A Proposal to Remember

  Indulge with these irresistible and heart-warming proposal romances by USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan! Featuring previously published titles The Italian’s Passionate Proposal and The Celebrity Doctor’s Proposal.

  Will she say yes…?

  Dark, handsome and impossibly wealthy surgeon Carlo Santini can have any woman he wants. But working alongside nurse Suzannah Wilde at St. Catherine’s hospital, it’s hard for him to deny the sexual attraction simmering between them!

  Zan knows Carlo is holding something back from her, but all the same invites him to spend the festive season with her.

  And soon discovers that the caring baby doctor by day is a passionate, demanding lover by night…!

  Dr Sam McKenna’s TV show Medical Matters gets top ratings. So when he’s roped in to being a locum for Dr Anna Riggs he brings along his film crew too!

  Anna’s furious—gorgeous Sam hasn’t treated a real patient in years. Except he proves his caring attitude isn’t just for the camera—and Anna’s heart melts.

  But would Sam ever swap celebrity for village life?

  Originally published in 2003 and 2005.

  A Proposal to Remember

  The Italian’s Passionate Proposal

  The Celebrity Doctor’s Proposal

  Sarah Morgan

  Table of Contents

  The Italian’s Passionate Proposal

  By Sarah Morgan

  The Celebrity Doctor’s Proposal

  By Sarah Morgan

  The Italian’s Passionate Proposal

  Sarah Morgan

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE freezing air was thick with softly falling snowflakes and the darkened streets of the East End of London were totally deserted. With less than a week to go until Christmas, most people were at home, decorating trees and wrapping presents.

  Carlo Santini was barely aware of the inhospitable nature of his surroundings. He was restless and on edge, frustrated beyond belief by recent developments in his life. A frown on his handsome face, he paced rhythmically along the icy pavement, his footsteps muffled by the thick covering of snow, the collar of his black coat turned up against the cold.

  He’d been warned to keep to his apartment and the hospital but he was totally fed up with the warnings.

  In fact, he was so disillusioned with his life that when things had finally come to a head and he’d been ordered to leave Italy for a short time, he’d been only too happy to comply.

  His old life was starting to feel like a prison.

  Having enormous wealth was a fantasy for most people but for Carlo the reality had become an increasing burden over the years and he embraced the chance to pretend that it didn’t exist, even for a few precious weeks. Being forced to come to London and work under an assumed name was a gift that he was determined to grab with both hands.

  For the first time in his whole life, no one would know who he was.

  People would respond to his medical and personal skills rather than his reputation as a billionaire playboy or his impressive connections.

  Suddenly aware of just how quiet the streets were, Carlo narrowed his eyes and took a brief look around. He’d always refused to have a personal bodyguard and the recent threats to his life hadn’t changed that. He preferred to look out for himself.

  He gave a slight smile. Matteo Parini, his father’s chief of security, was probably in their London apartment biting his nails at this very moment, wondering where he was.

  And Carlo was under no illusions about his safety. Even hidden in the East End of London under an assumed name, he wasn’t safe. Not until they caught the men who were threatening his life. But at least for a few hours he could pretend that nothing was wrong.

  Suddenly aware that two men had appeared in the street ahead of him, he tensed his broad shoulders slightly. They were walking slowly and Carlo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched them.

  Why would they be dawdling when it was below freezing? It was hardly the night for a winter stroll.

  Then he saw one of them glance across the street and for the first time noticed a young boy, slight in build, hurrying along the pavement, clutching a stuffed bin bag, his eyes down as he struggled against the snow.

  Guessing their intention before they’d even acted, Carlo removed his hands from his pockets, his lean features suddenly showing a strength of purpose. Without drawing attention to himself, he increased his pace, every sense on alert as he closed the distance between them.

  With no warning they suddenly turned and sprinted across the snowy street, attacking the young boy viciously, grabbing the bin bag that he was carrying and pushing him roughly to the ground.

  Carlo’s eyes gleamed and adrenaline rushed through his veins, but before he could reach them the young boy was back on his feet, lithe and agile. He grabbed one of the men in a classic judo hold and threw him heavily onto the pavement.

  Carlo winced at the sickening thud and gave a surprised smile.

  Maybe the lad didn’t need his help after all. He seemed to be doing pretty well by himself.

  Or maybe not…

  As the man lay groaning on the ground, his accomplice grabbed the boy round the throat and Carlo saw a flash of steel.

  His blood heating, he moved swiftly, using the element of surprise to his advantage, attacking the man from behind and enclosing his wrist in a deadly grip until the knife fell to the ground.

  ‘Let him go…’ He couldn’t think of a suitable word in English so he switched to Italian, twisting the man’s arm behind his back in a ruthless hold that forced him to release the boy.

  The other attacker scrambled to his feet, winded by the fall, bracing himself for a fight.

  Breathing heavily, he caught the cold, dangerous look in Carlo’s eyes and backed away, his change of heart evident.

  ‘Hey, it wasn’t my idea…’

  He glared at his friend, still held captive by Carlo’s deadly hold, and then turned and ran for it, sprinting away as fast as he could, slipping and sliding on the snowy street in his haste to put distance between them.

  Swearing fluently, the other man whimpered with the pain in his arm and Carlo reluctantly let him go, kicking the knife out of reach, cold fury erupting inside him. Why were they attacking a kid?

  Rubbing his arm, the man gave an angry snarl, landed a final vicious kick in the boy’s stomach and then turned and ran after his friend.

  Carlo was itching to chase them but he was aware that the young boy was doubled up in pain from the kick. He reached out a hand to offer support and found himself flat on his back on the pavement, staring up at the stars.

  How the hell had that happened?

  He was an expert in several martial arts and had spent his entire life prepared to defend himself. He just hadn’t expected to have to defend himself from someone who didn’t even reach his chin and whom he’d just rescued.

  But clearly the boy didn’t realise he was being rescued.

  Grunting with pain, every muscle in his body protesting, Carlo struggled to sit up and then ducked as a booted foot flew in the direction of his face.

  ‘Stay away from me, you scum!’

  Deciding that this was becoming dangerous, he grabbed the foot and brought the boy down as gently as he could, rolling on top of him so that he could hold him securely.

  ‘I’m not trying to hurt you,’ he gritted, grabbing both arms and pinning the boy to the pavement. Finally the boy stopped wriggling and glared up at him
defiantly and Carlo felt something shift in his stomach.

  He’d never seen a boy with eyes that beautiful.

  They were an amazing shade of green, fringed with thick lashes that were inky black.

  Following through on a totally male instinct, he released the boy’s hands and jerked off the woolly hat, sucking in his breath as soft dark hair tumbled down and trailed in the snow.

  Not a boy…

  His last coherent thought was that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life.

  And then she hit him.

  Carlo winced as her small fist made contact with his cheekbone, pain splitting the side of his face. He swore fluently in Italian and moved his jaw gingerly, testing for fractures.

  He’d say this for the girl, she certainly knew how to fight. Why had he ever thought she needed his protection?

  Careful not to hurt her, he shifted himself so that he pinned her more securely and caught hold of her hands as she struggled.

  ‘Porca miseria, I’m not attacking you,’ he growled impatiently. ‘I’m rescuing you!’

  Her eyes were blazing up into his, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

  ‘Rescuing me? You’re not rescuing me, you’re suffocating me! And ranting at me in a strange language. Let me go!’

  She was gorgeous.

  Utterly captivated, Carlo gave her a lazy smile but didn’t move an inch. He was enjoying it far too much to move. The feel of her soft, womanly body under his was fantastic. How could he ever have thought she was a boy?

  He must be losing it…

  Her outraged glare faded and she stared up at him, her stunning green eyes locking with his. ‘Are you going to lie on top of me all night?’

  Given the chance, yes.

  ‘Is that an invitation?’ Carlo knew he ought to move and help her up, but all he wanted to do was bend his head and kiss her.

  So he did.

  As his mouth came down on hers he hung onto her hands, fully expecting her to take another swipe at him, but after the briefest hesitation her soft lips parted and she kissed him back, sighing slightly as he used all the skill of his thirty-four years to seduce a response from her.

  When he finally dragged his mouth away from hers he felt drugged. It had only been a taste but it had been enough to make him want the whole meal.

  ‘Wh-what did you do that for?’ Those amazing green eyes were still staring up at him, and for the first time in his life Carlo found it difficult to string a coherent sentence together. His body and brain felt disconnected.

  ‘Kiss of life,’ he murmured huskily, his mind and body still focused on her mouth. ‘They were pretty rough with you—I thought maybe…’

  ‘I don’t think it worked.’ Her expression was slightly dazed and her voice was smoky and feminine. ‘Want to try it again?’

  Carlo lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly, this time releasing his grip so that he could use his hands to haul her body even closer to his.

  He felt her shudder under him, felt her slim arms slide round his neck, and for endless moments he was lost in the soft, sweet wonder of her mouth.

  Then he heard a shout from the pavement opposite and rolled to his feet, instantly alert.

  Be discreet, his father and brother had said.

  Lying on a snowy pavement kissing a gorgeous female in full view of anyone who happened to pass probably didn’t qualify, he admitted ruefully, reaching down a hand to pull her up.

  She staggered to her feet and then jerked her hand away as if his touch had singed her.

  ‘I can’t believe we just did that.’ She backed away from him and lifted her fingers to her lips, her expression stunned. ‘I can’t believe I let you kiss me. You’re a stranger. I don’t kiss strangers.’

  She looked confused and wary, and he forced himself to stand still and give her some space. He could hardly blame her for being nervous of him. After all, she’d just been mugged.

  Carlo searched for the words to reassure her, but before he could speak she stooped to pick up the bin bag and winced in pain.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ He frowned, surprised and confused by the rush of possessiveness that swamped him. He didn’t even know her name, but the thought that they’d hurt her filled him with red-hot anger. ‘That was a nasty kick.’

  He searched his brain for a non-sexual way of suggesting that he take a look at her stomach. He was a doctor after all.

  ‘I’m OK.’ She brushed her snowy dark hair away from her exquisite face. ‘I suppose I’ve got you to thank for that.’ She gave him a cautious look, still keeping herself at a safe distance. ‘If you hadn’t intervened he probably would have used that knife. I’m sorry I floored you. It all happened so fast I panicked. I thought you were with them.’

  She still looked wary, and every muscle in her body was tense, but at least she hadn’t run off.

  ‘Don’t apologise. I’m glad you floored me.’ Remembering the feel of her soft body under his, he was more than glad. If she hadn’t done that, he probably wouldn’t have kissed her. And, having kissed her…

  His eyes dropped hungrily to her mouth again and he wrestled with the instinct to act like a caveman and drag her somewhere quiet, where he could make love to her until she couldn’t stand up.

  But she was visibly nervous and he wasn’t going to blow his chances by rushing her. So, instead of grabbing her, he pushed his hands firmly into his pockets and kept his distance.

  ‘Do you always kiss people who knock you to the ground?’ She was watching him carefully with those incredible eyes, as if she hadn’t quite decided whether she should run or not.

  ‘Never.’

  Her fingers tightened on the bin bag. ‘So why did you kiss me, then?’

  Carlo was finding it harder and harder to breathe normally. ‘Because you’re stunning.’

  The wariness left her face and she threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘Dressed in torn jeans and an ancient coat with a woollen hat on my head? Very sexy, I’m sure.’

  ‘Kissing is a good way of distracting an attacker,’ he drawled, unable to drag his gaze away from her gorgeous face. ‘It’s the element of surprise.’

  ‘Well, I’ve done judo since I was six but that’s a move I’ve never used,’ she confessed, still smiling. Suddenly she seemed more relaxed. Her eyes sparkled and snow stuck to her lashes and shiny dark hair, and it occurred to him that if he could have anything he wanted for Christmas then it would be her.

  Preferably unwrapped.

  ‘Are you saying that you’ve never been kissed by your opponent before?’ His words and eyes teased her but his body and brain were deadly serious as he moved closer. ‘You’ve been missing out.’

  Their eyes locked and she smiled hesitantly. ‘It certainly takes your mind off fighting.’ Suddenly her smile faded and she stared at his cheekbone in dismay. ‘Oh, no! Did I do that? Have I given you a black eye?’

  He didn’t care about his eye. At the moment he was more concerned about other parts of his anatomy that he was finding distinctly uncomfortable. His jeans were just too tight to accommodate such an extreme reaction.

  She stood on tiptoe and touched his bruised cheekbone gingerly, her voice contrite. ‘We ought to get some ice on that.’

  Ice. He gritted his teeth. Maybe if he thought about ice it would help him out of his dilemma. He was reacting like a hormonal teenager.

  He looked down at her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? They were pretty rough with you.’

  It occurred to him that, apart from being wary of him, she didn’t seem particularly shaken up. He tried to think of one other woman of his acquaintance who would have fought like that and still been smiling afterwards. He failed dismally. All the women he knew panicked if they so much as chipped a nail.

  ‘I’m OK, thanks to you. Apart from ripping my favourite jeans. I was thinking about something else or they wouldn’t have taken me by surprise.’ She peered at his face again, her expression gui
lty. ‘You saved my life and in return I hit you. That never happens in the movies. I should have been sobbing with relief and gratitude, instead of which I may have given you a black eye.’

  ‘I love a dominant woman,’ Carlo drawled lightly, and she laughed.

  ‘Next time I’ll try not to panic.’

  ‘I’m not surprised you panicked.’ His expression was serious. ‘But I don’t think he would have used the knife.’

  He said it to reassure her, in case part of her was still scared. Or maybe it was himself that he was reassuring. The thought of what might have happened if that creep had done what he’d threatened was too horrific to contemplate.

  She pulled a face. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, he probably would.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact. ‘This area is notorious for muggings and other unsavoury acts. I’m lucky you were passing and bothered to help. Do you think we should call the police?’

  Carlo froze. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.

  ‘I think they’re long gone,’ he said carefully, his expression guarded. ‘And I didn’t really get a good look at them, did you?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head and he changed the subject neatly.

  ‘What are you doing out on your own on a night like this?’

  She altered her grip on the bin bag. ‘I’m working.’

  Working?

  What sort of work required her to walk the streets at ten o’clock at night wearing worn jeans, a woolly hat and carrying a bin liner?

  Surely she wasn’t…

  She looked up at him and started to laugh. ‘I wish you could see your face! I can assure you I don’t do what you’re thinking! Actually, I’m a midwife,’ she said, as if it was perfectly obvious to anyone but a complete idiot.

  A midwife?

  He’d worked with midwives for most of his adult life, but none of them had looked like her.

  Carlo tried to ask her something intelligent but all he could see was that gorgeous smile that seemed to take over her whole face. Suddenly his brain and his body seemed to be ruled by a vicious rush of male hormones. He’d dated some of the most beautiful women in the world, but he couldn’t remember a single one who had threatened his ability to walk in a straight line. Until now.

 
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