St Piran’s: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride. Margaret McDonagh

person from the one then… one who could no longer indulge in many things, including uncharacteristic flights of fancy over a good-looking man, even if he did stir her blood in ways it had never been stirred before.

      Trying to shrug off the disturbing feelings, she allowed herself a quick inspection of the imposing man who stood before her looking relaxed and at ease. His dark hair was short, thick and well groomed. In his early thirties, and topping six feet, he had an olive-toned complexion and the kind of chiselled jawline that would make him sought after in Hollywood or gracing the pages of fashion magazines. Not that he was fashionable at the moment, dressed as he was in hospital scrubs, suggesting he had come to the ward from the operating theatre.

      The shapeless trousers and short-sleeved tunic should have been unflattering but they failed to mask the strength and lean athleticism of his body, while their colour emphasised the intense blueness of his eyes. Under straight, dark brows and fringed by long, dusky lashes, they were the shade of the rarest tanzanite. They regarded her with a wariness she shared, a suspicion that had her shifting uncomfortably, and the kind of masculine interest and sensual awareness that frightened her witless.

      Aware that Megan was making the introductions, Jess struggled to pull herself together.

      ‘Ms Carmichael.’

      The throaty rumble of his voice made her pulse race and ruined her attempt at sang-froid. ‘Hello, Mr Corezzi.’

      Jess dragged her gaze free and focused on the leanly muscled forearms crossed over his broad chest. As he moved, she juggled the files and assorted items she carried around the hospital, anxious to avoid shaking hands. Instead, she fished out one of her cards, careful to ensure she didn’t touch him. His fingers closed around the card and she couldn’t help but notice that he had nice hands. Surgeon’s hands… capable, cared for and with short, well-manicured nails. There was no wedding ring and no tell-tale sign to suggest he had recently worn one. His only accessory was the watch on his left wrist with its mesh strap and midnight-blue dial.

      The sound of Megan’s pager made Jess jump but the distraction helped cut the growing tension.

      ‘I’m needed in A and E,’ Megan told them with evident reluctance, her cheeks pale and lines of strain around her mouth.

      ‘Are you OK?’ Jess asked, knowing her friend’s reluctance stemmed from some unexplained issues she had with Josh O’Hara, the charismatic consultant who had joined St Piran’s trauma team in the spring.

      ‘I’ll be fine.’

      The words lacked conviction and Jess was concerned. Tall and slender, Megan appeared delicate, but although she possessed an inner strength, she had seemed more fragile than usual these last few weeks. Instinct made Jess want to give her friend a hug, but she hung back, keeping the physical distance she had maintained between herself and everyone else these last four years.

      ‘I’m here if you need me,’ she offered instead, conscious of the disturbing nearness of Giovanni Corezzi, whose presence prevented her saying more.

      ‘Thanks.’ Megan squared her shoulders, determination mixing with anxiety and inner hurt that shadowed her green eyes. ‘I’ll see you later. Good luck with the Rowlands. And Cody’s surgery.’

      Alone with Giovanni Corezzi, Jess felt a return of the tension and awareness that surged between them. Determined to focus on work, and needing to put distance between herself and the disturbing new surgeon, Jess murmured an apology and escaped to the ward office to track down Charlie.

      Gio released a shaky breath as the surprising Jessica Carmichael walked away. He had no idea who Charlie was, or how he was relevant to the current problem, but he had greater things to worry about. Namely Jessica and his unaccountably disturbing reaction to her.

      As the staff went about their work on the busy ward, he leaned against the wall and pressed one hand to his stomach. The moment he’d seen Jessica, it had felt as if he’d been sat on by an elephant. She was younger than he’d expected, perhaps in her late twenties. Below average height, she looked smart but casual, dressed for the August heat in a multi-coloured crinkle-cotton skirt that fell to her knees and a short-sleeved green shirt, her hospital ID clipped, like his own, to the top pocket.

      Her eyes were a captivating and unusual olive green, while her hair—a gift from mother nature—was a vibrant auburn, with shades from burnished chestnut, like a conker fresh from its casing, to rich copper red. The luxuriant waves were confined in a thick plait which bobbed between her shoulder blades. He longed to see it unrestrained and to run his fingers through its glory.

      When Jessica emerged from the ward office, the disturbing heaviness pressed on him once more. He straightened, shocked by the slam of attraction that shot through him. The cut of her shirt highlighted firm, full breasts, while the sway of her skirt hinted at curvy hips and thighs. He found her rounded, feminine figure so much more appealing than the reed-thin bodies many women aspired to.

      Gio took an involuntary step back, disturbed by the surge of desire that threatened to overwhelm him with its unexpected intensity. This was the first time he had even noticed a woman for a long time. He couldn’t believe it had been five years—No! He slammed his brain shut on those thoughts. This was neither the time nor the place. But he’d allowed a crack in the internal armour encasing the memories, the pain and his heart, and panic swelled within him. He didn’t want to be attracted to anyone, yet he could not deny the strength of his reaction to Jessica or the way his body was reawakening and making new desires and needs known.

      Disconcerted, he met her gaze and saw her eyes widen in shock at the unmasked emotions she read in his. She kept a safe gap between them, but she was close enough for him to see her shock turn to confusion, followed by answering knowledge and then alarm. Silence stretched and the air crackled with electricity. It was clear Jessica didn’t want the attraction any more than he did, but that didn’t make it go away. And, perversely, her reluctance intrigued him and made him want to learn more about her.

      She stepped aside to allow a nurse pushing a wheelchair to pass, her smile transforming her pretty face and trapping the air in his lungs. Cross with himself, he was about to return to the business of Cody Rowland when she shifted the things she was carrying and he noticed the teddy-bear puppet she wore on one hand.

      ‘Meet Charlie,’ she invited, holding up the plush toy, which had marbled brown fur and a friendly, mischievous face, its mouth open as if laughing. ‘He helps break the ice and explain things to young children, calming their fears.’

      The husky but melodic burr of her soft Scottish accent was sensual and set his heart thudding. Feeling as flustered as a teenager with his first crush, he struggled to ignore his unwanted reaction and focus on the matter at hand.

      ‘Very clever.’ Her innovative method impressed him. He reached out and gently shook the teddy bear by the paw. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.’

      Jessica’s flustered reaction confirmed his suspicion that giving him her card had been a ruse to avoid shaking hands. Was it him, or did she dislike touching other people, too? That he was immediately attuned to her unsettled him further.

      ‘What are the priorities with Cody?’ Jessica asked, moving them onto ground which, he felt sure, made her feel more comfortable. ‘Have his parents signed the consent form?’

      ‘Not yet.’ Gio ran the fingers of one hand through his hair in frustration. ‘The injury occurred over two weeks ago,’ he explained, unsure how much Megan had told her. ‘The parents are too upset to understand that while Cody may have appeared fine at first, the situation has changed.’

      ‘And you don’t want to waste more time.’

      Grateful that Jessica was on his wavelength, Gio smiled. ‘Exactly so.’

      ‘He’s deteriorating more quickly?’ she asked, glancing at the notes.

      ‘What was a slow bleed building a chronic subdural haematoma could be worsening,’ he outlined, sharing his concerns. ‘Or something more serious could be underlying it.’

      Jessica