OK, all right, she decided with a shuddering breath as she went into her office, made a quick phone call, then retrieved her handbag. She might be an idiot but that didn’t mean she had to continue behaving like one. In future she’d ignore his teasing, and treat all his attempts to flirt with her with the contempt they so richly deserved. It was called survival.
‘Mario’s out front, waiting for you as usual,’ Bill, the porter, called after her as she passed him, and she squared her shoulders.
Every night since Mario had started work at the General he had insisted on giving her a lift home at the end of her shift, and she’d given in because it was easier than arguing. Well, tonight was going to be different. Tonight he could go to hell, and with her head held high, she strode out of the hospital and straight past Mario’s car without so much as giving it a second glance.
The result was predictable. She heard the sound of a car door slamming, followed by the thud of running feet, and the next minute Mario was standing in front of her, looking highly annoyed.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘Home,’ she replied, trying to sidestep him without success.
‘I always drive you home,’ he declared, and she threw him a withering look.
‘You have driven me home exactly five times,’ she said. ‘No way does that count as “always”, and tonight I want to walk.’
‘Then I’ll walk with you.’
‘I don’t want you to walk with me!’ she exclaimed, stepping to the left only to see him step to her left, to block her way.
‘I don’t care what you want,’ he replied. ‘You either get in the car and let me drive you home, or I’m walking with you.’
‘And I don’t care what you want,’ she retorted, ‘and if you don’t get out of my way I am going to scream, “Rape,” at the top of my lungs.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘You think?’ she said, meeting him glare for glare, and he was the one who looked away first.
‘Kate, listen, I—’ He raked his fingers through his black hair, and to her amazement he actually looked uncomfortable. ‘What I said earlier—about you sticking your nose in—I shouldn’t have said it.’
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘and now will you please get out of my way?’
‘Madre di Dio, Kate, I’m trying to hold out an olive branch here—to apologise,’ he protested. ‘Won’t you at least meet me halfway, let me drive you home, or at least walk with you?’
She didn’t want him to do either. If he drove her home she’d have to endure fifteen minutes of his company, and if he walked with her it would take at least forty-five minutes, but the night staff were beginning to arrive and the longer she stood there arguing with him, the more attention she would draw to herself.
‘OK, you can drive me home,’ she said, ‘but don’t think that means I’m going to talk to you, because I’m not.’
‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘You can sit in silence and I’ll drive and feel like the low life scum I undoubtedly am.’
Her lips twitched and ruthlessly she subdued them. No way was she going to forgive him. He had snubbed her—dammit, he’d told her they weren’t even friends—so no way was she going to forgive him, but, as he drove her through the city streets, she very quickly discovered that sitting in complete silence was a lot harder than it had sounded.
‘Do you mind if we have some music?’ she said.
‘Not at all,’ he said, his voice every bit as formal as hers.
Was he laughing at her? If he was laughing at her she’d make him sorry, but his face was perfectly bland, and, quickly, she punched the buttons on his car radio to discover there was nothing but football, football, and more football on all the channels. OK, so it was Saturday night, but why was there never any music on the radio when a girl needed music?
‘I have a CD player,’ he observed, clearly reading her mind.
And it had a CD in it, she noticed, so she hit the play button with relief only to sit, horror-stricken, as the sound of Johnny Cash’s deep and gravelly voice rang out.
For a long moment she said nothing, then cleared her throat.
‘You like Johnny Cash,’ she said awkwardly, and he nodded.
‘Yup, I do.’
‘Then why didn’t you say so when those line dancers were in earlier in the week?’ she demanded, and he glanced across at her.
‘Well, you seemed to be on such a roll with your diatribe against country and western music that it seemed a pity to interrupt you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice small.
‘Sorry because you now feel highly embarrassed, or sorry because you made such a gross generalisation?’
‘It must be nice to be always in the right,’ she said tightly, and he shot her another glance.
‘And that is not an answer.’
‘OK, I’m embarrassed!’ she exclaimed. ‘And OK, I made a bit of a generalisation.’
‘A bit?’
‘All right—a lot,’ she said through her teeth. ‘Satisfied now?’
Dammit, but he’d wrong-footed her again, she thought, seeing the all too familiar quirk at his lips. She was the aggrieved party here, the one who had been well and truly snubbed for suggesting they might be friends, and now she felt in the wrong. How the hell was she supposed to have guessed he might be a country and western fan? It would never have occurred to her in a million years.
Which is why I really must start distancing myself from him, she told herself as she gazed stonily out of the car window. I know nothing about him, and now I’ve discovered he likes country and western music. OK, so it’s hardly a major thing on the Richter scale of likes and dislikes, but at least John and I shared the same taste in music.
Much good it did you, her mind pointed out, considering he left you.
OK, all right, she argued back, but at least John wanted to get involved with me. Mario doesn’t. I’m just a case to him—he said so—and even if he was interested if I couldn’t make a go of it with a man who wanted nothing more from me, than myself and a family, what hope would I have of succeeding with a man who is as driven and argumentative as I am?
‘Kate, I truly am sorry for what I said.’
There was deep regret in Mario’s voice and she turned slowly to face him but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the road ahead, and a muscle was clenched tight at the side of his cheek.
‘We are friends,’ he continued, ‘and I shouldn’t have accused you of being nosy. You were just trying to help.’
‘Are you going to tell me why you reacted as you did?’ she said. ‘Explain why you got so angry?’
The muscle in his cheek tightened even more.
‘Not today. I will tell you one day, but not today.’
It was another olive branch—sort of—and she could take it, or she could tell him what she knew she ought. That him telling her ‘one day’ wasn’t good enough and that she wanted him to get the hell out of her life and leave her alone.
But she didn’t say that.
‘OK,’ she heard herself say, and knew she was weak and feeble, but, as his eyes met hers, and his lips curved into a warm smile, she also knew—dispiritingly—that she didn’t care.
‘I’ll walk you to your door,’ he said when he drew his car to a halt outside her home.
‘There’s no need,’ she replied, but he was already heading towards the passenger door and she sighed.
Maybe one day he might actually do as she asked.
Maybe.
‘I telephoned IC before I left the hospital to ask about the teenager who overdosed,’ she said when he took her arm and began steering her up her garden path.
‘How’s she doing?’
‘Not out of the woods by a long way, but the signs are looking good. IC said…’
She never did get to finish what she’d been about to say. Dimly, she heard the sound of a car backfiring, and the next moment she was flat on her back on the scrubb
y grass in front of her home, and Mario was lying on top of her.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she exclaimed, and when he didn’t answer she pushed as hard as she could against his chest but she might as well have been trying to move a boulder. ‘Get off me!’
‘Shut up.’
‘What?’ she exclaimed, incensed. ‘Look, just because I said we were friends doesn’t mean you can start behaving like some sort of…of Neanderthal pervert.’
‘Somebody just took a shot at you.’
She rolled her eyes heavenwards, and counted to ten, but it didn’t help.
‘Mario, it was a car backfiring.’
‘Somebody just took a shot at you,’ he repeated. ‘Quite close—maybe a hundred yards away.’
‘Who in the world would want to shoot me?’ she protested, wriggling to try to get out from under him then stopping quickly because it felt way too good. ‘I’m a doctor, for God’s sake.’
‘They didn’t intend to kill you,’ he murmured. ‘If they’d wanted you dead you’d have a bullet hole in your back right now. This was a warning. My guess is it was probably a .308 semiautomatic. Maybe a Bullmaster or a Panther.’
‘And I expect the gun was also blue, with a pink handle, and played “Yankee Doodle Dandy”,’ she said, unable to hide her sarcasm. ‘Mario, get a grip. This is Aberdeen, not New York.’
He wasn’t even listening to her. He was searching the grass beside them with his eyes, then he stretched over, and picked something up. ‘I’m not an expert—’
‘Oh, wow, but we’ve found something you’re not an expert on?’
‘—but I think this is a 168-grain Ballistic Silvertip.’
She didn’t know what make it was but even she knew that the object he was holding was a bullet and her stomach clenched tight for a second then sanity reasserted itself.
‘OK, so somebody took a shot at us, but surely it’s more likely they were shooting at you?’ she declared.
‘Kate—’
‘You’re in the drugs squad,’ she continued, talking over him. ‘You go after the bad guys, and if I were a bad guy the person I’d want to…to take out would be you.’
‘Take out?’ he repeated, a glimmer of laughter lighting up his eyes. ‘You’ve been watching too many TV shows.’
‘Laugh as much as you want,’ she retorted, ‘but it makes sense.’
He shook his head. ‘Kate, maybe I should have told you this before, but the names Hamilton gave you—you could send down three of the biggest drug dealers in the business.’
He wasn’t lying. She could see in his eyes that he was telling her the truth, but, even as a wave of icy fear began to twist its way around her heart, her mind went into denial. She was ordinary Kate Kennedy. A consultant at the General in Aberdeen and things like this didn’t happen to her. They happened to other people. Important people who lived in New York or Chicago, not to somebody who lived in a faded, rundown backstreet of Aberdeen.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said, shaking her head as though by so doing she could make it true. ‘OK, so I know all those names, but nobody else but you knows that I know them so nobody can be after me, they simply can’t.’
‘And yet they are,’ he said simply, and try as she might she couldn’t stop the wave of fear returning.
Desperately, she strained her ears to see if she could hear anybody moving nearby, but all she could hear was the distant rumble of traffic and the sound of somebody’s radio from a house across the street.
‘Where…?’ She swallowed convulsively. ‘Where do you think he is?’
‘Who?’
‘The tooth fairy,’ she hissed in exasperation. ‘The gunman, of course.’
‘Oh, he’ll be long gone by now,’ Mario replied. ‘As I said, I don’t think he was trying to kill you, just to scare you.’
‘Then why are we still lying on the ground?’ she asked, and he grinned.
‘Because, like you said, I’m a Neanderthal pervert.’
Not a pervert, she thought, as she gazed up at him open mouthed for a second, then started to laugh, but a very sexy man. An exceptionally sexy man but, as he continued to gaze down at her, her laughter gradually died as his smile slowly faded. He was all wrong for her—common sense told her he was—but common sense didn’t prevent her heart from picking up speed when he gently brushed her hair back from her face with his fingers. Neither did it stop her body from responding when he shifted his weight slightly, and she felt the whole length of his hard muscular body against hers.
Did he feel it, too, she wondered, this intense physical awareness? She knew his breath had quickened. She knew his heart rate had increased, just as hers had done, because she could feel it through her blouse, and when he lowered his head her breath jammed in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? She very much hoped that he was going to kiss her, but, to her dismay, he suddenly stood up, leaving her feeling cold and bereft.
‘Kate, I want you to do something for me,’ he said, holding out his hand to help her up.
‘What?’ she said, ignoring his outstretched hand and scrambling to her feet herself, cursing herself for the overwhelming wave of disappointment she could feel.
‘I want you to stay off work,’ he replied. ‘You can catch up on your reading, use the time to redecorate, surf eBay for bargains, do whatever you want, but I want you to stay home.’
‘Mario, we’ve been through this before, and you know I can’t,’ she exclaimed in exasperation. ‘I’m the consultant, I’m needed.’
‘Nobody is indispensable.’
‘Well, I am,’ she retorted.
‘Kate—’
‘If you’re right, and somebody really is trying to kill me,’ she interrupted, hearing the slight wobble in her voice and despising herself for it, ‘then they’re going to get me no matter where I am.’
‘Not if you stay in your flat, and don’t open the door,’ he declared, irritation plain in his voice, and she shook her head.
‘I am not staying home, and that’s final.’
‘OK, I’ve tried asking you nicely,’ he declared, clearly at the end of his patience, ‘and now I’m ordering you to stay home.’
She gazed at him, outraged. ‘You can’t order me to do anything.’
‘You think?’ he said, his face suddenly furious. ‘If you won’t stay off work, and stay home, I’ll book you.’
‘What for?’ she protested. ‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘How about obstructing the police, putting yourself in danger, getting right up my nose?’
‘That’s blackmail,’ she declared. ‘What you’re doing is blackmail, and I won’t stand for it. I won’t let—’
‘Dio! Dammi forza!’ he thundered, and her eyes narrowed.
‘Are you swearing at me? If you’re swearing at me…’
‘No, I’m not swearing at you, though heaven knows you deserve it!’ he exclaimed. ‘Kate, you can argue until you’re blue in the face, but it’s not going to make any difference. You stay home. You don’t open the door to anybody, you don’t go near any windows, and you don’t go to work. End of discussion.’
‘But, if I never go out, how am I supposed to manage for food?’ she demanded, clutching at straws. ‘Or hadn’t you thought of that?’
‘Give me a list of the groceries you’ll need, and I’ll pick them up for you,’ he replied. ‘Or, if you’d prefer it I can ask one of our female officers to do it for you. I expect you’ll have personal shopping—things you’d probably rather I didn’t buy—’
‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ she interrupted. ‘I don’t care what you buy me, I just don’t want to stay home.’
‘But you will,’ he replied, in a voice that told her there was no point in arguing, but she still intended to.
‘This is payback time, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Payback because you think I’m a nosy snoop.’
‘Madre di Dio!’
‘Will you stop shouting at me in Italian?’ she declared
as he dragged his fingers through his hair in exasperation. ‘If you’re going to shout at me, then at least shout at me in a language I can understand.’
‘This is not payback for this afternoon,’ he said, clearly controlling his temper with difficulty. ‘Look, I know you’re mad as hell with me,’ he continued as she tried to interrupt, ‘but this is for your own safety. I don’t want to have to identify you on a morgue slab.’
‘You’re overreacting—’
‘But you will stay home.’
His blue eyes were as cold and as implacable as ice and she glared at him for a second, then turned on her heel and strode up her drive, but when she reached her front door she whirled round to face him.
‘My life was simple—peaceful—until you came into it,’ she yelled. ‘And as far as I’m concerned, the sooner you’re out of it, the better.’
Her life had been simple, he thought, as she slammed the door in his face. What about his life?
All he’d had to worry about before he’d met her had been his job, and making the monthly repayments on his flat, and now he was stuck with the witness from hell. A stroppy, opinionated, irritating woman, who wouldn’t do as she was told even if her actual life depended on it. Dammit, didn’t she realise that his whole case hinged on her being able to testify?
And is that the only reason you’re insisting she stays home? his mind whispered, and he swore, long, and low, and fluently.
OK, so he couldn’t deny he found her attractive when she wasn’t yelling at him, but he couldn’t get involved with her, simply couldn’t. It wasn’t just that his track record with women was lousy. He was too busy, had too much on his plate, and they were too different. Dio mio! She didn’t even like Johnny Cash, and that should have told him something. Except…
‘Basta!’ he muttered as he strode towards his car, kicking at a stone that was stupid enough to get in his way.
Kate was right. The sooner he was out of her life, the better.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS amazing the amount of work you could get through in a week if you had no interruptions, harassment, or phone calls, Mario thought, as he hit the save button on his computer then stretched his arms out in front of him to ease the knot he could feel between his shoulder blades. OK, so he still had rather a large backlog of paperwork to complete but, in general, everything was going well.
The Consultant's Italian Knight Page 9
