a little relieved, considering Papa Marco’s new, more delicate condition.

Of course, wanting to raise Gianni and actually doing it had been two different things. His life had been unsettled. At the time he’d wanted to go back to medicine, and had fully intended to. Yet he had been pulled back more and more into the family operation, feeling pressure to step back into a race car and, once again, put the name Baldassare back on the track. With all that going on, then adopting Gianni, it had been a difficult time all the way round. A boy Gianni’s age needed a home and stability, which he hadn’t had to offer. No stability, no parenting skills.

No Catherine, either. And that was the biggest change of all in his life. He understood why she was having such a tough time with what he was doing. His sister jumped the gun on the announcement that he was returning to racing, giving it to the press before he’d made up his mind. Probably a little bit of Papa Marco’s persuasion, he suspected. But what that did was, essentially, to slap Catherine in the face with plans she knew nothing about. So he truly did understand her feelings over that.

He apologized for that gaffe over and over, and believed she’d get over the hurt, and be agreeable. He never, ever considered that she would end the relationship all because he was thinking about racing again.

But she hated racing, and she made that perfectly clear.