The Duke's New Year's Resolution / Quade's Babies: The Duke's New Year's Resolution

Sabrina Russo got only a few seconds’ warning before disaster struck.

The powerful roar of a vehicle rounding the hairpin curve behind her carried clearly on the late December air. Cursing, she kicked herself for parking her rental car in a turnout a good ten yards back. The roads on this portion of Italy’s Amalfi coast were narrow and treacherous at best. Walls of sheer rock hedged the pavement on one side, thousand-foot drops on the other. But, like the worst kind of numbnuts tourist, she’d had to leave the protection of the turnout and inch along this narrow, pebble-strewn verge to snap a picture of the colorful village spilling down the steep mountainside to the blue-green Mediterranean below.

The slick leather soles of her boots provided only marginal traction as she scrambled back toward the turnout. She was still trying to reach its protective guardrail when a flame-red Ferrari convertible swept around the curve.

Sabrina caught a glimpse of the driver—just a glimpse. Her frantic mind registered dark hair, wide shoulders encased in a buckskin-tan-colored jacket, and a startled expression on a face so strong and chiseled it might have been sculpted by Michelangelo. Then the Ferrari was aiming right for her.

“Hey!”

Yelping, she leaped back. She knew she was in trouble when her left boot heel came down on empty air. Faced with the choice of throwing herself forward, under the Ferrari’s tires, or toppling down the steep precipice behind her, she opted for the tumble.

She didn’t fall far, but she hit hard. The cell phone she’d been using to shoot the photos flew out of her hands. A rocky outcropping slammed into her hip. Her gray wool slacks and matching, hip-length jacket protected her from the stony, serrated edges. The wool provided little buffer, however, when she crashed into a stunted, wind-tortured tree that clung to the cliffside with stubborn tenacity.

Pain shot from her ankle to her hip in white-hot waves. The achingly blue Mediterranean sky blurred around the edges.

“Signorina! Signorina! Mi sente?”

A deep, compelling voice pierced the gray haze. Sabrina fought the agony shooting through her and turned her head.

“Ecco, brava. Apra gli’ occhi.”

Slowly, so slowly, a face swam into view.

“Wh—what happened?”

“Siete…” He gave a quick shake of his head and shifted to flawless English. “You fell from the road above. Luckily, this cypress broke your descent.”

Sabrina blinked, and a twisted tree trunk came into focus. Its thin branches and silvery-green leaves formed a backdrop for the face hovering over her. Even dazed and confused, she felt its sensual impact.

The man was certifiably gorgeous! Whiskers darkened his cheeks and strong, square chin. His mouth could tempt a saint to sin, and Sabrina was certainly no candidate for canonization. His short, black hair had just a hint of curl, and his skin was tanned to warm oak.

But it was his eyes that mesmerized her. Dark and compelling, they stared into hers. For an absurd moment, she had the ridiculous notion he was looking into her soul.

Then more of her haze cleared and she recognized the driver of the Ferrari. Anger spiked through her, overriding the pain.

“You almost hit me!”

She planted a hand against the tree trunk and tried to sit up. The attempt produced two immediate reactions. The first was a searing jolt that lanced from her ankle to her hip. The second was a big hand splayed against her shoulder, accompanied by a sharp order.

“Be still! You’re not bleeding from any external wounds, but you may have sustained a concussion or internal injuries. Tell me, do you hurt when you breathe?”

She drew in a cautious breath. “No.”

“Can you move your head?”

She tried a tentative tilt. “Yes.”

“Lie still while I check for broken bones.”

“Hey! Watch where you put those hands, pal!”

Impatience stamped across his classic features. “I am a doctor.”

Good excuse to cop a feel, Sabrina thought, too pissed to appreciate his gentle touch.

“You have no business taking these hairpin turns so fast,” she informed him. “Especially when there’s no guardrail. I had nowhere to go but down. If I hadn’t hit this tree I could have…Ow!”

She clenched her teeth against the agony when he ran his hands down her calf to her ankle.

Frowning, the doc sat back on his heels. “With your boot on, I can’t tell if the ankle is broken or merely sprained. We must get you to the hospital for X-rays.”

He glanced from her to the road above and back again.

“My cell phone is in the car. I can call an ambulance. Unfortunately, the closest will have to come from the town of Amalfi, thirty kilometers from here.”

Terrific! Thirty kilometers of narrow, winding roads with blind curves and snaking switchbacks. She’d be down here all day, clinging to this friggin’ tree.

“It’s better if we get you to the car and I drive you to the hospital myself.”

Sabrina eyed the slope doubtfully. “I don’t think I’m up for a climb.”

“I’ll carry you.”

He said it with such self-assurance that she almost believed he could. He had the shoulders for it. They looked wide and solid under his suede bomber jacket.

Sabrina was no lightweight, however. She kept in shape with daily workouts, but her five-eight height and lush curves added up to more pounds than she cared to admit in polite company.

“Thanks, anyway, but I’ll wait for the ambulance.”

“You could black out again or go into shock.” Pushing to his feet, he braced himself at an angle on the slope and issued a brusque order. “Take my hand.”

The imperious command rubbed her exactly the wrong way. She’d spent a turbulent childhood and her even more tempestuous college years rebelling against her cold, autocratic father. She’d paid the price for her revolt many times over, but she still didn’t take orders well.

“Anyone ever tell you that you need to work on your bedside manner, Doc? It pretty well sucks.”

His dark brows snapped together in a way that clearly said he wasn’t used to being taken to task by his patients. She answered with a bland smile. After a short staring contest, his scowl relaxed into a reluctant grin.

“I believe that has been mentioned to me before.”

The air left Sabrina’s lungs a second time. The man was seriously hot without that crooked grin. With it, he made breathing a lost cause.

“Shall we start again?” he suggested in a less impatient tone. “I am Marco Calvetti. And you are?”

“Sabrina Russo.”

“Allow me to help you up to the car.” He reached down a hand. “If you please, Signorina Russo.”

It was either wait for the ambulance or take him up on his offer. No choice, really. Sabrina needed to get her ankle looked at and be on her way. She had business to take care of. Important business that could put the fledgling company she’d started with her two best friends into the black for the first time since they’d launched it.