Italian Doctor, Full-time Father. Dianne Drake

yourself, Catherine. He’s got a reputation, lucky man.” Friedrich gave a knowing wiggle to his eyebrows, leaving Catherine with no doubt about what the reputation was. She lived with it, after all. And once was enough.

      “It won’t be long,” Dante assured Gianni. “And if you keep asking, maybe your grandfather will bring you here on a weekend holiday.” His father, Marco Baldassare, was a tough man. He ran one of the leading race teams in the world and expected strict obedience from his sons and daughters. Even after he’d cut back on his responsibilities, he still worked harder than most men. Tough as nails all the way round, yet when it came to his grandchildren, Marco was a pushover. A real softy. “Just give him a big hug, then ask him.”

      “Can I stay with you?” Gianni asked. “I can sleep in a chair if there’s not another bed. Or on the floor.”

      “No. This is a rehabilitation clinic. You can stay for a night or two, but that’s all they’ll allow.” Dante truly was sorry about that, too, because he would have loved having his son there with him, but Gianni was better off with his grandparents for the time being. Since he’d adopted his nephew, they hadn’t spent too many nights apart, and Dante counted on that stability in his son’s otherwise hectic life. Marco and Rosa Baldassare were the stability the boy needed right now.

      “Couldn’t you rest at home?” Gianni whined. “I can help you walk on your broken foot. Help you use your cane, and get things for you when you don’t feel like walking.”

      “Can’t rest at home, not the way I’m supposed to. And they have things here that will help my foot feel better.”

      “Maybe Papa Marco will bring me this weekend!”

      “Maybe he will.”

      Dante and Gianni talked another few minutes, mostly about school work and new friends Gianni was making now that he was living with Papa Marco and Mama Rosa. When the phone conversation was over, Dante clutched the phone receiver another minute, like holding it kept him closer to his son.

      He hadn’t expected to keep Gianni permanently. After Dario’s death, Gianni had gone immediately to live with his grandparents, Marco and Rosa, and no one had questioned that. Then, after Marco’s heart attack, Dante had agreed to keep the boy for a while. A few weeks at the most, while Papa Marco had been recovering and Mama Rosa taking care of him. There had never been any talk that Dante would become a full-time parent then, all of a sudden, he had been. It had been a letter from Dario, something that had been misplaced after he’d been killed. In it had been a heartfelt and sad plea from a lonely man who’d just lost his wife, desperately begging his twin to raise his son in the event anything ever happened to him.

      So, how could he not? It was his duty to honor his brother’s wish but, more than that, it was what he’d wanted to do. Of course, his own parents had expected to raise their grandson, but they had been good about respecting Dario’s wishes. And, Dante suspected, a little relieved, considering Papa Marco’s new, more delicate condition.

      Of course, wanting to raise Gianni and actually doing it had been two different things. His life had been unsettled. At the time he’d wanted to go back to medicine, and had fully intended to. Yet he had been pulled back more and more into the family operation, feeling pressure to step back into a race car and, once again, put the name Baldassare back on the track. With all that going on, then adopting Gianni, it had been a difficult time all the way round. A boy Gianni’s age needed a home and stability, which he hadn’t had to offer. No stability, no parenting skills.

      No Catherine, either. And that was the biggest change of all in his life. He understood why she was having such a tough time with what he was doing. His sister jumped the gun on the announcement that he was returning to racing, giving it to the press before he’d made up his mind. Probably a little bit of Papa Marco’s persuasion, he suspected. But what that did was, essentially, to slap Catherine in the face with plans she knew nothing about. So he truly did understand her feelings over that.

      He apologized for that gaffe over and over, and believed she’d get over the hurt, and be agreeable. He never, ever considered that she would end the relationship all because he was thinking about racing again.

      But she hated racing, and she made that perfectly clear.

      Well, she’d made her choice, and after she’d ended their relationship, he’d made his, which was to stay in Italy to keep Gianni closer to the whole family. The boy needed all that support after what he’d been through and, to be honest, so did he. Especially with practically everything in his life going crazy.

      Dante did love racing, and he’d been good at it earlier in his life, which was why he ultimately made the decision to return to the sport. Years earlier there’d been reports of a bright future for him in it, yet he loved medicine, and leaving it behind, like he was doing with his plans and dreams for a life with Catherine, wasn’t easy. It was a sound choice based on his situation, though. Gianni needed the whole family structure around him, and the Baldassare team needed a Baldassare on the track to maintain its prestige in the racing world. The enterprise supported a lot of people, and at present he was the only Baldassare qualified to race. So the responsibility fell to him to be both father and race-car driver, and he took both of them seriously.

      It had been five years since all that emotional strife, and life was turning out to be pretty good. He had his racing, he had Gianni. And the Baldassare racing team was on top, right where they belonged.

      Except now he also had this wretched broken ankle being treated by Catherine, of all people, which was a bit of a hitch. He’d get over that, though. In a week or two he’d be back to normal. But in the meantime he could deal with Catherine. In fact, he looked forward to dealing with her. Maybe taunting her a little. Showing her what she’d given up. What she had tossed out of her life.

      Catherine…She did look well, didn’t she? Better than well, actually. He liked her hair longer, hanging to her shoulders the way it was now. It made her look…soft. Her curves were as good as ever, although he doubted she ever took off her white lab coat to show them off, which was a pity because she’d always been a feast for a man’s eyes.

      Her husband’s eyes now. Sobering thought. And from the look of the sobering little frown lines setting in around her eyes, he wondered if all that conjugal bliss wasn’t agreeing with her as well as it should.

      Dante glanced down, discovered he was still hanging onto the phone, and finally hung up. Then he gave the blankets a toss and scooted himself to the edge of the bed, fully intent on maneuvering himself into the wheelchair sitting right there waiting for him. It was time to get out of this suite and have a look around. Maybe find Catherine. And do what? He didn’t know. They’d had their final arguments years ago, and there was nothing more to say. Or was there? Maybe he just needed to prove a point, to let her know that he’d had a great life without her. A little get-even attitude popping up? He didn’t really think of himself as the vindictive sort, but maybe he was, at least where Catherine was concerned, as she’d had the very last word on the death of their relationship, leaving him with nothing to say.

      He chuckled. Maybe forcing her to be his doctor was the last word he’d been denied all those years ago.

      Only thing was, in his intention to go and see Catherine, the transfer from his bed to the wheelchair turned into something a little more daunting than he’d thought, and once he’d managed to pull the chair up next to the bed, he really wasn’t sure he wanted to risk the move into it. Not without some stout help who would make sure he didn’t transfer himself straight to the floor and another ankle injury.

      Irritated with his incapacity, Dante dropped back into his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to get out of there. Wanted to get the hell out of there. Wanted to get away from Catherine, forget about her again, go back to his real life. Him and Gianni. And his family. No one else!

      “Going somewhere?” Catherine asked, stepping between the wheelchair and the bed.

      Dante opened his eyes slowly. “Is that meant to be funny?” he snapped. “You know damned well I can’t go anywhere.”

      “Another