Unlocking The Italian Doc's Heart. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Georgia had finally cracked and told him the truth about Florence. Though he kept that particular black hole behind high walls and barbed wire. ‘You?’
‘I trained here in Muswell Hill, and I chose paediatrics for the same reason as you—I like kids and I really love making them better. My parents and my sister all live in London, about half an hour away from me; and I’m also single and not looking for a partner.’ She smiled. ‘Which means that you and I can be friends.’
‘Is this part of the proposition?’ he checked.
She laughed. ‘Absolutely not. But we’re a close-knit team on our ward and we do a lot of things together. Team nights out for pizza and ten-pin bowling, cinema, picnics on the beach in summer—that sort of thing. It’s kind of like having an extended family. Partners and kids come along to half the stuff and it’s lovely.’
A family. The thing he’d once had—and lost. And how he missed it. But he knew he was lucky to have what he had: a large extended Italian family who loved him. Wanting more was just greedy.
He shook himself. Jenna didn’t know about his past, and she didn’t need to know. Besides, she’d clearly meant to reassure him that he’d picked a really nice place to work. ‘Sounds good,’ he said, forcing himself to keep his tone light.
She raised her coffee mug at him. ‘Welcome to the team. I think you’re going to love it here as much as I do.’
He hoped so, too, but he’d reserve judgement until he’d been here a while. ‘And the proposition?’
‘I’m on the ward’s fundraising committee. A week on Saturday, we’re holding a six-hour danceathon to raise money for new toys for the ward,’ she explained. ‘People pay a fixed sum to enter, and they can be sponsored either for a flat fee or for each hour they stay on the dance floor.’
Now he understood what the proposition was. ‘You want me to be one of the dancers?’
‘If you’re not on duty, then yes, please.’
Which would be an easy let-out for him. Except she’d know pretty quickly that he wasn’t telling the truth, and he didn’t want to start his professional life here with a lie. He’d had enough of lies.
‘I’m off duty.’
‘Good.’ She smiled. ‘It should be easy for you. Aren’t all Italian men meant to be wonderful dancers?’
‘That,’ he said, ‘is a sweeping generalisation. And I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, because I have two left feet.’
‘So do half the people who are coming along on the day. It really doesn’t matter what you look like or how badly you dance, as long as you raise some money for the toys. It’s going to be fun,’ she said. ‘And you’ll get to hear Maybe Baby play.’
‘Who are Maybe Baby?’ he asked.
‘They’re pretty much the hospital’s house band—they play at a lot of weddings and special occasions,’ Jenna explained. ‘Half of them are from the Maternity ward—Anton on guitar and Gilly on bass—and from our department there’s Keely on vocals and Martin on drums. They’re fantastic.’
‘They’re playing for the whole six hours?’
‘Probably for about half of it,’ she said. ‘Nathan, one of the porters in the Emergency Department, is a DJ when he’s not working here, so he’s doing the other half of the music for us. We’re holding the danceathon in the local high school’s sports hall; one of the local pubs is running a bar for us and donating the profits from the night, and a few of the parents of children we’ve treated heard what we’re doing and offered to sort out the food for us. Plus we’ve sweet-talked a few local businesses into donating raffle prizes, everything from nice toiletries to chocolates to vouchers towards a meal.’
Lorenzo had the strongest feeling that she was downplaying her own role in this. Clearly it was something she’d been deeply involved in, something close to her heart.
‘I’m more than happy to sponsor someone,’ he said, ‘and maybe take tickets on the door or help run your raffle stall. But I’m afraid it’s a no to the dancing.’
‘It’s a shame I can’t talk you into it, because it’ll be fun,’ she said, ‘but I’ll take the offer of manning a stall, for however much time you can spare. Thank you.’
‘Are you dancing?’ he asked, suddenly curious.
‘Absolutely. You’d never get me running or struggling to lift stuff in the gym, because that doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest,’ she said, ‘but I do a couple of dance classes a week and I walk my neighbour’s dog at weekends. That’s my preferred way of keeping fit.’
He should back off. It was none of his business. And he wasn’t supposed to start being interested in someone else. This was work. But he couldn’t stop the question coming out. ‘What sort of dance classes?’
‘Salsa on Tuesdays and Latin ballroom dancing on Thursdays. I’m not elegant enough to do the waltz or the foxtrot,’ she explained, ‘but I love dancing the samba and the cha-cha-cha.’
The fun and bouncy stuff. That didn’t surprise him. From what he’d seen of her so far, that summed up Jenna Harris very neatly. ‘So was the danceathon your idea?’
‘Guilty as charged.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘But everyone else on the committee said it sounded like a lot of fun, or we wouldn’t have done it.’
‘OK. Count me in for helping on a stall,’ he said. And then his mouth ran away with him. He was supposed to be keeping things professional and slightly distant, not putting himself in a position where he’d see more of her. But the words came out anyway. ‘I can help set up, too, if you like.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him. ‘And maybe I can talk you into just one dance.’
‘Maybe. No promises,’ he warned.
‘Sure.’ Her smile broadened, which told him she had every intention of breaking down his resistance.
Well, she had no chance there. His intentions were stronger still: to keep a professional distance between himself and Jenna. Yes, she was attractive and he liked her very much—but he wasn’t risking his heart again. As far as he was concerned, they were strictly colleagues.
‘I guess we ought to get back,’ he said. ‘Thank you for lunch.’
‘My pleasure. And thank you for agreeing to help with the danceathon.’
‘Prego,’ he said, inclining his head. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘If only you’d joined us a month ago. I bet you could’ve charmed a ton of money out of everyone who walked through the hospital doors by smiling at them and speaking in Italian. You would’ve been our secret weapon.’ She looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Would you be good at general knowledge, by any chance?’
‘I’m reasonable,’ he said.
‘You’re polite, so I’m guessing you’re understating your talents because you don’t want to boast about how good you are. Right. That settles it. I’m co-opting you onto our departmental quiz team, too.’
‘You,’ he said, ‘are scary. All that sweet, sweet smile, baby-blue eyes and butter-wouldn’t-melt expression—but you’ve got everyone organised and agreeing to things before they even have time to blink, haven’t you?’
‘Jenna the hustler—that’s me,’ she said, looking totally unrepentant. ‘If I could actually play pool, I’d make gazillions out of unwary punters and we’d have the best-equipped paediatric department in the country.’
He couldn’t help laughing. Even though he wanted to keep her at a distance, her warmth, her charm and her sheer chutzpah were irresistible. He would’ve liked to find something about her that wiped