The Valtieri Marriage Deal (3 page)

She wanted him—wanted to touch him—no,
needed
to
touch him, to feel him, test the texture of that hot, wet skin beneath her palms, and so she took his hand and followed him into the shower, under the streaming water that pounded over them like a tropical storm, and let her roaming fingers explore him, investigating the stark contrast between the rough texture of his body hair and the wet silk of his skin, following the streaming water from his shoulders, over his deep, solid chest to the arrow of hair that her downwards.

She moved lower, her fingers trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen, and his teeth clenched and he sucked in his breath with a hiss.

‘Cara,
slowly,’ he groaned, and, easing away from her, he squirted shower gel onto his hands and started to wash her, his hands firm and almost impersonal as they touched her everywhere. If it hadn’t been for the blazing heat in his eyes she might have thought he was washing a child, but there was nothing of the nurturer in this man now, and when she filled her palms with shower gel and smoothed her hands over his body he gave a shuddering sigh, his breath hot against her face as he cupped her bottom and eased her against him. She felt the urgent pressure of his knee between her thighs and opened for him as his hand slid round and cradled the terrible, yearning ache that was building in her body.

‘Luca?’ she whispered, and as the water streamed over them his mouth found hers in a kiss so searing she thought she’d go up in flames. She felt the hot, sensual slide of his tongue, its probing so erotic, so explicit that she could scarcely breathe. And it wasn’t just his mouth. His hand was moving against her, freeing a wanton woman she hadn’t even known existed until this moment.

A woman who wanted him, this man she’d never met
before tonight but would have trusted with her soul, because already, in some obscure way, it belonged to him.

She felt fevered. She thought she’d die if she didn’t have him, and then he hit the shower control, grabbed a towel and rubbed her roughly dry, then hauled it over his skin and threw it aside as he led her back into the bedroom.

His mouth found hers again, and then his thigh was between hers and he pressed her backwards until her legs hit the bed and he toppled her over, falling with her in a tangle of limbs into the centre of the mattress.

‘Isabella,’
he groaned, lifting his head to stare down at her, his hands shaking as they touched her. She was gorgeous. So beautiful. So perfect. So much woman. He wanted to go slowly but he couldn’t. He needed her, and his control was in tatters.

Slowly,
he told himself.
Slowly. Make it last.
He lifted a damp strand of hair from her face and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her lips, then turned his attention to those soft, generous breasts, first one, then the other, kneading them gently and rolling her tightly budded nipples between his fingers until she whimpered and arched up to him, and then using his knee to ease her thighs apart, he turned his head and stared down at where the soft nest of curls hid her from his sight.

Dio,
he wanted her. Wanted to taste her, to touch her, to bury himself inside her…

His mouth closed over one nipple as his hand sought her again, found the hot, sleek moisture of her delicate folds, felt the tremble in her body as his thumb found the swollen bud and stroked it gently, probing her warmth, testing her.

‘Luca!’ she sobbed, bucking under him, and he hushed her softly and moved on, his tongue taking over where his thumb
had left off, and she cried out and trembled, her shaking fingers knotting in his hair. ‘Oh, God, Luca, now, please!’

He couldn’t wait any longer. He felt as if he’d been waiting for her all his life, and he couldn’t wait any more. She was begging him, her voice cracking, and he moved over her, settling against her, feeling her body yield to him as he entered her with a long, slow thrust that nearly pushed him over the edge.

She gasped his name again, and he kissed her softly, trying to take it slowly, trying to give her time to adjust to him as he withdrew and thrust into her again, deeper this time, harder, bringing a tiny scream to her lips. He felt her hands clawing at him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she urged him on breathlessly, her body striving beneath him.

He needed no urging. He was on the brink, hanging on for her with the last shreds of his control, and then he couldn’t wait any more.

‘Now,
cara,
please, now,’ he grated, his body shaking with desperate restraint, and then he felt the first contraction, the convulsions deep within her body closing around him and drawing him ever deeper, and locking his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss, he drove into her again and again, until the waves came up and claimed him and he followed her into the boiling maelstrom of their release.

She couldn’t move.

He was sprawled across her, his head against her shoulder, his chest heaving, and she could feel the wild pounding of his heart gradually slowing until finally he lifted his head and stared down into her eyes.

‘Oh, Isabella,’ he whispered, and, wrapping her tenderly against his chest, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him
so she lay draped across his body, her legs tangled with his, his hard, muscled thigh pressed against her tender flesh, still pulsing with the aftermath of the most incredible experience of her life.

She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them away, but they still fell, and there was a stupid sob rising in her throat. She bit it down, but it escaped, and he tightened his arms and rocked her.

‘Hush,
tesoro.
It’s all right. I’ve got you.’

It was as if he knew how she felt, as if he felt it too, the amazing, incredible, tumultuous emotions that were cascading through her, and his hand stroked gently over her hair and soothed her, and gradually her limbs relaxed and she sank slowly into sleep.

Luca didn’t sleep. The street light filtered through the shutters and brought with it disturbing and intrusive thoughts—thoughts that he dismissed for now. He’d deal with the consequences later. For now—for now he had Isabella, and nothing else mattered.

He turned his head and gazed wonderingly at the sleeping woman by his side. He’d never known it was possible to feel such a powerful storm of emotions. It was as if he’d come out of a coma. Everything felt—hell, it just
felt,
and so much
more
than it ever had.

He reached out a hand, then stopped before he touched her, because although he wanted her again, he also wanted to watch her, to lie there beside her and absorb her while she slept so peacefully at his side. And if he touched her, the fire would start again. He’d never known a fire like it, he thought, and he wondered how he could have felt so much for a woman he didn’t know. Because he
didn’t
know her. He
knew hardly anything about her. She might be a real fruitcake, a neurotic, clinging vine—or, worse, a money-grubbing little witch out for all she could get. He’d had it with that sort, big time.

But she wasn’t any of those things. She was a good, decent woman who didn’t do this. He knew that, from the straightforward honesty of her response to him. He was just trying to talk himself out of something that scared the living daylights out of him, because if this was what it felt like, his life would never be the same again.

‘Luca?’

He realised she was looking at him, and he put away his dark thoughts and dredged up a smile. ‘Hi,’ he murmured, and, leaning over, he brushed her lips with his. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Mmm. Fabulous. What about you? Are you OK?’

‘Great. Fantastic,’ he told her, realising that it was true. He felt better than he had for months—years—and it was all down to her. He kissed her again, then dropped his head against hers and sighed softly. She’d been so responsive, so passionate and tender and honest, and it had blown him away.

Made him forget all sorts of things he had no business forgetting—including one rather vital and critical thing that he just couldn’t believe he’d overlooked.

He lifted his head and met her soft, sleep-hazed eyes. ‘Mind if I ask you a personal question?’

‘No,’ she said slowly, as if she wasn’t too sure.

‘Are you, by a miracle, on the Pill?’

Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she stared at him in consternation. She was—only to regulate her cycle, but it worked just the same. Which was as well, since she’d forgotten about contraception completely. Forgotten everything, even how to
breathe at some points. And the Pill would only protect her from pregnancy. Oh, what an idiot.

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, and his eyes drifted shut, his relief obvious. He muttered something in Italian, then opened them again and grinned a little wryly, making her heart flutter.

‘Sorry. I just—forgot about things like that, last night, which is crazy, because I never forget, but—it was amazing.’ His voice softened and he reached out for her with his hand. ‘You were amazing. Incredible.’

‘So were you,’ she said, feeling colour mount her cheeks and the now-familiar heat invade her body, but she ignored it, her brain, brought to its senses now, suddenly remembering all the other things she’d forgotten in addition to the pill she really must remember to take later on. ‘Um—I don’t really know how to say this, but—well, you don’t need to worry about getting anything from me.’

‘Oh, Isabella.’ His fingers touched her cheek gently. ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe,
cara.
I wouldn’t do that to you.’

She felt a wave of relief, then common sense dawned again. ‘Luca, what’s the time?’

‘Nearly four.’

No! She swallowed hard. ‘I have to go soon.’

‘I know. My car’s not far away. I’ll get it while you pack.’

He gave her a tender, lingering kiss, and then got out of bed. She watched as he pulled on his clothes—the shirt with no buttons, the crumpled suit, damp from the bathroom floor, and she wanted to cry. ‘I’ll see you outside in fifteen minutes,’ he said, kissing her again, and closed the door softly.

He drove her to Pisa airport, and as they turned in he said, ‘I’ll park and come in with you—get a coffee or something.’

‘No. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye in public,’ she said, wondering how she’d even do it in private, and so he pulled into the drop-off zone, cut the engine and turned to her, his eyes shadowed by the streetlights.

‘Hey, don’t look like that,’ he murmured.

‘I can’t help it. I don’t want it to end,’ she said, unable to lie to him. ‘It’s been so special, Luca. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me—and it doesn’t have to end,’ he said softly, as if he’d read her mind, and she shrugged.

‘Of course it does—and, anyway, we said just one night.’

‘Can’t I change your mind?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s silly getting involved. Long-distance relationships never work.’ Relationships, full stop. And it might be better to let it go than to ruin the memories with reality. At least this way she could treasure them unsullied.

‘There are ways,’ he said, oddly reluctant to let her go without some means of contacting her. ‘Tell me your number,
cara.
I’ll call you when I’m next in London.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Luca. That wasn’t the deal—and I need to go now, or I’ll miss my check-in.’

Oh, lord. She didn’t want to go, whatever she’d said about long-distance relationships. She didn’t want to leave him—couldn’t bear to—and, crazily, she thought she was going to cry. She tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate and she felt her eyes welling. ‘Look—I have to go.’

‘I know.’

He took her case from the boot and stood staring down at her, his eyes brooding and unreadable, and she flung her arms round him and hugged him, the tears welling once more. ‘Thank you, again, Luca. Thank you for everything,’ she said, and he shook his head.

‘Hush,
cara,’
he murmured, and, lifting his hands, he cupped her cheek and brushed the tears from her face, then leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

It was a gentle kiss, tender and comforting, but then something shifted, and he threaded his fingers through her hair and anchored her head and kissed her with all the passion, all the incredible sensuality that he’d shown her last night.

Then finally he lifted his head, his breathing harsh, his face taut, but his fingers on her cheek were gentle. ‘Give me your number—your address. I’ll come and see you.’

‘No—it’s silly, Luca. We live too far apart—you’re going to be working in Florence.’

‘Maybe not. Isabelle—take my card. Call me, even if it’s just to tell me you’re home safe. Please. And if you change your mind…’

She hesitated, then took it and stuffed it into her pocket. ‘Oh—your scarf!’ she said, reaching for it, but he stilled her hands.

‘Keep it. You’ll be cold on the plane.’

She nodded, her eyes filling. ‘Thank you.’ She blinked away the tears. ‘I have to go,’ she said, choked. ‘Goodbye, Luca.’

‘Goodbye,
Isabella,’
he said softly, and his hand fell to his side, leaving her desolate. Grabbing her case, she ran into the airport without a backward glance before she made a fool of herself and started to cry again.

Luca watched her go, shocked at the emotion that ripped through him. He had to hold himself back, force himself not to follow her into the terminal and make her stay. He didn’t know what had happened to him, but for some reason, everything felt different. Real. And he couldn’t bear to let her go.

He waited until she was out of sight. Gave her time to come back, to call him.

Then he got back into his car and drove slowly out of the airport, his mind still full of the woman who’d blown his world apart…

H
ER JOURNEY WAS
awful.

The flight was delayed, then they hit turbulence over the Alps and just about everyone was ill—including her—and by the time she got home she felt wrung out. She groped for her house keys, and found his card in her pocket where he’d tucked it as she was leaving him.

Luca Valtieri, she read, and a mobile number. She hadn’t known his surname. It hadn’t really mattered, not then. Not now, really. She wasn’t going to see him again.

But she missed him.

Ridiculously so, with an ache that was almost physical.

Just a quick call, she promised herself—just long enough to hear his voice and tell him she was safe. And she could withhold her number so he wouldn’t be able to call her back. That way she’d have control of the relationship—

No! It wasn’t a relationship. She wouldn’t let it be! But she was desperate to hear his voice, to have some kind of contact with the man who’d stolen her heart so suddenly.

So she rang him, and after a few moments she got his voicemail. She rang it again, just to hear his message, to hear
the low rumble of his voice, the crisp message at odds with the man she’d spent last night with, and finally she spoke.

‘Hi, Luca, it’s Isabelle, I’m sorry I’ve missed you. I’m back. And thank you—for everything.’

Then she hung up, resisting the urge to give him her number. She could always call him again. Next week, perhaps. Or tomorrow.

No! Not tomorrow. Not next week, either. She was being ridiculous. She didn’t want a relationship. Last time was enough for a lifetime.

She swallowed hard and then on impulse she turned on her computer and typed ‘Luca Valtieri’ into a search engine, expecting nothing, really, maybe a paper or two, some medical reference—and got a whole bunch of stuff.

Exstracts from articles in medical journals, research material, awards—but nothing personal, nothing to tell her more about the man himself except the fact that he was clearly very active and involved with his field of medicine, and he’d worked with a lot of English consultants whose names she recognised.

Silly her. She’d fallen—and how!—for a truly gorgeous man with a devastating smile and a kiss that had wiped out all the common sense she’d been born with, and not only that, he was funny and intelligent and dedicated. Thank God she’d refused to see him again. He was much too dangerous to her peace of mind but, oh, she missed him.

Oh, well. She’d get over it. She had before. It wasn’t the first time her heart had been broken, although that time, of course, she’d been betrayed. Idly she wondered how she would have felt about Luca if she’d been able to trust him with her heart, but she couldn’t turn the clock back and she had no idea how it would feel to have that much faith in a man.

Impossible. And if she’d allowed herself to fall for Luca, how much more would it have hurt when it all went wrong?

She swallowed hard. At least she’d had the sense to withhold her number, so he wouldn’t be able to contact her.

And, besides, there wasn’t time in her life to mope. Until her hospital’s maternity unit refurb was completed she was working in another unit not nearly so easy to get to, so it was just as well Luca was out of her life because, frankly, with the extra travelling, she wouldn’t have time for a relationship at the moment.

And if she told herself that often enough, maybe she’d believe it…

He’d missed her call.

He swore softly and dropped into a chair, resting his head in his hands. Damn. Of all the stupid, stupid things, to forget to put his phone on charge when he’d got back to the flat. But maybe…

He scrolled through to his incoming calls, and the hope died. ‘Withheld. Damn.’

‘Maybe she’ll ring again,’ his brother suggested.

He shook his head and swallowed hard. ‘No—no, she won’t. It doesn’t matter. She didn’t want to see me again anyway. I just wanted to—’

‘Talk to her?’ Gio finished softly for him when he broke off, and he nodded, his throat curiously tight. ‘So are you going to go and find her?’

He shook his head. ‘No. We agreed it was only for one night. I’ll just have to live with it.’ But hell, he didn’t want to. He hadn’t realised how much he was looking forward to speaking to her again—maybe talking her into letting him see her when he was back in London.

‘So—what next?’

He let the air out of his lungs on a long, slow breath and met his brother’s eyes. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go back to London and finish off my research.’

‘You could look her up—it’s time you had a bit of fun. Where does she live?’

‘Herne Hill, but I have no idea where or I’d go and try to talk her into seeing me again.’

‘You must be slipping. It’s not like you to have to chase after a woman. Did you disappoint her last night?’

He met his brother’s mocking eyes with disgust. ‘No, I did not—not that it’s your damn business.’

Gio shrugged. ‘So—what about the job? Mama will be disappointed if you go back to London. She was looking forward to having you closer to home.’

‘She’d cope.’

‘Of course—and who knows? You may even bring home a bride. Now, that
would
make her happy.’

He grunted and stifled the little leap in his chest that felt remarkably like hope. ‘Unlikely. I have to convince her first—and, anyway, aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? It was only one night.’

‘Of course it was,’ Gio said soothingly, and smiled. ‘Just promise me one thing—let me draw up the pre-nup. And don’t even contemplate getting hitched without one.’

He laughed. ‘Relax, Gio. I’m not going to marry her. It’s not on my agenda.’

‘We’ll see. Coffee?’

Luca gave his phone one last regretful look and slid it into his pocket. ‘Why not?’

‘What’s going on?’

The group of women around the central nursing station didn’t take their eyes off the office door.

‘Richard Crossland’s got someone with him. And he’s a
hunk,’
her friend Sarah said in a stage whisper. ‘He’s been in there ages—they must be about to come out. I swear he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.’

‘Really.’

‘Really. Really really really. Even you’d think so, Little Miss Fussy-Pants.’

Not fussy enough, apparently, or she wouldn’t be moping about now with a broken heart six weeks down the line, Isabelle thought, and walked away towards the staff room to dump her bag. The Tube had been delayed and she didn’t even have time for a cup of tea now. She certainly didn’t have time to stand and ogle some stud who the girls thought was so damn marvelous.

There was a little commotion behind her, a sudden burst of activity that could only mean the office door had opened and they’d been caught staring. Well, serve them right, she thought, and glanced over her shoulder.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

‘Luca?’

The word was soundless, hardly even a breath, but he turned his head and met her eyes, and the bottom dropped out of her world.

‘Isabella.’

He crossed the ward in two strides, his warm hands cupping her shoulders, sending a shock wave through her body. She eased herself away from his grasp, horribly conscious of their rapt audience, her heart drumming against her ribs like a wild thing.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, choked by a flood of emotion that was threatening to unravel her.

‘I could ask you the same thing. Your hospital’s miles away.’

‘Not nearly as far as Florence. Anyway, the unit’s—’

‘Shut for a refurb. I know that, you told me. They wouldn’t tell me where you’d been relocated to, though. They were—well, let’s say they were profoundly unhelpful. It didn’t make it any easier to find you. So—how are you?’

She ignored that, her heart pounding as she took in his words. ‘You were looking for me?’

‘
Si
—for the last six weeks. I’d given up.’

Six weeks? Ever since…

‘We weren’t going to see each other again,’ she pointed out, trying to sound composed while her heart was busy breaking all over again just at the sight of him.

‘No. You didn’t want me.’ His mouth twisted into a wry smile, and her heart flip-flopped again and then contracted. Want him? She’d never stopped wanting him, not for a moment.

Whatever, it didn’t alter the facts.

‘It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?’ she said quietly, conscious of the stares of the other midwives still clustered round the nursing station with their mouths hanging open. ‘What I want. I mean, you’re here anyway, regardless of my feelings.’

‘What?’ He gave a startled cough of laughter and shook his head. ‘Of course it matters. I’m not here to see you—I didn’t know you worked here.’

‘So why are you here?’

‘I’m an old friend of Richard’s. He heard I was back in London and asked me if I could help out. I owed him a favour—so I’m here. I swear, I had no idea you’d be here or I would have spoken to you first. Is it going to be a problem?’

She shook her head, feeling incredibly foolish and naïve. ‘No. Of course not. Sorry, I misunderstood.’ Of course he wasn’t here for her. She was being ridiculous. Neurotic.

‘So—why are you in London anyway?’

He smiled wryly. ‘Finishing off some research—and I wanted to see you again if I could find you.’

No. She felt a flicker of panic. She didn’t want this—didn’t want to see him again. It was too much.

Her body was calling her a liar, and her heart was racing, but her mind was in panic mode and she shook her head and backed away.

‘Luca, I can’t talk about this here. I have to work.’

‘So do I, now. But later—’

‘No, Luca,’ she said firmly, shaking her head and hanging on to the last shreds of her dignity. ‘I told you I didn’t want to see you again, and I meant it. I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk to you, either now or later. Please—just leave me alone.’

‘Isabelle, please, give me a few minutes—’

‘No. Go away, Luca. Please.’

Turning on her heel, she ignored his protest, walked into the staff room, closed the door behind her and burst into tears.

‘Izzie?’

‘Go away, Sarah,’ she mumbled, her hands pressed hard over her mouth to keep in the sobs that were tearing her apart.

‘No. Oh, sweetheart, what’s happened? Who is he? What did he say to you?’

She dragged herself together, sniffing hard and lifting her chin firmly. ‘Nothing. Really—please—I’ll be fine. I have to go to handover. I—I can’t—’

‘Rubbish. Here, you need a tissue and a cup of tea.’

‘No. Well, yes, the tissue,’ she said with a fractured laugh, ‘but I haven’t got time for tea. I’ve just got to get on.’

‘So who is he?’

‘Luca? He’s a guy I met in Florence.’

Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Oh, my God—why ever did you come back?’

She laughed a little crazily. ‘Because it was just one day? Because I have a life here, and he lives in Italy?’

‘Well, it doesn’t look like it. He’s Richard’s new locum, covering the maternity leave post.’

‘What?’
Shock nearly took the legs out from under her, and Sarah hugged her hard and steered her to a chair. ‘Sarah, you’re joking. He said he was doing Richard a favour, helping him out. I assumed he meant some research or something.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Sorry, Izzie, he’s here, and he’s working in the unit, and you’re going to have to see him every day.’

‘Every…’ She dragged in a lungful of air. ‘Oh, God, no! I’m going on holiday. How long’s he here for?’

‘I don’t know. Weeks, I suppose. Months, maybe.’

Months?

‘Will you be OK with that? Can you do it? Because I don’t think you’ve got that much holiday,’ Sarah said with a vain attempt at a smile.

Probably not, but—work with him? For
months?
Oh, lord. Maybe she could get a transfer? Or maybe she should just get a grip.

‘Of course I can,’ she lied, straightening her spine and blowing her nose hard. ‘I’ll have to. Just keep him away from me, and I’ll be fine.’

And without giving Luca another thought—well, that was
a lie, but she had to pretend—she threw herself into her work. Which would have been fine, of course, if it hadn’t been for the first labouring woman she checked.

Superficially, there was nothing wrong, but it was her third baby and third babies could often be a bit different. The notes contained no special warnings, the last ultrasound scan had been fine and there was technically nothing to worry about. Certainly nothing had been mentioned at handover, but the moment she went into the woman’s room, she just felt a little tingle of suspicion.

‘Hi, Julie, I’m Isabelle, I’m going to be looking after you now during your labour,’ she said with a smile as she ran her eyes over her patient and skimmed the notes. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Oh, I love the epidural,’ she said with a heartfelt chuckle. ‘It’s marvellous. Just like going to the dentist, only I’m going to have a baby, not a filling!’

Isabelle smiled and checked her over, listening to the baby’s heart with the foetal stethoscope. Was that a little hitch?

‘Can I just turn you on your side, Julie? I can’t quite hear.’ She helped the woman adjust her position, checked again, then shook her head. ‘I still can’t hear enough. I’d like to put the monitor on you to get a better feel for what’s going on.’

‘Sure. It does seem awfully slow, this labour.’

‘Well, that can be the epidural. Because you’re lying down, you aren’t getting any help from gravity, but I think it’s just as well to check, don’t you?’

She was setting up the machine as she worked, explaining to Julie how the cardiotocograph would give her the baby’s heart rate and the pressure of the uterus, and also, most importantly, the correlation of the heart rate to the contractions.

And, sure enough, every time Julie had a contraction, the baby’s heart rate dipped.

‘So is there a problem?’ she asked, looking more worried now.

‘I’m not sure. Probably not, but it is dragging on a bit and I don’t think your baby’s very happy at the moment, so I’ll get a doctor to take a look at you to be on the safe side,’ she said with a reassuring smile. ‘We might need to hurry things along a little.’