Wish Upon A Star: The Christmas Marriage Rescue / The Midwife's Christmas Miracle

CHAPTER THREE

CHRISTY started to clear up some of the debris that had accumulated while Katya and Donna arranged the X-rays. She knew how important it was to keep Resus tidy and well stocked, and she thought that the comfort of routine might relieve the sick feeling building in her stomach.

Forcing herself to be rational and mature, she hung a fresh bag of IV fluid from the drip stand and then started to replenish the drugs that they’d used.

Eventually the patient was transferred to Theatre and she was left alone in the room. She picked up a laryngoscope from the intubation tray and snapped it open, testing that the bulb worked. She stared down at the curved, silver blade in her hand and didn’t hear the door open behind her.

‘So—working in A and E is obviously like riding a bike.’ Alessandro’s deep, masculine drawl came from directly behind her and she turned, her stomach jumping. There was no reason to feel nervous, she told herself firmly. They’d worked together as a smooth, efficient team. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

‘It came back to me.’

‘Obviously.’ His dark eyes lingered on her face. ‘You’ve missed it, haven’t you?’

She caught her breath. It had been years since she’d stopped working in A and E and yet that was the first time he’d ever asked her that question. ‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘I missed it terribly.’

Something flickered in his eyes. ‘You never said.’

‘You never asked.’

Their eyes met and held and Christy felt the heat flicker and stir in her pelvis.

Why did she have to find him so completely irresistible? The attraction between them was so powerful that it blinded her to every other aspect of their relationship, which was probably the reason they hadn’t sorted their problems out earlier.

‘We should talk more,’ he said roughly, and she gave a wan smile.

‘You’re not always that easy to talk to, Alessandro.’

‘Am I really scary?’ There was a frown in his eyes and she realised that her earlier comment had genuinely bothered him.

‘You can be intimidating,’ she said honestly. ‘But that’s partly because of your skills and experience. You can’t expect a newly qualified nurse to respond to an emergency situation with your confidence.’

‘If she can’t cope with the situation, she shouldn’t be in Resus,’ Alessandro growled, and Christy sighed.

‘You’re so hard on people. In an ideal world, I suppose you’re right. But we don’t live or work in an ideal world. And the best way to learn is by the patient’s bedside, gaining hands-on experience with the appropriate supervision.’ She scanned the trolley, checking that she’d replaced all the drugs they’d used. ‘All the studying in the world doesn’t prepare you for the pressure and demands of Resus when a patient is bleeding before your eyes.’

Alessandro looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You were good with her,’ he conceded. ‘The nurse, I mean.’

It was so unlike him to offer praise that she blinked in astonishment and then felt the warmth spread inside her.

‘Thank you.’

‘Do I scare you?’ His direct question made her catch her breath.

She wondered whether she ought to admit that the only thing that scared her was the thought of losing him.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but pride trapped the words in her throat before she could utter them. She was sleeping in the spare room, she reminded herself. He hadn’t come after her.

It was the wrong time to be honest about her feelings when she was so unsure about his.

‘No,’ she said finally, her voice quiet. ‘You don’t scare me, but you can be difficult to reach and sometimes I just give up rather than keep trying.’

He muttered something in Spanish and ran a hand over his jaw, a jaw that was already showing signs of stubble. Then he reached out and slid a hand behind her head and pulled her face to within inches of his in a gesture that was both male and possessive. ‘I don’t want a divorce, Christy. Be clear about that.’

She stared up at him, hypnotised by the look in his dark, brooding eyes. They were the words she’d waited to hear for two long months and he’d chosen to say them in Resus under harsh, fluorescent lights with the likelihood that they’d be disturbed at any moment. She wanted to ask why he’d let her go. She wanted to ask about Katya. Suddenly, she wanted to know how he’d spent the last six weeks. ‘And what if I want a divorce?’

She said the words to goad him and remembered too late that goading Alessandro, with his volatile, Latin temperament, was not a good idea.

‘You don’t.’ He slid his other arm and around her and jerked her against him in a decisive gesture that was so much a part of him.

She felt the strength and power of his body and the breath trapped in her throat. ‘Alessandro…’ she couldn’t concentrate on anything when he was this close. Couldn’t think…

‘Need me to prove it to you?’ He breathed the words against her mouth, his tone silky smooth and dangerous, and she gave a whimper, knowing what was coming and willing herself to reject him. ‘Need me to prove that you still want me?’

‘No, I don’t, I—’

His mouth came down on hers with seductive intent and immediately she sank against him because no one kissed like Alessandro and resisting him was impossible. His hand was buried in her hair, the skilful slide of his tongue erotic and demanding as he took her to the edge of sanity with a speed that shocked her.

His kiss was hungry and primitive and she clutched at him, pressing against him, her need so intense that she forgot everything except her desire for him.

Kissing him gave her the reassurance she needed and then he released her and stepped back, his expression cold. ‘The children need both their parents. We’re a family, Christy, and that isn’t going to change.’

The tiny flicker of hope died inside her. ‘Alessandro—’

‘We won’t ever speak of divorce again, Christy. And don’t pretend you don’t want me.’

Oh, she wanted him. How could she pretend otherwise when her nipples were pressing hard against the soft fabric of her scrub suit and her mouth was still swollen from the ravages of his kiss?

She wanted him. But how did she explain that she needed more than the physical when his solution to every problem was sex? He was a red-blooded, Mediterranean male with a high sex drive. She’d known that right from the first. Had loved the fact that he couldn’t get enough of her.

And the fact that he’d made it clear that his thoughts were only for the children caused her intense pain. The kiss hadn’t been about her, she thought miserably. It had been about the children. Alessandro was Spanish, through and through. He believed utterly in the sanctity of the family.

He would stay married to her for the sake of the children.

Could she do the same? Could she stay with him, knowing that he didn’t love her any more?

‘We can’t talk about this here, Alessandro,’ she croaked. ‘Not now.’

His eyes dropped to her mouth and the tension rose between them.

‘When, then?’

‘I don’t know.’ She felt so shaky and miserable that she didn’t feel up to another confrontation. Didn’t feel up to listening to more evidence that he was determined to save their marriage for the sake of the children.

‘Well, it has to be soon.’ He was standing close to her. So close that her heart rate increased alarmingly.

Was it normal? she wondered. Was it normal to be married to someone for twelve years and yet still want to rip their clothes off at every opportunity?

‘I need to go home and prepare dinner,’ she said huskily as she dragged off her gloves and washed her hands, seeking any excuse to turn away from him. ‘Mum’s dropping the children in an hour. Are you joining us?’

She expected him to tell her that he was staying at the hospital but as she risked a glance at him she collided with his hard, unyielding gaze.

‘Sí.’ His Spanish accent was more pronounced than usual. ‘I’m joining you, querida. I want to eat dinner with my children. Why wouldn’t I?’

The children.

It was all about the children, she thought dully as she washed her hands and walked out of the room.

As a couple, they didn’t exist any more.

Checking that her parents were still seated at the dining table, Katy grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him upstairs and into the spare bedroom. ‘It’s time to interfere.’

‘What’s interfere?’ Ben started playing with his toy aeroplane and Katy snatched it away from him and held it out of reach.

‘Interfere is when you try and help someone do something they should be doing for themselves.’ She threw the aeroplane onto a chair and grabbed his hand. ‘Come on. We’re going to bounce on the bed.’

Ben tried to jerk his hand away from hers. ‘I was playing with my aeroplane.’

Katy rolled her eyes. ‘You can play with it again in a minute, but for now we’re going to bounce.’

Ben eyed the bed doubtfully. ‘We’re not supposed to jump on the beds.’

‘And when has that ever stopped you?’

‘I’ll get into trouble with Mum.’

‘And if you don’t do it, you’ll get into trouble with me,’ Katy informed him sweetly. ‘Take your pick.’

‘I do like bouncing.’ Ben looked at the wide bed with something close to yearning. ‘Come on, then. Just a quick one. How hard do you want me to bounce?’

‘Just hard enough to break it,’ Katy muttered under her breath, slipping off her shoes. ‘I’ll help you. Come on.’ And she leapt into the middle of the bed and started jumping, her dark ponytail flying around her shoulders as she leaped higher and higher.

Ben gave a delighted giggled and climbed up next to her.

‘Come on.’ She grabbed his hands and encouraged him to bounce, too.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Christy and Alessandro were finishing their meal in tense silence when there was an enormous crash above them, followed by a plaintive yell.

‘Oh, no.’ Driven by her maternal instincts, Christy was out of her seat and up the stairs in record time, Alessandro right behind her.

In the bedroom they found Ben sobbing noisily on the carpet and Katy with her arms around him. She looked up when her parents entered. ‘Poor Ben. He bounced on the bed and…’ she gave a baffled shrug, her expression both innocent and mystified ‘… it must have broken or something. Unbelievable, the rubbish they sell you these days.’

‘The bed broke?’ Christy looked at the collapsed bed in horror and disbelief. ‘Oh, my goodness. It looks as though the frame has snapped right through. How did you—?’ And then she saw the blood on Ben’s cheek and dropped to her knees. All the training in the world didn’t prepare you properly for coping when your own child was injured, she thought frantically. ‘You’re bleeding. Alessandro, he’s bleeding.’

‘I see it.’ Calm and steady, Alessandro scooped his son into his arms and swept the aeroplane and Christy’s clothes off the chair so that he could sit down. ‘What’s happened to you?’

‘Katy told me to bounce,’ Ben hiccoughed, his face blotched with crying, ‘so I bounced, but when the bed broke I fell off and banged myself. It hurts.’

‘Where did you bang yourself?’ Alessandro ran strong fingers over the little boy’s arms and legs, hunting for damage—trying to find the source of the bleeding. He found it on the boy’s palm. ‘It’s fine. Just a scratch. He must have run his hand over his cheek. That’s why he has blood on his face.’

Christy stood there, heart thumping, relieved that Alessandro was there. She’d always been a wreck inside when either of the children had been ill or injured. She suddenly realised how much she’d missed his strength.

Still cuddling Ben, Alessandro threw a frowning glance at the bed. ‘That’s well and truly broken. You won’t be sleeping there tonight.’

Christy gave a tiny frown and turned to Katy. ‘I’ll have Ben’s room. Your brother can share with you.’

‘No way!’ Katy shrank back, her face a picture of exaggerated sibling horror. ‘He snores, fidgets and talks in his sleep. No way am I sleeping with a monster baby like him.’

Ben clutched at the front of Alessandro’s shirt and scowled at his sister. ‘I’m not a baby!’

Christy sighed. ‘Katy, there’s no other option.’

‘Yes, there is. If there’s sharing to be done, you can jolly well share with Dad. At least you’re married. I’m not sharing with my brother! That’s totally gross.’ And she stomped out of the room, ponytail swishing like a statement.

Alessandro stared after her with an expression of blatant masculine incomprehension. ‘Is she hormonal?’

Christy rubbed her aching forehead. ‘Hardly. She’s eleven years old.’

‘She’s acting like a teenager.’

‘She’s going through a difficult phase. She’s…’ Her eyes met his and the words tailed off. They both knew that if Katy was going through a difficult stage, it was probably their fault. Christy’s hand fell to her side. ‘On top of everything else, I suppose it isn’t exactly fair for her to have to share with her brother. She is getting to an age where privacy is important,’ she murmured, and Alessandro nodded agreement.

‘You can use our bedroom. I’ll take the sofa downstairs.’

Christy felt the heavy punch of disappointment deep inside her but smiled. ‘That’s very decent of you. Thanks.’

She didn’t care, she told herself. She didn’t care that he obviously couldn’t face the thought of sharing a room with her, let alone a bed. She didn’t care that he’d rather sleep on the sofa than be with her.

Once, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. They’d been like greedy, naughty teenagers seizing every opportunity to rip each other’s clothes off and feast. Now it seemed as if they couldn’t create enough distance.

‘How will Father Christmas come if Daddy’s sleeping downstairs?’ Ben’s anxious voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘We all know that he can’t come if anyone is there to see him.’ The sweet innocence of his question made her heart twist.

‘I… er… He…’ Christy fumbled for an answer that might work, casting a desperate look at Alessandro.

‘I’ll keep my eyes tightly shut for the whole night?’

Ben shook his head, his expression solemn. ‘That won’t work. If you’re awake, he knows.’

‘Well, Daddy’s under a lot of strain at the moment,’ Alessandro growled, ‘so I’m sure I’ll be asleep.’

Was he under strain? He always looked infuriatingly cool and relaxed, Christy mused as she studied his handsome face for clues. Perhaps those dark, brooding eyes were a little more shadowed than usual and the sexy mouth a little more grimly set.

The strain of having her to stay, she thought miserably.

He was only tolerating her because of the children. Everything he did was because of the children.

‘That’s settled, then,’ Christy said brightly. ‘Daddy will sleep on the sofa. Now, let’s get you into bed. It’s getting late.’

She woke early to the sound of clattering and thumping in the kitchen, accompanied by harsh masculine curses. Trying to ignore the fact that she’d had less than four hours’ sleep, she slipped on her dressing-gown and went downstairs to investigate.

Bare-chested and wearing only a pair of old jeans, Alessandro was muttering to himself in Spanish as he smashed his way around the kitchen.

Her Spanish was by no means fluent, but she’d lived with him for long enough to understand that he was in a foul temper.

‘What’s the matter with you?’

Alessandro shot her a stormy look as he made himself a large espresso. ‘It’s morning. I hate mornings. Especially after a night spent in the equivalent of a shoebox.’

She tried not to look at that tempting expanse of muscular chest. He had an incredible physique. Hard. Strong. Male. ‘That sofa was expensive.’

He made a sound that was close to a snarl. ‘Believe me, you’d never guess by sleeping on it. I’m aching in parts of my body that I never even knew I had before now.’

He looked so cross that she felt a smile coming and lifted a hand to her mouth to cover it.

He paused with the cup halfway to his lips, his smouldering gaze hooded. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ He rolled the ‘r’, sounding more and more Spanish as he always did when he was angry.

‘I’m not laughing at you.’

Slowly, he placed the cup back on the work surface, his eyes glittering dark and dangerous as he moved purposefully towards her. ‘Because if you’re laughing at me, querida, you can spend the night on the sofa tonight.’

Her heart started to thump hard against her ribs and she found herself backing away. ‘Alessandro, I wasn’t laughing.’ It was ridiculous that he could still have this effect on her, she told herself firmly. They’d been together for twelve years. It wasn’t possible for a man to make a woman weak at the knees after twelve years. It didn’t happen that way. People became bored with each other. Sex was supposed to become routine and infrequent.

‘You would fit better on the sofa.’ He was right up against her now, and she was right up against the wall. Breathing heavily. ‘You are smaller. More delicate.’

At that particular point in time she didn’t need him to point out their differences. Her eyes were in line with sleek, male muscle and dark body hair. He was pumped up and hard and breathtakingly sexy. There was certainly no missing the differences between them.