Carol Marinelli – Seduction In Sydney: Sydney Harbour Hospital: Marco's Temptation / Sydney Harbor Hospital: Ava's Re-Awakening / Sydney Harbor Hospital: Evie's Bombshell (страница 14)

She squeezed his hand and then let him go. ‘And some strive to achieve the impossible when others fear to push boundaries.’ She shrugged and smiled at her seriousness.

‘But I see this isn’t helping your mood so instead we will toast.’

She glanced around for inspiration and he watched her eyes light up with amusement. Up went his own spirits.

‘To lorikeets, and harbour boats and wild mice.’

‘Especially wild mice.’ She captivated him. ‘I will certainly toast that.’ He smiled. ‘And I am partial to the idea of your rotor. Cannot help but wonder what could be achieved without the benefit of gravity.’

She blushed and concentrated on her antipasto. ‘See. No fear to push boundaries.’

He laughed and they ate and sipped and laughed again until the afternoon shade brought a chill and they cleared up their picnic together.

The kitchen was small, and smaller still as Marco dried the dishes while she washed, and Emily tried hard not to bump into him. Every time she did, awareness grew, every ‘Excuse me’ made her mouth dry as she reached past, and gradually the laughter of the lunch changed to a slowly rising tension that burned in the pit of her belly and warned her of imminent danger.

Glances collided, hands brushed, and as the last dish dried Emily’s nerves screamed to create some distance or give in.

In the end, Marco took her shoulders and held her. Stared down with those dark eyes, like the coffee she’d made that still sat on the bench. ‘It is not coffee I want, Emily.’

Emerrrleee. She savoured the sound of her name on his lips again. Relished the power in his hands as he held her. Acknowledged the lust that rose like a wraith inside her. She wanted him too.

His hand brushed her cheek. She stepped closer. That was all the permission he needed and once more she was swept up. Spun in the confines of the kitchen, carried across and under the arch into the hall, and in through the door to her bedroom.

She let her head fall back. Closed her eyes. Acknowledged the surge of power she felt to ignite his passion and accept her femininity. She was a woman.

She did have needs. And she wanted Marco so badly the centre of her being ached with that need.

Then he placed her on her bed. Gently. And stepped back. ‘Perhaps this time you would like to undress me?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Mmm.’ She crawled off the bed, accentuating the wiggle of her bottom, and his voice deepened with amusement and definite intent.

‘Although if you persist with that movement, you will not have the chance.’

She stood up. Sidled up to him. Ran her finger down his chest and he laughed with delight. ‘I have created a monster.’

‘You have no idea.’

Marco was dazed. Stunned and enthralled by the sexy innocent who had suddenly shed her shyness and had taken control. It was dream and fantasy and to think that she could trust him enough to allow her playful side to surface when she had been so hurt in the past.

She ran her hands down each side of the buttons on his shirt, feeling his chest, until they dipped under his belt. Deftly undoing the buckle, she opened the top button of his trousers and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief at the extra room afforded.

Then she flitted back to the neck of his shirt. Skipping from button to button, a kiss for each opening, a kiss down his chest until the last button ended back at his trousers. She looked up at him. Mischief, and still that tiny hint of vulnerability, and suddenly he could not take any more of this.

He captured her face in his hands. Drew her up until he could reach those perfect lips, hugged her against him, then in a flurry their clothes were slipping from their bodies with minds of their own. He could only see Emily. Her face, her mouth and her truth shining out at him.

He thanked her in the only way he knew how. With reverence at first and then with mounting passion, mutual need creating a maelstrom that seemed to intensify each time he joined with this woman.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THIS time when she woke she knew her survival depended on not seeing this man again. But she had the horrible feeling it was too late.

And this time it was Marco who was leaving. He turned when she stirred. Strode back to the bed fully dressed. Kissed her one last time, thoroughly, and stroked her face. ‘I must go. Ciao, bella.’ And left.

‘Ciao. Bye.’ She didn’t ask why he had to go. She had an idea. This connection, rapport, infatuation, whatever they were going to call it, had been more than either of them had expected. And he was leaving at the end of the month. Not the most sensible thing to continue.

She rose, wandered into the shower, dressed again and tidied the wreckage of her bedroom. She had to smile. With a slightly embarrassed smugness. He’d said he was good. Judging by his response, she was a fast learner.

Marco had had to get out. He’d been a fool. Did he think that reciting the reasons he was a loner would be good enough to insulate him from falling for Emily? He was no long-term prospect for any woman, let alone one as special as this woman, and his gut had told him that from the first day.

He needed to leave. Move on. Needed to keep presenting his best side to the world and avoid the chance others would find out that he was irrevocably tainted by his dubious background and should never be trusted. He didn’t trust himself.

Look what he had done to Emily.

He had seen the light in her eyes when she’d looked at him. No doubt that same light had shone from his own stupid face. Bastardo. He was as bad as her daughter’s father. But he had been unable to back away when he should have. Had been seduced when he was the one who normally did the seducing. She was incredible.

He parked his car in the garage and took the stairs to his unit, changed quickly, and left again. He needed exercise. He needed to drive himself to exhaustion. He needed to run until he dropped. Run until his legs ached and his head drooped. Run until he could forget that he was tempted to risk all and even think about a life that existed in one city with one woman.

Emily had to get out of the house. She stared at herself in the hall mirror. Her eyes shone, her face gently glowed and a small smile tilted her mouth even when she tried to look serious. ‘I’m falling in love and I can’t. He’s transient,’ she told the mirror. ‘He’s going to leave me, like Annie’s father left me. Though, to be fair, Marco had always said he wasn’t planning on staying.’

She sighed. ‘What is it about me that men don’t want to stay around?’

Maybe Annie would welcome her for a short time. She winced at this morning’s hurt at her daughter’s dismissal. Well, she was always there for Annie and right at this moment her mother needed her.

She glanced at the grandmother clock on the wall. It was almost the end of visiting hours. She could take an ice cream, sit with her daughter for the last fifteen minutes. Then maybe she would be able to come home and settle for an early night. She started her week of night duty again tomorrow night so it was important she feel refreshed before the new week began.

Refreshed? She felt like she’d been plugged into a power source. ‘If that’s what sex does for you, my battery must have been low for years,’ she muttered to herself as she locked the door behind her.

When Emily walked into Annie’s room in the hospital a little later, at first glance she thought she’d taken the wrong doorway. The woman on the bed was wrapped in the arms of a dark-haired tattooed boy and their absorption in each other forcibly reminded her of what she’d been doing earlier in the day.

‘Ahem …’ She cleared her throat, and the couple on the bed jumped apart. No mistake on the room number, then.

‘Mum!’

‘Annie.’ She waited.

‘Um. This is Rodney.’ Annie looked at the young man and lifted her chin. ‘My baby’s father.’

Tattoos. Undernourished. Torn jeans. Emily tried not to cry. ‘Hello, Rodney. Nice to meet you.’ She paused. ‘At last.’ Very dry.

Rodney stood up awkwardly. Wiped his palms on his jeans and held out his hand.

Emily forced a smile and shook. ‘So is this an unexpected reunion or the reason I wasn’t supposed to visit today?’

‘Um. Hello, Mrs … Miss …’ He glanced agonisingly at Annie, and then struggled on manfully, ‘Emily. I’m sorry we haven’t met before.’ He sent one last agonising look at Annie. ‘I—I have to go.’ And hurried from the room.

Marco stepped out of the lift as a young man, his face painfully red from embarrassment, hurried past. Christo. He remembered that feeling. Unworthy. Scorned by someone he wanted to impress. Too many times this had happened to him at his age. He wanted to take the boy aside and tell him he must love himself before others could love him. But for all his efforts he had never learned that lesson. He shook his head and walked on to the nurses’ station, the memories circling like bats around his head. Work. He needed work.

In Annie’s room the young girl sat higher in the bed. ‘Look what you did.’ She adjusted her pyjamas and glared at her mother.

Good grief, times had changed, Emily thought. Imagine if she’d said that to her mother. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand? What I did?’