by Amy Andrews
Rilla took some deep steadying breaths, trying to dispel the emotion she knew would make her voice husky. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?’
Luca shrugged. ‘I don’t guess we did do a whole lot of talking the first time around.’
No, they hadn’t. Their love had spiralled out of control around them, catching them up in a whirlwind of lust and desire, whipping all notions of a sensible courtship into the stratosphere. All they’d wanted had been to be together.
‘Not really. We never really discussed having children, did we?’ she ventured.
Luca shrugged. He couldn’t recall if they had. He’d always been too interested in the process that made babies. They both had, if he recalled correctly. And yet they’d got married and hadn’t ever discussed something as important as a family? What fools they’d been.
She was excruciatingly conscious of him beside her, not moving, staring at the Christmas tree, wrapping a scrap of tinsel around his hand.
‘Just this to go,’ she said, holding up the angel. ‘Unless you want me to get up on a chair…’
Luca whipped the angel from her and smiled. ‘Very funny.’
He placed it on top and then the tree was complete. Rilla switched out the main lights and flicked on the tree lights. The colourful display sent rainbows around the room, glowing on the walls as it reflected off red tinsel and snowflakes.
She sat back on the sofa and snuggled into the leather, feasting her eyes on the beauty, letting the music and the tree weave their Christmas magic.
‘Come and look, Luca.’ She sat, patting the lounge beside her. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
Luca nodded, sitting reluctantly beside her. As far as he was concerned, her beauty outshone the tree by far. He didn’t dare look at her—in fact, he daren’t even breathe. He could already smell her shampoo.
Eight years ago he’d have placed his hand on her thigh, tucked her head beneath his chin, stroked his finger down her bare arm. Eight years ago he’d have had her naked and under him in moments. He stood abruptly, removing himself from the exquisite torture of her nearness.
Rilla looked up, surprised at his hasty withdrawal. It had been cosy, watching the tree with him. Obviously the multi-trauma had been a lot worse than he was letting on.
‘Sit, Luca,’ she murmured, reaching for his arm. As someone who had worked side by side with Luca during too many awful traumas, she understood his state of mind. ‘I’ll get you another beer.’
Luca sat, grateful she’d moved out of his orbit and he could breathe again. He shut his eyes and relaxed back into the soft cushions. It had been a long day and talking about his parents, on top of two dead teenagers and Rilla in her underwear, had taken its toll.
Rilla lingered in the doorway, her gaze drawn to Luca. His shirt was untucked and he’d loosened the top buttons of his shirt. He looked tired and defeated and it roused all her female instincts. She wanted nothing more than to go and rub his shoulders. Help him out of his shirt. Press kisses to his chest. See his beautiful lips soften into that knowing sexy smile.
Help! Why did she still want him so much?
‘Here,’ she said quietly, holding the bottle out to him, watching as his eyes cracked open and he roused himself to take it.
She sat beside him again, her gaze returning to the tree. She sighed contentedly. This was great. Maybe this whole crazy idea of Luca’s really could work.
Luca couldn’t resist looking down at her. He could see the coloured lights reflected in her amber eyes, gilding them in different shades of gold. She looked up at him and smiled and her lips were soft and moist and he almost groaned he wanted to kiss her so badly.
Rilla’s lips tingled as his gaze lingered and she couldn’t look away. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘for doing the tree with me.’ And on sheer impulse she leaned forward and dropped a brief kiss against his mouth.
Luca pulled back quickly, as if she’d bitten him, and Rilla couldn’t stop the shaft of disappointment piercing the warm glow inside. ‘Oh, sorry…Old habits…’
Luca regarded her from between lowered lids as he sought to get control of the heat that coursed through his body. He watched her mouth as she said something else and he muttered an oath as he cupped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her lips back to his.
Dio! He didn’t want this but her lips felt perfect beneath his and as he explored her mouth with his tongue, she tasted so good he never wanted to stop. Her moan went straight to his groin and he cupped her face as he deepened the kiss, pushing her back into the sofa.
He could hear her tremulous breathing as she fought to match his ardour and he growled low in his throat as she gripped the front of his shirt, knowing that he was making her breathless and needy. She whimpered as he laved her lips with long slow strokes from his tongue and he felt his control completely snap when she let out a frustrated ‘Luca.’
His hand swept down her side, lingering at the swell of her breast and gripping her hip. A surge of possession swamped him, knowing their child lay nestled nearby, and he pulled her hard against him.
Her sharp gasp was like a bucket of cold water. Dio! She was pregnant with his child and he was yanking her around like a rag doll! ‘What?’ Luca demanded, pulling away, his eyes roving over her body, inspecting her. ‘Did I hurt you?’
Rilla lay dazed, desperately groping around for her scattered thoughts. ‘No, of course not,’ she said, half sitting, her body aching with desire so rampant she wanted to drag him back down again, but she could tell as she watched him get up from the couch that the moment had passed. ‘It was…I was…caught up in the moment…I’m fine.’
Luca ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Rilla was lying all rumpled against the sofa and he needed to get out of the room—now. How could he have lost control so easily? ‘I’m sorry. That won’t happen again,’ he muttered.
Oh, God, she hoped not. ‘I’m fine, Luca,’ she repeated.
He braved a look at her and wished he hadn’t. God help him, he wanted to drag her to his room. By her hair, if necessary, although the way she was looking at him he doubted whether she’d fight him. ‘Goodnight.’ He turned and stalked from the room.
Rilla fell back against the couch, still trying to normalise her breathing, the ache between her legs unbearable.
She glared after him, looking at nothing but empty space.
Come back and finish what you started, damn it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY both pretended the kiss hadn’t happened and things settled back into a routine. They’d go to sleep in their separate rooms, he’d join her in the bathroom as she threw up each morning and then make her dry toast and tea for breakfast. They went to work. And so it went on.
And before Rilla knew it, two weeks had sped by and she was fourteen weeks pregnant and feeling more and more confident. The pregnancy was progressing well and the morning sickness was showing signs of abating.
She pulled her car into a parking space at the General in time for her late shift and hummed all the way to the staffroom. A small Christmas tree, about a third of the size of the one in the waiting room, stood in the corner. It was laden with ‘secret Santa’ presents, and Rilla smiled as she added hers to the large pile on the floor under the tree.
She’d drawn Julia’s name and had found an exquisite hand-blown glass bauble at the Southbank Christmas markets. Rilla had spent way more than the requisite ten dollars but she hadn’t been able to resist it. Julia was a dear friend and a fantastic boss who hadn’t blinked when Rilla’s unexpected pregnancy had thrown a spanner in the works. She deserved a little something extra. And it was Christmas!
She hunted around the tree, unable to resist looking for her own present, locating it right down the bottom. She puzzled over the handwriting and had a good feel of the soft package, feeling a little thrill of excitement. God, she loved Christmas. And this one with Luca back in her life and the baby was extra-special.
‘Hah! Caught you,’ Julia
crowed as she bustled into the staffroom.
‘Guilty,’ Rilla grinned, replacing her present. ‘I was just having a feel.’
‘What are you and Luca doing on Christmas Day?’
‘We’re going to Mum and Dad’s for lunch. Everyone will be there. Even David and his fiancée.’
‘Oh, it’s great that David’s going to be joining you all. Beth must be so happy, having both her kids together this year. Especially after the fright with Bridie. Hope he doesn’t find the Winters clan too full on.’
Rilla laughed. ‘We can be a bit over the top. Especially at Christmas. I think he’s getting used to us and I’m pretty sure Beth’s warned him.’
Julia smiled. ‘Come on, then, I’ll give you a quick handover.’
‘Hang on,’ Rilla stalled, giving her present one last feel.
‘You’re incorrigible.’ Julia laughed, shaking her head.
Julia was right, she was incorrigible. But nothing could dampen her Christmas spirits. Too many Christmases the last seven years had reminded her of what she hadn’t had any more and this year things finally felt right.
All the patients got a special Christmas greeting and an extra hundred watts in her smile. Sitting in an emergency department was never fun but was even less so at Christmas, so Rilla went all out to make their time as jolly as she could.
She saw Luca quite a bit as she hummed her way through her shift. He laughed at her elf hat and her brooch that lit up and played ‘Jingle Bells’ whenever anyone touched it.
Seven o’clock came round and miraculously the workload was bearable and Rilla got to witness one of her favourite events. Santa’s visit. Every Christmas, Norman, one of the orderlies, dressed up as Santa and went ho-ho-ho-ing around all the ward areas. He always seemed to find a willing sidekick to dress as an elf and they gave out sweets and balloons as they spread their Christmas cheer.
Rilla loved the tradition. She loved watching the solemn faces in the waiting room light up, if even for a few seconds. Several children sat with anxious parents and their faces were pictures as the man in the red costume and his elf spared them some time.
He passed by Rilla, who was grinning madly at the spectacle from the triage desk.
‘Ho, ho, ho, Sister Winters, and a merry Christmas to you,’ Norman said, giving her a wink as he stopped to chat. ‘Have you been naughty or have you been nice?’
Rilla laughed. ‘Nice, of course.’
‘Hmm, perhaps I should be asking your husband that. What do you reckon, Doc?’
Rilla turned to see Luca approaching.
‘She’s had her moments,’ Luca drawled. Trying hard to make things work—nice. Walking around in next to nothing at the flat—naughty. Kissing him—very, very naughty.
‘I think Dr Romano is telling lies, Santa. A bundle of sticks for him on Christmas morning,’ Rilla said, ignoring Luca and how devastatingly handsome he looked in his business shirt, a stethoscope decorated with tinsel slung around his neck and a teasing smile hovering on his beautiful mouth.
‘Oh, dear, Doc,’ Norman laughed, ‘think you blew that. And will there be something special in your stocking, Sister Winters?’
Rilla smiled. ‘I have all I want,’ she said, her hand covering her abdomen.
‘Well, well, must get on,’ Norman said with a grin. ‘Come on, Elf,’ he bellowed, and rang his sleigh bells. ‘The orthopaedic ward next.’
Luca and Rilla watched them go, the tinkle of bells resonating long after the red suit and green elf hat had disappeared from sight. Luca looked down at Rilla, her hand still placed protectively on her stomach. Her hair was tied back with a piece of tinsel and bits had escaped to fall around her face. Her cheeks glowed and her eyes danced and a smile played across her mouth. She looked like a kid let loose in a sweet shop.
‘What?’ Rilla asked, looking up into his intense black gaze, conscious that her voice was suddenly husky.
‘Nothing.’ Luca shook his head slightly. ‘You just…you look beautiful tonight.’
Rilla felt her stomach lurch. When he looked at her like that, she felt beautiful.
‘Bat-phone’s just rung. Ambulance Control says boating accident out on the bay,’ Emily said, bustling towards them, unaware she was interrupting their moment. ‘First ambulance ETA ten minutes. Patient one, compound fractured tib and fib and major leg laceration from the propeller, mild hypothermia.’
Emily read rapidly from a piece of paper. ‘They’re just loading patient two at the scene. Critical. Near-drowning. Hypothermic. Uncertain downtime. Managed to get a rhythm.’
‘Thanks, Ems,’ Rilla said, removing her elf hat, her brow furrowing as her mind worked out what they’d need, anticipating any complications. ‘I’ll head out to Resus.’
Luca joined her at the ambulance doors a few minutes later as the siren wailed ever closer. She smiled at him, feeling jittery as the adrenaline kicked in. They snapped on gloves as the ambulance pulled to a hasty stop.
Rilla greeted the paramedic who leapt out of the vehicle and stood back while he opened the rear doors. A blanket-swathed, elderly man sat on the trolley. He hastily pulled off his oxygen mask and grabbed Rilla’s hand as the trolley was unloaded and she introduced herself.
‘My wife. Have you heard anything about my wife? I couldn’t find her…I tried…I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to her.’
The man looked frantic. He was ashen-faced and his fingers were cold, and he clutched Rilla’s hand as if he could influence the news the harder he held on. Rilla’s heart went out to him and she flicked a glance at Luca. This is what real love was. A real marriage.
She remembered feeling that way about Luca in the beginning. That if anything ever happened to him, she would die. But he’d gone away and she was still here to tell the tale. What they had now seemed preferable to Stan’s gut-wrenching panic.
Rilla smiled at her patient and placed the mask back on his face. ‘Stan, let’s get you inside and get your leg seen to, and I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything, OK?’
Rilla walked alongside the trolley as Luca assisted the paramedic to push it inside. They had Stan settled on a hospital gurney within a minute and Rilla listened to the handover from the paramedic as she hooked her patient up to the monitor, placed a blood-pressure cuff around his arm and took a tympanic temperature.
‘What have we got?’ Luca asked, turning to her as the paramedic left.
‘BP one hundred and fifty over ninety-five. Temp thirty-five.’
Luca nodded. ‘Let’s get some warmed Hartman’s into him.’ The paramedics had already inserted two large-bore cannulae. ‘Some warm blankets too. How’s the leg, Stan?’
Stan pulled his oxygen mask off. ‘It’s fine. Have you heard anything more about my wife? Please…we’ve been married for fifty years.’
Luca felt his gut clench as he watched Rilla replace the oxygen mask. Fifty years? He and Rilla hadn’t made it past three months. The older man’s desperation was palpable. ‘I just need to do a couple of things here with you first then I’ll go and check.’
The paramedics had bandaged Stan’s lower leg and then supported it in an air splint. Rilla passed Luca a pair of scissors and he cut through the dressing. Stan’s leg was far from fine. Both the smashed bones were visible through a very deep laceration that extended from his shin to his calf, splitting the bulky muscle wide open.
The wound was oozing slightly but Stan had obviously been lucky enough not to have severed any major arteries or he would have bled to death in the water.
Rilla screwed up her nose at the mangled-looking leg. ‘Is it hurting, Stan?’ It had to be.
Stan just shook his head, his shoulders shaking as muted sobs escaped his lips. Rilla put her hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘It looks like it must hurt very badly.’
Stan pushed the mask aside. ‘Not as much as it hurts in here.’ The older man tapped his chest.
‘You have chest pain?’ Luca asked, his brows drawing together.<
br />
‘No, no, no,’ Stan muttered. ‘Are you married, Doc? Sister?’
Luca nodded. ‘To each other, actually.’
Rilla glanced at Luca, surprised by this personal admission to a patient.
‘Then you know,’ Stan said, patting Rilla’s hand. ‘I don’t care about my leg. I only care about my Irene.’
Luca glanced at Rilla. He wasn’t sure they knew much about anything. She returned his look and he could tell she felt just as confused. How would he feel if he thought she’d drowned?
Frantic.
Of course he’d be frantic. She was the mother of his child. He dragged his gaze away from hers with difficulty.
‘Well, I care about your leg, Stan, so we’ll need an X-ray and an orthopaedic consult. Some morphine, too.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Rilla said. ‘I’ll also find out an ETA on Irene.’
‘Bless you,’ Stan said from behind his mask.
Rilla was glad to escape for a moment. Being around Stan and witnessing his obvious devotion to his wife was cutting a little too close to the bone for her. It made what she and Luca had seem hollow, despite their very sensible reasoning.
By the time the second ambulance pulled up at the General twenty minutes later, Stan had been given something for his pain and, thanks to five warm blankets and warmed IV fluids, his temperature was almost back to normal. He fretted as he was wheeled to X-Ray about missing his wife’s arrival.
Rilla, for one, was pleased he was away. Irene was not in good shape.
‘Just lost her output again.’ A paramedic was balancing on the trolley, straddling the patient and administering chest compressions as the other one pushed the trolley and hand-bagged the already intubated patient.
They stopped CPR briefly as Irene was transferred to a hospital gurney. ‘Rilla, take over chest compressions,’ Luca ordered as he took charge of the airway.
