Midwives On-Call. Alison Roberts

tonight, can you give my speech for me?’

      ‘Alessi, you’re up for an award, I think it’s taken as a given that you’ll be there. My father—’

      ‘Archie is having seizures,’ Alessi interrupted. ‘Violent ones, and they aren’t nice for his family to see. Jessica wants to be there also and I want his death to be as gentle and as pain-free as possible. I want to be there for him. I’m sorry if it upsets your father that I might not make it but right now Archie is my priority.’

      Alessi waited. He knew she was about to protest and he actually wanted her to. That was his tipping point. When anyone tried to come between him and his work Alessi walked away very easily. He wanted not to get in too deep; he wanted her to insist that he be there tonight. Instead, she nodded her assent.

      ‘Fine,’ she said, though her father would think it anything but fine if Alessi didn’t show up. ‘What do you want me to say on your behalf?’

      ‘Whatever is said at such things. I’m sure you’ll give an excellent speech,’ Alessi said.

      ‘That sounds like an insult.’

      It was, actually. He looked at her, so completely calm and unruffled, even as he had broken down, and knew she’d be the same tonight. ‘Do any of them get to you?’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘I remember the night we met. You were all animated, completely enthralled about a baby that had just been delivered.’ He watched her cheeks redden and rather than leave things there he chose to pursue them. ‘I’ve seen you elated but I’ve never seen you upset and, though avoiding each other, we’ve still found ourselves working together at times.’

      ‘When have I avoided you?’

      ‘Come off it, Isla,’ Alessi said. ‘And don’t avoid the question. Do any of them get to you?’

      ‘I don’t let them get to me,’ Isla said, hopefully slamming the door closed on that observation, but Alessi wrenched it straight back open.

      ‘That would take an awful lot of self-control.’

      ‘Not really.’ She tried to keep her voice even.

      ‘Yes, really. Otherwise it would mean that you’re completely burnt out and I don’t believe that you are.’

      ‘You don’t know me,’ Isla said.

      ‘I know that I don’t, because a year ago I could have sworn that we were getting on, that we were enjoying each other’s company, that you wanted me as much as I wanted you,’ he said. ‘Yet it would seem I was wrong.’ Isla wanted to tear her eyes from his but somehow she made herself hold his gaze.

      ‘I may be wrong now,’ Alessi said, and Isla knew that she could turn and head to her desk and he would go, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood there as he continued speaking, the air between them crackling with tension. ‘The thing is, I won’t put myself in that position again. You’ll never give me that look again, Isla …’

      She wanted to point out that she wasn’t giving him that look now; she wanted to point out that she wasn’t turning and walking off. The air seemed too thick for her lungs and Isla’s eyes flicked to his mouth, to his soft, full lips, and she wanted to place hers there, or for his mouth to move to hers, but Alessi just stood his ground.

      ‘When you’re ready to apologise for that night …’

      ‘Apologise?’ Isla gave an incredulous smile.

      Alessi didn’t return the smile. ‘Yes, apologise,’ he confirmed. ‘The next move is yours.’

      ‘I’m not with you.’

      ‘You’ll kiss me, Isla.’

      ‘And if I don’t?’

      ‘Then we both die wondering.’

      She would, Isla realised.

      No matter what the future held, if a part of it did not contain a night with Alessi, then she would die wondering because he was possibly the most beautiful, sensual man to cross her path and, yes, she wanted her time with him, for however long they had.

      ‘I need to go,’ Alessi said. ‘Thank you for the coffee.’

      ‘I hope today goes better than expected for you,’ Isla croaked.

      ‘It won’t,’ Alessi said, ‘but some things have to be faced and dealt with.’ He turned and opened the office door. Her face was on fire, his words playing over and over. Some things had to be dealt with and faced, but not this.

      Alessi’s invitation turned fears into pleasure.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      DARCIE HAD PROVED to be a brilliant flatmate but as Isla got ready for the ball she was actually relieved to have the place to herself.

      Nothing was going to happen between her and Alessi tonight, she told herself, except Isla knew where their kiss could lead.

      She’d fought it once after all.

      Isla got back from the hairdresser’s at four, where she’d had her thick blonde hair curled and pinned up and had also had her nails done in a neutral shade as she still hadn’t decided what to wear tonight.

      Red, Isla thought, taking out her dress and holding it up, yet it was everything she wasn’t—it was bold, confident and sexy, and Alessi could possibly sue her under the Trade Descriptions Act once he got the dress off!

      Black.

      Safe.

      Only it felt far from safe when she put it on. It showed her cleavage, it showed the paleness of her skin and the flush in her cheeks whenever his name came to mind, which it did at regular fifteen-second intervals.

      He might not even be there, Isla reminded herself. Except that thought didn’t come as a relief.

      She could still feel the heat between them from that morning. Her body, as she dressed for the night, acutely recalled the burn of his gaze and the delicious warning that the next move was hers. There had been no physical contact that morning yet it felt as if there had been.

      Isla was shaking as she put on her make-up, shaking with want, with nerves, with the absolute shock of the availability of Alessi should she choose to make a move.

      Should she choose?

      Isla looked at herself in the mirror and realised she already had.

      She wanted Alessi.

      A car had been arranged—Charles Delamere didn’t want his daughter arriving in a taxi—and Isla sat in the back, staring ahead. The sights of Melbourne were familiar; the feeling inside wasn’t. There was no Isabel to chat with, no Rupert to deflect male attention.

      She stepped into the venue alone.

      Her eyes scanned the reception room as she drank champagne and sparkled as she was expected to.

      There was no sign of him.

      Relief and disappointment mingled as they were called to take their seats.

      ‘Where’s Manos?’ Charles frowned at the empty seat at the table.

      ‘I think that he may be stuck at the hospital,’ Isla said. ‘He’s asked me to make a speech on his behalf if he can’t get here.’

      ‘You are joking?’ Charles snapped. ‘The whole point of this award is to raise NICU’s profile. How are we going to get people signing cheques if the star of the show can’t even be bothered to turn up?’

      ‘Dad.’ Isla looked at him. ‘He’s with a family—’

      ‘Isla,’ her father