The Italian Doctor’s Mistress Read online

  He found her staring pensively through one of the long windows in the lounge, but on hearing him enter the room, she swivelled to face him and he saw at once that something untoward had occurred, because she’d taken refuge behind that icy mask of reserve she’d worn when first they met.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she announced. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Can it not wait until I’ve examined you?”

  “No. It’s something that needs to be dealt with now.”

  “Very well.” Closing the door for privacy, he joined her at the window. “I’m listening.”

  His steady gaze seemed to unsettle her. She glanced away and fiddled with her watch strap. At last, she said miserably, “I think I should find another place to stay. Things are becoming too…complicated with my being under your roof.”

  “You do not hear me objecting, Danielle.”

  “Others might. Some already are, in fact.”

  Deciding there was nothing to be gained by trying to dodge the issue, he said bluntly, “Are you referring to Zarah?”

  She hesitated again, before admitting, “Among others, yes. I saw the two of you going at it just now, and I’d have had to be blind not to notice you weren’t having a particularly amicable exchange. You were talking about me, weren’t you?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t bother denying it, Carlo. I already know how Dr. Brunelli feels about my living with you.”

  “You say that as if we’re sleeping together every night.”

  “As far as some people are concerned, we might as well be.”

  “Zarah said that?” Dio, but if so, the woman would hear from him in no uncertain terms!

  “Not in so many words, but she made it clear enough, when she stopped by on Saturday, that she thinks you’re allowing needless guilt to cloud your judgment. She also pointed out that you have a reputation to maintain; that by inviting a patient to live in your home, you could be accused of violating your professional ethics. And you know what? She’s right. You’re taking the kind of foolish and unnecessary risk no doctor can afford.”

  She stopped to take a breath at that point, and he jumped in before she started up again. “May I speak now, my lovely?”

  “Yes. But cut out the flattery. It’s not going to change my mind.”

  “Then allow me to say that I fully agree with you, and with Dr. Brunelli. I must indeed put an end to things.”

  He’d managed to shock her. Her delectable mouth fell open, and she stared at him, temporarily at a loss for words. At length, she said, “So we finally agree on something.”

  “Absolutely. I will take immediate steps to rectify what is unquestionably a most unsatisfactory situation.”

  She considered that for a moment, rather gloomily, he thought, then said, “I’m happy to hear it.”

  Hiding a smile, he walked her to the Emergency Unit where Gino Ferrari was again on duty. “I’m returning Signorina Blake to your care, Doctor,” he declared. “She claims she’s feeling much better and is ready to start moving around under her own steam. It’s up to you to decide if she’s right.”

  If Gino was surprised to find himself suddenly in charge again, he was professional enough not to let it show. “Certainly, Dr. Rossi.”

  Carlo nodded. “Then I’ll be off.”

  “You’re leaving?” Danielle exclaimed in disbelief.

  “Why not?” he replied cheerfully. “I have patients of my own to look in on, and since I’m no longer on your case, I’m not needed here. But don’t worry. You’re in very good hands. Dr. Ferrari is one of the best.”

  “But…but—!”

  “But nothing, Danielle. I don’t expect to be gone long, and once Dr. Ferrari is finished with you, I’ll take you to collect your belongings from il commissariato di polizia, as promised. Where is the problem in that?”

  She swallowed. “I guess there isn’t one.”

  “Then cheer up, my dear. You’re getting your own way at last. Isn’t that just what you wanted?”

  “Yes,” she muttered morosely.

  “I don’t know what you’re looking so smug about,” she told Carlo, as he drove away from the clinic. “Just because you’ve palmed me off to Dr. Ferrari doesn’t change the other things we spoke about.”

  “But most certainly it does,” he said. “Now we are simply friends, which makes it perfectly acceptable for you to stay as a guest in my home.”

  “It does nothing of the sort! People will continue to talk.”

  “I really don’t care,” he said.

  “Well, I do! I’m moving to a hotel, and that’s final. There’s got to be one down on the promenade, where I won’t be in danger of rolling down the nearest hill and landing in the lake.”

  He raised his eyes as though praying for patience. “Be sensible, Danielle. You’re in no shape to be look after yourself properly.”

  “On whose say-so, Carlo? Yours?”

  “No, on Gino Ferrari’s. You heard his parting recommendation. You’re definitely on the mend, but not quite as far along as you think. Try to rush things and you risk damaging your injury further. I won’t let you take that chance.”

  “You don’t have any say in the matter. It’s none of your business.”

  He pulled the car over to the side of the road and killed the engine. “What’s this really all about, Danielle? Why are you being so obstinate, when you know I have only your best interests at heart?”

  Initially, she hadn’t meant to tell him what she’d overheard, but she realized now that keeping silent did him no favors. “If you must know, we were spotted having lunch today.”

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “So? Where is the crime in that?”

  “You kissed me.”

  He let his gaze linger on her mouth. “So I did. I found it a spectacularly pleasant experience.”

  “One of your interns was also at the restaurant.”

  He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I didn’t think my interns could afford to patronize Lorenzo’s. I must be paying them too much.”

  “This is no joke,” she said sharply, slapping him on the arm. “It so happens he was the one I mentioned at the time, with the older couple who might have been his parents. The point is, he saw you kiss me and found it highly entertaining. He couldn’t wait to spread the word when he came back to the hospital.”

  “Point him out to me, and I will deal with him.”

  “No need, I already did. But don’t you see, this thing between us—”

  “What ‘thing’ is that, cara?” Carlo murmured wickedly, his gaze drifting over her.

  “Stop making fun of me, Carlo! Before long, the entire hospital is going to pick up on what’s going on between us, and even you won’t be able to stop it.”

  “And if that should happen, it will be but a nine-day wonder which both of us will survive. Other things, other people, will eventually claim the spotlight, and we will become old news.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “You know, Danielle, even the great and mighty Carlo Rossi is allowed a life outside his hospital.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” she cried. “It’s not just about you! What about me? How do you think I feel, knowing that your colleagues see me as some sort of…of besotted leech besmirching their precious boss’s spotless reputation?”

  She heard her voice soaring out of control and wobbling perilously close to tears, and he heard it, too. “Tesoro,” he murmured, cupping her face tenderly, “anyone less like a besotted leech than you, I cannot imagine.”

  A second later, his hands were weaving through her hair to draw her head closer, and his mouth was hovering above hers.

  “Stop…!” she begged weakly, even as her own hands curled around his neck.

  “No,” he said. “This isn’t just about you, either, and it’s most definitely not about anyone else. It’s about us, and I think it’s time we both stopped fighting, and dealt with the fact.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT


  “DEALT with it how?” she managed to ask tremulously.

  “Like this, for a start,” he said, and kissed her again.

  Then he kissed her some more. Enough to send her senses swirling, and that damnable heat flooding through her until not even her sore ribs could prevent her from squirming in her seat.

  “I don’t see how that’s going to help any,” she said, when she could breathe again. “It’s precisely what got us into trouble at lunch.”

  “The difference is, my lovely Danielle, that at lunch we were trying to be circumspect. Once discovered, our behavior became too tempting for that impudent young intern to ignore. But the minute we make no secret of the fact that we are engaged, we cease to be of interest.”

  “Engaged?” She gaped at him, sure she couldn’t have heard right.

  “In un intervallo piacevole,” he explained. “An enjoyable exchange for both of us.”

  And still just another way of saying “an affair,” something she’d rejected out of hand a week ago. But that was before she learned that she wasn’t entirely dead from the neck down. That perhaps there was some truth to all those books on female sexuality she’d pored over during her engagement to Tom. That perhaps, with Carlo, she could become the woman she was born to be.

  If she were to agree to his proposition, would she not benefit in the long run? If she thought of him only as her tutor, and not her lover, would she not be better equipped to commit fully to another man, some day in the future, and not make a mess of it this time?

  Shaken by how willing she was to abandon the moral principles by which she’d lived until then, she made a last stab at upholding them. “It wouldn’t work. You’re still my father’s doctor.”

  “So?” He played with her hair, letting it curl around his fingers and spill against her neck. “That doesn’t preclude an association with his daughter.”

  “Some people might be taken in by that line of reasoning, Carlo, but we both know it’s full of holes. You’d still be leaving yourself open to criticism.”

  “Not so, cara. Granted, your father is still my patient, and in that context, my interaction with you will remain strictly professional. But away from the hospital, we are free to enjoy each other as we please, without fear of reprisal.”

  Tiring of her hair, he blew gently in her ear and, heaven help her, the warm draft shot straight through her body, gathering steam as it went, and landed between her legs. There’d been nothing in any of those books to prepare her for that!

  “There’s something else you haven’t considered,” she said, sounding as winded as if she’d climbed the nearest snowcapped peak. “We can’t very well be having sex in one room, with Anita sleeping next door. It wouldn’t be right.”

  Good grief, she hadn’t meant to phrase it quite so crudely, but in all truth, she was so beside herself that she hardly knew what she was saying.

  “Of course it would not,” he said calmly. “What kind of father do you take me for?”

  “What are you proposing, then?”

  “That you trust me to protect both my daughter and you.”

  Had he been anyone else, she’d have laughed in his face. A woman didn’t trust a man she hardly knew, just because he asked her to. Some, she’d learned to her cost, you couldn’t trust even when you’d known them for years. But he was Carlo Rossi, and instinct told her he was a risk worth taking.

  “Well, Danielle? What’s it to be?”

  “O…kay.”

  Okay?

  Oh, please! Where were the words when she needed them most? Where was the eloquence, the sophistication, the poise?

  “Okay,” he said, and coming from him, in that deep, sun-kissed honey of a voice, the word sang with romantic promise. “So you will not slap my face if I kiss you again?”

  “I think I might die if you don’t!”

  His laughter spilled into her mouth like champagne. Intoxicated, she closed her eyes and her mind to everything but the moment, and as his lips claimed hers, let him take her on the first leg of their journey together, determined that, for however far it might go and however long it might last, she would savor every second.

  Just then, a car swept by, the blasting of its horn a raucous violation of the moment. Lifting his head, Carlo smiled into her eyes and murmured, “That was a reminder that I’m illegally parked. I’m afraid we must postpone this most pleasant diversion until later.”

  “We should probably get down to the police station, anyway,” she said, faintly disconcerted by the fact that, while she still floated on a cloud of improbable romantic illusion, he had no trouble at all keeping a firm grip on reality.

  “Indeed. And if that doesn’t take too long, we’ll drive by Anita’s school afterward, and give her a ride home.” He tossed Danielle a quick glance as he fired up the engine. “You don’t mind if we take a little detour?”

  “Of course I don’t mind!” she exclaimed. “I love spending time with Anita. She’s a joy!”

  “She’s fond of you, too, cara, and small wonder. It’s been a long time since she had a woman take such an interest in her.”

  “How can you say that? Calandria adores her.”

  “But you are closer in age to a mother.”

  Out of nowhere, the thought struck, And I could love her like a mother, given the chance. Fortunately Danielle had the presence of mind not to speak it aloud, nor even to allow it to take firm root. To do so would be asking for nothing but heartache. “Does she have no friends in a similar situation?” she asked instead.

  “Mothers who died?” Carlo looked at her askance. “Fortunately not.”

  “I was thinking more of parents who’re divorced.”

  “Divorce is not common among the families of children attending a Catholic school.”

  Well, talk about managing to put both feet in her mouth at the same time! “Of course not,” she said hastily. “I didn’t realize—”

  “Why would you? The subject has never arisen.” He drove in silence for a while, then said, “Another reason I decided to open a clinic here in this town is that it’s what Karina would have wanted. We spoke many times of where we’d live when Anita was of school age, and I know that my wife didn’t want our daughter growing up in a large city, with the dangers such places present these days. She herself was a former pupil of La Scuola Privata di Santa Elisabetta, and had very fond memories of the kindness of the nuns who run it. She is happy, I’m sure, to know that her child enjoys the same excellent care.”

  Again, he spoke as if Karina were still alive, and Danielle knew that, in a way, to him she always would be. Any time he was faced with a decision concerning their daughter, his late wife’s wishes would come into play. Every time he looked at their daughter, he would be reminded of the wife he’d lost. No one could miss the resemblance Anita bore to her mother, and as the girl matured, the more striking that resemblance would likely become.

  “You grow silent, Danielle,” he said, his tone teasing. “Why is that?”

  She couldn’t very well tell him that she was awash with unreasonable jealousy; that the way his voice softened when he spoke of Karina made Danielle ever more aware that she’d never known such unqualified devotion from any man.

  Nor could she tell him that she found herself wishing she could have his baby. Yet for all that the idea was both unprovoked and outrageously preposterous, the almost primeval ache in her womb was disturbingly real.

  “I’m reminded what a good father you are, and how lucky Anita is to have you,” she improvised.

  “Oh, but I make mistakes all the time, Danielle,” he replied, pulling the car into an empty parking slot in front of the police station. “I’m very far from perfect.”

  “No one ever achieves perfection, Carlo, but I’d say you come as close to trying, as anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “I’ll remember you said that, if I ever need a character reference.” Laughing, he climbed out of the car and came around to open her door. “Let’s collect your stuff. I�
��d offer to do it for you, but you’ll have to identify the items and sign for their release. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  As it turned out, the process wasn’t quite as straightforward as he predicted, because she also had to file a theft report. Her handbag had indeed been recovered, but it was empty of all it once contained. “I’m not sure I remember everything,” she muttered to herself, running a finger down the list she compiled of its previous contents. “Money, credit cards, cosmetic bag, tissues, comb…”

  “What about jewelry, signorina?” the officer taking her statement inquired.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Travel documents, mementoes?”

  “Oh, my goodness, yes! My airline ticket and passport—” She stopped and turned to Carlo. “Oh, and a photograph of my mother—my favorite, Carlo! It usually stands on my bedside table, but I took it out of its frame and brought it with me, because I thought…I thought seeing her face might help my father.”

  Recognizing her dismay, Carlo consoled her with a hug, and said, “Look at it this way, cara. At least you still have the CD player and recordings to give to him.”

  “But that’s what I don’t understand.” She poked miserably at the stack of discs. “It’s not as if I was carrying much cash. I’d have thought they’d have been more interested in these, which are at least worth something.”

  “You must be a very inexperienced traveler, signorina,” the officer told her. “There is a huge black-market for stolen passports and credit cards. It is never wise to carry such an important document as your passport with you, unless you are in transit.”

  Thoroughly chastened, she said, “I know that, but it was with my ticket, in a concealed, zippered side pocket of my bag used only for that purpose, and I just didn’t think I needed to worry about it in a town this size.”

  “Galanio is no different from anywhere else when it comes to petty crime.” He slapped closed her file and bent a stern look her way. “You will have to contact the American Consulate General in Milano. Someone there will assist you in obtaining temporary travel documents.”