The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride

Time had stopped.

Jenna’s gaze was locked with Paolo’s, and her awareness was so totally focussed on the man beside her.

As his was. On her.

He lifted his hand, using his middle finger to smooth a blob of soapsuds from just below her eye. The touch was so light, so intense, it could be nothing less than a caress.

The connection unleashed something almost frightening. Jenna wouldn’t have believed that Paolo’s eyes could darken that much. Or that she would ever hear him utter a sound that was pure, raw desire.

‘You,’ he said, very softly, ‘are beautiful. Bella.’

And then Paolo tipped his head and kissed her.

Softly. Slowly.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. And Jenna knew Paolo was thinking exactly the same because her gaze was still locked onto his—as it had been from the first moment he had touched her face.

There was no question of whether or not they would make love. It was simply a matter of when…

Dear Reader

Mills & Boon are celebrating their 100th birthday this year. How amazing is that?

For a whole century readers of romance have been loyal to a genre of fiction that celebrates what I believe matters the most: the relationships between people. Love…

I fall in love with every one of my heroes, but a gorgeous Italian like Paolo in THE SURGEON CLAIMS HIS BRIDE was deliciously irresistible. That means there’s a part of me in every heroine, of course, but it’s more than just the part that falls in love. I suspect that you also relate to the same ideal. One that recognises the meaning of true love and what is precious about the connections to other people that mean we are not alone in the world. Not simply the magic relationship between lovers—we also cherish the bonds of family and friends. As Paolo and Jenna learn, it is possible to feel utterly vulnerable and yet to feel completely safe at the same time. Maybe that’s the essence of feeling loved?

I’m proud to be writing these stories as Mills & Boon enters its second century. May the tradition continue to bring us all moments of joy.

Happy reading

With love

Alison

The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride

Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Alison Roberts lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

CHRISTMAS BRIDE-TO-BE

THE PLAYBOY DOCTOR’S PROPOSAL†

THE ITALIAN DOCTOR’S PERFECT FAMILY (Mediterranean Doctors)

A FATHER BEYOND COMPARE*

ONE NIGHT TO WED*

EMERGENCY BABY*

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT the hell was going on here?

It was like a good-cop, bad-cop scenario. Hardly what Jenna Freeman had expected when fronting up to this fabulous old house in Hamilton Drive, one of the most exclusive parts of town, to attend a job interview.

A woman who looked to be in her seventies was beaming at Jenna approvingly. The other woman, twenty years her junior, had fixed Jenna with a steely glare. Both had formidably strong personalities.

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Jenna said carefully. ‘Is there something wrong with the little girl?’

‘With Danielle? Good heavens, no! She’s perfect.’

The gazes of all three women shifted automatically to focus on the subject of their conversation and Jenna found herself smiling.

Yes. Danielle did look perfect.

As babies went, this one was a stunner.

Jenna had met a lot of babies in her career as a paediatric nurse and could almost always find something appealing about them. Some looked like they should be advertising baby food in glossy magazines. Others had heart-melting smiles. Some were placid and cuddly and easy to care for, others noisy and fascinated by the world around them.

They were all different and yet this one—nine-month-old Danielle Romano—was in a class of her own.

She looked ready for a photographer’s attention in the beautiful pink smocked dress, long white socks and pristine patent leather shoes. A band that matched her dress squashed some of the silky-looking black curls on her head and sported a bow on top as perfect as the similar decoration on the shiny white shoes.

Small fingers were playing with the bow on one shoe right now. Carefully. As though Danielle was confident she had all the time in the world to explore the shape and feel of the object. The wealth of bright toys surrounding her in the playpen couldn’t compete for her interest.

She must have sensed the direction of the women’s attention, however, because her fingers stilled and she looked up. Big, dark eyes regarded Jenna with no hint of alarm at the presence of a stranger. There was no hint of a smile either, but that was hardly unexpected, especially in a child serious enough to find the bow on her shoe so compelling.

Jenna’s smile faded as she looked back at the women sitting opposite her.

Danielle’s grandmothers.

‘Your advertisement specified a qualified nurse. Someone experienced with children.’

‘That’s right.’

‘But the position you’re describing is looking after a perfectly healthy child. It’s a job for a nanny, not a nurse.’

The older of the two women, Maria Romano, looked away quickly, giving an impression of discomfort. If it hadn’t been a weird thought, Jenna would have described her as being nervous.

The younger woman, Louise Gibbs, looked almost smug as she nodded less than subtle agreement.

‘I said that, Maria,’ Louise murmured. ‘She’s not suitable for the position.’

Not suitable? Jenna bristled. Surely the decision should be hers, given that she was over-qualified for the work being offered. If she took it, she wouldn’t be using more than a fraction of the knowledge and skill she had worked hard to attain so far in her career.

‘Jenna’s more qualified than anyone with just a diploma from a nanny school, Louise. We want the best for Ella, don’t we?’

‘Danielle.’ The correction seemed to be automatic. Louise dropped her gaze to Jenna’s CV, now lying on the coffee-table between them. ‘You’re a little younger than I had in mind.’

‘I’m thirty-one.’ Getting rapidly older, in Jenna’s opinion. All her friends seemed to be married and starting families by now. Only Jenna remained single and childless. Destined to silence the ticking of her own biological clock by caring for the children of other people?

Awful thought. Maybe she’d made a mistake even fronting up for this interview. The idea of being a private nurse in a new city had been appealing, however. An easy job. Time to come to terms with the difficult changes life had presented recently and reset herself. A chance to meet new people in a place that wasn’t haunted by too many memories.

An old friend she had kept in touch with since they had trained together had applauded the notion.

‘Do come to Christchurch,’ Anne had urged Jenna. ‘It would be so good to spend some time together again.’

‘And you’re single.’ Louise made it sound like some kind of disease.

‘Yes.’ Jenna straightened her back. The last man in her life had done his best to leave her feeling she hadn’t made the grade. She wasn’t about to let someone’s grandmother dent the fragile self-esteem she had managed to restore. ‘I wouldn’t be applying for a live-in position if I wasn’t single.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ Maria agreed. ‘And you’re quite old enough to be very experienced. How long have you been a paediatric nurse?’

‘Six years. And before that I worked in the emergency department.’

‘There you go, Louise. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone who could cope with any emergency or illness that Ell—Danielle might have?’

Maria’s smile was warm. An Italian woman, her English seemed almost flawless, though quite heavily accented, and she used her hands a lot when speaking. She was a little on the plump side and her clothes, while of the best quality, appeared to have been chosen for comfort rather than style. With her lovely smile and hair a natural silver, she reminded Jenna quite strongly of her own mother and so she smiled back with a genuine response to that warmth.

‘Hmm.’ Louise’s gaze was still blatantly assessing and cold enough to provide a startling contrast to the eye contact Jenna had just broken with Maria.

Not that she had to try and hold this gaze. Louise dropped hers deliberately to take in the plain black skirt and blouse Jenna had deemed suitable for this interview and the way her long hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail. It even seemed to take particular note of her lack of jewellery and her short, neatly trimmed, unpainted fingernails.

And then it suggested comprehension of her single status. Annoyingly, Jenna felt a stain of colour touching her cheeks. OK, maybe she wasn’t model material like this woman’s beautiful grandchild or the gorgeous blonde woman that featured in numerous photographs dotting the mantelpiece of this room, but she wasn’t unattractive.

Involuntarily, her gaze flicked to one of the larger images. A wedding photograph, which looked too perfect to be real. The man was gorgeous. Tall, dark and in command, with his hand possessively covering the one linked through his arm that belonged to the blonde princess in the cloud of silk and tulle.

There was a resemblance there to the younger of the two women opposite Jenna. More than simply the wealthy, over-groomed look. There was a sharpness to the features that didn’t exactly scream warmth. Jenna wasn’t at all sure she liked Louise Gibbs and she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this job wasn’t what she was looking for.

She shifted in the chair. ‘I feel I may be wasting your time.’

‘No, no!’ Maria reached out a hand, a gesture designed to pre-empt any further movement on Jenna’s part. ‘Please, stay.’

For an instant, Jenna saw something new in Maria’s face. This was more like fear than nervousness. It was gone too quickly to identify reliably but it resurrected that undeniable curiosity. There was something rather strange about this interview and it would be unsatisfying to leave without discovering what it was.

Jenna stayed put.

‘Danielle’s father is Paul Romano,’ Louise said into the silence. She was watching Jenna carefully. ‘A paediatric surgeon here in Christchurch. You will have heard of him, I expect?’

The Paul Romano? Jenna couldn’t help looking impressed. He was well known as a specialist in dealing with the removal of childhood tumours. In conjunction with the paediatric oncologists, the reputation was enough to have children sent long distances to receive treatment here.

‘Of course. We often referred our more complicated cases here. He’s well respected.’

‘Yes.’ The simple word spoken simultaneously by both women carried a weight of pride.

‘Paolo’s my son,’ Maria added. ‘My only child. My only family in this country. Sadly, his father passed away three years ago. We—’

‘Paul was married to my only child,’ Louise interrupted. ‘My daughter Gwendolyn. Tragically, she experienced massive complications from an embolism following the Caesarean needed for Danielle’s birth and…and she died when Danielle was only three hours old.’

Louise looked away, struggling for control, and Maria tutted sympathetically, murmuring something soothing in Italian as she reached out again, this time to pat her companion’s arm. Jenna couldn’t help warming to them both.

‘I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘It must have been a dreadful time for you.’

Louise rallied. ‘Paul was devastated, of course. He still hasn’t come to terms with losing Gwen, and having Danielle doesn’t help.’

‘Oh?’ This was puzzling. Surely having a child, a living part of someone you had loved, would be the greatest comfort possible? A man with the intelligence necessary to become such a renowned surgeon couldn’t blame the infant for her mother’s death or had his love for his wife been such that any reminder could only keep the grief alive?

‘Paolo moved home so that I could help with raising Ella,’ Maria said.

So this house belonged to the Romano family. Maybe Louise was not a key player after all.

‘And I moved to Christchurch.’ Louise made it sound as though she was sacrificing more on behalf of her grandaughter. ‘Although I would have been—still am—more than happy to take on the full responsibility of raising Danielle.’

The full responsibility? Did the father not have anything to do with his daughter? Were these two grandparents fighting over custody? No wonder there was an odd feel to this household. Doubts about the advisability of working here re-surfaced and must have shown on her face.

‘It’s not that he doesn’t love Ella,’ Maria said hurriedly. ‘It’s just that it’s been difficult for him. He’s always being terribly conscientious about his work and it became an escape for him to put more and more into his career in terms of hours. He’s not at home very much.’

‘It would be a demanding job.’ Jenna looked back at Danielle, who was now busy removing her shoes. ‘It’s lucky that you are both able to help.’

‘As if I’d do anything else.’ Louise sounded faintly outraged. ‘Danielle is all I have left of my precious daughter. My only child.’

‘Paolo was an only child, too,’ Maria reminded her. She waved her hand apologetically at Jenna. ‘Louise and I are both widows,’ she added, as though that explained everything.

Which it did to some extent. This baby was very important to them both as the sole member of the next generation of their families. Jenna was aware of how close Italian families were so Louise must be very determined to keep her stake in Danielle’s upbringing.

They were both determined and, for some reason, in competition with each other.

Interpersonal politics could detract from any job. Condensed into an intimate domestic situation that encompassed inevitable cultural differences and included an outsider such as herself could make a working environment intolerable. The warning bells were ringing loud and clear for Jenna.

So did the cry from Danielle. Maria stood up immediately and went to the playpen. The baby held up her arms and Jenna could see it wasn’t easy for the older woman to pick her up.

‘Oh, dear, you’re very wet, aren’t you?’ Maria cuddled the baby. ‘You need a clean nappy, cara.’

‘I’ll do it.’ With smooth grace, Louise rose and took the baby, allowing no time for protest. ‘You may as well show Jennifer the flat.’

May as well? Was she going to be allowed to view living quarters she wasn’t going to be using just to fill in time while Danielle was having her nappy changed?

‘Yes, of course!’ Maria seemed eager to comply. ‘Come with me, Jenna.’

Reluctantly, Jenna followed Maria. The self-contained flat was attached to the vast old house through a short passageway that was accessed through a large, gleaming kitchen. Yet another older woman was busy near the sink. She glanced up curiously as Maria led Jenna across the tiled floor.

‘This is Jenna,’ Maria said. ‘I’m going to show her the flat. I hope she might be joining us to help look after Ella. Jenna, this is Shirley. She helps me in the house. You wouldn’t be expected to take on cleaning duties, which I know are expected of some nannies. Or cooking. I love to cook. I teach Italian cookery at the evening classes.’

Shirley gave Jenna an up-and-down glance and clearly liked what she saw. ‘You’ll like the flat,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee when you’re done?’

‘Maybe later,’ Maria said. ‘When Paolo gets home.’ She seemed keen to usher Jenna through the door of what must have originally been servants’ quarters.

It had clearly been upgraded considerably. The sitting room was tiny but tastefully decorated and it contained a television, music system and well-stocked bookshelf. The bedroom looked comfortable and there was a sparkling bathroom and a small kitchen area with a microwave and facilities for making tea and coffee.

‘You would have complete access to the kitchen, of course. And the laundry,’ Maria said. ‘There’s a—what do you call them? The baby-radio thing?’

‘A baby monitor?’

‘Yes, thank you. Ella can sometimes be hard to get to sleep but when she is sleeping, she doesn’t wake often at night.’ Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you think?’

Shirley hadn’t been mistaken. ‘It’s a lovely flat,’ Jenna said sincerely.

‘Do you think you might like to take the position?’

‘Ah…’ Jenna let her doubts show. ‘Can I ask how you’ve been managing up till now?’

‘We had a nanny. She left two days ago. Louise didn’t…ah…find her suitable. There was an argument and…’ The shrug was eloquent. It suggested that falling out with Louise was a terminal condition.

‘Mrs Gibbs obviously doesn’t think I’m particularly suitable either.’

‘It is not just her decision. It is Paolo who has the final say.’ But Maria sighed. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the door she had closed behind them. ‘Louise is very protective of Ella,’ she said. ‘And of Gwendolyn’s memory. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but she thinks that any woman who comes into the household is going to…um…’

‘Make a play for Danielle’s father?’ Jenna supplied helpfully. Hardly a suggestion from left field, given the attractions obvious in that wedding photo. Judging by this house, he had a very wealthy background. His fame as a surgeon was another hefty drawcard and his Mediterranean background would be the icing on the cake for some women.

Maria was nodding unhappily. ‘Ridiculous, I know. Of course, I hope that Paolo does find someone eventually and that Ella will have brothers and sisters but I suspect Louise is determined that no one is going to try and step into her Gwendolyn’s shoes.’

Jenna almost smiled. Talk about offputting. Louise Gibbs would be the mother-in-law from hell, irrespective of whether she was related to her granddaughter’s stepmother. ‘I can assure you I have absolutely no interest in forming a relationship with any man at this point in my life. I’m very happily single for the moment.’

Which was absolutely true. Jenna wasn’t about to complicate her life with the potential for more unhappiness and even if she was open to meeting someone, there were a lot of qualities far more important than looks or the state of bank accounts. Intelligence for one. And compassion. And a sense of humour. Tolerance and warmth and…

‘So you might consider taking this position?’

Jenna focussed again with a blink. ‘I still don’t understand quite why you want someone with my qualifications.’

Maria was silent for a moment. And then she gave another small, resigned sigh. ‘You’ve probably noticed that Louise is a lot younger than I am. I was nearly forty when I had Paolo and Gwen was ten years younger than him. Louise is only forty-two. I’m seventy-four and things are not as good as they used to be,’ Maria continued quietly. ‘Artrite. Arth-aritis. Another bone thing I can’t pronounce.’

‘Osteoporosis?’

‘Yes.’ Maria nodded approvingly. ‘I think so. And I have the blood…Oh, what is it? La pressione alta.’

Translation seemed surprisingly easy. ‘High blood pressure? Hypertension?’

Maria nodded again. ‘Si.’ As she relaxed into her confidences, her accent became stronger—her English less perfect. ‘And now I have been told I have the diabetes. The bad one.’

‘Type one? You need insulin injections?’

‘Yes. Iniezione. The needles. I have to start them soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I have an appointment with the doctor. It’s difficult. Sometimes my English is not as good as it should be for being here in Nuova Zelanda for more than twenty years. Shirley has been helping me but she knows no more than I do. We are like—how do you say it? The blind leading the blind.’

At last, Jenna understood at least part of what had made this interview so puzzling. It wasn’t the baby who was the potential patient. It was Maria. The older woman touched her arm. It was almost a plea.

‘Paolo needs time to get used to being a father by himself. I don’t wish him to know that it is difficult for me to help. If we were still in Italy, it would be no problem, of course, but Paolo will not consider leaving his job and families are not the same here, are they? If Ella was taken to Auckland by Louise, she would be lost to us and that would be…a tragedia.’

Dark brown eyes that had not faded with age were swimming with tears. ‘It’s not for me,’ Maria said. ‘And it’s not just that Louise doesn’t share the same things of importance in raising a bambino. It’s because Ella needs her papa. And he needs her. He just hasn’t realised it yet.’

In other words, Jenna would be stepping into an emotional minefield. The passions of an Italian family on the one side and a cold and determined woman, possibly obsessed with the memory of her daughter, on the other. Hardly the easy job she had anticipated but it wasn’t going to be pleasant to disappoint someone who clearly cared so much about the best interests of others. Especially when one of those ‘others’ was a baby girl who had no idea of the undercurrents in the world around her.

That concern for others made the reminder of her own mother stronger than ever. Jenna had wanted to help her mum so badly but had been unable to do any more than make her last few months as comfortable as possible.

She could help Maria, though.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said slowly.

‘Of course.’ But Maria’s shoulders slumped a little and she muttered something inaudible in Italian. Then she blinked away the remainder of her tears. ‘Come back to the lounge for a moment. Paolo promised he would try and get home in time to meet you so you would not have to come back for another interview.’

Perhaps Paul Romano was a man of his word.

Due either to good management or luck, the surgeon was entering the front door of the house just as Maria and Jenna emerged from the kitchen and Louise was arriving at the foot of the sweeping staircase with Danielle in her arms.

For a moment nobody moved.

An eloquent snatch of time in which the situation and everybody’s reactions to it were registered. The atmosphere was suddenly electric and Jenna had to take a deep breath as the swirl of undercurrents threatened to suck her under.

Louise’s hold on Danielle struck a discordant note and her determination to advertise her right to be there was almost palpable. ‘Look, Danielle,’ she said brightly. ‘Daddy’s home.’

Maria’s smile of welcome faded as her gaze travelled from her son to the woman holding her granddaughter. Jenna could sense the anxiety all too clearly.

But what made the air really crackle was the fact that Jenna realised instantly that Louise had no show of being the one in control. The man in that photograph had been a single dimension. The reality was overpowering.