by Amy Andrews
‘They’re not.’
Mia stared down into the thick dark coffee—the colour of Luca’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.
He shrugged. ‘It’s the way it is.’
Mia looked up sharply. She could see regret in his espresso gaze and hear a slight rawness to his accent. And suddenly she was mad. Damn it! Why was it that way? Why was he still being made to suffer twenty odd years later—this was his family. What had he done that had been so bad? Why did she feel guilty about not keeping her family together, about not keeping in contact when neither of her parents bothered? Why should she give a damn when they didn’t?
‘You should go,’ she said.
Luca saw something glittering in her stained-glass-window eyes. They shone with an intense brightness that for a second looked almost like tears. But then it crystallised into determination.
He shook his head. ‘Some things are better left alone, Mia.’
Mia shook her head emphatically. ‘No, damn it! She was your grandmother and you loved her. And you need to go to her funeral and to hell with what everyone else thinks. You need this for you, Luca. You deserve this. Don’t let them take this from you because of some stupid ancient history.’
Luca wasn’t entirely sure that this passion was all about him and his predicament but he appreciated the sentiment. It was surprisingly good to have someone on his side in this whole family mess, even though she had no clue of the facts.
Another spurt of guilt made him uneasy. Would she be this passionate about it if she knew the background? Was she only being this vehement because she thought she knew him well enough to surmise that he’d been wronged by his family?
‘Don’t think I’m the injured party here, cara. They had every right to ostracise me. To be angry with me.’
His voice sounded far away in another time and Mia paused. She hadn’t expected any explanation but she had expected him to defend himself when offering one. They’d ostracised him and he just accepted it?
‘Still?’ she demanded, regrouping. ‘After all these years? Doesn’t that make you angry?’
Luca shook his head. He’d given up being angry about it a long time ago. Regret was a constant companion—if he could go back and change things he would—but he’d worked through his anger.
‘No. Not any more,’ he said.
Mia couldn’t believe how calm he was. She could feel a burning in her chest at his ostracism and hers. Her father leaving physically and her mother leaving emotionally had completely excluded her from the possibility of a normal life.
How could people who supposedly loved you act so callously? Even in grief? Her heart pounded, there was a ringing in her ears, her hands shook as she clasped them around the coffee cup.
It would be so easy to lose it. Just lose it. She hadn’t been this stirred up in years. Maybe not since the day she’d discovered her stillborn baby sister hadn’t been her father’s child and that’s why he’d left. That her mother had been lying to her for years.
She had a sudden insane urge to cry, which both scared and horrified her in equal measure. What the hell was wrong with her?
Mia McKenzie did not cry. Not in front of friends or colleagues and most certainly not lovers.
Not ever!
Luca was a man she’d had sex with a few times and slept with once. She shouldn’t care about any of this.
She pulled herself back from the edge. Just. ‘Well, I think you’re wrong, but…’ she shrugged with as much nonchalance as she could muster when her brain was melting down ‘…it’s none of my business.’
She stood. She had to get out of there. The intensity of her feelings was scaring the hell out of her. He plainly didn’t want her hanging around and she’d been trying to leave since the moment she’d woken with his hand on her breast.
Luca nodded, gripping the bench harder as the foolish urge to reach for her took hold. To put a hand on her shoulder, tug her into his arms. She looked a little wan and frankly he’d rather spend the day putting some colour back into her cheeks than thinking about his grandmother and the mess he’d left behind in Sicily.
But she’d turned away and was walking rapidly towards the door. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.
‘Ciao, Mia,’ he called out.
Mia heard the finality in his voice and knew it was goodbye.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVIE woke at ten-thirty feeling as if the New Year’s Eve fireworks, for which Sydney was famous, had been let off in her head. All at once. She groaned out loud and stuffed the pillow over her head to quell the racket.
Not that it helped, given that the noise was coming from inside her skull, not from the outside.
The previous momentous day with Finn and then the bitter disappointment of the night came back in a rush and she groaned again. Damn the man to hell. It was his fault she felt this way.
She could only hope he’d been blessed with a hangover of equal proportion. But, of course, he wouldn’t have. Because the man could drink whisky like water. And because little Miss Suzy Happy Ending had been draped all over him when he’d left.
She didn’t even want to think about why that bugged her so much. The man could sleep with whomever he liked. And quite often did. In the years they’d co-existed at The Harbour, he’d slept with a string of women.
It was no skin off her nose.
Just because Stuart’s devastating betrayal had made her more selective with men, it didn’t mean the entire world had to follow suit. If Finn wanted to sleep with every floozy Suzy that came along, more power to him.
Evie pulled the pillow off her head—damn it, now he’d made her think of Stuart. She’d been such a fool for that man, believing that he’d loved her when he’d been using her all along for her family connections.
She’d been humiliated and heartbroken and had endured the rather cruel twist of fate that had seen the hospital rumour mill peg her as the bitch of the piece. Apparently Dr Evie Lockheart had considered herself too good for the lowly Stuart.
It had taken her a long time to win back people’s respect after that.
She was damned if she was going to lose that hard-won respect by making a fool of herself over another doctor. Especially one as arrogant and infuriating as Finn Kennedy.
The apartment was quiet when she entered the open-plan living area, pulling on a thick woolly dressing gown over the clothes she’d worn all day yesterday and apparently to bed too. She had a vague memory of Mia getting her home and helping her into bed but she must have drawn the line at undressing her.
She flicked on the jug and waited impatiently for it whistle. The aroma of coffee infused her senses as the boiling water hit the granules and Evie’s stomach grumbled. She opened the fridge to grab the milk, only to find there was none.
Her stomach revolted. The fireworks in her head popped louder.
Oh, hell—she couldn’t do black coffee. She just couldn’t.
Without giving any thought to her appearance, she shrugged out of her gown, grabbed a mug, pushed her feet into some discarded shoes by the door and was standing outside the lift in under thirty seconds.
Susie and John were bound to have milk.
Finally the lift arrived on her floor and for a second Evie almost wept. It was a short-lived emotion as the doors opened to reveal Suzy, also in the same clothes as last night, looking like she hadn’t slept a wink. And not in that horrible bed-hair, bleary-eyed way that Evie was sporting. Oh, no. In that loose, relaxed, I’ve-had-all-my-kinks-ironed-out way.
Suzy smiled a bright, peppy smile. ‘Hi, Dr Lockheart,’ she chirped.
Evie cracked a small smile and gave what she hoped was a gracious nod because the alternative—launching herself at young, peppy, cute Suzy—was just not physically possible with a headache the size of Sydney Harbour.
* * *
Finn stared at the ceiling, absently massaging his right thumb to relieve the painful tingling, and wished he felt better after a very pleasant
night with a gorgeous athletic young woman. But he didn’t. And it had nothing to do with his physical injuries.
He kept seeing the look in Evie’s eyes at Pete’s last night. Those twin hazel pools had been like a damn open book as she’d telescoped her disapproval. The disgust and scorn he’d seen there he could live with. He saw them in the mirror every morning and he was pretty immune to them by now.
The hurt had been a lot harder to get past.
It reminded him a lot of Lydia and those horrible few years. Trying to make things better for her—easier—but only making them worse. His brother’s widow had turned to him in a dark moment of grief and it had begun a long-drawn-out, complicated affair that he’d needed yet resented all at the same time.
Lydia had needed something that he hadn’t been able to give—comfort. After a childhood in institutions and the horror of losing his brother, Finn just hadn’t been capable of it. He hadn’t known how to comfort himself let alone a grief-stricken widow.
It had been a relief when she’d finally moved on enough to end it. And yet, strangely, he’d also felt bereft. His one link to his little brother, the little brother he’d defended and protected from one care home to the next, the only constant in his childhood, had no longer been there.
The fact that he hadn’t loved Lydia, or she him, hadn’t mattered so much after she’d walked away.
So he knew exactly how a woman looked when she was hurt. And there’d been no doubt about it—Dr Evie Lockheart had been hurt last night. And he’d been responsible.
But, damn it all, could he help it if she’d read too much into a fleeting moment?
A temporary weakness?
Princess Evie could keep her goo-goo eyes to herself. He was fine. Just fine.
* * *
Mia was shocked to see Luca standing on her doorstep later that night. Between her morning-after regrets and Evie’s monster hangover the day had dragged more slowly and become more depressing than a wet week.
She had been in her pyjamas and ready for bed when the knock had sounded. The cold air from the hallway rushed around her and she pulled her hot-pink polar fleece dressing gown closer.
‘Luca?’
‘Who is it?’ Evie called from the couch, where she’d been watching old sitcom reruns all day.
‘It’s just Luca,’ Mia threw over her shoulder as casually as she could. Because it could never be just Luca. The man was dressed in a suit and looked like a matinee idol, even with his face set grimly.
She really, really shouldn’t want to drag him to her bedroom. But, heaven help her, she did.
Evie, her face fixed on the screen, laughed. ‘Does he want to borrow a cup of milk?’ And she laughed again.
Luca frowned. ‘Huh?’
Mia shook her head. ‘Long story.’ She noticed a suitcase standing nearby in the hall. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Going somewhere?’
He nodded. ‘I decided to follow your advice.’
‘You’re going back to Italy?’
‘Yes.’ He gave her a ghost of a smile. ‘To hell with them, right?’
Mia searched his face for a moment, pleased that he was doing the right thing but puzzled as to why he’d bothered to stop by and tell her.
The man was about to fly halfway around the world to go to his beloved grandmother’s funeral against the wishes of a family he wasn’t on good terms with and hadn’t seen in over two decades—he probably didn’t need her questions.
‘Right,’ she said awkwardly.
‘I’ll be back in five days,’ he said.
‘Five days? Hell, Luca, you’re going to be next to useless when you return.’ She saw something flit through his eyes and quickly added, ‘Professionally,’ in case he thought she’d meant it any other way.
She had no doubt that his other functions would be in fine working order.
Not that she cared or would be thinking about his other functions at all.
‘I’ve arranged cover at work for seven days and business class helps.’
Mia nodded. ‘I’ll bet.’
‘John said his housekeeper, Gladys someone…’
‘Henderson,’ Mia supplied. The spritely sixty-year-old cleaned their apartment too.
‘Yes, that’s her. She’s going to keep an eye on the apartment for me.’
‘Okay.’ Mia waited for him to say more. Or to pick up his bags and leave. He didn’t. She frowned. ‘Why are you here, Luca?’ she asked wearily.
Luca put his hand in his pocket. ‘To thank you.’ He looked at her intently, her fluffy pink dressing gown somehow just as sexy as the winter coat from last night. ‘You were right. I needed to do this.’
Mia shrugged. ‘No worries.’
He chose his next words carefully. Normally he didn’t have to give ‘the speech’ but Mia was different. Somehow she’d got past the barriers that he’d erected since Marissa and she deserved him to be straight with her.
He wanted her to know that it wasn’t her—it was him.
He just didn’t do emotional connections and he especially didn’t need that baggage now, heading off to face some pretty big demons.
He was surprised, though, at how hard the words were to say. At his reticence.
‘I know I wasn’t good company this morning and—’
‘It’s okay, Luca,’ Mia interrupted, knowing from his eyes what he was going to say and suddenly not wanting to hear the words come from his mouth. ‘I get it. You and I were always just a one-time thing that went on for longer than it should have. Neither of us do this sort of thing. I think we can just walk away and chalk it up to experience.’
Luca pursed his lips. It was an easy out for him but, still, her even easier acceptance rankled. It shouldn’t have. It should have been a relief.
But it wasn’t.
‘I think it’s best,’ he murmured.
It was. It had to be.
‘Of course,’ she assured him. So why didn’t it feel like it? Why did she feel worse than she had all day?
They stood in the doorway, looking at each other for a moment, not speaking. It was for the best. It was.
‘I’m sorry.’ Luca grimaced, checking his watch. ‘I have to go, I have a taxi waiting.’
Mia nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. ‘Sure. I’ll see you when you get back,’ she said. ‘At work.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, fighting the urge to seize her in his arms and kiss her and the even more bizarre urge to ask her to go with him.
To complicate it much more than it already was.
‘At work,’ he repeated. Then he turned away, picked up his bag and strode down the corridor to the lift, not daring to look back.
Mia stared after him, watching until he disappeared. It—whatever it was—was over. She should be over the moon.
She wasn’t.
‘That seemed pretty intense. What was it about?’ Evie asked.
Mia swivelled her head to find her friend walking towards her. At least she finally looked interested in something else other than overdosing on salt and vinegar chips and Boston pub life.
‘Nothing,’ Mia said, recovering sufficiently to withdraw into the warm apartment and shut the door.
‘Didn’t look like nothing to me,’ Evie mused.
‘It is now,’ Mia assured her.
* * *
For five days and nights, despite her every effort not to, Mia thought of Luca constantly. Her feelings fluctuated wildly from complete understanding and agreement with their decision to walk away from each other, to worry about how it was all panning out in Marsala, to an uncharacteristic yearning for something she couldn’t even put her finger on.
Add to that a healthy dose of sexual frustration from vivid dreams and Mia was a wreck.
The dreams were the worst.
Happily-ever-after fantasies—erotic one moment, white-wedding poignant the next. They woke her often, rendering her perpetually tired. And cranky. The staff avoided her. Her patients asked the nurses their questions. Even
Evie stayed out of her way.
In fact, by day five her best friend was suggesting she burn off some of the bitch with a good old-fashioned bar pick-up somewhere.
Then, on the sixth night, Luca came striding into the department at almost midnight. His luscious wavy hair, speckled with raindrops from the stormy weather outside, looked like it had hadn’t seen a comb in a while and it was the first time she’d seen him unshaven.
He looked like hell.
And her body responded with a primal lurch.
If anything, with the heavy growth of blue-black stubble and the wicked way he filled out a pair of jeans, he looked more like the devil she’d first pegged him as than ever before.
But she knew him much better now.
Well…better than she had, anyway.
‘Luca?’ Her heart pounded in her chest. Damn it, this wasn’t how she’d planned on greeting him on his return. Where was her polite smile and cool nod? ‘You’re not due back until tomorrow!’
Luca ran a hand through his already unruly hair. She was a sight for sore eyes. It had been a harrowing time in Sicily and even though they weren’t together—had never really been together—he wanted to drag her to the on-call room and get lost in her for a little while.
Just one more time.
‘I couldn’t sleep and I heard the ambulances.’ He shrugged. ‘Thought I’d drop by and see if you guys needed a hand.’
Mia saw the flash of desire in his deep dark eyes, like a candle in a well, and felt it slug her right in the belly. She was grateful for the bustle of the department around them. If he’d come to her door, she’d have been lost in a look like that. Their parting conversation from six days ago smothered by a fierce surge of lust and a strong urge for privacy.
She blinked, taking a mental step backwards. ‘You look tired. Are you up to it?’
‘I’m fine.’
Mia raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t look it.’
Luca waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m exhausted and my body clock’s screwed up but I’m not sleepy. In fact, I’m buzzing. I’m good to work.’
Mia scrutinised him for a moment but that was just plain dangerous. Besides, she understood how jet-lag could mess with your body but have the opposite effect on your brain. And they were pretty slammed at the moment.
