Kitabı oku: «Mistletoe Brides»

USA TODAY bestselling author SARAH MORGAN writes contemporary romance and her trademark humour and sensuality have gained her fans across the globe. She has been nominated four years in row for the prestigious RITA^® Award from the Romance Writers of America and has won the award twice.

Sarah lives near London with her family. When she isn’t writing, she loves spending time outdoors. Visit her website at www.sarahmorgan.com.

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’M ABSOLUTELY not getting married again. Not ever. Not in a million years. Don’t even suggest it. Once was more than enough.’ Liv closed the drug cupboard and stared at the bunch of glittering silver tinsel attached to the door. ‘That can’t stay there, Anna.’

‘Of course it can. It’s Christmas. I hung mistletoe there to begin with, until I realised that the only male I’m ever alone in this room with is the chief pharmacist.’ Her colleague gave an expressive shudder. ‘Now, stop changing the subject. You have to forget that you’ve been married before. Everyone’s allowed one mistake in life.’

‘Well, Jack was certainly that. A mistake disguised as a smooth-talking, good-looking man. On the outside he seemed entirely normal.’ Liv glanced at her friend and gave a little shrug. ‘Actually that’s not true. His disguise was a bit thin in places. There were clues, it’s just that I missed them. Which is the other reason I wouldn’t dare to get involved with anyone again. Obviously I just see what I want to see.’

Anna frowned. ‘You’re so hard on yourself.’

‘Well, that tends to happen when you’ve deluded yourself once.’

‘It wasn’t delusion,’ Anna said firmly, ‘it was trust. You trusted him. And he let you down.’

‘It was delusion,’ Liv said calmly, checking the stock of antibiotics. ‘All the signs were there, but I ignored them because I just didn’t want to see them. Even when Jack walked out of the delivery room saying “I can’t do this”, I told myself he was just talking about the stress of seeing his beloved wife in labour, whereas what he was trying to say was that he just couldn’t “do” responsibility. He didn’t want to be a father. And he didn’t want to be married to me. It’s just a pity for Max that he didn’t make that decision a little bit sooner.’ She put the boxes back on the shelf. ‘Actually I don’t mean that because then I wouldn’t have Max and he’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.’

‘You’re a wonderful mother and Max is a lucky boy.’

Is he?

Liv pushed through the guilt that was always pressing in on her. ‘Well, I’ve learned to kick a football, if that’s what you’re saying, and I know the difference between a Lamborghini and a Ferrari but that doesn’t make up for the fact that Max has a mother who works and no man in his life.’

Anna beamed at her. ‘So use those tickets you won to the Snowflake Ball!’

‘I’m not using the tickets.’

‘Liv, it’s Christmas! Time to let your hair down and party. This is a fabulous opportunity to meet someone. For goodness’ sake, those tickets are like gold dust. Michelle on Paediatrics was offered a thousand pounds for hers but she refused to sell.’

‘You’re kidding! Who on earth was stupid enough to offer her that much money?’ Liv’s jaw dropped. ‘Did she make a note of the name? I could sell my tickets and replace my car.’

‘Why must you always be so practical?’

‘Because I’m a single mother with a child of seven and responsibilities.’ Liv checked the expiry date on a tube of eye ointment. ‘If I’m not practical, we don’t eat.’

‘Has your car actually died?’

‘Not yet. It likes to keep me in suspense.’

Anna waved a hand dismissively. ‘Forget the car. This is London—you can always get the train. Keep the tickets and go to the ball, Cinderella.’

‘Given the meagre contents of my wardrobe, that’s not a bad analogy. I certainly have plenty of rags to choose from.’

Anna stood back and narrowed her eyes. ‘I’d offer to lend you a dress but you’re actually quite— Your boobs are—’

‘Big,’ Liv slotted in wryly. ‘I am aware of that, actually, having had them stuck to the front of my chest for the past twenty-eight years.’

‘You were born with those?’ Anna started to laugh and Liv rolled her eyes.

‘How did we start this conversation? It isn’t as if we’re not busy. There’s ice on the roads and we’ve had three road traffic accidents in so far today. Last time I looked the waiting room was busier than the shops. Stop interfering in my life and go and heal the sick.’

‘Only if you promise me that your New Year’s resolution is to start seeing men. You don’t actually have to get married—’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘But at least go on a date. I’m worried about you. I mean…’ Anna looked despairing. ‘Aren’t you lonely? When did you last have sex?’

‘For crying out loud, Anna!’ Mortified, Liv glanced over her shoulder to check that they were still the only two people in the tiny room.

‘The fact that the mere word is enough to embarrass you tells me it’s been far too long. You’ve been divorced for four years. It’s time to get out there again,’ Anna said firmly. ‘If you’re scared of a relationship then just have a one-night stand.’

‘No way!’ The thought horrified Liv. ‘I hate the idea of waking up next to a man I don’t know and don’t care about. That just leads to misery.’

‘There are two solutions to that. You can either kick him out of bed before he falls asleep or you could find a man you do know and do care about.’

‘That just leads to misery, too. And anyway, I don’t have the courage to take my clothes off in front of anyone.’ Liv shuddered at the thought. ‘And anyway, it isn’t just about me. I have a little boy of seven. I don’t want to trail a series of different men through his life. That’s not how I want him to grow up.’

‘You should be showing him that relationships are part of life, Liv. Yes, sometimes they go wrong. But sometimes they work. What message are you giving him? That love isn’t worth taking a risk for?’

Engulfed by a tide of guilt and anxiety, Liv stared at her. ‘You think I’m putting Max off relationships?’

‘No, but I think you’re so afraid of being hurt you just won’t even give it a try, which is ridiculous because you’re incredibly pretty and you have huge—’

‘Anna!’

‘Sorry. I just don’t think you have any idea how gorgeous you are. Do you know what the men call you behind your back? Luscious Liv.’

‘That’s because they only ever see me with my clothes on. If they saw me naked, they’d be calling me Lumpy Liv.’

‘You’re ridiculous, do you know that? You have a fabulous figure.’ Anna leaned forward and gave her a swift hug, her voice husky. ‘I don’t mean to nag or upset you but you’re my best friend and I want you to meet someone nice. You deserve to meet someone nice. I wish I could buy you a night of hot sex for Christmas.’

‘I don’t want pity sex. I’d rather have bubble bath! It would be less embarrassing.’ But Liv hugged her back, allowing herself an indulgent moment of female solidarity.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ A deep male voice came from behind them and Anna gave a strangled gasp and jumped back, her face scarlet.

‘Mr Lucarelli! I mean—Stefano—’ She cleared her throat, acting more like a student nurse than a senior sister with years of experience. ‘We were just—we were…’ Too embarrassed to speak coherently, she waved a hand helplessly and Liv sighed and took over.

‘We were hugging,’ she said calmly, desperately hoping that he hadn’t overheard the conversation. ‘Did you need something?’

Dark, challenging eyes settled on her face and Liv wished she hadn’t drawn attention to herself.

Forcing herself to meet his gaze calmly, she tried not to notice his glossy black hair, his superb bone structure or the sensual curve of his mouth. He was indecently, impossibly handsome and Liv wondered idly how many female hearts he’d broken since he’d reached adolescence. They could probably be laid end to end across Europe. From the width of his shoulders to the blue-shadowed jaw, he epitomised all that it meant to be masculine.

He stood at least six feet two and the blue scrub suit encased a body that was hard and powerful. ‘I came to tell you that we have transferred the patient to ICU,’ he said in a cool tone. ‘And I wanted to talk to you about Rachel.’

Anna immediately snapped back into her role as Sister. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Sì, there is a problem,’ he said impatiently, his eyes still on Liv. ‘I don’t want her working with me in Resus again.’

Anna frowned. ‘She’s a very good nurse and—’

‘She can work with the others, but not me. She’s nervous of me…’ angling his arrogant dark head, he transferred the full force of his gaze to Anna ‘…and her nerves make her dangerous. Her hands were shaking, she dropped sterile instruments and every time I spoke to her, she jumped.’

Anna sighed. ‘She’s very young. You probably scared her.’

Bold brows came together in a frown. ‘I didn’t once raise my voice.’

‘You don’t need to. You’re—’ Anna broke off, clearly searching for a way to say what she wanted to say in the most tactful way. ‘You’re the senior consultant and obviously some of the more junior staff might find you…intimidating.’

‘Then find me someone who isn’t intimidated.’ His voice was hard and tightly controlled. ‘When I’m in Resus I don’t want to have to be thinking about anyone other than the patient. I want the equipment in my hand, not on the floor and I expect the team around me to be completely focused and to anticipate everything.’

Anna’s mouth tightened. ‘So basically you want the people you work with to be able to read your mind.’

A sardonic smile touched his firm, male mouth. ‘Precisely. That skill is essential to the smooth running of any emergency department. And now that we’ve cleared that up I’ll leave you to your…’ his gaze swept them both ‘…hug.’

Anna watched as he strolled back down the corridor towards his office. ‘Great. Now he thinks we’re lesbians.’

Liv let out a breath. ‘Please tell me he wasn’t standing there when you were talking about the size of my boobs and when I last had sex. Do you think he heard you saying that you wanted to buy me a night of hot sex for Christmas?’

‘I’m not sure. Possibly.’ Anna covered her mouth with her hand to smother the laughter and Liv gave a groan.

‘OK, that’s it. I resign. But only after I’ve killed you. I won’t be able to look him in the face again.’

‘I can’t stop looking him in the face. I’m probably worse than Rachel. And you can’t resign. You need the money. But remind me not to hug you in public again.’ Anna frowned. ‘Now he’ll think I’m unavailable.’

‘You are unavailable! You’re happily married.’

‘I know, but don’t you just look at the man and think “sex”?’

‘I look at him and think “trouble”.’ Liv pinned the keys into her pocket, trying to erase a disturbing image of shimmering dark eyes and bold male arrogance.

‘I wouldn’t mind getting into trouble with him. He certainly isn’t afraid to speak his mind.’

‘He has high standards,’ Liv said firmly, ‘and that’s a good thing. He just won’t accept anything less than the best and I like that. If I were to crash my car, he’s the one I’d want treating me.’

‘Now that is a terrifying thought.’ Anna’s expression was comical. ‘Imagine, all your colleagues would see your underwear. Just for the record, if I’m ever brought in here and you have to cut my clothes from my body, I want you to make sure I’m wearing silk designer knickers and not chain-store cotton.’

‘I think if you’d reached the point of needing to have your clothes cut off, the label on your knickers is going to be the least of your problems. Do you want me to check before or after I save your life?’

‘You can joke, but I just know that Stefano Lucarelli dates women who wear matching silk underwear.’

‘That doesn’t mean he expects the same high standards from his patients,’ Liv said dryly. ‘Now, are you going to talk to Rachel or am I? His comment is justified, by the way. She’s dreamy and needs to sharpen up.’

‘Poor Rachel. He obviously chewed her up and spat her out. I’d better go and give her some sympathy.’

‘She doesn’t need sympathy, she needs a wake-up call,’ Liv said briskly. ‘She developed a crush on our Italian consultant from the moment he drove his Ferrari into the car park. If she stopped staring at him and concentrated on her work, she wouldn’t drop things.’

‘He is a little scary.’

‘He is clever and efficient.’

‘I’m glad you think so. Given that you respect him so much and you’re indifferent to his charms, you can work with him in Resus so that solves one problem. Now, what was our other problem? Oh yes, what to do with your tickets to the Snowflake Ball.’

‘I’m selling them. I have no man, no dress, no babysitter and no inclination to go to the ball. Nor do I have stepsisters, ugly or otherwise.’

‘Invite Stefano Lucarelli.’

‘Oh please! If I want public humiliation, I’ll just strip naked. I have no intention of embarrassing both of us by issuing an invitation he will certainly reject.’

‘He might not. He was looking at you.’

‘He was probably wondering why someone with hips like mine hasn’t gone on a diet.’

‘You don’t need to diet!’ Anna looked at her thoughtfully. ‘He noticed you, Liv.’

‘Anna, he walked in while we were hugging and talking about sex,’ Liv reminded her wearily. ‘Of course he noticed me. It probably classes as one of the most embarrassing moments of my career.’

Anna ignored her. ‘He’s single at the moment, can you believe that? I don’t get it. I mean, he’s super-wealthy. His family owns some enormous construction business in Italy. There’s no justice in the world, is there? Rich and good-looking is very unfair.’

‘Anna, you’re a married woman with two children.’

Anna ignored that, too. ‘Apparently he was dating some glossy Italian actress but rumour has it that he ditched her because she was insisting on moving in with him. He’s only been in the country for a month. He might be glad of a night out before Christmas.’

‘He certainly strikes me as a man who needs help finding women.’ Her tone sarcastic, Liv lifted a hand. ‘Enough. End of subject. Do you and Dave want the tickets, or do I sell them?’

Rachel appeared in the doorway, her face pale. ‘Ambulance Control just called and they’re bringing in a man who was kicked on the rugby field. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not work in Resus again today.’ Her voice was high-pitched and decidedly wobbly. ‘Dr Lucarelli was a bit…sharp.’

Anna straightened. ‘Injuries?’

Rachel looked at her blankly. ‘None. Except my pride, I suppose. I mean he was really—’

‘The patient,’ Anna interrupted her wearily. ‘What are the patient’s injuries, Rachel? And it’s Mr Lucarelli, not “Dr”. He’s a trained surgeon. Surgeons are “Mr”, remember?’

‘Oh. Right.’ Rachel cleared her throat. ‘That patient was kicked.’

‘Yes, but where?’

‘He has breathing problems,’ Rachel said vaguely and Liv gritted her teeth and handed Anna the keys to the drug cupboard.

‘I’ll take this one. Call the trauma team and ask Mr Lucarelli to come to Resus.’

‘I’ll send Sue to help you,’ Anna muttered. ‘Rachel, you and I need to have a chat.’

Leaving Anna to deal with the hapless Rachel, Liv pushed open the doors that led to the high-tech resuscitation room.

Always prepared for an emergency, the room was kept stocked and ready for patients and Liv was pulling on an apron and a pair of gloves when Stefano Lucarelli strode into the room.

He looked straight at her and for one brief, disturbing moment, neither of them spoke.

For sheer raw impact, she’d never met a man like him. Neither had she ever experienced the blaze of sexual awareness that suddenly flooded her body.

Mortified, she turned away quickly, her heart pounding and her face scarlet, just furious with herself for being so predictable. The man must be so tired of women staring at him. It was just that stupid conversation with Anna, she told herself crossly, pulling open a cupboard and removing the sterile pack she thought they might need.

Talking about sex had made her think about sex, and thinking about sex had made her—

Oh for crying out loud!

‘Apparently the paramedics reported that the patient has some respiratory problems,’ she said crisply, keeping her head in the cupboard for slightly longer than was necessary to give the colour in her cheeks time to fade, ‘so I thought it might be wise to have a thoracotomy pack ready.’

‘Good.’ But there was a sharp edge to his voice that made her wonder whether she was about to become another casualty of his legendary high standards.

The doors to Resus flew open and the patient arrived along with the rest of the trauma team.

Swiftly and smoothly they transferred the patient onto the trolley and Stefano Lucarelli took charge, demanding silence from the entire team with a single sweeping glance.

He had presence, Liv admitted to herself, as each person around the trolley quietly busied themselves with their allotted tasks, while listening to the paramedic’s handover. He was confident, but he didn’t swagger like Greg Hampton, one of the more junior doctors. But neither was he as approachable like Phil, the other casualty officer who was currently looking for a vein in the patient’s arm.

Working on automatic, Liv attached BP, cardiac and oximetry monitors to the patient and the paramedic collected his own equipment and left the room.

Stefano glanced at the monitor, a frown on his handsome face as he swiftly assessed the readings. ‘Phil, put in two lines and send blood for immediate cross-matching. I want all clothes covering the front and sides of the chest removed.’ He had an unmistakable air of authority that communicated itself to all the staff in the room and Liv cut through the man’s clothing and reached for warm blankets to prevent him developing hypothermia.

‘His respiratory rate is thirty-eight and it’s very shallow.’

‘He’s in respiratory distress.’ Stefano examined the man’s chest and Liv noticed that Phil was watching out of the corner of his eye. Although he’d only been working in the emergency department for a few months, Phil soaked up information and never missed an opportunity to learn.

And there would be plenty to learn from Stefano, Liv thought, watching the way he examined the patient.

‘There’s a great deal of bruising,’ she murmured, looking at the purplish marks on the man’s ribs and Stefano looped the stethoscope round his neck.

‘He has diminished breath sounds and decreased chest expansion.’ Working with a cool, calm sense of purpose, he finished examining the man’s chest. ‘He has a clinically significant haemothorax. Call the trauma surgeon and ring the operating theatre co-ordinator and warn them. He might need a thoracotomy to drain it. Let’s do a chest X-ray.’

The radiographer responded immediately. Like a carefully choreographed ballet, everyone worked simultaneously, carrying out his or her own clearly delineated roles.

‘I need a hand here, Liv.’ Phil was struggling to find a vein and Liv stepped forward to help. The more junior doctor slid the cannula into the vein and breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘OK, I’m in. Let’s tape this, before we lose it.’ Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and his gaze flickered to Stefano. ‘Wouldn’t he have distension of the neck veins or raised jugular venous pressure if he had a haemothorax?’

‘He’s hypovolaemic.’ Stefano’s eyes stayed on the monitor. ‘If you look closely at the patient, you’ll see that there is a degree of tracheal deviation. Do we have two lines in, yet?’

‘One. I’m just sending blood for cross-matching.’

‘Get that second line in now. I need two lines before I put in a chest drain.’

Phil handed the bottle to Liv and then turned back to the patient to deal with the second IV.

‘His veins are terrible,’ he muttered after a few minutes. ‘The first one was fine, but I’ve failed twice so far on this side. Do you want to have a go?’

Stefano stepped towards him. ‘Turn his arm over. Bene. Cannula.’ He held out a lean, strong hand and Liv passed him the equipment he needed, watching in silent admiration as the consultant slid the needle into the vein with no apparent effort.

He made the seemingly impossible look easy, she thought wistfully and clearly Phil thought the same thing because he shot her a rueful glance.

‘The X-ray is up,’ the radiographer said and they all turned to study the screen.

‘There’s no visible fluid level,’ Phil murmured and Stefano’s eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed intently on the screen.

‘Because with the patient in the supine position the blood collects under the affected lung. If you look, you can see blurring of the hemidiaphragm contour. I’m ready to put in the chest drain.’ He turned towards her. ‘Liv?’

He knew her name?

Liv taped the cannula to make sure they didn’t lose the second line. Did he also know that she hadn’t had sex for four years? ‘Sue will assist you with the drain.’ Her hands occupied, she glanced towards her colleague. ‘There’s a sterile pack behind you. I got it out earlier.’ Then she turned back to Phil. ‘That blood needs to be given through the rapid infuser,’ she reminded him. ‘It needs to be warmed.’

‘Sue can help Phil. I want you to assist me.’ The sudden bite in his tone left no room for argument so Liv simply stepped aside so that Sue could take her place, quietly instructed her to call the operating theatre and the trauma consultant and then opened the sterile pack herself.

Suddenly she found that her hands were shaking and she shook her head, exasperated with herself. All right, so he’d already demolished Rachel—he obviously had high standards, but so did she! She had no reason to be nervous.

Working quickly, Liv opened the cannula that she knew he’d need, but he was already one step ahead, his movements so swift that it required all her concentration to keep up.

For a terrifying moment she almost lost her nerve. She’d never worked with anyone quite as talented as him before and the sheer speed and skill of his fingers left her dragging behind. Fortunately her own natural ability asserted itself.

Don’t think about him, she told herself firmly. Think about the job.

She kept her gaze fixed on those long, bronzed fingers, every nerve and muscle in her body tense as she focused on what he was doing.

Not once did he hesitate or pause. His fingers were precise and steady as he cleaned the skin, injected local anaesthetic and then aspirated the syringe to confirm the presence of blood.

It was no wonder he demanded the best from those around him, Liv thought as she handed him the scalpel and watched him incise the skin down to the rib with astonishing speed and precision. He was a master, and it was obvious that he wasn’t satisfied with anything less than accuracy.

His handsome face blank of expression, he slid a gloved finger into the pleural cavity, checking the position of the incision. ‘I’ll want a 36F tube. Have it ready.’

‘Roberts forceps.’ Without being asked, Liv handed him the instrument she knew he’d need next and watched as he slid the drain into position through the track he’d made. Then he attached the tube to an underwater seal drainage system.

‘That’s a large tube he’s used,’ Phil muttered and Liv glanced at him briefly.

‘It has to be of sufficient calibre to drain the haemothorax without clotting. And if the haemothorax doesn’t drain, there’s a risk of infection.’ Her attention back on Stefano, she reached for the suture. ‘Zero gauge suture.’ She held it out to him and he took it immediately, their movements smooth and synchronised even though they’d never worked together in Resus before.

He inserted a purse-string suture to secure the drain and then glanced at the monitors again.

‘I want another chest X-ray so that I can check the position of the drain.’

The radiographer hurried over and as they shifted the patient and took the X-ray, Phil glanced at the drain.

‘He’s losing a lot of blood. Should we clamp the tube?’

Stefano shook his head. ‘Clamping the tube has no effect on the amount of haemorrhage—the blood just collects in the chest and further compromises respiratory function.’

‘Mr Lucarelli? The X-ray is up on the screen,’ the radiographer said and Liv glanced up as the door suddenly opened and Anna walked into the room.

‘His wife’s arrived. I’ve put her in the relatives’ room,’ she said. ‘Can someone find a moment to talk to her?’

Liv glanced towards Stefano Lucarelli but the consultant was staring at the X-ray, his handsome face unsmiling and his concentration absolute. He’s young, she thought, looking at his masculine profile and dark glossy hair. Young to be in such a responsible position. His strong legs were planted firmly apart, the thin cotton of the scrub suit skimming wide, muscular shoulders, his dark head tilted slightly as he studied the screen. He was staggeringly good-looking, confident and very much in control.

Realising that she was staring, Liv looked away quickly and caught Anna’s speculative glance.

Her friend gave her a wide smile. ‘I can see everything is going well in here.’

Liv glared at her. ‘We’ll talk to his wife in a minute, Anna.’

Stefano turned. ‘We’re waiting for the trauma surgeon. When the patient is stable and they’ve decided on the next step, I’ll talk to his wife.’

Phil studied the drain again. ‘He’s drained 1000 mils.’

‘The initial volume of blood drained is not as important as ongoing bleeding.’ Stefano looked up as the trauma surgeon strode into the room.

The two men conferred although Liv could see that the entire conversation was driven by Stefano Lucarelli.

Clearly his reputation was as formidable as his clinical skills because the senior trauma surgeon seemed only too happy to listen to his advice.

‘I don’t want to perform a thoracotomy unnecessarily.’

‘I’ve used a large enough tube and it’s positioned well.’ Stefano glanced at the drain as if daring it to misbehave. ‘It will drain the haemothorax. Admit him for observation, monitor the drainage output over the next four to five hours. If he loses more than 200 to 250 mils of blood per hour, take him to Theatre. I’m going to talk to his wife. Liv, come with me.’

Liv blinked. ‘I— Yes, of course.’

She was about to make a mild comment about his dictatorial style when he looked at her, his gaze frank and direct. ‘You’re an excellent nurse. When I’m in Resus, I want you with me.’

‘Oh…’ The compliment was so unexpected that hot colour flooded her cheeks but she was saved the bother of replying because they’d reached the door of the relatives’ room.

Without pausing, Stefano opened the door and strode into the room, leaving Liv to follow. She closed the door behind her, braced for him to open his mouth, put his foot in it and then walk out leaving the patient’s relative distraught, a scenario she’d witnessed on all too many occasions with other doctors.

But instead of fumbling for words and making the quickest possible exit, he walked across to the patient’s wife and sat down next to her. ‘I am Stefano Lucarelli, the consultant. I’ve been looking after your husband.’ He held out his hand and the woman shook it and gave a wobbly smile.

‘I’m Helen Myers.’

‘This has been a shock for you, I know.’ He spoke in a deep, velvety voice that held equal amounts of confidence and sympathy. ‘I am sorry I couldn’t speak to you earlier, but your husband was my priority.’