a fascinating topic and many orphanages could benefit. One I know a lot of health professionals will be keen to hear. Including...” Harriet watched the older doctor’s eyes scan the ward as if he’d misplaced something. Or, rather, someone.
Their eyes simultaneously lit on the man who’d just set the swinging double doors at the end of the ward in motion as if cued to make a dramatic entrance.
He was tall, ebony-haired and had an easygoing grace about him. Not movie-star-ish. More...cowboy...or fighter pilot. Not a drop of vanity about him. But, sweet cherry pies, did that man ever exude confidence. Hair long enough to see it had a sexy wavy thing going on. Was that a bit of a five o’clock shadow? And...mmm...he didn’t just wear clothes, he showed them off. Or did they show him off? Either way, the effect...oh, the effect! Trousers just skimming along his trim hipline. Long legs you could take a zip line ride on if you were into that sort of thing. Shoulders filling out his open-at-the-neck shirt. Not too much. But enough to know that if he lifted a child in his arms there would be some biceps action. Not that she’d imagined him doing that or anything.
Maybe once or twice?
The first time she had seen him—ensuring, of course, she’d been safely tucked behind the curtained confines of a patient’s cubicle—her eyes had nearly popped out of her head. Pretty much each time she’d seen him after that? No change.
Raw, unadulterated lust.
There was no other description for it. She had the hots for this man and hiding each time she saw him coming had been her only salvation. Not that she was five or anything. She was just acutely tuned into the child within. It helped with her work. Besides, behaving like a grown-up was highly overrated. Particularly if survival was a factor.
For her entire life, Harriet had been “the sensible twin”, the “shy twin”, the “wallflower twin” and for about as long as she could remember she’d always happily agreed. Her twin sister, Claudia—pronounced like a beautiful, fluffy cloud versus a gray, dull clod—was about as vivacious, gorgeous, gutsy and go-get-’em as a girl could get... And Harriet? Polar opposites was a pretty good starting place.
As the doors phwapped shut, a surge of energy shot through her so powerfully there was no doubt she would always remember this instant in time. Another daydream to tuck away for the years ahead when Dr. Torres was safely back in his homeland.
The dozen or so patients between them faded into soft focus, their chatter and laughter muted by the thump of her heartbeat ascending to her ears. Everything slowed down, sensations quadrupled and her very breath caught in her throat then released in a sigh as her gaze linked with his incredibly green eyes.
Was that heat she felt flickering away below her waist?
Heat?
How inopportune. And... What were those?
Tingles?
Harriet Monticello didn’t get tingles, for goodness’ sake! And now she was being tickled with flickering tingles of heat? What was going on?
The closer he got to them, the more she felt everything inside her shift and twist and lift... Good grief!
It wasn’t like she was a complete novice in the world of romance. There’d been a handful of boyfriends over the years. Sort of. All of whom she’d parted from amicably. No point in letting them know they hadn’t really baked her cake. But responding to a virtual stranger on such a primal level? Brand spanking new.
Was this what blossoming was? At a few months shy of thirty, she was a bit late for that, wasn’t she? Love at first sight? Or just pure, undiluted desire?
Each microscopic change in her body was wholly in response to him. And utterly involuntary.
He was taller than her, which wasn’t difficult—her being the “petite” one to her sister’s “statuesque beauty”. As he neared, Harriet’s chin tipped upwards, opening up the length of her throat in a way that almost felt suggestive. Her shoulder blades shimmied down her back as her shoulders gave a little wiggle to better present themselves. As if such a thing were possible in a staff dress. Sure, it had a clingy cheongsam cut, but it was, at the end of the day, a uniform.
She felt her breasts pressing against the well-worn cotton of the snap-fronted dress, and for the tiniest of moments wondered what it would feel like if Matteo were to trace a finger along the diamond shaped neckline then begin, one by one, to pop open each of the snaps. Would his fingers be rough or smooth? How would it feel if he were to draw one of his hands across her belly and begin to explore elsewhere? Would she touch him back? Or, for the very first time, luxuriate in letting herself be caressed before seeing to her lover’s needs? Would his unruly black hair feel as silky as it looked? Would he moan if she scratched his back in an untamed moment of desire? Or call out mi corazon! Or whatever hot Latin doctors called out in a moment of passion.
The roar of blood in her ears shot up a few decibels.
When he arrived in front of them—a smile playing across his full lips—a heated flush flashed across her cheeks. Could he read minds as well? Anyone with eyes so lusciously green surely had access to the deeper reaches of a woman’s soul.
Er... Get a grip!
Harriet silently tsked at herself. Too many romance novels during the overnight shift. Nevertheless, she did a quick check to see if he really did have thick, dark eyelashes. The final dab of icing on a very tasty-looking cake.
Yup! Of course he did.
“Matteo! You found us. I’m so pleased.” Dr. Bailey reached out to shake his hand.
She watched as Matteo—Matteo!—extended his long, lovely fingers with sun-bleached hairs, not too thick, running along the length of his forearm, and shook hands with her boss. They turned to her, an expectant look in Matteo’s eyes, which was when Harriet realized the entire time he’d been walking towards them in slow motion she’d been wiping her disintegrated biscuit into the fabric of her dress right...over...her breast. Classy.
Cheeks properly on fire now, she stuffed her hands into the front patch pockets of her dress, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in a lame attempt to regroup.
“And if I’m not mistaken,” she heard Dr. Bailey continue, either oblivious to or trying to cover for her gaffe, “this young woman here is the reason you’ve come along to see us!”
Harriet’s eyes popped open to take an involuntary glance over each of her shoulders. Had one of their colleagues arrived without her knowing? She thought she’d left the rest of the nurses deep in discussion over how to rearrange the supplies cupboard.
Nope. Still just her. All alone with... Matteo...and, of course, Dr. Bailey, who was now looking at her with a particularly bemused expression. Maybe she should shut her mouth. Gape-jawed wasn’t really her look.
“This is Sister Monticello?”
Oh, sweet wonders of the universe. He had a scrummy accent to boot. Of course he did! The man was Argentinian. What did she expect? Cut-glass British? Even so... It was all sexy and smoky. Yum.
She was pretty sure they didn’t make men this—this male over here on the sceptered isle. Or if they did, they were already taken and hidden away by their lucky wives and girlfriends. Too bad she’d all but shelved dreams of having a family of her own... Stop dreaming! She adjusted her gaze,
