OK. He’d try the professional route: say nothing, just smile, and give her space to answer more fully. Just like he did with his shyer patients. If he waited long enough, she’d break the silence.
She did. ‘I work in a London hospital.’
Something else they had in common. Good. ‘London’s a beautiful city. I’ve just spent a few days there with the doctor I used to share a flat with, Max. It was his son’s christening.’
There was the tiniest crinkle round her eyes. ‘I don’t know if I dare ask. Were you the…?’
‘Padrino? The godfather, you mean?’ So under her reserve there was a sense of fun. He liked that. Enough to want to see more of it. He hummed the opening bars of the theme tune to the film. ‘Yes, I was.’
Though seeing the expression on Max’s face when he looked at his wife and baby had made Orlando ache. Orlando had stopped believing in love, long ago, when his mother’s fifth marriage had crumbled: every time she’d thought she’d found The One, she’d been disillusioned. But Max was so happy with Rachel and little Connor, it had made Orlando think again. Wonder if maybe love really did exist.
Except he didn’t have a clue where to start looking for it. And he wasn’t sure that he wanted to spend his life searching and yearning and getting more and more disappointed, the way his mother did. So he’d decided to stick to the way he’d lived for the last five years—smile, keep his relationships light, just for fun, and put his energy into his work.
‘You work in London, too?’ she asked.
‘Not any more. I did, for a couple of years, on a children’s ward.’ He spread his hands. ‘But then I discovered I wanted to see my patients grow up—not forget about them once they’d left the hospital. I wanted to treat them, just as I’d treated their parents and their grandparents and would treat their children. I wanted to see them with their families.’
Strange, really, when he didn’t have a family of his own. Just his mother, a few ex-stepfathers and ex-stepsiblings he hadn’t kept in touch with. The only way he’d get an extended family now was to get married: and that was a risk he wasn’t prepared to take.
Keep it light, he reminded himself. ‘And I missed the lemon groves. I missed the sea.’
‘And the sunshine,’ she said with a wry smile.
‘I don’t mind London rain. But I admit, although I like visiting London, it’s good to be back under the Italian sun. And I love being a family doctor.’
She smiled, and he caught his breath. Her serious manner masked her beauty—when she smiled, Eleanor Forrest was absolutely stunning. Perfect teeth and a wide smile and those amazing deep brown eyes.
It made him want to touch her. Trace the outline of her face with the tips of his fingers. Rub his thumb against her lower lip. And then dip his head to hers, claiming her mouth.
Then he became aware she was speaking. Oh, lord. He really hoped he hadn’t ignored a question or something. She must think he was a real idiot.
‘My best friend at medical school, Tamsin, did the same thing,’ Eleanor said. ‘She started in paediatrics and became a GP because she wanted to care for the whole family.’
‘There’s a lot to be said for it.’ But they were talking about him. He wanted to know about her. ‘You prefer the buzz of emergency medicine?’
‘I like knowing I’ve made a difference,’ she said simply.
She’d make a difference all right, he thought. Whatever branch of medicine she worked in. But before he could say anything, the man he’d spoken to about Eleanor’s luggage came over, carrying one bright pink case.
‘I am sorry for the wait, Dottoressa Forrest,’ he said politely. ‘No problem. Grazie,’ she said, taking the case and checking the label. ‘Yes, this is mine.’
He left after some pleasantries, and Eleanor stood up. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Dottore de Luca.’
‘You haven’t finished it yet.’
She made a face. ‘It’s getting late. I really ought to check into my hotel.’
He didn’t want her to walk out of his life. Not yet. And there was one way he could keep her talking to him for a little longer. ‘You could be waiting a while for a taxi, and although public transport is good in Naples, you have baggage with you. I’ll give you a lift.’
She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but you’ve already been kind enough. I’d rather not impose.’
He wasn’t sure what was going on here—he’d never experienced this weird, unexplainable feeling before—but what he knew for definite was that if he let her walk out of his life now, he’d regret it. Somehow he needed to persuade her to trust him. And to spend time with him so they could get to know each other.
Max had said he’d known the instant he’d met Rachel that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Orlando had scoffed, saying it was just lust and luckily he’d found friendship as well. But now he wasn’t so sure. Was it possible to fall in love with someone at first sight? Did ‘The One’ exist? Was this odd feeling love? And was Eleanor Forrest the one he’d been waiting for?
He needed to know.
Needed to keep her with him.
‘Eleanor, I know I’m a stranger, but you’re a fellow doctor and you’ve helped save the life of one of my countrymen. Don’t they say in England, one good turn deserves another?’
Eleanor couldn’t help smiling at the old-fashioned phrase. ‘You’ve already bought me coffee and sorted out my luggage for me. I think we’re quits.’
‘Let me put this another way. You could take a taxi, but why spend money you could spend on…’ he waved an impatient hand ‘…oh, good coffee or ice cream or something frivolous to make your time here in Italy fun, when I can give you a lift?’
Lord, it was tempting. But she knew it would be a bad idea. Orlando de Luca might be the most attractive man she’d met in a long while—probably ever, if she thought about it—but that didn’t mean she should act on the attraction. She’d already proved her judgement in men was lousy. Spectacularly lousy. OK, so Jeremy had caught her at an acutely vulnerable moment, but she’d still swallowed every single lie. Not just hook, line and sinker—more like the whole fishing rod. ‘We might not be going the same way.’
‘Then again, we might.’
The man should’ve been a lawyer. He had an answer for everything.
‘So where are you going?’ he asked.
A direct question. One she was reluctant to answer.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Is it all strangers, all men, or just me?’
She frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I make you nervous, Eleanor.’
‘No.’ Actually,
