All her energy was focused on getting McKenzie to eat. McKenzie’s appetite. McKenzie’s nutritional needs. McKenzie’s caloric requirements. Paige Donald came low down on Paige Donald’s list of priorities. And, besides, things just tasted so bland.
A hoot of laugher outside in the corridor pulled Paige out of her reverie and she pushed thoughts of Valentino aside. This was daytime. Tonight she could think about him again, dream about him again. Vivid dreams that woke her in a sweat with parts of her throbbing, his name on her lips, his taste in her mouth.
She busied herself getting the theatre set up, grabbing the trolleys and positioning them correctly around the operating table, wiping them down with a solution of surgical spirits. She exited the theatre via the back door into the sterilising room. Four sterilised trays wrapped in special blue disposable cloth were waiting for her and she grabbed the nearest, along with extra drapes and gowns and two pairs of size-eight gloves for Harry and his resident.
She dumped them on the trolleys inside the theatre, ready to be opened by the scout nurse while she herself was at the sinks scrubbing up. She went back out again, selecting other bits and pieces she knew Harry would need—suture material, dressings and, of course, the actual implant device itself.
Paige turned the boxed bionic ear around in her hands. It was hard to believe that something so innocuous could give such a precious gift. That come Monday one would be implanted into McKenzie’s head. She hugged it to her chest, sending up a quick prayer into the universe.
Please let everything be okay.
She went back into the theatre, dropping the extras on the trolley. A noise from the anaesthetic room alerted her to Harry’s arrival and she smiled. It was nice working for someone as dedicated as she was. Paige glanced at her watch. Now, while they were still alone, was as good a time as any to ask her boss the question.
She shoved open the swing doors with her shoulder, ready to launch into her spiel. Excited even. Except the man in the anaesthetic room wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t thin and a little stooped and grey-haired. He was big and broad with curls of dark hair escaping the confines of his theatre cap to brush the neckline of his scrubs. Even if she hadn’t dreamt about that back every night for the last two months, the lurch low down in her pelvis would have alerted her to his identity anyway.
Valentino Lombardi looked up from the theatre list he’d been studying and turned. Neither of them said anything for a few moments as a host of memories bubbled between them.
Valentino swallowed. He’d been prepared to see her again but totally unprepared for the sucker punch to his gut as her big grey eyes, round with shock, met his.
‘Paige. Bella. We meet again.’
Paige blinked. She even blushed a little as the things they’d done together made her awkward beneath his gaze. It didn’t help that he filled out a pair of surgical scrubs better than any man on the planet.
She’d seen him in a tux and in the buff and now in a set of scrubs. Was there nothing the man didn’t look magnificent in? ‘Valentino?’
What did he think he was he doing here? Was he here to observe? To assist? Didn’t he live in Rome? Or London? Where was Harry?
Valentino saw the confusion in her gaze and shot her a lazy grin. He’d relegated their one night two months ago to a pleasant interlude and done his hardest to forget about it. But standing before him now in baggy scrubs, no make-up, her hair covered in a sexless blue theatre hat, he finally admitted he hadn’t forgotten one second of their time together.
A strange unease descended on them and he couldn’t bear it.
Paige’s heart skipped a couple of beats and then accelerated as his low flirty voice oozed into all the places that still craved his touch. The pinkness in her cheeks deepened as she remembered where his mouth had been. Oh, God! This wouldn’t do at all.
‘Dr Lombardi.’ Paige’s voice was stern as she glared at him and regained her composure. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s Harry?’
Valentino laughed. So much for small talk. He regarded her for a second. What he had to tell her next would have an impact on her probably more than anyone. Harry had stressed the need to break it to Paige gently.
‘I’m afraid Dr Abbott had to rush to Hobart in the early hours of this morning. His grandson was kicked in the head by a horse and is in Intensive Care.’
Paige gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. Oh, no! How awful. ‘Was it Andy or Ben?’ Harry’s daughter and her family lived on a horse stud just outside Hobart. They were a close-knit family despite the distance, and Paige knew this would be devastating for them all.
‘Ben.’
Oh, dear, Ben was only four. One year older than McKenzie. Paige moved closer to him, needing to know more. ‘How is he? Is he…has he…?’
Valentino covered the distance between them, reaching out for her, clasping her shoulders gently. ‘He’s critical. That’s all I know.’
Paige looked at him, trying to process it. Trying to understand how fate could be so cruel to a little boy and a man who had only ever done good things. ‘That’s just so…awful. I can’t believe it.’ She shook her head to clear it, searching his espresso depths, waiting for him to tell her it was all a bad joke. ‘I just can’t…take it in.’
Valentino nodded. ‘Yes.’ What else could he say?
Paige wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring at him, trying to clear the block of confusion in her mind. But she suddenly became aware of the slow, lazy circling of his fingers against her upper arms and the clean, male smell of him. When the temptation to lay her cheek against the V of his scrub top came upon her she knew she had to step back.
Valentino released her and watched as she retreated to the nearby bench and leaned against it. ‘I’ll be covering Harry’s patients until he’s ready to return.’
It was then that the full impact of this incident hit home. McKenzie. She glanced at him sharply as her heart thudded like a rock band in her chest.
No. No, no, no.
Why? What had she done, what had McKenzie done to deserve such upheaval? The surgery had been delayed too many times already. So many things had gone wrong in her short life. The one constant had been Harry and his absolute faith that he could give McKenzie the gift of hearing that prematurity had robbed her of.
And now that was in jeopardy too. ‘My daughter’s surgery is on Monday.’
Valentino nodded. ‘Yes. Harry mentioned that.’ In fact, Harry Abbott had gone to great pains to explain to him that Paige would be understandably concerned and probably not all that happy.
Paige felt awful. She wanted to scream and rant and cry. For Harry as well as herself. Disgust built inside her too. How could she even be thinking of herself, of McKenzie, when little Ben was critically ill?
‘It’s okay. I’ll do her surgery.’
Paige glanced at him sharply as a tense ‘No’ fell from her lips.
Val’s jaw tightened. ‘You don’t think I’m a good surgeon?’
Paige had the urge to laugh hysterically. This was a truly bizarre conversation. She was having trouble keeping up. ‘How do I know, Valentino? I don’t know the first thing about you.’
Valentino raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? I have one night that says differently.’
Paige slashed her hand through the air, rage bubbling inside that he would make an innuendo at such a time. ‘You know I meant—professionally,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t ever, ever, talk about that night again. Okay?’ she demanded.