Unwrapping Her Italian Doc. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

      Praise for Carol Marinelli

       Title Page

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘ANTON, WOULD YOU do me a favour?’

      Anton Rossi’s long, brisk stride was broken by the sound of Louise’s voice.

      He had tried very hard not to notice her as he had stepped into the maternity unit of The Royal in London, though, of course, he had.

      Louise was up a stepladder and putting up Christmas decorations. Her skinny frame was more apparent this morning as she was dressed in very loose, navy scrubs with a long-sleeved, pale pink top worn underneath. Her blonde hair was tied in a high ponytail and she had layer after layer of tinsel around her neck.

      She was also, Anton noted, by far too pale.

      Yes, whether he had wanted to or not, he had noticed her.

      He tended to notice Louise Carter a lot.

      ‘What is it that you want?’ Anton asked, as he reluctantly turned around.

      ‘In that box, over there …’ Louise raised a slender arm and pointed it towards the nurses’ station ‘… there’s some gold tinsel.’

      He just stood there and Louise wondered if possibly he didn’t understand what she was asking for.

      ‘Tin-sel …’ she said slowly, in the strange attempt at an Italian accent that Louise did now and then when she was trying to explain a word to him. Anton watched in concealed amusement as she jiggled the pieces around her neck. ‘Tin-sel, go-o-old.’

      ‘And?’

      Louise gave up on her accent. ‘Could you just get it for me? I’ve run out of gold.’

      ‘I’m here to check on Hannah Evans.’

      ‘It will only take you a second,’ Louise pointed out. ‘Look, if I get down now I’ll have to start again.’ Her hand was holding one piece of gaudy green tinsel to the tired maternity wall. ‘I’m trying to make a pattern.’

      ‘You are trying, full stop,’ Anton said, and walked off.

      ‘Bah, humbug,’ Louise called to his departing shoulders.

      Anton, had moved to London from Milan and, having never spent a Christmas in England, would have to find out later what that translated as but he certainly got the gist.

      Yes, he wasn’t exactly in the festive spirit. For the last few years Anton had, in fact, dreaded Christmas.

      Unfortunately there was no escaping it at The Royal—December had today hit and there were invites galore for Christmas lunches, dinners and parties piling into his inbox that he really ought to attend. Walking into work this morning, he had seen a huge Christmas tree being erected in the hospital foyer and now Louise had got in on the act. She seemed to be attempting to singlehandedly turn the maternity ward into Santa’s grotto.

      Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he headed over to the box, retrieved a long piece of gold tinsel and returned to Louise, who gave him a sweet smile as she took it.

      Actually, no, Anton decided, it was far from a sweet smile—it was a slightly sarcastic, rather triumphant smile.

      ‘Thank you very much,’ Louise said.

      ‘You’re more than welcome,’ Anton responded, and walked off.

      Anton knew, just knew that if he turned around it would be to the sight of Louise poking her tongue out at him.

      Keep going, he told himself.

      Do not turn around, for it would just serve to encourage her and he was doing everything in his power to discourage Louise. She was the most skilled flirt he had ever come across. At first he has assumed Louise was like that with everyone—it had come as a disconcerting, if somewhat pleasant surprise to realise that the blatant flirting seemed to be saved solely for him.

      Little known to Louise, he enjoyed their encounters, not that he would ever let on.

      Ignore her, Anton told himself.

      Yet he could not.

      Anton turned to the sight of Louise on the stepladder, tongue out, fingers up and well and truly caught!

      Louise actually froze for a second, which was very unfortunate, given the gesture she was making, but then she unfroze as Anton turned and walked back towards her. A shriek of nervous laughter started to pour from Louise because, from the way that Anton was walking, it felt as if he might be about to haul her from the ladder and over his shoulder. Wouldn’t that be nice? both simultaneously thought, but instead he came right up to her, his face level with her groin, and looked up into china-blue eyes as she looked down at the sexiest, most aloof, impossibly arrogant man to have ever graced The Royal.

      ‘I got you your tinsel.’ Anton pointed at her and his voice was stern but, Louise noted, that sulky mouth of his was doing its level best not to smile.

      ‘Yes, Anton, you did,’ Louise said, wondering if he could feel the blast of heat coming from her loins. God knew, he was miserable and moody but her body responded to him as if someone had just thrown another log on the fire whenever he was around.

      On many levels he annoyed her—Anton checked and re-checked everything that she did, as if she was someone who had just wandered