St Piran’s: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Three

      ‘ARE you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clear the board?’ Izzy checked as the clock edged towards ten.

      ‘Go home and get some well-earned rest,’ Ben said. ‘You haven’t had the easiest start back.’

      ‘And I thought you’d break me in gently.’

      ‘Not my style,’ Ben said. ‘You did great, Izzy. Mind you, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge!’

      The power dressing had lasted till about three p.m. when she had changed into more familiar scrubs, her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes and her mouth devoid of lipstick.

      It had been Chest Pain Central for the rest of the shift and apart from two minutes on the loo, Izzy had not sat down.

      ‘One day,’ Izzy said, ‘I’m going to manage to stay in my own clothes for an entire shift. I am!’ she insisted as Josh joined them. She’d had a good shift. Josh had been lovely—as sharp as a tack, he had been a pleasure to work with, his strong Irish brogue already familiar to Izzy.

      ‘It will never happen!’ Josh said. ‘I thought the same—that maybe when I made consultant…I had some nice suits made, didn’t I, Ben?’

      They had been friends for years, Izzy had found out, had both worked together in London, and as Izzy grinned and wished them both goodnight she was glad now about her decision to return to work.

      It was good to be back.

      The patients didn’t care about the doctor’s personal life, didn’t know the old Izzy, they just accepted her. Any doubts she might have had about the wisdom of coming back at such a fragile time emotionally had soon faded as she had immersed herself in the busy hub of Emergency, stretching her brain instead of being stuck in that awful loop of wandering around her home, thinking.

      It was only now, as she stepped out of her professional role, that the smile faded.

      She didn’t want to go home.

      She stared out past the ambulance bay to the staff car park and she felt a bubble of panic. She could call Security to escort her, of course. Given what had happened, who would blame her for not wanting to walk though the car park alone.

      It wasn’t even dark. It was one of those lovely summer nights in St Piran when the sky never became fully black.

      It wasn’t just the car park she was afraid of, though, she decided as she turned and headed up the corridor to the stairwell.

      She just wasn’t ready to go home.

      Her fingers hovered over the NICU intercom, wondering what exactly she was doing. Usually she wouldn’t have thought twice about this. The old Izzy had often popped up to the wards to check on cases she had seen in Emergency, but her pregnant status made it seem more personal somehow and it wasn’t just the baby she had delivered that had drawn her there tonight. Still, despite more than a passing thought about him now as she neared his territory, it wasn’t just Diego pulling her there either—it was after ten, the late staff would long since have gone.

      There was a very private answer she was seeking tonight.

      It was more personal because she was pregnant, Izzy admitted to herself. She wasn’t just here to see how the baby was doing, rather to see her reaction to it, to see if the little scrap she had delivered that morning might somehow evoke in her some feeling for the babe she was carrying.

      She was being ridiculous, Izzy told herself, as if a trip to the NICU would put her mind at ease.

      Turning on her heel, Izzy decided against visiting.

      She’d ring the NICU tomorrow and find out how he was doing.

      ‘Hey!’ Having made up her mind and turned go, Izzy jumped slightly as the doors opened and she was greeted by the sound of Diego’s voice.

      Even before she turned and saw him, even though it was just one syllable he’d uttered, she knew that it was him and she felt her cheeks colour up, wondering what reason she could give as to why she was there.

      ‘You’re here to see your delivery?’ He wasn’t really looking at her; instead he was turning on his phone and checking the messages that pinged in.

      ‘If that’s okay…’ She was incredibly nervous around him, flustered even, her words coming out too fast as she offered too much of an explanation. ‘I often chase up interesting cases. I know it’s a bit late, so I decided to ring tomorrow…’

      ‘Day and night are much the same in there,’ he said. ‘It won’t be a problem.’

      ‘I’ll just ring tomorrow. I’m sure they’re busy’

      She’d changed her mind before she’d seen him, yet Diego wouldn’t hear it.

      ‘One moment,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you in. Let me just answer this.’

      She didn’t want him to take her in.

      She glanced at the ID badge he now had around his neck.

      Diego Ramirez was so not what she needed now.

      Still, he was too engrossed in his phone to read her body language, Izzy thought. His bag was a large brown leather satchel, which he wore over his shoulder, and on anyone else it would have looked, well, stupid, but it just set him aside from the others.

      God, what was it about him?

      Diego didn’t need to look at Izzy to read her. He could feel her tense energy, knew she was nervous, and he knew enough to know that a pregnant woman who had delivered a prem baby would, perhaps, have a few questions or need a little reassurance.

      Any of his staff could provide that, Diego said to himself as he checked his message from Sally.

      The term ‘girlfriend’ for Sally, would be stretching it, but she was gorgeous and she was sitting outside his flat in a car right this minute, texting to see when he’d be home.

      He loved women.

      He loved curves on women.

      He loved confident women

      He loved lots of uninhibited, straightforward sex—and it was right there waiting at his door.

       Busy at work—txt u tomoz x

      Not regretfully enough he hit ‘send’, but he did wonder what on earth he was doing. Why, instead of heading for home, he was swiping his ID card to gain entry into the area and walking this slinky-malinky long-legs, who was as jumpy as a cat, through his unit?

      ‘Wash your hands,’ Diego prompted, following his own instructions and soaping up his hands and rather large forearms for an inordinate amount of time. ‘It is a strict rule here,’ he explained, ‘and one I enforce, no matter the urgency. And,’ he chided as Izzy turned off the handle with her elbow, ‘I also ask that staff take an extra moment more than is deemed necessary.’

      Oh.

      Chastised and not liking it a bit,