‘Not everything can be healed by good nursing, Natasha.’ The bitterness sliced through her own defences and she stretched out her hand and touched his arm.
‘Is that why she rang? To tell you you’ve made her life difficult?’ Anger glowed inside her and suddenly Tasha wished she hadn’t passed him the phone.
She should have screened the call.
‘She rang to order me to see my advisers, who apparently have a plan for, and I quote, “pulling something positive” out of this disastrous mess I’ve made.’ A cynical smile tilted his mouth. ‘Apparently an injured prince may appeal to a certain age group, so she thinks there may be some mileage in media interviews. So that’s my contribution to society—providing entertainment for bored housewives.’
‘Next time I’m going to tell her you’re asleep and can’t be disturbed.’ Part of her wondered why she felt the urge to rush to his defence and clearly he was asking himself the same question because he stared at her for a long moment. The hardness left his eyes and he lifted a hand and touched her face. The attraction flickered between them, live and dangerous.
Tasha tried to speak, tried to move, but her body seemed to have shut down and Alessandro gave a low groan, slid his hand behind her head and brought her mouth down on his in a hungry, explosive kiss.
Heat burst through her. Last time she’d kissed him it had been a childish experiment, a desperate desire to grow up fast. There was nothing experimental about this kiss. It was hot and sexual and the explosion of desire gripped her so fiercely that she moaned against his seeking mouth and dug her fingers in the front of his shirt.
It was only as she felt him flinch that she realised how much she must be hurting him. The backs of her fingers were pressed against his bruised chest and she’d leaned into him, instinctively drawing herself closer to his hard body. Closer to heartbreak.
‘Damn you—no.’ Angry with herself, and even more angry with him, she pulled back quickly. ‘I didn’t want you to do that. I came out here to give you sympathy and support.’
‘I don’t want sympathy or support. I want you.’ He spoke with the assurance and conviction of someone who’d never been turned down by a woman in his life, and she started to shake.
‘Don’t start that, Alessandro.’ She virtually spat the words. ‘Don’t start all that smooth talk, seduction thing—I’m not interested.’
‘Tasha—’
‘Age may have given you wider shoulders and longer legs but it obviously hasn’t given you a conscience. Do you honestly think I’d put myself through that a second time? Do you think I’m that much of a masochist?’ Her voice rose and she saw his dark brows rise in astonishment. ‘I’m not interested, Alessandro. I don’t want you to kiss me, I don’t want you to touch me—’ She broke off, aware that her voice was shaking as much as the rest of her. And he was looking at her as if she’d gone mad. Oh, God, she was overreacting. She should have laughed it off. Or said she didn’t feel anything. Or... Her hands raised, she backed away. ‘Coming here was such a mistake. I should have said no when Josh asked me. I should have...’ She breathed deeply, struggling for control. ‘I should have said no.’
‘Tasha, wait a minute.’ He reached for her but she slapped his hand away and he was forced to grab the rail to regain his balance.
It was a measure of her dedication as a doctor that she made sure he was stable before she walked away.
‘Touch me again and I’ll break your other leg.’ She turned and stalked out off the terrace, her heart crashing against her ribs and terror in her heart.
TASHA sat on the bed, her knees drawn up against her chest like a child protecting herself. Her heart was pounding with reaction to the adrenaline surging around her body. The doctor in her recognised the physiological process.
Fight or flight.
The kiss licked like fire through her body, as if that one single touch had set in motion something that couldn’t be stopped. She rubbed her hands down her legs, trying to kill the sensations that engulfed her. Why had she let him do that? Why?
It wasn’t as if she was short on self-discipline. She could say no to chocolate, she’d never been drunk in her life and she’d worked relentlessly to achieve the highest grades possible in her exams. So why couldn’t she apply that same single-minded focus to staying detached from Alessandro?
Furious with herself, Tasha thumped her fist on the mattress.
There was something about him that just drew her in. She felt out of her control and that part of it infuriated her more than anything.
Impulse was her greatest fault, she thought savagely. She was a scientist, wasn’t she? Impulse shouldn’t be part of her make-up, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself acting on her instincts. First she’d resigned from a job she loved and now she was getting herself involved with the last man in the world any woman in her right mind would get involved with.
So what was she supposed to do next?
She couldn’t carry on nursing him, could she? She didn’t trust herself.
She was going to have to leave.
She was going to have to make some excuse and—
The door slammed open with a violence that sent it crashing into the wall. Alessandro stood there, his eyes dark as a storm, one hand against the doorframe to balance himself. ‘What the hell is going on, Tash? If you feel like that, why did you agree to help me?’
‘Get out!’ She wasn’t ready to face him. Didn’t trust herself to keep him at a distance.
‘I’m not going anywhere. Not until we’ve had an honest conversation.’
‘Honest? What do you know about honest?’ It was a struggle to keep her voice even. ‘One minute you—you—make a woman feel as though she’s the only female alive in the world and then the next minute you—’
‘The next minute I...?’
‘Just forget it. I don’t know why we’re even talking about this. I don’t want to talk about this.’
‘We’re talking about it because it’s obviously on your mind. And it seems to have been on your mind for a long time.’ He hobbled into the room, his jaw clenched against the pain, his muscles pumped up and hard. ‘That first day in the hospital, I asked you if the past was going to be a problem and you said—’
‘I know what I said.’ Her voice rose. ‘I don’t need you to repeat it.’
His gaze was steady on hers. ‘If you hate me that much, why did you agree to help me?’
‘I don’t hate you. I don’t have any feelings for you whatsoever.’ She threw out the words, knowing them to be untrue. But she badly wanted them to be true. She badly wanted to have no feelings for him. In fact, it was essential for her emotional well-being that she had no feelings for him.
‘Which
