Italian Doctor, Dream Proposal. Margaret McDonagh

to flee. Thankfully she was still here, but if he handled things badly at this early stage, he would spook her. They needed to get to know each other and for Ruth to feel comfortable with him. Not easy in this setting. And discovering her identity was an unexpected twist that added hugely to the complications that lay ahead. He would need to consider those. But for now, conscious of where they were, he needed to keep things as professional as possible until they had the opportunity to be alone.

      Waiting was not going to be easy, however, so he allowed himself a few moments to study her and drink in all the details that were revealed now he was close to her. Nervousness and bewilderment were reflected in the eyes that shyly observed him—eyes that were not blue, as he had predicted, but a beautiful sage green.

      She looked adorably flustered by what was happening and also a little scared. The former brought a welling of affectionate amusement, but the latter concerned him. Her inexperience had been obvious immediately and he was astonished by it. Unlike most other women he had met, women who knew how to use their wiles to get what they wanted and had no compunction about doing so, Ruth seemed not to have any understanding of her own appeal.

      Ruth was like a breath of fresh air, with no artifice about her, no game playing, no hidden agenda. Instead she displayed an unusual innocence for someone with all her attributes, intelligence and maturity. She had a natural, understated beauty yet was genuinely unaware of it, just as she had no clue about her own sensuality and desirability. And she appeared mystified and more than a little unnerved by the intense mutual attraction they shared. Which only intrigued him more. Ruth was a puzzle, a mass of contrasts. He couldn’t wait to unravel all her secrets and to discover how she could be so competent and authoritative in her professional life but seem all at sea in terms of social interaction.

      It was unsurprising that Ruth seemed overwhelmed. He certainly was. He’d never experienced anything like this in his life and he was still struggling to make sense of the suddenness of it. Not to mention the urgency of the desire, the desperate need to keep her close.

      There were many issues to be faced and overcome, Rico acknowledged, but he was determined that no matter how unexpected, and how inconvenient the timing, having found Ruth, he was going to do everything he could not to lose her again. Careful not to rush her, knowing they both needed time to make sense of what was happening, he curbed his impatience to ask the thousand and one questions bubbling within him and gave her a few moments’ peace to drink her coffee and compose herself.

      The couple of times he had managed to be close to her he had enjoyed the subtle scent of lavender and sweet sexy woman, a combination unique to Ruth that aroused and excited him, and to which he was already addicted. As he watched, sunlight spilled through the window beside them and reflected on Ruth’s hair, making it shine like a halo of pale gold around her face. Just looking at her took his breath away. She was amazing. If this was how Seb had felt when first meeting his special woman, it was no wonder his cousin had been so tied up in knots. Having seen what Seb had been through eight months ago, Rico hoped he had learned enough from his cousin’s experiences not to make the same mistakes in his as yet unplanned campaign to win Ruth.

      The buzz of awareness and charge of desire were ever-present, but he also felt edgy with tension, knowing he was stepping into the unknown. He was in danger of breaking all his rules about any kind of involvement with a colleague…or potential colleague. But the rules he had lived by until now went out of the window when faced with the reality and the temptation of Ruth. He had never felt like this before, had never experienced this rush of emotion and out-of-control need. Somehow he had to find a way to reconcile work life and private life because now that Fate had delivered Ruth to him, he was not letting her go.

      Pushing his coffee aside, no longer needing the caffeine as Ruth was the only stimulant he required, he indulged in studying her. If she wore any make-up at all, it was done with such a light touch it was unnoticeable. There was nothing worse in his opinion than kissing a woman and getting a mouthful of gunk, of tasting powder and grease instead of her sweetness. That would not happen with Ruth. Close up he could see that a faint dusting of freckles was scattered across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and her skin was flawless, almost translucent, incredibly fair.

      He was relieved to see no wedding or engagement ring on her finger, but confirming there was no one in her life at the moment was a top priority. Aside from the delicate platinum chain around her neck—her jumper hiding whatever was suspended from it—and the inexpensive watch on her right wrist, she wore no adornment. She didn’t need any.

      Rico was disappointed as the other tables began to fill up around them and their moment of seclusion was lost. He wanted to keep Ruth all to himself. But several people stopped to speak to him and it was some minutes before he could politely extract himself and return his full attention to her.

      ‘I am sorry, cara. If we are visible here we will not be able to avoid interruptions,’ he told her with a mix of apology and frustration.

      ‘It’s all right.’ Her smile was shy and tentative but so pure it sucked the air from his lungs and left him feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. ‘I’m sure you’re in demand and lots of people will want to discuss things with you. Events like this must give you the chance to catch up with colleagues and exchange views on the run.’

      Relieved she was relaxing a little, Rico nodded in agreement, enjoying the sound of her voice, which was melodious yet throaty, her English tones clear and refined, and without an identifiable regional accent. ‘You are my guest, Ruth, and my time is devoted to you. These days conferences are thankfully shorter and more focused than they used to be as we are all too busy to be away from our posts for long.’

      ‘You must have a full list of patients awaiting you in America,’ she suggested, demonstrating how much they had yet to discover about each other.

      ‘Not in America.’ He paused a moment, thanking the waitress who came to clear away their cups and saucers. ‘I was there for a few weeks giving lectures and training sessions, as well as consulting on a couple of cases, but my home and my clinic are in Italy.’

      ‘Oh! I didn’t realise. When you said you were flying in from New York, I assumed that was where you were based.’

      Before he could explain, a German colleague wanted to exchange a few words about the workshop Rico was leading that afternoon. Instead of the enjoyment he normally felt in being able to meet up and talk shop with fellow doctors, now it was impatience that gripped him. He wanted everyone to go away so that he could have time alone with Ruth. But he was destined to be thwarted. For now.

      The temptation to escape and miss the rest of the programme was great, but he couldn’t yet succumb to the urgent desire to forget everything else and carry Ruth off to bed. Not only did he have his own commitments but it was important for Ruth to learn and absorb as much as she could, both in terms of increasing her knowledge and being able to make a decision on whether or not to consider a change of direction in her career. However difficult, it was work first and pleasure second—when he had worked out a plan to win her trust and her heart.

      ‘There is much we don’t yet know about each other,’ he said when they were left alone again. ‘I am looking forward to learning all about you, but unfortunately I will have to wait a little longer.’ He smiled, noting the mix of anxiety and anticipation that warred in her expression. ‘We will have time when conference business has finished for the day—I’m sure we can slip away a bit early. But there is much for us to discuss on a professional level.’

      ‘Pippa Warren,’ Ruth ventured, mentioning the eight-year-old girl whose illness had been the catalyst, causing Ruth to email him in the first place.

      ‘Indeed, yes. Sadly her situation is far from rare. I learn about cases of delayed or incorrect diagnoses all too often, both in adults and children. And, with the latter, there are parents who are often at the end of their tether, with no idea which way to turn,’ he explained, momentarily distracted by the shimmering colours as Ruth nodded her head and her pale gold hair glinted in the sunlight.

      ‘That was certainly how Pippa’s mother Judith appeared when I first met her,’ Ruth agreed, a tiny frown knotting her