Nic’s Italian. A showman. A flirt. For goodness’ sake, you know what Pauline told you yesterday—the corridors at Plymouth hospital are littered with broken hearts. He’s a brilliant doctor and great to work with—but don’t be stupid enough to go out with him. He never dates anyone more than three times.
What’s he’s doing to you doesn’t mean a thing, Lucy warned herself frantically. That smouldering smile’s just a performance. As soon as you let him sweep you off your feet, you’ll have two more dates and then he’ll be off to the next challenge.
Her body wasn’t buying it. It went completely un-doctor-like. Her pulse quickened, her pupils expanded and she could feel her face growing bright red. ‘I…’
‘And this,’ he said, touching his tongue to the pulse that had started to beat crazily against her skin.
‘And—’ The harsh sound of his bleeper cut across his words.
‘Saved by the bleep,’ he said wryly, taking his pager from his pocket and glancing at the display. ‘But I think we need to talk, Lucia mia.’
Lucy stayed sitting exactly where she was as he left the room. What on earth was going on? She was the sensible one in the family—apart from the one huge mistake in her life that nobody ever talked about, she’d always been sensible and studious and never let anything get in the way of her work. She hardly knew Nic Alberici, only what she’d heard about him from her friend Pauline in Nic’s old hospital—that professionally he was wonderful and personally he was a walking disaster area.
So why was her body reacting to him like this? Why did her pulse race when she heard his voice or saw his smile? Why did her body go up in flames every time he touched her?
Why had he kissed the inside of her wrist like that?
And as for the way he’d Italianised her name—well, she wasn’t a glamorous and sexy Lu-chee-ah. She was sensible Lucy Williams, senior registrar. She wore sensible, comfortable shoes and tailored trousers to work; she kept her hair pinned back severely, never wore nail-varnish and her make-up was non-existent. Lucia, on the other hand, would be tall and elegant. She’d wear a little black skirt and kitten heels, with her dark pre-Raphaelite curls tumbling down her back, her dark eyes outlined with sexily smudged kohl and her lips with kiss-me-now red lipstick.
Lucy Williams wasn’t the sort of woman Nic Alberici wanted, and she wasn’t going to forget that. She wasn’t going to have some wild fling with him that would last no more than three dates anyway; she wasn’t stupid enough to think she was the one who could change him. She’d learned at a very young age that happy-ever-after didn’t exist. The one time she’d been tempted to take a risk had taught her only too painfully that she’d been right all along—and her judgement in men was rotten.
Lucia mia. The words made her heart miss a beat. And a second.
Don’t be stupid, she reminded herself. You’re not his. Nothing’s going to come of it. Next time you see him, you’re going to tell him to leave you alone.
‘You haven’t had a break for five hours.’
A shiver ran down her spine; Nic’s voice was like a caress on her skin.
Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy, she told herself crossly. ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped.
‘You need a break. So do I. And you know the hospital better than I do—you can show me where to find some decent coffee instead of the stewed stuff I had at lunchtime.’
‘I can tell you where to go.’
He grinned, deliberately misinterpreting her. ‘I’ll bet.’
‘I don’t need a break, Mr Alberici.’
‘OK—then I’ll pull rank, Dr Williams. Coffee. With me. Now.’
She walked in silence with him out of the ward, aware of the speculative looks cast their way and determined not to give anyone the excuse to gossip about her. She remained silent until they were well out of earshot of the ward.
‘I’d like you to leave me alone in future,’ she said. ‘What you did in your office—’ made my knees go weak again ‘—was sexual harassment,’ she finished stiffly. ‘I’d prefer you not to repeat it.’
He nodded and his face became impassive. ‘In future, Lucy, I’ll make sure I have your permission before I touch you.’
It was what she wanted. So why did his words make her feel as if the sun had stopped shining?
And why was he going to drag her through the torment of having coffee with him?
‘Though I prefer to be on friendly terms with my colleagues,’ he said.
Yeah, right. Three dates and you’re out.
‘So perhaps we should put all this behind us.’
‘As you wish.’ Lucy gave him a cool nod.
‘So, where are we having this coffee?’
She seized the chance to change the subject, turn it to something more neutral. ‘Pat’s Place, on the second floor. The mochaccino’s to die for. Not to mention the blueberry muffins—Pat makes them herself. Pat’s the one with the dangly earrings.’
Shut up now, Lucy. You’re babbling, she told herself.
Not that Nic seemed to mind. There wasn’t a trace of impatience in his tone. ‘Blueberry muffins, hmm? A woman after my own heart,’ he said.
She wasn’t anything of the sort. The man was a born flirt. And anyway, he was just trying to find common ground with a member of his new team, she reminded herself.
The walk to the coffee-bar was torture. With every step, she remembered the way he’d touched her. The way her skin had heated as he’d turned her palm over. The way his lips had brushed her skin, sending tingles down her spine. The way he’d licked her pulse point…
She glanced down quickly, relieved that her white coat was thick enough to hide the obvious signs of her arousal. Hell. She couldn’t let this happen. Not again. And she absolutely refused to let herself believe that Nic was different. She’d leave that line to her mother and her three sisters. Susie, Allie, Mum and Rach—every time they convinced themselves that ‘this one’s different’ and he never was.
As for Nic Alberici, Pauline had told her he was a heartbreaker—and what reason would one of her best friends from med school have to lie to her? No, Nic Alberici was just the same as all the rest. Love ’em and leave ’em. She should stay well clear.
He’s gorgeous, the voice in her head insisted.
That’s irrelevant, she told herself. Looks don’t come into it.
But you want to—
‘Lucy?’
She’d been so intent on arguing with herself she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said,’ she mumbled, embarrassed at being caught wool-gathering.
‘Mochaccino and a muffin?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Grab us a table. These are on me.’
She was about to protest that she’d pay for her own, but his eyes warned her it’d be better to accept with good grace. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
She found a small table in the corner. He joined her with a tray of coffee and muffins.
This is his part-of-the-team chat, she reminded herself. So let’s keep it work-related. ‘Settled in OK to Treverro?’ she asked.
He