Hot Single Docs: Waiting For You. Sarah Morgan

don’t own pyjamas.’

      ‘I thought you might say that, so I bought you some when I was out shopping.’ Pleased with herself, she picked up a bag and produced a pair of pyjamas.

      Distracted from the ache in his loins by the flash of vivid colour, Alessandro blinked. ‘Pink?’

      ‘It was the only colour they had.’ Her expression was anxious. ‘Oh, dear. Are you one of those guys who believes wearing pink makes them less masculine? Sorry. I hadn’t thought of that. Only I know some guys wear pink shirts these days and I thought these might be OK...’

      Was she winding him up? His swift glance at her face suggested nothing but concern. Wondering just how far he was going to have to go not to offend her, Alessandro reminded himself that without her he’d be back in hospital.

      Her generosity was the reason he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight.

      All he had to do was keep his hands off her. Which shouldn’t be that hard, surely, given that every movement was agony.

      ‘I don’t have a problem with pink.’ He eyed the pyjamas in disbelief, wondering which idiot had thought there was a market for such a vile creation. ‘But I don’t think they’ll fit over the cast.’

      ‘Leave that to me.’ Beaming at him, she picked up a pair of scissors and cut a slit down one of the legs. ‘There. Simple.’

      Reflecting on the fact that the wretched garment now looked more like a dress than trousers, Alessandro manoeuvred himself onto the bed and let the crutches fall to the floor. Pain lanced his side and he sat still, breathing slowly, hoping it would pass. The helplessness was driving him mad.

      ‘I’ll help you take off your shirt.’ Tasha sat next to him on the bed and gently eased off his shirt. As she exposed his chest, the breath hissed through her teeth. ‘I’ve never seen bruises like those, Alessandro. How are you still walking around?’ Her tone altered dramatically. Light and flirty gave way to crisp concern.

      ‘I’m fine. To be honest, walking isn’t any more painful than breathing.’ He was taken aback by the change in her. The girl had gone and in her place was a doctor. A concerned doctor. Her fingers gently traced the bruises and when he glanced at her face he saw that her expression was serious.

      ‘Does this hurt?’

      ‘No.’

      She gave him an impatient look. ‘Honest answers only, please. A man wearing pink is allowed to express his true emotions even if the resulting language is colourful.’

      ‘All right. It hurts like crazy and I want to punch something?’

      ‘And when I do this?’ She pressed lower down and Alessandro swore long and fluently.

      ‘OK.’ She didn’t blink. ‘Now I know you’re telling the truth.’

      The pain was a blinding, agonising flash. Once again he had that sick dread that the doctors might have missed something. Something that was going to keep him bedridden for longer than a fractured ankle and a few broken ribs. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ He spoke through his teeth and she straightened, her hair sliding over her shoulders.

      ‘Actually, no. I’m checking you over. I don’t like the look of those bruises. Just sit still. I’m going to check your breath sounds.’

      ‘I’ve already been examined by about a hundred doctors. They kept wheeling in yet another expert to give an opinion.’

      ‘Sorry, but the only opinion I trust is my own.’ She disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a stethoscope in her hand. ‘Good job I packed this in my box of tricks, although I haven’t listened to an adult’s chest for quite a while.’

      ‘If that’s supposed to fill me with confidence, it doesn’t.’ It was a lie. Strangely enough, he was relieved to have her opinion. He remembered Josh telling him that Tasha had astonishing instincts to go with her sharp brain. He had no doubt that she was a skilled doctor. Unfortunately that didn’t make things any easier and he sat still while she touched the bruising, trying not to think about how her fingers felt on his skin. ‘Do you have to prod me?’

      ‘I’m checking there’s no underlying trauma. Those bruises are very impressive. Must hurt a lot.’

      Alessandro spoke through his teeth. ‘Not at all.’ As if the pain wasn’t enough, he also had the extra hit of sexual arousal. As she tilted her head, her hair slid forward and brushed against his arm. He tried to move backwards but every movement felt as though he were being slammed into a wall.

      ‘Bones have a lot of nerve-endings,’ she murmured. ‘That’s why it’s painful.’

      ‘Thanks for the explanation.’

      ‘Generally, when someone breaks a bone, the treatment is to immobilise it. We can put your ankle in a cast to protect it. Unfortunately we can’t do the same thing for your ribs.’ Tasha put the stethoscope in her ears. ‘Every time you breathe, you hurt yourself again.’

      ‘Can’t they strap my chest or something?’

      ‘No. Now stop talking while I listen.’ She narrowed her eyes and moved the stethoscope on his chest. Her hair whispered across his arm. ‘Breathe in for me.’

      Alessandro did and almost passed out. Pain skewered him and darkness flickered around the edges of his vision, muting the lust.

      Her eyes locked on his. ‘Breathe in and out through your mouth.’

      Was she trying to torture him?

      But when she finally removed the stethoscope from her ears, her expression was serious. ‘Your breath sounds are fine, but I’m going to keep an eye on you. To answer your question, they actually did used to strap chests in the old days, but not any more. It impedes movement and stops you breathing deeply—you can’t shift the secretions in your lungs and you can end up with a vile infection. Then you’re back in hospital on yet more antibiotics.’

      The word ‘hospital’ was enough to make him ride the pain and breathe deeply. ‘I get the message.’

      ‘Don’t worry—a young, fit guy like you can cope with a couple of broken ribs and heal quickly. It’s older patients who suffer.’ Digging her hand into her pocket, she pulled out her phone. ‘I’m just going to call your doctor. I want to add in a drug.’

      ‘I’m already swallowing the contents of a pharmacy.’

      ‘I want to give you a non-steroidal alongside your painkillers. I don’t know why he didn’t give you that. You don’t suffer from stomach problems, do you?’

      ‘I’ve never suffered from anything,’ Alessandro growled, ‘until a horse fell on me.’ Watching Tasha talk on the phone, he found his eyes lingering on the curve of her cheek and the thickness of her eyelashes. She was brisk and professional, giving her opinion bluntly and firmly to a man at least twice her age. Impressive, he thought. And he could imagine her working with children. As a teenager, she’d had an irrepressible sense of fun. Remembering some of the tricks she’d played on her brothers, he allowed himself a faint smile.

      ‘OK, so that’s done.’ She slid the phone back into her pocket. ‘In the morning I’m going to pick you up some extra tablets. I think it will help and so do the guys at the hospital. They should have thought of it, but sometimes it takes a woman to get these things right. Now, then—pyjamas.’

      ‘I can dress without your help.’ Alessandro, who had never felt awkward with a woman in his life before, suddenly felt awkward. She was behaving as if they had no history. As if—

      Tasha picked up the pink pyjamas and dangled them in front of him, her expression bored.

      ‘I’ve seen it all before, Alessandro. I’m a doctor.’

      ‘You haven’t seen m—’ He was about to say that she hadn’t seen his body before, but