She teetered then toppled, her face heading directly for the floor.
‘Hey! Watch out!’ He made a grab for Sam’s arm, catching her just before she made contact with the floor. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You ignorant little gits.’ He stood Sam back on her feet and turned to the nearest guy, who had an indignant look on his face, and gave him a shove that sent him flying into his pack of friends. ‘How do you like it?’
He could feel the blood pumping through him, his temper flaring easily and his fingers clenching into fists. ‘Who’s next?’
The guys looked at one another, obviously contemplating whether to take him up on his offer or not. But Sam positioned herself between them all.
‘Mitchell, stop it. I’m fine. Don’t cause a scene.’
He was barely listening, still focused on the group of guys. ‘I don’t care about causing a scene. I care about people treating you as if you’re not even there.’
One of the guys straightened himself and for a second it looked as if he was going to take Mitchell up on his offer. Instead, he offered a mumbled apology to Sam for knocking her over and moved away.
Just as quickly as the flare-up had started, it was snuffed out. Sam was still standing in front of him, eyes wide and slightly horrified.
He swallowed. Should he be embarrassed? Because he wasn’t, not at all.
‘Where were we?’ He was starting to feel a little calmer.
‘Breakfast,’ she muttered, picking up her tray and pushing it along the line.
He picked up some wholegrain bread and put it in the nearby toaster, grabbing a handful of low-fat spread. He watched as she hesitated over the cheese and ham then selected a croissant with some butter and jam. They reached the part where the local barista was standing. ‘Sacher melange.’ He nodded.
‘What’s that?’ Sam asked as she pulled her woolly hat from her head, releasing her curls. Pretty as a picture. She was obviously calming down a little with him now. Trying to get things back onto an even keel.
‘It’s hot black coffee, foamed milk, topped with whipped cream. Want some?’
She sighed. ‘We really need to talk about your dietary choices, Mr Brody.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And a few other things.’
‘Forget it. The wholemeal toast cancels everything else out.’ He folded his arms. ‘And you don’t get to advise on anything other than the diabetes.’
‘Is that the way you work?’
‘That’s exactly the way I work.’ He took his steaming cup from the server. ‘Danke schoen. What do you want?’
‘I want a patient who’ll take responsibility for his disease and be a grown-up about it.’ The words were like a sucker punch. Just when he thought they might start being civil to each other she was reminding him exactly why she was there. He almost bit his lip to stop himself saying exactly what he wanted. ‘Hey.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t hold back.’
She had no idea the impact all this was having on him.
When he’d started to feel unwell, all he’d been able to focus on had been the fatigue and weight loss. He’d convinced himself that he was going to be diagnosed with the same condition his brother had as a child—acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. He’d ignored the raging thirst and crazy appetite. He’d ignored the fact he didn’t have obvious bruising. He’d only focused on the familiar. And it had filled him with fear and dread.
It had also stopped him from visiting the doctor until very late.
Diabetes should have been a diagnosis that filled him with relief. But for some strange reason it just didn’t.
The thought that this disease—this...condition—had caused him to lose part of his evening was more than a little disturbing. His brain had been on overdrive in the early hours while he’d imagined other potential situations and their outcomes if something like that happened again.
He was no angel. The press he’d had was testament to that. But whatever he’d done in the past—and all the related consequences—had been outcomes of his actions. Things he’d chosen to do. Sure, on occasion there might have been a little alcohol or bad temper involved, but that didn’t matter. He’d still been able to make a decision.
Last night had been nothing like that. Last night was a few fuzzy memories then a big black gaping hole. The thought of not being in control was playing nearly as much havoc with his senses as being around his new nurse.
She was talking about being a grown-up. Right now he wanted to play nursery games. Right now he wanted to stick his head in the sand and pretend he was an ostrich.
He had responsibilities she knew nothing about.
He glanced sideways. A small smile had started to creep across her face. She’d obviously realised he was ignoring her barbed comment.
Her stomach rumbled loudly and she laughed, squinting up at the menu on the wall written in German. She shrugged. ‘Well, it’s all double Dutch to me. I’ll have the hot chocolate, thanks.’
She really was cute when she smiled. He was trying to see a way forward. Maybe he should try and win her around with his charm? The thought started to play around in his brain. He smiled, his eyebrows raised. ‘With whipped cream?’
‘Is there any other way?’
He grinned. ‘Why, Ms Lewis, I think we need to discuss your dietary choices too.’ He decided to move in for the kill. ‘Have you ever been to Innsbruck before?’
‘I’ve never been to Austria before. What kind of things are there to see around here?’ She waved her hand around and laughed. ‘Apart from the obvious.’
‘There’s loads to do around here. There’s a zoo at the foot of the mountain. Did you see it? It’s the highest zoo in Europe. And Christmas is really the best time of year to be here. There’s a gorgeous Christmas tree in front of the Golden Roof, with a Christmas market in the surrounding square.’ He couldn’t hide the affection in his voice for the place that he loved. It was a whole lot easier to talk about this place than anything else.
She turned to face him again. ‘A golden roof? On a house?’
‘I’ll take you there later. I’ll explain then.’
She looked down through the glass and pointed at the houses on the edges of the city. ‘I love the coloured houses. They look like sweeties. And I love the style of all the buildings. It’s so atmospheric here.’ She looked over in the other direction and pointed at the tall, distant silver and blue glass structure. ‘And what’s that? It’s like something from the space age. It’s like being in two different time zones here.’
‘Ah, that’s Bergisel, the ski jump. It was built in 2002. There are lots of ski and snowboarding competitions held there.’ He gave her a wink. ‘They’ve even got a panoramic restaurant too.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘But I prefer this one.’
There it was again. That little flicker of something. He just didn’t know what.
She wasn’t girlfriend material. She was his nurse. He just couldn’t quite equate this girl with a twinkle in her eye to the Dragon Lady in the hospital. It was hard for him to put people into boxes—that they should be just one thing.
She was watching a snowboarder moving more quickly than a speeding car, weaving his way down the mountain with skill and expertise. But she was frowning. He could almost picture her brain computing all the possible injuries. There was no love for the sport on her face.
‘Do you board?’ he asked.
‘Not in this lifetime,’ she muttered, and gave a little shudder. She hadn’t even realised she’d answered.
His smile grew wider. He’d bet if he put Samantha Lewis on a snowboard or pair of skis she’d spend most of her time face-planting in the snow. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but for the moment he was inclined to go with the flow. It could be fun.
He settled the bill while they waited for her order then carried the tray over to a nearby table th
at looked out over the spectacular view. ‘There’s a terrace outside. It’s still a little cold right now, but around lunchtime lots of people will be sitting out there, eating their sandwiches.’
Someone walked past with a huge pile of pastries and chocolate cake on their tray. Samantha shook her head, shuddered and squeezed her eyes closed. ‘It’s eight in the morning. How can they eat those?’
The smell of hot chocolate was drifting all around her and as she bent over the steam tickled her nose. She pulled out the monitor from her pocket and put it on the table.
‘Check your blood glucose before you start eating.’
He stared at it on the table between them—like a stand-off. It only took one deep breath to make up his mind. One sharp inhalation of the crisp new snow and the fresh smell of the pine and larch trees surrounding the area made him realise he wanted this over and done with.
‘Bossy boots.’
‘Says the man who had a monster-sized temper tantrum first thing this morning, and then again here.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘Don’t push me, Mitchell. Last time I saw one of those I was dealing with a three-year-old.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘Who won?’
‘You have to ask?’
‘I guess not.’
* * *
Yip. The rock star was going to be a monster-sized problem. And in a way it annoyed the life out of her. She hadn’t been joking when she’d called him on his temper tantrum. How come it seemed okay to tell kids when behaviour was inappropriate but not adults? Particularly adults who were paying your giant wage.
A wave of emotions started simmering to the surface. She’d phoned her mum before she’d come up the mountain this morning. She’d sounded great—so happy with the nursing-home staff and the care she was receiving. It was just the reminder she needed as to why she was doing this.
The home before had been awful. The staff hadn’t been bad, there just hadn’t been enough of them, meaning the standard of care had been low. Hell would freeze over before she let her mother go back there.
As for Mitch? She probably wasn’t handling him as well as she could, but at least for now he was doing as he was told.
It took him less than thirty seconds to check his blood sugar. Five. His stomach grumbled again. ‘I’d planned on going back down the piste and finishing that run. I would have come back for something to eat then.’
She pulled her gloves off and reached across the table, her hand touching his. It surprised her how warm his skin was. ‘You need to eat. Any lower than that and you would start to hypo again. Skiing obviously burns off a lot of energy. Finishing the run and then getting food might have been too late.’ She let her words hang in the air as he buttered his toast and started eating.
His eyes were fixed on something on the horizon now and she could tell he was in a bad mood. But that was too bad. Mitchell needed her there. He needed constant reminders that he couldn’t just forget about his diabetes. There was no reason that he couldn’t continue to ski. He would just have to make sure he had things under control.
His gloves and hat were sitting on the chair next to him, his hair sticking up in every direction but the right one. There was something vaguely familiar about all this. ‘Don’t you advertise hair products?’ she said as she took a sip of the hot chocolate. Hmm. ‘Ooh, this is fantastic. It definitely hits the spot.’
He ran his fingers through his mussed-up hair. ‘Yip, and I have about a million dollars’ worth of products in my garage in LA. Here? I have nothing. Haven’t you heard grunge is in?’
She laughed. His eyes met hers again. There was something else there. A flicker of something she hadn’t seen before. Worry. Stress. Or maybe the distracted look was just how he was before he started to hypo.
She pushed his coffee towards him. ‘Drink this and finish your toast.’ And to her surprise, he did. The coffee seemed to settle him. The cream and milk, along with the wholemeal toast, would help bring his blood-glucose levels up in a steady manner. She spread the jam and butter on her croissant and consumed it along with her hot chocolate. ‘If I do this every day, I’ll put on twenty pounds,’ she sighed.
His brown eyes fixed on hers. A little twinkle appeared. ‘Don’t worry, Samantha. You’ll work off all those calories again with your skiing.’
It was the way he’d said it. The tone and intonation of his voice. It was almost as if he was taunting her. Almost as if he knew.
‘I didn’t bring skis,’ she said quickly. ‘No one mentioned anything about skiing when I took the job.’
‘Even though it was a condition for my nurse?’
‘Really? Yikes.’
He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Well, don’t worry. I’ll hire you a set up here. That’s no problem at all. Now, which piste would you like to go down first? You’ve never been here before, and there isn’t much for intermediate skiers. Would you like me to shadow you down?’ He leaned forward. ‘Look at it out there. All that perfect powder. Think about the feel of the air rushing past those curls of yours.’ He reached over and brushed his hand to the side of them.
The rat bag. He definitely knew.
She fixed him with a hard stare as she took another sip of her hot chocolate then held up the glass towards him and used her best sarcastic tone. ‘You know, you’re spoiling this for me.’
‘How’s that?’
‘You know I can’t ski. Why don’t you just give it up?’
‘You can’t ski?’ She couldn’t help but laugh at the mock horror on his face. ‘But everyone can ski, Samantha.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe if you have a billionaire chalet in a ski resort. The rest of us chumps just go on a very bad ski trip with the school and vow never to put on a pair of skis again.’ She leaned forward to emphasise her last word. ‘Ever.’
‘Come on, Samantha, it’s fun. I’ll get someone to teach you. Think of the feel of the wind in your hair and the air rushing past your cheeks. Come to think of it, have you got sunscreen and lip balm on?’
She shook her head. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and tossed her a small tube. ‘Total sunblock. Put it all over your face, your ears and the back of your neck. You’re almost as white as the snow, you’ll burn in an instant.’
She examined it in her hands, her nose wrinkled. ‘See? That’s what’s wrong here. I shouldn’t need to think about this kind of stuff. All I should be worrying about is if you’re going to fall off this mountain or not.’ She raised her hands. ‘While there’s no denying the view is spectacular, why couldn’t you have had a hideaway on some mysterious Caribbean island? I know how to swim. I know how to sunbathe. I might even have agreed to go jet-skiing with you. And there I would have known to wear sunscreen when I was out at seven in the morning.’
He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. ‘How did you get this job, Samantha?’
For a second she felt offended. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I deliberately specified that I needed someone who could ski and not only that but they could extreme ski and accompany me on the slopes.’
‘You did?’ She was shocked. Not once had Trish mentioned the skiing part. But then again she’d been desperate to find someone—anyone—to take the job. And she had been desperate for the money.
He nodded solemnly. ‘I did.’ He was teasing her again.
‘Well, I hate to break it to you, Mitchell, but extreme skiing, diabetic nurse specialists, on a few hours’ notice, over Christmas and New Year—well, they seem to be in short supply. After all, I had to fight off at least a thousand others to get here.’ She started laughing at him. ‘Do you really think you can buy whatever you want?’
‘Face it, Sam. Everything’s for sale—and everybody. Tell me, why exactly are you working over Christmas and New Year? Don’t you have a regu
lar job? Isn’t there anyone you want to spend Christmas and New Year with?’ he countered. Smart guy. Nosey too.
She could easily take umbrage at those words. ‘I do have a regular job. One that I changed just recently and it means I get Christmas and New Year off. I worked last year at this time, and at Easter. Agency work at this time of year pays well.’ She stopped there. No need to say any more. He knew exactly how much he was paying for her services. She was annoyed by his comment that everybody was for sale but didn’t really feel in a position to argue with him about it, given the circumstances.
But he wasn’t about to stop. ‘So, is money an issue for you, Sam?’
She bristled at his words. Cheeky git. ‘Is money an issue for you, Mitchell?’
His eyes immediately fixed on the horizon. ‘You just never know,’ he murmured.
She shifted in her chair. Her comeback had been more than a little tetchy. She hadn’t really meant to sound like that. After all, this job was going to save her money problems for the next six months. And she wasn’t too sure about his response. Surely the last thing a man like Mitchell Brody would have was money problems.
She shrugged. Time to cover her foot-in-mouth disease. ‘I don’t know what the big deal is about having a nurse that can ski. As long as I’m around the slopes and can keep an eye on you it shouldn’t be a problem. I quite liked the ride up in the cable car. I’m happy to keep doing that.’
‘But what if I have a hypo attack while I’m skiing?’
She took a deep breath. ‘You’ll check your blood sugar before you start. If it’s low, you’ll eat something and wait until it comes back up before you get going. Face it, Mitchell, whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to meet me at regular intervals.’
He baulked then groaned and she raised her eyebrows, trying not to feel insulted. ‘The medical science isn’t there to change this right now. Don’t fight me on this. For once in your life be sensible.’
His expression changed. The cheeky glint in his eyes was back. ‘You think I’m not sensible?’
Christmas with the Maverick Millionaire Page 6
