Hot Single Docs: Waiting For You: St Piran's: Prince on the Children's Ward

Tasha walked into the kitchen, knowing that every movement she made was being followed by those fierce black eyes. She remembered him telling her that his ancestors had been warriors, descendents of the Romans who had once colonised the Mediterranean island of San Savarre that was his home. It was all too easy to imagine Alessandro Cavalieri in warrior mode.

Irritated with herself, shrugging off those thoughts, she opened cupboards until she found whisky. Closing her hand around the bottle, she hesitated. It would be really bad for him to drink with the tablets, but Alessandro didn’t seem to care. Clearly he was seeking oblivion. He’d drink whisky and to hell with the consequences. In fact, he’d probably enjoy the experience of alcohol and painkillers. Tasha put the bottle back. She wasn’t here to do what he wanted. She wasn’t here to make his life comfortable. It was already comfortable enough.

She glanced around her. The kitchen was like something from an upmarket show home. Light poured through a glass atrium and reflected off shiny black granite work surfaces. It was smooth and streamlined, designed for practicality as well as show.

‘I could almost want to cook in a place like this,’ Tasha muttered, yanking open the door of the tall American fridge and staring at the contents. ‘Nothing but champagne and beer—typical man. What about food?’ Exploring the lower shelves, she found some mouldy cheese and a dead lettuce, which she removed and dropped in the bin. ‘Good job I went to the supermarket.’

While the ambulance crew had been preparing Alessandro for the transfer home, she’d taken herself into St Piran on a shopping trip for provisions. She’d spent several hours carefully selecting items to help her with her plan, thinking carefully about what would help her cause. Abandoning the idea of using anything from his fridge, she reached for her bag of supplies and pulled out a packet of herbal tea.

Perfect.

She’d yet to meet a man who enjoyed herbal tea.

Humming happily, Tasha boiled water and found two mugs.

Carrying the tea back to the living area, she put the tray down on the low glass table and waited expectantly.

The wait was worth it. His reaction was everything she’d hoped for.

Alessandro stared in disbelief at the pale yellow liquid steaming in the mugs. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘Herbal tea,’ Tasha said earnestly. She groped around for something convincing to say about it. ‘It will be good for you. It boosts the immune system and works as a—as a—as an internal cleanser.’ As a highly trained clinician, she couldn’t believe she was spouting such unscientific nonsense and she braced herself for Alessandro to burst out laughing and demand she show him the data to support her claims, but he didn’t. Instead he glowered at her, his eyes narrowing to two dangerous slits.

‘Is this a joke? This is your idea of taking care of me?’

‘Absolutely. I’m doing what’s good for you.’

‘Whisky would be good for me.’

Tasha made an attempt at a timid smile. Given that she’d never done ‘timid’ before in her life, she was reasonably pleased with the result. ‘Don’t be angry,’ she coaxed. ‘I remembered afterwards that the whisky won’t go well with painkillers and antibiotics so I went for tea instead. I’m supposed to be looking after your health, remember? That’s why I’m here. Try it. It’s delicious. Caffeine-free and so healthy.’

His gaze slid from her eyes to the contents of the mug. ‘It looks like something that’s come straight from the drains.’

‘Really? I find it delicious.’ To prove her point, Tasha took an enormous gulp of hers and just about managed not to spit it out. Utterly vile. ‘Mmm. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’

‘Is that a serious question?’ The dangerous gleam in his eyes was a reminder to Tasha not to underestimate him. He wasn’t tame. And he wasn’t a pussy cat. He was a man who was used to controlling everyone and everything around him.

And it was clear to her now that he really didn’t want anyone there. He’d only agreed to it to facilitate his early discharge.

She gave a faint smile. That was good, wasn’t it? She didn’t want him to want her here. That was the whole point. She was here to make his life difficult and uncomfortable while proving to herself that his charm had just been the creation of her hormonal teenage brain. So far she was doing well.

Apart from that initial jolt she’d felt when she’d first seen him lounging in the hospital bed, she had herself well under control.

She ignored the tiny voice inside herself that warned her she was playing with fire—that however dangerous he’d been as a boy, the threat was magnified now he was a man.

Handing him a glass of water, she kept up the sympathy. ‘Take your antibiotics and painkillers now and then you can have another lot before you go to bed.’ Unable to switch off the doctor inside her, she frowned at his leg. ‘You should keep that elevated. Wait a minute...’ She grabbed three cushions from one of the sofas and carefully repositioned his leg. Although she was gentle, she knew the pain had to be agonising, but Alessandro didn’t murmur and she felt a flash of grudging respect. At least he wasn’t a wimp or a whiner. ‘How does that feel?’

‘As if a horse trampled on it?’ His dry humour bought a smile to her lips but she killed it instantly, unsettled by the ease with which the smile had come. She didn’t want to find him amusing any more than she wanted to find him attractive. And then her eyes met his and the desire to smile faded instantly.

Sexual tension punched through her, stealing her breath and clouding her mind. The power of it shook her.

‘Take your tablets,’ she croaked. She wanted to look away but there was something about those sexy dark eyes that wouldn’t allow it.

How long they would have stayed like that she didn’t know because the phone suddenly buzzed, breaking the spell.

‘Leave it,’ he said roughly, but Tasha was relieved and grateful for anything that gave her an excuse to turn her back on him. She felt dizzy. Light-headed—as if she were floating.

‘It could be someone important.’ Her hand shook slightly as she picked up the phone. Note to self, she thought. Don’t look at the guy unless you have to. ‘Hello?’

A woman’s voice came down the phone, smooth and sultry.

The dizziness faded in an instant and Tasha thrust the phone at him, plummeting back to earth with a bump. ‘It’s for you. Someone called Analisa. She doesn’t sound too happy.’ And that made two of them. Clearing the tray, Tasha stomped back into the kitchen.

What the hell was she playing at? Staring at a guy like some sort of dreamy teenager!

Scowling, she tipped the herbal tea down the sink.

If she’d needed reminding what Alessandro was like, it was that phone call.

She didn’t understand the language, but it was obvious that Alessandro wasn’t spending time placating the woman. Judging from his bored tone, it wasn’t going to bother him if Analisa or whatever her name was didn’t phone back.

And that, Tasha thought angrily, summed up Alessandro Cavalieri. He didn’t care how many women he hurt. Flirt today, dump tomorrow.

She took her time in the kitchen and by the time she strolled back into the living room, Alessandro was no longer on the phone. ‘Did you take those tablets?’

‘Yes. They would have gone down more easily with whisky.’

‘You’re going to need a clear head to handle all those women who keep calling you.’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘Oh, please!’ Tasha moved the crutches out of the way before he tripped and did more damage. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. Fortunately for both of us, I’ve grown out of the girl-meets-prince fantasy.’

‘Good, because girl-meets-prince has never done anything for me. It’s all fake.’ His tone was irascible and suddenly she wished she’d stayed in the kitchen.

The house was huge, and yet suddenly it seemed small.

It was all too intimate, too—terrifying?

‘You’re very bad-tempered. That’s probably because you’re hungry. If you’re sure I can’t tempt you with some of my lovely, delicious tea, I’ll go and make us some supper instead.’

‘You’d better phone for a take-away because there isn’t anything in the fridge.’

‘Actually, there was, but most of it looked ready for a post mortem so I threw it away. The only thing within use-by date in your fridge is the champagne, and last time I looked that wasn’t listed as one of the five major food groups.’ Ignoring the empty space on the sofa next to him, she sprawled in one of the chairs, curling her legs underneath her. ‘I gather you don’t cook.’

‘I have a chef, but while I’ve been in hospital I gave him time off.’

A chef? ‘Yes, well, next time tell him to clean the dead bodies out of the fridge before he leaves. Lucky for you I had the foresight to pick up some food on the way so we’re not going to starve.’