Italian Doctor, No Strings Attached
Carol Marinelli
‘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, had moved to London from Milan and, having never spent a Christmas in England, would have to find out later what that translated as but he certainly got the gist.
Yes, he wasn’t exactly in the festive spirit. For the last few years Anton had, in fact, dreaded Christmas.
Unfortunately there was no escaping it at The Royal—December had today hit and there were invites galore for Christmas lunches, dinners and parties piling into his inbox that he really ought to attend. Walking into work this morning, he had seen a huge Christmas tree being erected in the hospital foyer and now Louise had got in on the act. She seemed to be attempting to singlehandedly turn the maternity ward into Santa’s grotto.
Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he headed over to the box, retrieved a long piece of gold tinsel and returned to Louise, who gave him a sweet smile as she took it.
Actually, no, Anton decided, it was far from a sweet smile—it was a slightly sarcastic, rather triumphant smile.
‘Thank you very much,’ Louise said.
‘You’re more than welcome,’ Anton responded, and walked off.
Anton knew, just knew that if he turned around it would be to the sight of Louise poking her tongue out at him.
Keep going, he told himself.
Do not turn around, for it would just serve to encourage her and he was doing everything in his power to discourage Louise. She was the most skilled flirt he had ever come across. At first he has assumed Louise was like that with everyone—it had