Maggie Kingsley – The Consultant's Italian Knight (страница 2)

‘Thirty-five at the beginning of next month,’ Kate reminded her.

‘—and just because it didn’t work out with John,’ Terri continued determinedly, ‘doesn’t mean it won’t work out with somebody else. For all you know, Mr Right could be just about to walk through that door this very minute, and change your life completely.’

Not Mr Right, but Mr Never-in-a-Million-Years, Kate thought, with a shaky inward chuckle, as Terri sped across to their receptionist to see why she was waving frantically at her and the door of the waiting room opened and two men appeared.

The younger of the two men was tall, in his early thirties, with neat blond hair and a frank, open face, but his companion…

Intimidating. That was the only word that could adequately describe him, Kate decided, and it wasn’t just because he was considerably taller and more muscular than his companion. It wasn’t even because his thick black hair brushed the neck of an ancient brown leather jacket, or his denims were faded and worn, or even that he was wearing a pair of the scruffiest trainers she’d ever seen. It was his face.

Darker skinned than the average Aberdonian, she would have guessed him to be Spanish, or Italian, if it hadn’t been for his eyes. Cobalt-blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes that stared back at her with neither warmth nor gentleness, but only a world-weary cynicism that said all too plainly, Don’t mess with me.

‘MVA on the way,’ Terri declared as she rejoined her. ‘Single car hit the crash barrier on the motorway, broken tib and fib, and suspected internal bleeding. Oh, and you’re going to love this,’ she added, her expression clearly suggesting otherwise. ‘We’ve also got a young man coming in from Aberdeen airport. He collapsed just after he came through Customs, and the security guys suspect he’s a body-packer.’

Kate groaned inwardly. That was all she needed this evening. If the young man was a body-packer then his collapse suggested that one of his packets had burst, and the only other body-packer she had ever treated had died. Swiftly, and extremely painfully.

‘OK, make sure we’ve plenty of house red for the MVA,’ she declared. ‘As for the body-packer…Let’s hope he’s simply an innocent traveller who’s had a heart attack.’

And the man in the waiting room was still staring at her, she noticed as she turned to go back into the treatment room. Staring, and smiling. Not at her, she realised, but at something his companion had said, but that smile…Just for a second it completely softened his face, making him heart-clutchingly attractive. He was still as intimidating as hell, of course, but that smile…Yup, it definitely pushed all of her buttons and, unconsciously, her fingers went up to the hair clips which were spectacularly failing to keep her shoulder-length, auburn hair back in a neat chignon.

Getting her hair restyled was on her ‘to do’ list. So was losing some weight and buying more furniture for the ground floor flat she’d moved into when she and John had separated. The flat that depressed the hell out of her every time she opened the front door, but why she should suddenly find herself thinking about that, and her hair, and losing some weight, just because an attractive—OK, make that very attractive—man was sitting in the waiting room was beyond her.

‘Kate?’

Terri was still waiting for her, and Kate squared her shoulders firmly.

The man was just a man. Someone she’d probably never see again, and that was exactly the way she wanted it. No more relationships, no more heartbreak, plus the likelihood of somebody like him ever being interested in someone like her was nil, she thought wryly, as she began to walk towards the treatment room door. No man who looked as good as he did when he smiled would ever be interested in an overweight little woman like her.

Which was just as well, she told herself, as she risked a quick glance over her shoulder and saw he was still watching her. Relationships might be fraught with uncertainty and danger at the best of times, but this man already had danger written all over him.

‘I thought he’d be here by now,’ Ralph Evanton declared, dragging his fingers impatiently through his blond hair as he sat down on one of the waiting room chairs. ‘According to our info, the ambulance picked him up ten minutes ago.’

‘It’s Saturday night,’ Mario Volante replied. ‘The traffic will be heavy.’

‘I suppose so.’ Ralph glanced round, then lowered his voice. ‘Do you reckon he’s still alive?’

‘If the ambulance comes in with its siren blaring, he’s alive. If it doesn’t…’ Mario pulled over one of the battered waiting room chairs and sat down, too. ‘Either way—alive or DOA—we’ll know soon enough.’

‘You’d think they’d realise it was a mug’s game, wouldn’t you?’ Ralph observed. ‘That what they’re buying into can all too quickly become a one-way ticket to the Big Guy upstairs.’

Mario shrugged. ‘Life’s tough. It’s even tougher if you’re stupid.’

Ralph stared at him silently for a moment, then cleared his throat. ‘You know, you can be a complete and utter bastard at times.’

‘I prefer to call myself a realist.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

Absently, Ralph drummed his fingers against the side of his chair, then pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket only to swiftly pocket it when Mario nudged him and gestured towards the sign on the waiting room wall reminding all visitors that mobile phones must be switched off within the hospital confines.

‘Oughtn’t we to at least introduce ourselves to that woman on Reception?’ Ralph demanded. ‘Tell her why we’re here?’

‘The fewer people who know who we are, the better.’

‘I guess so.’ Ralph turned in his seat as the waiting room door opened, and grimaced as a girl with a badly cut knee limped in. ‘I hate hospitals.’

‘Really?’A glimmer of a smile creased Mario Volante’s lips. ‘I never would have guessed. Look, will you relax?’ he continued as Ralph opened his mouth to protest. ‘I’m trying very hard not to draw attention to myself, but you’re squirming around as though you’ve sat on something.’

‘Sorry. I just—’

‘Hate hospitals,’ Mario finished for him, his smile widening. ‘Yeah, so you said.’

‘It looks like something might be happening,’ Ralph declared, sitting up straighter in his seat and nodding in the direction of the reception desk. ‘That blonde-haired nurse with the glasses looks worried, and so does the pretty little nurse with the auburn hair.’

‘The chubby, auburn-haired one is a doctor not a nurse.’

‘Mario, she only looks chubby to you because you usually date toothpicks,’ Ralph protested. ‘To me she looks like a real woman. A woman with her curves in all the right places.’

‘And does Jenny know you’re looking at other women and deciding whether they have their curves in all the right places?’ Mario said with a quizzical glance.

Ralph looked smug. ‘My wife trusts me.’

‘Uh-huh. Plus, I distinctly remember her saying at your wedding that if you ever cheated on her she’d nail your butt to the wall and use it as a dartboard.’

‘She did, too,’ Ralph said with a splutter of laughter. ‘But I stand by what I said. That girl has all her curves in the right places, and she’s pretty, too.’

But not happy, Mario decided as he stared across at the auburn-haired girl. In his work it was his job to read people, and this girl—woman—was definitely not happy. There were shadows under her large grey eyes, and her face was white and drawn as though she hadn’t been sleeping well recently.

‘That’s what you need,’ Ralph observed, seeing the direction of his gaze. ‘A good woman in your life.’

‘And just when did this paragon become not just a real woman, but also a good one?’ Mario protested, and Ralph shook his head, clearly amazed at the question.

‘She’s a doctor, Mario. It stands to reason she’ll be the caring, nurturing type.’

With a backbone of steel if he was any judge of character, Mario decided as he watched the auburn-haired doctor reply to something the nurse had said. Medicine was a tough profession for a woman, and for this woman to work in A and E she had to be no pushover, and from the stubborn tilt of her jaw he knew she wasn’t.

‘What you need is some stability in your life, Mario,’ Ralph continued, ‘starting with a proper, grown-up relationship.’

‘You’ll be trying to fix me up with your kid sister next,’ Mario said dryly. ‘Or your cousin from Glasgow.’

‘I wouldn’t trust you with either of them, but that girl looks as though she could handle you.’

‘You think I need handling?’ Mario declared, amusement plain on his face, and Ralph raised an eyebrow.

‘Mario, you discard women with as little thought as you change your socks. Now, that girl—’

‘Enough, Ralph,’ Mario interrupted, his patience clearly at an end. ‘I’m not interested.’

‘Then you should be,’ Ralph insisted. ‘Hell, mate, you’ve been divorced for four years, and, OK, so divorce is never pleasant and Sue hurt you badly, but it’s time you moved on, time you buried the hurt.’

He would have done, Mario thought grimly, if Sue really had hurt him, but the trouble was she hadn’t. If she had hurt him he would at least have known he was still able to feel, to care, but when she’d left all he’d felt was an overwhelming sense of relief that the arguing was finally over.