Gina's Little Secret. Jennifer Taylor

her and panic rose up inside her.

      ‘Look, Marco, this really isn’t the time or the place to discuss what happened between us,’ she said urgently.

      ‘No? Then when would be a good time?’

      His tone was even so it was impossible to guess what he was thinking. Gina struggled to regain her control. She still hadn’t made up her mind if she intended to tell him about Lily. When she had first found out that she was pregnant, she had decided to contact him. After all, he’d had a right to know that he was to be a father, although she’d planned to make it clear that she didn’t expect anything from him. However, when she had failed to contact him by phone and the letter she had sent to his home had been returned, unopened, she had changed her mind.

      Marco had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in anything she had to tell him. To her mind, he had forfeited any rights he’d had and she wouldn’t contact him again. However, that had been before he had reappeared in her life. Even though she loathed the idea, it made a difference. It was hard to know what to do, although one thing was certain: until she had made up her mind, she needed to stay calm.

      ‘I don’t know. The last thing I want is people talking, so maybe it would be better if we left things as they are until you’re discharged.’ She gave a sharp little laugh, hearing the strain it held and praying that Marco couldn’t hear it. ‘That’s assuming we have anything to talk about. After all, it’s not as though we parted the best of friends.’

      CHAPTER FOUR

       1 a.m. 12 December

      MARCO couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t just the fact that he wasn’t used to being surrounded by so many people that had kept him awake, but what Gina had said: It’s not as though we parted the best of friends.

      It didn’t take a genius to work out that they must have had a relationship, but what sort exactly? The obvious answer was that they’d had an affair, but although there were gaps in his memory, he remembered enough to know that he didn’t normally indulge in affairs. The thought of moving from one woman to the next purely for sexual gratification was anathema to him, but if that were the case, it meant that Gina must have played a very different role in his life.

      He closed his eyes, wishing he could recall what had gone on between them. Oh, he could remember all sorts of things now: where he had worked for the past few years—six months in Australia followed by two years in the USA. He also remembered why he had come to England—he had been head-hunted by one of London’s top teaching hospitals. He should have been attending an interview for the post that very day, in fact. He would have to contact them and explain why he wasn’t able to make it, although that didn’t seem nearly as important as this. Why couldn’t he remember what Gina had meant to him? All he knew was what she had told him, that their parting had been less than amicable. Hell!

      Marco swore softly as he tossed back the bedclothes. Thankfully, his headache had gone and apart from the swelling above his right ear, there were few physical mementoes of the accident. If he could only fill in these gaps in his memory, he would be fine and definitely well enough to leave here. Quite frankly he’d had enough of being a patient!

      His mouth compressed as he made his way down the ward. He knew the two nurses had gone for their break because he had seen them leave. It meant that Gina was on her own, so it would be the ideal time to talk to her. He frowned as he stopped outside the office because he still didn’t understand why she had been so reluctant to admit that she knew him. Obviously something serious must have happened between them in the past and he wouldn’t rest until he found out what it was.

      The thought spurred him on. He didn’t bother knocking before he opened the door. Gina was sitting at the desk and he saw the surprise on her face when she glanced up.

      ‘You were quick,’ she began then trailed off when she saw him.

      Marco saw the colour drain from her face and the fact that he had no idea what he had done to cause her to react that way angered him. His tone was harsher than he had intended it to be. ‘I need to know what you meant when you said that we hadn’t parted the best of friends.’

      ‘And as I also said, this isn’t the time or the place to discuss it.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind returning to your bed, I have work to do.’

      She took a couple of steps towards him, obviously intending to usher him from the room, but he stood his ground. Drawing himself up to his full six feet he stared haughtily down at her. ‘I am not going anywhere until you explain what is going on. It’s obvious from what you said that we have met before, so why did you choose not say anything sooner?’

      She turned away, taking her time as she sat down. Marco could tell that she was struggling to gather her composure and was more perplexed than ever. Even if they’d had an affair, this was the twenty-first century and most young women would take it in their stride. So what was she so afraid of?

      ‘I thought it best if I didn’t say anything.’

      Her voice was so low that he wondered if he had misheard her and frowned. ‘Best? How? I don’t understand.’

      ‘Because … well, because they always say that it’s better if people remember things for themselves.’ She took a quick breath and hurried on. ‘If I’d told you everything I know about you then you’d never be sure if you’d remembered the details yourself or if I’d planted them in your mind, would you?’

      It made sense, so much sense that Marco hesitated. It could very well explain why she had been so reluctant to acknowledge him and yet he had a gut feeling that there was more to it than that. A lot more, too.

      ‘I see. So it was purely a desire to help me that kept you quiet,’ he said smoothly.

      ‘I … Yes, that’s right.’ A little colour touched her cheeks as she reached for her pen. ‘I’m glad you understand that it was in your best interests that I said nothing, Dr Andretti.’

      ‘And how about your interests, Gina? Was it in your best interests that you remain silent, I wonder?’

      He knew he’d scored a hit when he saw her face pale but, oddly, it didn’t give him any pleasure. To know that something must have happened in the past to make her so afraid of him was very hard to take. His tone was gentler when he continued, less confrontational. ‘Look, Gina, I don’t want to cause trouble. Not for you or for me. I just want to fill in as many of the blanks as possible.’

      He shrugged, aware that it wasn’t usual for him to admit to any feelings of weakness. Normally he preferred to keep his emotions under wraps but he needed to draw her out, if he could. ‘I cannot begin to explain how terrifying it is not to be able to recall what has happened in your life. Even though I now remember quite a lot, there are many questions that still need answering.’

      ‘What sort of questions?’ she asked, and he frowned when he heard the tremor in her voice. It was obvious that she was under a great deal of strain and he hated to think that he was adding to the pressure on her, but he needed to find out all he could about this situation.

      ‘I don’t know!’ he declared in sudden frustration. ‘When you forget so much about your life, everything becomes a question. What do I enjoy doing when I’m not working, for instance? Where did I go for my last holiday? I can’t answer either of those things!’ He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could physically force the memories to surface, and winced when his fingers encountered the tender spot above his ear.

      ‘Sit down.’ Gina was around the desk in a trice. She steered him towards a chair then went to the filing cabinet and switched on the kettle sitting on the top. ‘I’ll make you a cup of coffee. It’s only instant, I’m afraid. Sorry. I know you dislike it but it’s all we have.’

      ‘That is exactly what I mean.’ Marco sighed when she glanced round. ‘I didn’t know that I dislike instant coffee because I didn’t remember.’

      The ghost of a