Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny. Amy Andrews

else even more primitive. She guessed she should feel chastised but she couldn’t. If he could show this level of compassion at work, even if it was just an act, he sure as hell could show it at home.

      If she could save Julian from the emotional wasteland she’d trodden, trying to please her father throughout her childhood, then she would. Attraction or no attraction.

      So, no. She hadn’t said enough. Not nearly enough. Not by a long shot.

      Chapter Two

      TWO weeks later Brisbane was in the throes of an unremitting heatwave. The power grid couldn’t keep up with consumer demand for ceiling fans and 24-hour-a-day air-conditioning. Tempers were short. Road rage, heat stroke and dehydration were rampant.

      Even in a city that regularly sweltered each summer, the temperatures were extreme. But this was spring and totally ironic when the other side of the world battled the looming pandemic of a horrible new strain of influenza and unseasonal snow was causing general havoc.

      Nat actually looked forward to stepping through the doors of St Auburn’s and being enveloped in a cool blast of air. Anywhere was better than her hot little box the real estate agent euphemistically called a townhouse in a breezeless suburb blistering beneath the sun’s relentless rays.

      Not that it would matter soon, seeing that it looked like she was going to be evicted by the end of the month.

      Nat stepped into the crowded lift on the eighth floor, pondering this conundrum yet again. She’d just transferred another heat-stroke victim to the medical ward and was returning to the department. She squeezed in and, noting the ground-floor button had already been pushed, let her mind wander to the phone call she was expecting from the realtor any time now. She would find out today whether she could get an extension on her lease.

      It wasn’t until the lift emptied out over the next few floors and she had some more room to move that she was even aware of her fellow travellers. Two more people got out at the fourth floor and she was suddenly aware of there being only one other person left. Big and looming behind her. A strange sixth sense, or possibly foreboding, settled around her and she glanced quickly over her shoulder.

      Alessandro Lombardi stared back at her, one dark eyebrow quirked sardonically. Hell. She had only seen him very briefly and at a distance in the last couple of weeks since she’d basically accused him of being a terrible father. He was wearing a pale lemon shirt and a classy orange tie. A stethoscope was slung casually around his neck.

      In short he was looking damn fine and her hormones roared to life.

      She turned back to the panel, pressing ‘G’ several times as the door slowly shut, her heart beating double time.

      A fleeting smile touched Alessandro’s mouth as he stared at her back, her blonde ponytail brushing her collar. It was the first time he’d been close to her since her outburst a little while ago. But he’d certainly heard her name frequently enough. Julian had spoken of little else. He’d heard it so often he’d started to dream about her.

      He moved to stand beside her. ‘Good afternoon, Nat.’

      Nat took a steadying breath. ‘Dr Lombardi,’ she said, refusing to turn and face him. She jabbed at the ‘G’ several more times—why was this lift so damn slow?

      ‘Be careful. You’ll break it.’

      She could detect a faint trace of amusement in his voice but today with the heat and the eviction hanging over her head she really wasn’t in the mood. She hit it one more time for good measure.

      Which was when the lift came to a grinding halt, causing her to stumble against him. She heard him mutter ‘Porca vacca’ as he was jostled towards her and she supposed, absently, a profanity was better than an I told you so.

      His hand cupped her elbow and the lights flickered out. It was a few seconds before either of them moved or spoke. Alessandro recovered first.

      ‘Are you okay?’

      His big hand was warm on her arm and for a second she even leaned into him, her pulse skipping madly in her chest as her body tried to figure out what was the bigger problem. Being stuck in a lift. Or being stuck in a lift with Alessandro Lombardi.

      ‘You know,’ she said, moving her elbow out of his grasp, ‘when they teach you a foreign language it’s always the swear words you learn first?’

      Alessandro chuckled. ‘Guilty.’

      His low laughter sounded strange coming from a man who had thus far looked incapable of anything remotely joyous. But it enveloped her in the darkness and made her feel curiously safe.

      The lights flickered on, or at least one of them did, and Alessandro braced himself for the lift to power up and lurch to a start. When nothing happened he looked down at Nat, who was looking expectantly at the ceiling. He hadn’t realised they were standing so close.

      Her flower-garden scent wafted towards him and when her gaze shifted from surveying the ceiling to meet his, the urge to move closer, to stroke his finger down her cheek, was a potent force.

      He took a step back. His attraction to this woman was a complication he didn’t need. ‘I’ll ring and see what’s happened.’

      Nat nodded absently, also backing up, pleased to feel the solidness of the wall behind her. For a moment there, maybe it had been the half-light, his eyes had darkened even further and she could have sworn he was going to touch her. In a good way.

      She felt as if there wasn’t enough air suddenly and took some calming breaths. She wasn’t the hysterical type and now was not the time to become one.

      Nat listened absently as Alessandro had a conversation with someone on the other end of the lift’s emergency phone. It was brief and from the tone it didn’t sound like they were getting out any time soon.

      He hung up the phone and turned to her. ‘There’s a problem with the city grid. Something to do with the heat wave. The emergency power has kicked in but two lifts have failed to start. They’re working on it.’

      Nat licked her lips, the thought of spending time with him in a confined space rather unsettling. Did he also feel the buzz between them or was it all one sided? ‘Did they have any idea how long it might take?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Porca vacca,’ she muttered, figuring Alessandro’s instinctive expletive was as good as any. In either language.

      Alessandro suppressed another chuckle. He could see her gaze darting around the lift and he wondered if she was trying to calculate carbon-dioxide build-up or was looking for an escape hatch. ‘You’re not claustrophobic, I hope?’

      Nat shook her head. ‘No. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed if you’re waiting for me to turn into a hysterical female.’

      Was he disappointed? Certainly Camilla would have thrown her first tantrum by now, demanding to speak to someone in authority. He much preferred Nat’s calm resignation. ‘Good.’

      Nat glanced at him briefly and quickly looked away. He loomed in the dim light and with each passing second he seemed to take up more room. ‘Well, no point in standing. Might as well get comfortable for the long haul.’

      She sat then, cross-legged on the floor, her back pressed to the wall. She looked up at him looking down at her and was reminded of their first meeting when she’d had the bean-bag disadvantage. He was looking at her with that now familiar coolness in his eyes.

      ‘Sit down, for God’s sake,’ she grouched.

      Alessandro frowned. Nat Davies was one bossy little package. He slid down the wall, planting his feet evenly in front of him, his knees bent. ‘Are you always this disagreeable?’

      Nat, who was excruciatingly aware of his encroaching masculinity, shot him a startled look. She opened her mouth to protest. No, she wasn’t. Despite