One Night With The Italian Doc. Kate Hardy

FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       Tempted by the Bridesmaid

       Back Cover Text

       Dedication

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       Italian Doctor, No Strings Attached

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       About the Publisher

       Unwrapping Her Italian Doc

      Carol Marinelli

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘ANTON, WOULD YOU do me a favour?’

      Anton Rossi’s long, brisk stride was broken by the sound of Louise’s voice.

      He had tried very hard not to notice her as he had stepped into the maternity unit of The Royal in London, though, of course, he had.

      Louise was up a stepladder and putting up Christmas decorations. Her skinny frame was more apparent this morning as she was dressed in very loose, navy scrubs with a long-sleeved, pale pink top worn underneath. Her blonde hair was tied in a high ponytail and she had layer after layer of tinsel around her neck.

      She was also, Anton noted, by far too pale.

      Yes, whether he had wanted to or not, he had noticed her.

      He tended to notice Louise Carter a lot.

      ‘What is it that you want?’ Anton asked, as he reluctantly turned around.

      ‘In that box, over there …’ Louise raised a slender arm and pointed it towards the nurses’ station ‘… there’s some gold tinsel.’

      He just stood there and Louise wondered if possibly he didn’t understand what she was asking for.

      ‘Tin-sel …’ she said slowly, in the strange attempt at an Italian accent that Louise did now and then when she was trying to explain a word to him. Anton watched in concealed amusement as she jiggled the pieces around her neck. ‘Tin-sel, go-o-old.’

      ‘And?’

      Louise gave up on her accent. ‘Could you just get it for me? I’ve run out of gold.’

      ‘I’m here to check on Hannah Evans.’

      ‘It will only take you a second,’ Louise pointed out. ‘Look, if I get down now I’ll have to start again.’ Her hand was holding one piece of gaudy green tinsel to the tired maternity wall. ‘I’m trying to make a pattern.’

      ‘You are trying, full stop,’ Anton said, and walked off.

      ‘Bah, humbug,’ Louise called to his departing shoulders.

      Anton,