from Scotland.’ She straightened up.
‘You don’t look like you’re from Scotland,’ he mumbled as he dropped the towel he’d been using to dry himself, revealing the taut abdominal muscles, and pulled the scrub top over his head. ‘You look like a native. And what were you doing in London?’
‘I could be offended by that,’ she said quickly, placing one hand on her hip as she tried to drag her eyes away from his stomach. Was this his natural response? Was he normally so blunt? Or was this an altered response that she should be concerned about? She had no background knowledge on which to base a judgment. Should she just take for granted that he could be quite rude?
He’d paused, half-dressed, and was watching her. Watching the way her eyes were looking at his taut abdomen. She felt the colour flooding into her cheeks. There was no point averting her eyes, she’d been well and truly caught. She could be cheeky, too.
‘Put those away. You’ll give a girl a complex. And they’ll need to go, too.’ She pointed at his muddied underwear and handed him the scrub bottoms, averting her eyes for a few seconds to allow him some privacy. She slid her hand up inside his scrub top to attach the leads to his chest. His brown, muscled chest.
Time to change the subject. ‘My parents were from Trapetto, a fishing village in Sicily. But I was brought up in Scotland. I’m a Glasgow girl through and through.’ She waved her hand. ‘And don’t even try to speak to me in Italian. I’m not fluent at all—I know enough for emergencies and how to order dinner but that’s it.’
‘Didn’t you speak Italian at home?’
His voice brought her back to reality. ‘Rarely. There wasn’t much call for it in Glasgow.’
Her eyelids had lowered, as if this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to get into. Why was that?
Francesca picked up his dirty clothes. ‘I take it you’re okay if I dump these?’
He nodded and shifted on the bed, frowning at his attached leads. ‘So what are you doing here, Francesca?’
She froze, a little shocked by the bluntness of the question. This guy was going to take a bit of getting used to.
She frowned at him, knowing her brow was wrinkled and it wasn’t the most flattering of looks. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
There it was again, that little hint of something—but not quite obvious.
‘I would have thought that was obvious. I’m here working as an ANP. Maybe I should check that head knock of yours again.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘I’m curious what a young, well-qualified nurse like you is doing here.’ His hand swept outwards to the surrounding area.
She felt a little shiver steal down her spine. Nosy parker.
She kept her voice steady. ‘You mean here…’ she spread her arms out and spun round ‘… in this state-of-the-art medical complex, in the middle of the Mediterranean, with a different port every day and a chance to see the world?’
She planted her hands on her hips and looked at him as defiantly as she could. She was stating the obvious. The thing that any website would quote for prospective job-seekers. It was a cop-out and she knew it. But she didn’t like the way he’d asked the question. It was as if he’d already peered deep inside her and knew things she didn’t want anyone else to know.
‘I’m just curious. Your family is in Glasgow. And yet, you’re here…’ His voice tailed off. Almost as if he was contemplating the thought himself.
Something inside her snapped. Were all Italians as old-fashioned as him?
‘My family isn’t in Glasgow any more. Get a life, Gabriel. Isn’t a girl allowed to spread her wings and get a job elsewhere? Maybe I’m trying to connect with my roots in Sicily. Maybe I was just bored in Glasgow. Maybe I want to see the world. Or it could just be that I’m killing time until I get my visa to Australia. I thought cruise ships would be fun. Truth be told, so far I’ve found it all a bit boring.’ The words were out before she’d thought about it. Out before she had a chance to take them back.
She cringed. He was her boss. He was her brand-new boss, who had no idea about her skills, experience and competency level—probably the only things that could be her saving grace right now. How to win friends and influence people. Not.
She pushed the dirty clothes inside a plastic disposal bag, ‘I’ll get rid of these,’ she muttered as she turned to leave.
This was going to be nightmare. This ship was huge. Big enough for two thousand, six hundred passengers and five hundred staff. But this medical centre? Not so big. And the staff worked very closely together. Some days the medical centre felt positively crowded.
And the last thing she needed was to be stuck with some playboy doc. A pain shot through her chest. The last time she’d been distracted by a playboy doc it had had a devastating effect on her family life, causing irreparable damage. She could not allow that to happen again, no matter what the circumstances.
Every part of her body was buzzing. She hadn’t even had a chance to think about what had happened today. She’d resuscitated someone.
Someone who could, potentially, have died if she hadn’t taken those actions.
The thought of dealing with a death again horrified her. It didn’t matter that she was a nurse. Her circumstances had changed. Everything had changed.
Deaths weren’t supposed to happen on cruise ships. Working here was part of her safety net—keeping her away from the aspects of her job she couldn’t deal with any more.
And now him.
On top of everything else.
She leaned back against the wall. There was no two ways about it.
This ship wasn’t big enough for the two of them.
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