Spanish Doctor, Pregnant Nurse Page 10

  He effortlessly scooped her up and carried her the short distance to the bedroom and she buried her face in his chest, tasting the salt of the ocean, revelling in the delicious scent of arousal. And Harriet knew she should have felt shy, should have felt naked and exposed as he laid her on the bed, but he imbued wanton confidence in her, the desire blazing in his eyes telling her she was doing OK. The pleasure was as much his as hers. Her needy hands tugged at his boxers, and she saw Ciro in full arousal. The sheer glorious naked strength of him gave her a shudder of nervous apprehension, and he sensed it.

  ‘I won’t hurt you, Harriet.’ Kneeling on the bed, he cupped the peach of her buttocks in his hand and, leaning over, kissed his way down the length of her writhing body. Achingly slowly he explored her with his tongue and at the scratch of his face on her stomach, the feel of his thighs parting hers, Harriet’s hands coiled in his jet hair. Her head thrashed on the pillow as he took her so close to the edge it was almost indecent, the fuse he had lit in the bathroom so damn close to detonation now that the knot of anxiety about accommodating him was replaced with sheer naked need, a need to have him inside her, to have him fill her. His name was a sob on her parted lips as she begged him to enter her, but even his skilful foreplay, her greedy anticipation of the moment didn’t come close to the power of him inside her, that first delicious stab the trigger, her whole body toppling, a physical chain reaction so severe there was nothing she could do except go with it—moving with him, her calves around his waist, the sheen of his skin against her, her fingers pushing into his taut buttocks, greedy, desperate lips tasting his flesh as he bucked inside her. A frenzied convulsion engulfed her, a hot searing flush rushing along her spinal column, his buttocks tightening in the same rigid tune she moved to as he swelled further within her, spilled inside her. She’d never cried before while making love, but it was the only thing she could do now. The amassing of emotion, the sheer and utter release, followed by the tranquil post-coital bliss, culminating in quiet, cleansing tears. And through it all Ciro held her.

  Held Harriet as if he’d never let her go.

  CHAPTER NINE

  COOGEE BEACH was arguably the best place in the world to get over a broken relationship or even to forge a new one!

  Restaurants designed for lovers were on every corner, subdued lighting and informal couches where you could feed each other on today’s early morning catches. Or you could just wander along the busy streets and stop at any one of the trendy cafés and watch the world go by. But as Harriet’s strength, along with her confidence, returned more and more, they strayed from their haven, taking endless beachside walks right up to Bondi, following the tracks, stopping along the way to marvel at the sandstone, the colours so rich, from saffron-yellow to burnt orange, that they looked as if they’d been painted for effect, poking sticks into tiny rock pools or just stopping a while, Ciro lying on his side, watching with a lazy smile as Harriet popped seaweed.

  ‘Your skin is like the sandstone!’ Harriet gave him a queer look and Ciro laughed. ‘I meant the many colours, not the texture. First it was pale, then pink, then angry red…’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ Harriet winced, her lobster impression not quite a distant enough memory to joke about yet.

  ‘But now it is…’ His hand brushed the sand from her thigh, staring thoughtfully at the million freckles dusting her legs.

  ‘Freckly,’ Harriet said for him, just a touch uncomfortable under his scrutiny, wishing she could be as olive-skinned and as long-limbed as the Mediterranean beauties he was undoubtedly used to, still scarcely able to fathom that a man as stunning as Ciro, a man so used to delectable women, could really find her as beautiful as he regularly insisted that she was.

  ‘Are you nervous about going back to work tomorrow?’ His hand was still there, stroking the tiny blonde hairs upwards, causing tiny shivers of electricity at his mere touch. Harriet finally nodded.

  ‘I feel like I’ve been away for months, not just two weeks.’

  ‘A lot has happened in that time,’ Ciro said, and Harriet forgot the seaweed she was idly popping and stared out at the crystal-clear water, one part of her wishing it was this time tomorrow, that her first awkward day back was over and done with, while the other wished that they could just stay like this for ever.

  ‘What’s everyone going to think? I know you tried to hide it from me…’

  ‘Hide what?’ Ciro asked, but from the way his foot was scuffing the sand Harriet knew he’d guessed what she was about to say! ‘I read that newspaper, Ciro. The one you said hadn’t arrived. Well, Judith rang to discuss it with me and I found it in the recycle bin—read for myself how I was so devastated that I took an overdose after I found them in bed together.’

  ‘Judith rang you?’ Ciro’s annoyance was obvious.

  ‘I’m glad she did. Someone at the hospital must have leaked it and we were trying to work out who.’

  ‘Why do you think someone from the hospital spoke to the press? Surely it would be from Drew’s PR.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Harriet scoffed. ‘Drew’s hell-bent on keeping his image clean.’

  ‘It was only two lines in the paper.’ Ciro shrugged. ‘And they only insinuated that you might have done that. Anyway, no one will have seen it.’

  ‘Oh, please!’ Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘As much as it galls me to admit it, Drew is finally famous! OK, he’s not an international celebrity, but here in Sydney he’s pretty hot property, which means that me ending up in hospital the night we broke up…’

  ‘The hospital you work in,’ Ciro pointed out. ‘And everyone there knows that you had appendicitis that night—you had an operation, for heaven’s sake. No one thinks for a moment that you took an overdose. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I guess,’ Harriet sighed. ‘That’s exactly what Judith said. Anyway, she didn’t just ring for that…’ A tiny proud smile wobbled on the edge of her lips. ‘There’s an ANUM position coming up.’

  ‘A what?’ Ciro frowned.

  ‘Associate Nurse Unit Manager,’ Harriet explained. ‘It’s probably where I should be by now, but I’ve never really been in one place long enough to apply for a promotion before.’

  ‘And are you going to?’

  Swivelling her eyes to him, she gave an incredulous smile. ‘Of course I’m going to!’ Harriet announced. ‘Why wouldn’t I? I may not get it, but I’m thrilled Judith’s even considering me.’

  ‘Well, good luck!’ It didn’t sound particularly heartfelt, but he gave her a wide smile. ‘You’re going to be fine tomorrow.’

  The frantic chewing on her bottom lip told Ciro she wasn’t entirely convinced.

  ‘What else is worrying you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly. Too quickly perhaps because Ciro’s hand was still now, the idle stroking halting.

  ‘Harriet?’

  She heard the question mark, the summons for the truth, and taking a deep breath she finally faced him.

  ‘Can we keep it quiet? About us, I mean?’

  ‘If that is what you want.’ Ciro nodded. ‘We can keep it to ourselves for now.’

  ‘It’s just, I mean I know we only met that night, that we couldn’t possibly have been seeing each other before—’

  ‘That’s fine, Harriet,’ Ciro broke in, but Harriet was on a roll now, hoping that by somehow putting her jumbled thoughts into words they might even start to make sense.

  ‘Drew and I had been washed up for ages, but people didn’t know that. They’re going to think it’s just a fling or wonder how on earth…’ Her voice trailed off and after the longest silence it was Ciro who finally spoke.

  ‘Are you beginning to wonder?’ he asked perceptively.

  ‘No,’ she said, but her voice was saying otherwise. ‘No,’ Harriet said again more firmly, hoping that if she could convince him she could convince herself. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Harriet, we need to talk.’ Ciro’s voice was serious, using that low, slightly urgent
tone he had occasionally used these last few days when he had tried to bring up the difficult subject of their future.

  If there could even be a future.

  And she knew without him voicing it the sheer impossibility of the situation they were in—that Ciro was from the other side of the world, they spoke different languages, that if, if this relationship proceeded then horrible choices would have to be made. She felt cold fingers of fear creeping around her heart, just as they always did when the conversation turned this way. She felt a horrible sense of foreboding that she truly wanted to ignore, but Ciro wasn’t letting up, his deep, lyrical voice stabbing at her fragile mind. ‘There are things we have to discuss. Both of us are in other places…’ His fingers snapped in frustration as he struggled to find the right words, but Harriet didn’t want to hear them.

  ‘Different places,’ Harriet snapped back, jumping up quickly, determined to end this conversation before it even started. ‘Both of us are in different places right now. I know that, Ciro!’

  ‘Harriet, please, I just want to talk.’

  His was entirely the voice of reason, but Harriet shook her head.

  ‘Can’t it wait, Ciro? I’m starting to burn, sitting here…’ She raked a hand through her hair, brushed some sand from her legs, pulled down at her T-shirt—anything other than looking at him, anything other than seeing again the exasperation in his eyes at her utter refusal to listen. ‘I just want to get the next few days over with. I’ve got work to deal with, solicitor’s appointments and real estate agents to deal with. Surely we can do this some other time? Surely?’ she said again, finally forcing herself to look at him.

  Relief whooshed over her when finally he reluctantly nodded. He took her hand and they wandered in silence back to the apartments, watching a crazed cocker spaniel chasing the surf, the sun prickling shoulders Ciro would surely massage later. And she wished she could capture that moment, hold that slice of time in her hands and never move forward, keep it all as simple as it was when it was only the two of them.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  Ciro was flicking through his mail-box, pulling out letters and idly wading through his mail, as Harriet pressed the button for the lift.

  ‘Starving,’ Ciro moaned. ‘But I am thinking we should just call for room…’ He paused, standing stock-still for a moment, his eyes fixed on an envelope before he finished his sentence. But to Harriet every word was forced now, his smile impossibly false. ‘Room service,’ he said brightly. ‘Just a nice quiet evening on the balcony.’

  ‘Anything interesting in your mail?’ Her casual enquiry was equally forced as the lift made its way upwards, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as Ciro shook his head and, just as he had when the phone had rung in the middle of the night, he effectively dismissed her.

  ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘LOOK at you!’ Judith’s smile was wide as Harriet made her way over to the nurses’ station, noticing her colleagues’ mostly red faces and averted eyes, except, of course, for Judith, who was making a point of welcoming her, and Charlotte, who was staring at Harriet as if she’d got two heads. Clearly she’d been expecting an emotional wreck to arrive on shift this morning, not the newly tanned, glowing version that was walking towards the nurses’ station. ‘You should take overdoses more often if that’s the effect it has on you!’

  ‘Judith!’ Susan nudged her, but Harriet just laughed, more grateful than she could say to Judith for getting the awkward subject out in the open. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Well, you certainly look it,’ Judith enthused, ready to get on with handover now, shooting a warning look at the gathered nurses, letting them know in no uncertain terms that the subject was most definitely closed. But Charlotte’s interest obviously hadn’t been quenched quite enough.

  ‘What about Drew? Have you heard from him?’

  It was Judith doing the nudging now and Harriet wished she could force the same bright laugh she had about her supposed overdose, but she couldn’t. Drew’s infidelity and her impending divorce were way too painful to be relegated to a laughing matter. ‘We’ve spoken,’ Harriet said tightly, which was perhaps stretching the truth, but she wasn’t going to add ‘through our solicitors’ to someone as nosy or insensitive as Charlotte.

  ‘Now,’ Judith said crisply, her eyes shooting Charlotte a fierce warning look, ‘let’s get on with work. Harriet, I’d love to ease you in gently, but as you know there’s no such thing in this department. Would you mind being in charge of Resus this morning? You’ve got a couple of other nurses in there with you, and naturally if there’s a heavy patient or any lifting you’re to leave well alone. I just really need an experienced nurse in there.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Harriet smiled, and as easily as that she was back, accepted back into the fold as if she had never been away, the fierce, bitchy, protective arms of Emergency wrapping around her.

  ‘No major changes that I can think of while you’ve been away.’ Judith screwed up her forehead in concentration. ‘Except for the roster—oh, and Dr Delgato.’ Smiling at Harriet’s obvious bemusement, Judith happily continued, ‘We’ve decided he’s a honey—finally, a guy who knows how to treat a lady—so we’re doing all his blood work for him now and filling in his X-ray slips…’

  Harriet gave a low laugh. ‘In other words, he’s one of us?’

  Judith nodded, picking up her clipboard, small talk over and ready to start the shift. ‘It’s just a shame that he’s only temporary!’

  Temporary.

  That single word was a branding iron to her soul—transient, impermanent, a short-term fix to ease the pain, but over the days and weeks that followed she came to depend upon it more and more.

  She woke up each morning to the scent of freshly brewed coffee placed on her bedside table, the one domesticated thing Ciro did. And she adored him for it, adored that tiny loving gesture, dark eyes welcoming her into a new day as he slipped back into bed beside her and made love as only Ciro knew how.

  ‘Let’s tell them,’ he whispered one morning, when the coffee had long since gone cold, when for the second time in as many days Harriet would have to forgo breakfast if she wanted to get to work on time.

  ‘Tell them what?’ Harriet murmured, stretching like a lazy cat, Ciro’s hand idly stroking one breast, her mind half-asleep but her body slowly waking under his touch.

  ‘About us,’ Ciro whispered. ‘I’m fed up hiding it.’ His warm breath tickled the tiny hairs on her ears.

  But Harriet pulled away, stepping out of bed and calling over her shoulder as she headed for the shower, ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Why not yet?’ Ciro asked. ‘Why can’t we tell people?’

  The question had merit, but Harriet refused to be lulled back to bed.

  ‘I’m late, Ciro.’ Harriet raised her hands, copying one of his exasperated gestures. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

  ‘You’re doing a double shift today,’ Ciro pointed out. ‘You’re hardly going to be in the mood for talking tonight.’

  ‘Then we can talk about it at the weekend,’ Harriet reasoned. ‘A few days either way aren’t going to make much difference.’

  She was actually pleased to be in a rush for once, glad that she had a genuine excuse to avoid this difficult subject, and she could feel Ciro’s eyes on hers as she hastily packed her bag and put on a slick of lipstick without the aid of a mirror.

  ‘What are you going to do with your day off?’ Harriet asked, not wanting to leave with the atmosphere awkward, but Ciro was sulking, flicking through the newspaper and barely looking up.

  ‘Nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps a walk on the beach later, write a few letters home, I might catch up on some sleep. What time do you finish?’

  ‘Nine, nine-thirty.’ Picking up her bag, she gave him a quick kiss before dashing for the door, and even though he kissed her back, smiled and wished her a nice day, Harriet knew he
wasn’t pleased.

  And she couldn’t blame him a bit. Time and again he’d tried to broach the difficult subject, time and again she’d avoided it, not quite ready to face the inevitable—just trying to enjoy what little time they had left.

  ‘Damn!’ As the hospital loomed Harriet automatically reached for the ID tag around her neck to open the staff car park boom gate. Realising it was missing, she rummaged through her bag on the passenger seat, knowing it was useless. She could almost see it in her mind’s eye hanging over the mirror in her bedroom. Glancing down at her watch, Harriet wondered whether to just park in the emergency car park and fumble through the rest of the day without it, but almost immediately she decided against it. A double shift without access to the drug cupboard wasn’t particularly appealing.

  Executing a rather messy U-turn, Harriet punched in the saved number on her hands-free phone, asking the switchboard operator to put her through to Emergency and apologising profusely to Judith, who naturally was already there and awaiting handover.

  ‘I’ll be twenty minutes late,’ Harriet said, as Judith’s rather resigned sigh filled the car. ‘I really am sorry. Is it really busy?’

  ‘Just drive safely,’ Judith boomed, not answering Harriet’s question. ‘The last thing we need is another MVA to add to the list.’

  Which did nothing to make her feel better!

  The hilly suburbs of Sydney weren’t exactly designed for peak-hour traffic and Harriet’s twenty minutes were already nearly up as she turned into Beach Street. For speed’s sake she decided to forgo the apartments’ undercover car park, instead scanning the kerbside for a parking spot—preferably two together, given that she hadn’t reverse-parked since her driving test! Finding only one, Harriet attempted the manoeuvre, turning the wheel anticlockwise and reversing slowly, her eyes on the rear-view mirror checking for obstacles. She grew increasingly flustered as an impatient motorist hooted loudly at her rather haphazard attempts and wondered how the hell everyone else seemed to manage to make it look so damned easy.