St Piran’s: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride. Margaret McDonagh

St Piran’s: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride - Margaret McDonagh


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permanent brain damage.’

      ‘I’m afraid so.’

      ‘His parents must be very confused.’ Her expression softened with understanding. ‘They may feel guilty for not realising that what seemed an innocuous incident has become something so serious.’

      ‘There is no question of blame, although such feelings are common,’ he agreed, impressed by Jessica.

      Her smile was rueful. ‘I come across this in a wide variety of circumstances. We need to explain things to the Rowlands without frightening them further.’

      ‘Yes… and Megan says you’re the best person to help.’

      A wash of colour warmed her flawless alabaster cheeks. ‘I’ll do what I can, of course.’

      ‘Thank you, Jessica.’

      Again her name felt right, unsettling him and curbing his amusement at her flustered reaction. Ignoring the hum of attraction between them by concentrating on work might not be effective long term, but hopefully it would get them through this encounter.

      ‘Do you have suggestions about the Rowlands?’

      Her relief was evident and she nodded again, loosening some strands of fiery hair, which tumbled around her face. As she raised her free hand, he saw that her fingers were ring free, and that she wore a narrow silver-toned watch around her wrist. She tucked the errant curls behind her ear, drawing his attention to the attractive stud earrings she wore. Set in white metal, the olive green stones matched her eyes and he made a mental note to discover the identity of the gem that so suited her.

      ‘We need their consent so Cody can go to Theatre without delay. Then I can spend time with them and run through everything in more detail.’ Even, white teeth nibbled the sensual swell of her rosy lower lip, nearly giving him heart failure. ‘Do you have a rough guestimate on how long the operation might take?’ she queried, snapping his attention back to business. ‘The Rowlands will ask—and I need to reorganise my schedule to support them.’

      Gio was encouraged by Jessica’s common-sense approach, knowledge and apparent dedication to her patients. With real hope of a resolution, he gave her all the information he could.

      ‘Can you talk with the father while I try the mother?’ she asked next, walking briskly towards Cody’s room.

      He would happily do anything to speed things along. ‘No problem.’

      Following her, he admired her gently rounded, mouthwatering curves. As she stepped into Cody’s room, sunlight spilling through the window made the natural red, copper and chestnut tones of her hair glow like living flames, captivating him. And, for the briefest instant, as he stood close behind her before she shifted to give him more room, he could have sworn he caught a faint, tantalising aroma of chocolate.

      Fanciful notions vanished as he observed that Cody appeared more listless than when he had checked him several minutes ago. His frightened young mother sat close to him, clinging to his hand, tears spilling down her cheeks. The father, scarcely more than a boy himself, stood to one side, pale and withdrawn, at a loss to know what to do.

      Jessica glanced over her shoulder and he met her gaze. The connection between them felt electric and intense, and it took a huge effort to look away. Clearing his throat, he introduced her to the Rowlands.

      As Jessica began the delicate process of winning the trust of the troubled young family, Gio released another shaky breath. He was in big trouble. He had sensed Jessica would be more than he’d bargained for. Professionally. What he could never have foreseen was the impact she would have on him personally. It was unexpected, unwanted and scary. But bubbling within, as yet unacknowledged and unexplored, was growing excitement.

      Even as they worked together to see Cody and his parents through the trauma that had befallen them, Gio was aware of the simmering connection between himself and Jessica. However hard they fought it, it was not going away.

      All he knew for sure was that Jessica threatened to blow the ordered and lonely world he had lived in these last five years wide apart, and that her impact on his life would not leave him unscathed.

      CHAPTER TWO

      SHE didn’t look any different.

      Jess peered at her reflection in the mirror above the basin in the tiny bathroom next to her office. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see, but she felt different. Changed somehow. And scared. Because of Giovanni Corezzi. Thinking about him made her pulse race and raised her temperature to an uncomfortable level?one she couldn’t blame on the scorching August weather.

      After splashing cool water on her overheated cheeks, she buried her face in the softness of her towel. Even with her eyes closed, images of St Piran’s new Italian surgeon filled her mind. Unsettled by her reaction to him, she had endeavoured to keep things on a professional footing, determined to banish the disturbing feelings he roused within her.

      She hadn’t wanted to like him, but it had proved impossible not to. Ignoring the inexplicable and overwhelming blaze of attraction would have been easier had he been arrogant and horrible to work with, but nothing was further from the truth. He’d been compassionate and patient. As his initial suspicion had evaporated once he had witnessed her with the Rowlands, the likelihood was that she would be called to work with him again.

      What was she going to do?

      Jess sighed, discarding the towel and glancing at her reflection again. Less than an hour in his company had left her shaken and anxious. Megan had been right to describe him as hands on and caring. It was something Jess admired, yet it made him even more dangerous to her.

      She had to find a way to limit his impact on her. He had reawakened things long forgotten, things she would sooner remained buried. She had to fight the desire he roused in her… because nothing could come of it. Ever. And she was leaving herself open to heartache if, even for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine anything else.

      For the last four years, since the bombshell had hit her, changing her life for ever, she had turned in on herself, keeping focused on her new career and keeping people at bay. She hadn’t worked so hard to reinvent herself to allow the first man to stir her long-dormant hormones into action to undo everything she had achieved. In the unlikely event she could ever trust a man again, there was no way she could allow any kind of relationship to develop. Not beyond friendship. To do so would be too great a risk. Besides, once Giovanni learned the truth she had kept secret for so long, he wouldn’t want her anyway.

      Quashing disobedient feelings of disappointment and regret—and, worse, a flash of self-pity—Jess hardened her battered heart. She had to keep Giovanni Corezzi at a distance and ensure any meetings with him were kept as professional and brief as possible.

      Shocked how late it was, she returned to her office. She’d had to rearrange her schedule for the Rowlands, which meant she had much to catch up on and now she would have to rush if she was not to be late for an important appointment.

      Five days ago, and less than three weeks after moving into the run-down cottage she had bought near Penhally village, an unseasonal storm had caused serious damage. Today the insurance company’s assessor was carrying out an inspection, after which Jess hoped permission would be given for the repairs. The sooner the better… before anyone discovered the unconventional lengths she was going to to keep a roof over her head.

      Smothering her guilt, she took care of a few urgent tasks before shutting down her computer. She just had time to dash across the grounds to see hospital handyman Sid Evans and collect the precious cargo he was watching for her.

      ‘Hello, Jess, love,’ the kindly man greeted her as she hurried through his open workshop door. ‘Everything is ready for you.’

      ‘Thanks, Sid.’

      ‘Here we are, all present and correct,’ he told her in his lilting Welsh accent as he handed her a basket.

      ‘I’m sorry to rush, Sid. Thanks for your help.’


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