The Rebel Doc. Susan Carlisle

and for a moment looked pensive. ‘My sister needed a kidney when she was eleven. She got one, in the end, although it took some time. And I could see the immediate change in her. I got my little sister back, with no pain and a future and so much energy. It was like a miracle. They saved her life. It seemed such a fabulous thing to do that I set my heart on it.’

      Again with the surprise. The man could do serious and personal. This was the side of him she’d thought he hid. But he’d been right—he was up-front and honest. In an irritatingly candid way. Maybe she just hadn’t asked him the right questions.

      And maybe she’d be better joining Becca right now. But hell if her feet didn’t root themselves to the spot. ‘Knowing how much demand there is for kidneys, I’d say she was very lucky. You have just the one sister?’

      ‘No. Two sisters and three brothers. Yes, I know. It’s a huge family by most standards. Even by Italian standards.’

      ‘Wow. That must have been busy. Are they all like you? Your poor mother.’

      ‘It was challenging, I think. In lots of ways it was hard for her.’ His face almost dipped into serious, then he broke out into a smile. ‘I am the oldest. I know what you’re thinking, yes, they hated me. I’m bossy and organised and like being in charge. There isn’t any insult you could call me that I haven’t already been called.’

      ‘I don’t know, I’m sure I could think of a few.’

      ‘Don’t think too hard.’ He took another drink. ‘And you?’

      ‘Me? No. Not many people have insulted me.’ Actually, that was a lie, but it had been the pitying looks that had cut the deepest. No amount of physiotherapy and practice could cut the limp out completely. And with that thought the pain came shooting back up her leg, tripping across the scars. She instinctively shifted her weight, wishing she could change out of her work shoes into something more comfortable.

      Matteo looked at her as if waiting for her to explain her sudden reverie. ‘Ivy?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘I meant family,’ he explained. ‘You have brothers and sisters?’

      ‘I’m an only child. I did have a stepbrother once, for a few years, and then there was a divorce—make that the second out of three—and they moved away.’ She tilted her head a little to one side and found a smile to try to tell him she was fine with it. Still, it had been nice being part of something bigger. More than nice. And the fallout when Sam had left had been huge in so many ways, losing her stepbrother, Taylor, just one of them. He’s not your real brother, so stop whingeing. Imagine how I feel without my husband. How will I cope without him? How will I survive? ‘Largely it’s been just me and my mum.’ And a string of unsuccessful relationships.

      ‘The doctor. And you didn’t want to follow in her footsteps?’ He grinned. ‘Ah, no, of course, the fainting thing.’

      ‘That and the fact that I hated hospitals for a long, long time.’ And now she’d said too much. Looking for an out, she turned to look over at a commotion on the stage. ‘What’s happening over there?’

      Again he looked at her with a quizzical expression. ‘Why did you hate hospitals?’

      ‘Look, I really should go.’

      ‘I’m sorry, I asked you something you didn’t want to answer.’ His voice softened a little and she was startled and humbled by his honest, straightforward approach. Yes, he had asked. And, no, she didn’t want to talk about it and see his pity and later his revulsion. But he continued chatting, undeterred, ‘It’s charity karaoke. The bar manager lets us have fifty percent of the proceeds if we get the crowd started. Every penny counts. We’re fundraising for a new dialysis machine. We’re always fundraising for a new dialysis machine. We will never have enough. We can only do so much to make our own miracles.’ He picked up her bag and started to walk towards the stage. ‘Come watch?’

      ‘Er … will I have to sing?’

      ‘If you want to help us raise money. And you said you did.’

      Despite the endless irritation he instilled in her, the thought of spending more time with Matteo really appealed. Really, truly, and she knew it was nothing to do with helping him raise money. Panic took over from the pain in her foot. She could not want to spend more time with Matteo.

      She shook her head. ‘This wasn’t what I had in mind. There’s lots of other, bigger ways we can help. Besides, I’ve already made a fool of myself once today, thank you very much. Singing is definitely not going to help my cause of winning over the hearts and minds of the staff.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’m going home.’

      ‘Matteo! Matteo!’ A guy called over. ‘Come on, mate, stop chatting up the ladies and get that famous peach of a backside over here. We’re starting.’

      Matteo grimaced and raised a finger. ‘Give me a minute, Steve.’ Then he turned to her and she could have sworn his eyes flicked towards her feet and then back to her face. ‘I’m never going to live that picture down. Now, how are you getting home? I’ll walk you to the door and get you a cab. Or walk you to the car park.’

      ‘It’s fine. My bus stop’s just over the road. I can walk across the pub on my own, and, believe me, it’ll be a damned sight easier than walking in.’

      ‘But you did it, and no one has said anything at all. Except me. And I have kept you all to myself.’ Taking her glass from her hand, he gave her another warm smile. No—not warm. It was possessive. Hot. His hand brushed against hers and heat rippled through her. She tried to shake it off, but it stayed, curling into her, making her hot too. His voice was deeper when he spoke again, and it caressed her insides. ‘Ivy, do you have to get back for the boyfriend? The husband?’

      ‘No. I told you, I have work to do. I really do.’ Please, don’t ask anything … more. There was something about him that was different from other men, that connected with her on another level. Something about him … Her gaze slammed up against his, the warm tease now a molten heat. She wanted to … do so many things she’d promised herself not to do again. She didn’t want to be beholden to a man. To fall too deeply in love with someone who would have a hold over her emotions and actions. She wanted to stay whole. To be herself, and so much more.

      He shook his head. ‘Okay. I know I’m going to regret this, but I’ll let you go this time. Next week I might not be so lenient.’ Was it her imagination or was he flirting again? She didn’t know. Panic and heat rose in her gut. The heat overriding the panic, squashing it. No. This was not how she wanted to feel—she didn’t want to lose control with him. Knew that if that happened she’d be on a spiral to disaster. She didn’t need that in her life, not when she’d finally got where she’d wanted to be. His hand touched her arm. ‘You’re going to leave me to sing to these people, and I’ll end up looking like a fool—as always—but it’s worth it for the money. Don’t work too hard, Ivy. Enjoy the videos.’

      ‘I will.’ Another lie. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she pushed the door open and inhaled the late spring evening air. Thank God for that. What was happening to her insides she did not know, or want to even think about. But she knew she had to put some distance between her and Dr Delicious. Wrapping her coat around her, she began to walk towards the bus stop and realised …

       My bag. Damn.

      Without it her evening, her whole weekend, would be lost. Besides, those files held confidential information that she could not lose on any account.

      Twirling back round towards the pub, she slammed hard into a wall of muscle. A dark collared shirt. Brooding eyes. A hand holding out her bag. ‘Ivy.’

      ‘Oh.’ But now she was touching him she didn’t want to let go. Should have but didn’t. Underneath the soft linen of his shirt she could feel every nuance of muscle, every ripple of movement. And there, underneath her fingers, his heart beat strong and regular. Steady. ‘Matteo—’

      ‘Hush.’