by Amy Andrews
Rilla hoped she sounded calm and professional because somewhere deep in her gut she knew that Damien had probably fractured his neck and was a walking time bomb.
She turned back to her patient. ‘We’ll get you into a cubicle. You’re going to need some X-rays.’
Damien started to haul himself out of the chair. ‘Just tell me where.’
Rilla placed an urgent stilling hand on Damien’s arm as her pulse leapt. ‘Collar first.’ She smiled calmly.
A junior nurse appeared with a cervical collar and Rilla utilised her to keep Damien’s neck motionless while she applied it. She held her breath until it was firmly in place.
‘Hell. That’s really uncomfortable.’
Rilla smiled. ‘Good, it’s on properly, then.’ She placed an arm underneath his elbow, indicating for him to come with her.
‘There’s something wrong with my neck, isn’t there?’ Damien asked, resisting her pull.
Rilla looked down into his anxious gaze. She doubted he was even twenty. But his eyes looked intelligent and she knew he didn’t want to be placated. ‘Yes. I think so.’
She saw the panic take hold then and placed her hand over his. ‘Let’s get the tests done and get you seen by the right people first. We have the very best,’ she assured him, smiling with an air of absolute confidence. ‘OK?’
She saw some of the dread recede. One thing Rilla knew for sure, here at the Brisbane General, Damien’s injury couldn’t be in better hands.
Rilla was helping Damien onto a bed when Luca entered the cubicle.
‘What have we got?’ he asked.
Rilla took a deep breath at the sudden jolt through her solar plexus. She hadn’t been prepared for him. Which was stupid. She’d known that consulting with Luca was bound to happen sooner or later. May as well get it out of the way early.
She listed Damien’s symptoms and her treatment to date, proud of her professional detachment. Luca nodded at each salient point but didn’t look at her and she was pleased to be spared the intensity of his black-velvet gaze.
‘What have you been doing to yourself?’ Luca asked. His tone was deliberately light, hiding the alarm at what he felt was almost certainly a potentially catastrophic injury. He glanced at Rilla, seeing her teeth sink betrayingly into her bottom lip, the way they always had when she was deeply concerned. She knew it too.
‘Just woke up with a bit of a sore neck this morning and it’s been getting worse all day.’ Damien shrugged. Or as much as he could with a collar that was applied so tightly it restricted shoulder movement as well.
‘What about last night?’ Luca probed. ‘Yesterday?’
‘Just some footy with my mates at a back-yard barbie last night. It was a bit of a late one. Didn’t get home till after four.’
‘Footy? Did you fall? Get tackled?’ Luca cut straight to the salient point.
Damien frowned. ‘Of course I did. No more than usual, though. You don’t feel anything after a few beers.’
Rilla felt sick. Had Damien been walking around with a fractured neck since last night? She glanced at Luca and could tell by the way his jaw clenched and unclenched that he was also very worried.
‘So you have pain in your neck?’ Luca asked.
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Any numbness, or tingling in your arms or legs?’ Luca persisted.
‘Nope,’ Damien replied.
‘Any difficulties swallowing, coughing or breathing?’
‘None,’ Damien said.
‘OK. Right.’ Luca nodded, relieved to see that there were no gross cord compression symptoms. ‘I’m sending you for an MRI.’ He took his stethoscope from around his neck. ‘Rilla, can you page the neurology team?’
Luca knew the moment she’d left and he felt the tension across his shoulders ease. He’d been acutely aware of her presence—even her lingering perfume interfered with his concentration.
‘Right, let’s get a full neuro assessment.’
‘Now you’re scaring me, Doc.’
Luca pulled up a stool, fairly certain that Damien’s life was about to change significantly. ‘I think you may have damaged your neck. I’m not sure of the severity yet. It may be nothing.’
Rilla watched Luca talking to their patient from the central work station through the partially open curtain as she waited for the neuro team to get back to her. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but she could hear the low rumble of his voice and noticed how he had placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder.
She watched as the frown between Damien’s eyes smoothed out and he actually smiled for the first time since walking through the doors. Luca’s bedside manner had always been second to none. She’d seen his quiet confidence, innate Latin charm and easy smile calm everyone from the most fractious child to the most frightened heart-attack patient. It had been one of the things that had attracted her most.
He’d always been a pleasure to watch in action and not even their complicated history could erase the fact. The phone rang and she answered it, relaying the details of Damien’s case to the neuro registrar.
Rilla re-entered the cubicle, efficiently flicking the curtain shut. ‘They’ll be here shortly,’ she said briskly.
‘Excellent,’ Luca said. He patted Damien’s shoulder. ‘Rilla will get your details and I’ll be back when the neurologist arrives.’
He turned to leave. ‘Well caught,’ he said in a low voice as he passed her on his way out.
Rilla turned back to Damien, smiling to herself. She couldn’t help it. Even after seven years, his praise still made her glow.
Just before her evening meal break Rilla was relieving an exhausted mother of her wheezy eighteen-month-old daughter so she could administer a ventolin nebuliser. The restless infant smelled like soap and sunshine and Rilla’s heart contracted as the little girl snuffled tiredly into her neck, the toddler’s hair brushing against her face.
She hugged the little one close. An overwhelming urge to have a baby of her own washed over her and she absently kissed the toddler’s head. How many babies would she and Luca have had by now?
As if by some extrasensory connection, Luca chose that moment to enter the cubicle and their gazes locked over the child’s head. Was he thinking the same thing? He looked tall and lean and sexy as hell, and her pulse leapt.
‘I thought you left at five.’ She blurted the first thing that came into her head in an effort to banish oestrogen-enriched fantasies.
Luca’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Rilla rocking the fretful child, trying to balance it and hold the misting mask in place as she clucked soothingly.
‘I was just on my way out. The regs looked snowed under.’
Rilla nodded. It had been crazy for the last two hours.
Luca turned to the mother. ‘How’s she doing?’ He smiled, consulting the chart at the end of the trolley.
‘Better, I think. But still wheezy.’
Luca nodded as he placed his stethoscope in his ears and turned his attention to the child. The toddler had a chubby hand on Rilla’s breast, squishing into the buxom roundness beneath Rilla’s shirt, and its cheek against the hollow of her shoulder. She looked so maternal that Luca gripped the stethoscope hard, sucked into a past that never was.
‘Hey, there, sweetie,’ Luca crooned, and rubbed the little one’s back.
The child turned her head towards his voice and Luca smiled at her. ‘It’s OK, it won’t take long,’ he said softly as he lifted her top so he could place the stethoscope against her chest.
The little girl settled a little, seemingly fascinated by Luca, and Rilla wasn’t surprised. She was finding him pretty fascinating herself. It was hard to believe that after seven years’ absence she could look her fill whenever she wanted. Even though it was a rather dangerous indulgence, considering their most recent episode.
She watched him as he fixed his gaze on the child’s back and concentrated on the lung sounds. She waited for him to finish and swapped the child to her other hip
so he could listen to the front.
‘The wheezing is settling,’ Luca said, addressing the anxious mother. ‘We’ll see how it is after a few more nebs.’
The mother smiled her gratitude as her daughter drifted off to sleep in Rilla’s arms and then excused herself, using the moment to escape for a much-needed loo break.
Luca and Rilla were left alone in the cubicle, a drowsy child and all the missed opportunities it represented between them. Rilla rubbed her chin absently along the child’s head, excruciatingly aware of the intimate undercurrent.
Luca’s gaze followed the sweep of her hair tied back in a ponytail, the soft skin of her neck temptingly vulnerable. At another time he might have drawn her close and pressed his lips to it. But that time was long gone.
He roused himself from the clutches of the past, clearing his throat. ‘I actually came to tell you that Damien’s MRI showed he has a fractured C1. It’s stable but he’s going to Theatre to have a Halo fitted. He’ll spend a couple of days on the spinal unit then he should be able to be managed as an outpatient until it’s healed.’
Rilla blinked, dragging herself out of the mire of past emotions. It was good news for Damien and she was pleased to know he’d presented in time. Walking around with an un-diagnosed neck fracture had disaster written all over it.
‘Thank you for letting me know,’ she said quietly.
Luca nodded. ‘No problem.’
Rilla continued to rock the toddler as the neb mask spluttered the last of the medication, hyper-aware of Luca standing watching her.
‘OK, then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Luca said, edging towards the curtain. He flicked it open and halted, turning back to face her. ‘It’s been great working with you today. I’ve missed it.’
Rilla looked at him, startled by his admission. It had been just like old times but this little tête-à-tête was far from collegial. There was a most definite undercurrent. And that just wouldn’t do. ‘Go home, Luca. You’ve been here for twelve hours.’
Her low voice swirled around him and he stared at the flare of heat in her amber gaze for a long moment. She was right. He’d been there way too long. ‘Goodnight.’
Rilla watched the empty space where he’d been for a long moment, annoyed at the loud thump of her heart.
Damn him for coming back.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE next month flew by. Rilla was up to her elbows in collating two lots of research she’d been involved with, staying back most nights and coming in on her days off, shut away in Julia’s office, working on the computer. If she did get the NUM position, she wanted to be on top of everything.
Her nervousness grew as each day passed. Ever since the miscarriage and Luca pulling away from her, she’d thrown herself into work, dedicated her life to her career, and the NUM position had been firmly in her sights.
The odds were in her favour too. She’d acted in the position numerous times, covering for Julia’s annual leave, and had been second-in-charge for five years. She knew the job, the staff and the hospital back to front. But that didn’t mean that a better-qualified outside applicant couldn’t still snatch it from her. She knew they’d interviewed six people for the position over a period of a month.
At least she had plenty to distract her from Luca. He was everywhere and even when she couldn’t see him or hear his laughter filtering around the department, everyone was talking about him.
The new consultant was a huge hit. The registrars and residents loved him and the nurses weren’t far behind. Every female with a pulse in the department, including the cleaner, drooled over his dark Latin looks and sexy accent. He smiled and joked with them all, teaching happily and effortlessly putting everyone at ease. Within a month he’d totally endeared himself.
Rilla kept their dealings strictly professional, as did Luca, but even so it took a supreme effort not to get sucked back into the Luca worship vortex. They’d had their chance and blown it. Nothing could be gained from walking that road again.
She still hadn’t seen the divorce papers and knew she was going to have to raise the matter with him again. The simple truth of the matter was that she didn’t need him to sign them to lodge them. It was symbolic more than anything. His acknowledgement that it was over. A statement that they both knew there was nothing left of them.
After the job, she told herself. As soon as she knew the outcome of the interview, she’d talk to Luca about it. But for now she wanted to concentrate all her good energy and positive vibes on being the successful applicant.
It was a Thursday afternoon in mid-October when she was called into Julia’s office and given the good news. As of January, she would be the new nurse unit manager of the department of emergency medicine at the Brisbane General.
Rilla was ecstatic, hugging Julia repeatedly. Finally, after years of striving towards her goal, it was hers!
‘Drinks at Barney’s tonight,’ she announced to all and sundry as they passed the central work station. ‘First round on me.’
It felt good to join the regular work crowd at Barney’s for their afternoon drinks. She had forgone the ritual the last few weeks, preferring not to push the boundaries of collegiality with Luca. But today there was much to celebrate. And Rilla couldn’t think of a better way than a couple of hours of shooting the breeze with her colleagues.
Less than an hour later, however, she was feeling quite differently. She’d been perfectly fine and then suddenly she was sitting there, her face aching with the effort of keeping her smile in place while nausea sat like a lead sinker in the pit of her stomach.
She’d had a funny tummy the last few days. Nothing too dire, just a vague queasiness. And she’d been incredibly tired, even in the mornings. But she’d been working like a dog, pushing herself with the research. Maybe she’d just overdone things and become run down?
Her second orange juice sat untouched before her as the fake citrus aroma assaulted her. She was acutely aware of the heavy mix of colognes surrounding her, of the cigarette smoke coming from the slot-machine area, of beer and cooking steaks.
It had been like that at work too, she belatedly realised. She’d found herself hyper-sensitive to the usual mix of aromas that as a nurse she’d previously been immune to—disinfectant, IV antibiotics, concentrated urine, vomit and infected wounds.
A waitress walked past with some cappuccinos and the strong aroma of coffee had her on her feet in an instant.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, hoping she didn’t look as desperate as she felt, quickly making her way to the toilets. She made it just in time, retching and retching until her stomach ached and her head spun.
It took ten minutes for the nausea to subside and the shaking to stop and for her legs to feel they could support her. She rose from the tiled floor, splashed water on her face at the basins and then wearily made her way back to the table. She gathered her bag and made her excuses amidst a chorus of protests and left.
The fresh air felt marvellous on her heated skin as she left Barney’s. Several people pushed past her on their way in and Rilla stumbled and would have fallen had a warm hand under her elbow not prevented it.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she said, closing her eyes as a wave of dizziness followed hot on the heels of a fresh bout of nausea.
She opened them again to find eyes as black as a starless night looking back at her.
‘Rilla?’ Luca’s gaze raked over her. He knew every nuance of every facial expression she possessed. She looked pale and shaken. She was obviously unwell. ‘Are you OK?’ he demanded.
His words were drowned out by the roar of a truck as it thundered past, spewing diesel fumes. The acrid aroma misted Rilla in its cloying cloud and she mewed as she looked around desperately for somewhere to be sick and not disgrace herself in front of the busy evening trade.
An alley ran down beside Barney’s and she wrenched away from Luca, stumbling into the dark recess. She bent over, splaying her legs wide, and retched again, hoping to God that Luca hadn’t fol
lowed. Nothing came up.
‘What’s wrong?’
His Italian shoes appeared in her line of vision and even through her misery she could hear the concern in his voice. She wanted to lean her head against the brick wall and cry.
Rilla felt the nausea subside and righted herself slowly, her hand against the rough brick. She turned and leaned heavily against the wall as her pulse hammered madly through her head.
‘Are you…? Have you drunk too much?’
Had she the energy Rilla would have laughed in his face. She was suddenly bone tired. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ she said wearily. ‘I have to drive.’
Muted neon bled into the soft blanket of twilight and stabbed into the narrow passage, throwing his face into shadow. He looked dark and dangerous. Not someone anyone would want to be stuck with in a rapidly darkening alley.
‘Are you ill?’ he demanded.
Rilla pushed away from the wall and started back down the alley. She felt wretched and all she wanted was her bed. ‘I think I’m coming down with a virus,’ she muttered.
‘Have you seen someone about it?’ he asked, calling after her.
Rilla ignored him, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. If he wanted to talk to her, he could keep up.
‘I said,’ Luca said, catching up to her and snagging her arm, pulling her around and back into the privacy of the alley, ‘have you seen someone about it?’
‘Luca, I’m really tired and—’
The persistent nausea ratcheted up another notch and she put her hand out to lean against the brick wall.
Luca saw her sway and realised she was barely keeping upright. ‘Dio!’ he swore, and swept her up in his arms and strode out of the alley, ignoring her protests. The green man was flashing at the pedestrian crossing and he carried her across the road.
‘Put me down, Luca,’ Rilla admonished as she clung around his neck. People in the street around them were staring and she felt heat rise in her cheeks.
‘You’re not well. I’m taking you home,’ Luca said, holding her tighter as she squirmed.
