Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon. Louisa George

need some jumped-up surgeon flashing his backside with our logo in the picture.’

      He strode forward and leaned towards her, pointing at the picture getting a nose full of honeysuckle scent in the process. Overly officious she might be, but she smelt damned good. He edged away from the perfume because it was strangely addictive and he didn’t need any more distractions today. This was enough and he still had a few hours’ work ahead of him. ‘If you are worried about funding I have an idea … why not take another eleven pictures of me and make some calendars you hospital administrators all seem to love so much? Sell me?’

      ‘I am a lawyer.’ As if that explained anything. Actually, it explained a lot. With one brother already qualified and another working his way through college, Matteo knew that law school was just as rigorous as med school. That those dark shadows under her eyes weren’t from late nights drinking in bars but from studying into the early hours. That this woman had worked diligently amidst strong competition. Along with her English-rose complexion and porcelain skin, it also explained that she’d probably spent the best part of her life cooped up indoors with her nose in a book, not exploring the world, not simply lying in the last rays of a relaxing afternoon letting the sun heat your skin. It explained why she was so damned coiled.

      She shook her head. ‘The money you’ve already lost us is in the thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, Mr Finelli. Calendars only make a few pounds per copy.’

      ‘With my backside on them it would make a lot more.’

      ‘You really do have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?’ Her voice had deepened and he got the feeling she was trying very hard to be calm.

      Good, because that meant he was niggling her, probably not as much as she was niggling him … but, well, he had more important things to do. Like go check on the transplant patient. ‘Sure. Why not?’

      In what he could only describe as a power play she stood up and walked around the desk. If he wasn’t mistaken it took her a moment to steady herself, then she grabbed a file from a filing cabinet and slammed it shut with finesse and flair. She sat back down again, but not before he’d taken a good long look at the cinched-in waist, curve-enhancing, slim-legged trousers and wedge heels.

      Even more interesting …

      Opening what he now realised was his employment file, she gave him a cold stare. ‘Look, Mr Finelli, it’s obvious you are not taking this issue seriously. I need to make sure you are aware of the consequences of having your naked body sprawled over the internet with our name and logo on it. I have discussed the issue with the HR department and the chairman and we are all in agreement that we need to instigate some courses for the staff on the whys and wherefores of social media etiquette. These will be mandatory for every—’

      ‘Because of this? I did nothing wrong.’

      ‘Because of this. Because we can’t run risks with people’s lives, or be distracted from our true purpose as a hospital. Because we can’t make mistakes. Distraction causes death or damage.’ This was clearly very important to her—personal, maybe, judging by the passion in her eyes and the slight shake in her hands.

      She took a sip of water from a glass next to her elbow. And didn’t, he noticed, offer him anything to drink. She waited a moment and seemed to settle herself before continuing. ‘We have to control how we are seen, and this episode has just cemented my point. I ran the classes very successfully at my last place of employment and am starting them here on Thursday. You will be required to attend.’

      No way. ‘I operate on Thursdays.’

      ‘And Tuesdays and Fridays. I know. There are only four sessions. You will be expected to attend them all, like every other person in this hospital, then no more will be said about the matter.’

      Dio santo. She was serious. ‘Have you any idea how precious operating theatre time is to a surgeon?’

      She looked away and her eyes flickered closed for a moment. Then she gathered herself together. ‘I have some understanding, yes.’

      ‘And if I refuse?’

      She tapped his folder. ‘You will have to face a disciplinary hearing. Then there will be no operating time at all. It will be time-consuming and messy. There may even be a stand-down period. Who can say?’

      Now the niggling descended into outright anger. ‘On what grounds?’

      ‘Bringing the organisation into disrepute. Refusing mandatory training. It’s all quite clear in the employment contract … expected behaviour, training requirements, dress code, et cetera. Mr Finelli, many hospital boards don’t allow their physicians to have a public face on social media. We are not unusual in wanting to protect ourselves.’

      Round one to Ivy Leigh. Ivy … wasn’t there a plant … poison ivy? Sommaco velenoso. It described her perfectly. He just needed a counter argument to bring Poison Ivy down a peg or two. ‘Perhaps I could sue you too.’

      Now her eyes widened with a flicker of nervousness. ‘What the hell for?’

      ‘Breach of my privacy. I could suggest that I did not give my permission for my body to be used in such a poorly contrived advert.’

      She laughed and it was surprisingly soft and feminine. ‘Go on and indulge yourself in any fantasy you like. But you and I both know this was not an advert. You have no grounds, but I do. In fact, section three of the Workplace—’

      ‘Forget it. I’m not listening any more. I will not attend your sessions.’

      ‘Okay. Your choice.’ She reminded him of his younger sister, Liliana, who would not give up. Ever. Arguing with her was like arguing with a brick wall. ‘Then I will have to invite you to attend a meeting with our human relations director first thing tomorrow morning.’

      ‘No.’ Take more time out of his work schedule?

      Maybe Mike would swap his cardiac roster from a Wednesday for one week just to make this insufferable woman go away?

      ‘Mr Finelli, we are both on the same side.’

      ‘Like hell we are.’ But he did not have any more time to waste on this. Better to get it over and done with. ‘You leave me with no choice. I’ll do the four sessions.’

      ‘Then it’s sorted. After that you won’t hear anything more from me on this matter. Thank you for your time.’ She put out her hand and, grimly, he shook it. It was warm and firm and confident. And a little something reverberated through his body at her touch—which he steadfastly ignored. Clearly she felt none of it as her voice remained calm and cool, like her eyes. ‘I’m sure you’ll find the sessions most interesting.’

      ‘I’m sure I won’t. Now I need to rearrange my day. Four sessions shouldn’t take up much time. I will be free from what time? Lunch?’

      Amusement flashed across her features, as if she’d won a well-fought victory. ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t I make myself clear? By four sessions I meant four days.’

      ‘Four days? No. No way. I’m not doing it.’

      ‘But you agreed. And we shook hands. Is an Italian man’s word as good as his honour?’

      He held her gaze. His honour was fine and intact, unlike others he could name. He would never betray anyone the way he had once been betrayed. ‘It is. But I have one condition.’

      ‘Oh, yes?’ Her expression told him she thought he was not well placed to be making conditions.

      ‘For every minute I have to spend in your ridiculous class you have to spend an equal amount of time with me, doing my work. The work this hospital is so famous for doing. Saving lives. Then perhaps you’ll see just how badly you have wasted my time.’ He held her gaze. Saw the flicker of anxiety stamped down by determined resolve as she nodded.

      ‘Okay.’ Her smile was like condensed milk—way too sweet. ‘Seeing as I’m new to the hospital, I have to familiarise myself with each