A Proposal to Remember Page 12

  He stroked her damp hair away from her face with a gentle hand and bent his head to kiss her again. Then he rolled over, taking her with him.

  She held him tightly, relieved that he didn’t seem to want to lose the physical contact.

  A soft smile of satisfaction touched her lips.

  She might have missed this.

  If she’d been sensible and cautious she never would have invited him back to her flat on that first night, and then she never would have known what love could feel like.

  He held her tightly, one arm clamping her against him, one leg slung over hers. Then he moved slightly so that he could look at her. He looked very sexy and very, very male.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  His voice was deep and accented and she gave him a shy smile.

  ‘Are you kidding? If I’d known it was that good I would have done it years ago.’

  He glowered at her and his grip tightened possessively. ‘Don’t say that. Ever.’ His tone was raw. ‘You’re mine and no one else’s.’

  She chuckled and her eyes teased him. ‘I love it when you’re macho.’

  He grinned and rolled her onto her back. ‘I’ll show you macho.’

  His voice was a sexy rumble and she sighed against his mouth as he kissed her thoroughly, stoking the fire again.

  ‘I never knew that Father Christmas had so many talents.’ She lifted a hand to touch his dark jaw, loving his rough masculinity. ‘I love you, Carlo.’

  He stilled above her and his dark eyes narrowed slightly, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

  Zan felt her cheeks warm.

  She shouldn’t have said anything.

  Embarrassed by her declaration, and by the lengthening silence, she tried to roll away from him but his hold tightened and he used his weight to keep her still while he slid a hand into her hair, forcing her to look at him.

  ‘I love you too.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘I want you to remember that, Zan. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that.’

  His thumb moved gently over her cheek and she stared into his eyes, wondering what he’d meant by that remark.

  Why would she need to remember that he loved her?

  Something jarred inside her brain, but before she could explore the source of her unease he lowered his head and kissed her again, making her head spin and sending all rational thought from her head.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CARLO watched Zan as she slept and wondered how he’d got himself into this situation.

  He’d just made love to a woman who didn’t know who he was.

  Shaken by the depth of his feelings, he held onto her tightly, as if keeping her close physically could prevent anything driving them apart.

  He’d made love before but he realised now that it had always been a purely physical act. With Zan it had been totally different. She’d seduced his emotions as well as his body.

  And when she woke up he was going to tell her the truth.

  * * *

  Zan smelt coffee and opened her eyes.

  ‘Merry Christmas.’ Carlo placed a tray by the bed and bent to kiss her. ‘He’s been.’

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes, still drugged from sleep. ‘Who’s been?’

  ‘Father Christmas, of course.’

  Without giving her a chance to protest, he dropped an elegantly wrapped parcel into her lap and she woke up rapidly.

  Her eyes widened. ‘For me?’

  He nodded. ‘Open it.’

  She tugged at the ribbon, ripped the paper and then gasped as she saw the oyster silk wrap and pyjamas.

  ‘Oh—they’re beautiful.’

  She fingered them gingerly, almost afraid to touch the delicate fabric.

  ‘Put them on.’ His eyes burned into hers. ‘If you don’t get dressed now, I won’t be able to undress you later.’

  She blushed at the reminder that she was still naked, and slipped her arms into the pyjama top, loving the way the silk slithered over her skin.

  ‘They’re gorgeous.’ She gazed down at herself and then up at him. ‘I’ve never worn anything so beautiful.’

  ‘Good.’

  He smiled with satisfaction and waited for her to finish dressing. ‘Now come with me.’

  Still fingering the pyjamas with awe, she followed him through to the living room and gave a smile of delight when she saw the stocking stuffed full of presents lying under the tree.

  ‘More?’

  He bent his head and kissed her gently. ‘Much, much more.’

  She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the feel of his rough jaw against her skin.

  ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

  Something flickered across his face, but it was gone in an instant and he waved a hand at the bulging stocking.

  ‘Get started. I’ll fetch the coffee.’

  Zan knelt down on the cushions and reached for the stocking, squeezing it as she had as a child.

  ‘Very lumpy and bumpy.’ She laughed. ‘This used to be my favourite game as a child. Guessing the present. I used to break half of them before Christmas Day because I’d poked them so much.’

  He sprawled alongside her and handed her a coffee. ‘Drink this. It will wake you up.’

  ‘I’m awake.’ She was tugging the first present out of the stocking and ripping at the paper. ‘Oh!’ She picked up the pretty doll and smiled at him. ‘You certainly pay attention, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘You said you’d never had one.’

  ‘I know.’ She stroked the doll’s hair wistfully. ‘She’s beautiful.’

  She worked her way down the stocking, touched by the thought that he’d put into each present. There was a book, a beautiful pen, a soft cashmere jumper in a shade of green that she knew would suit her and beautiful, feminine underwear.

  ‘You bought me so much.’ She glanced at him, embarrassed, knowing that she’d only bought him a few things and hadn’t spent nearly so much.

  ‘Put your hand in the bottom of the stocking,’ he suggested, leaning forward to see what she was doing. ‘There should be one more parcel.’

  Zan did as she was told and withdrew a small, flat box wrapped in silver paper and bows.

  ‘Gosh, this is elaborate.’ She undid the bow, removed the paper and flipped open the box, and her face broke into a smile. ‘My diamonds!’

  Lying in the box were a pair of the prettiest earrings she’d ever seen.

  ‘Do you like them?’ He sounded strangely uncertain and she leaned forward to kiss him.

  ‘I love them. They’re perfect.’ She lifted them out of the box and held them up to the light, watching as they twinkled and shone. ‘They’re huge! Imagine if they were real.’

  There was a long silence and Carlo cleared his throat, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘Zan, listen—’

  Suddenly aware that she might have sounded rude, Zan interrupted him.

  ‘They’re gorgeous, Carlo, and I’d hate to have real ones,’ she assured him hastily. ‘I’d be terrified to wear them. Now it’s my turn.’ She moved over to the Christmas tree and rummaged underneath for his presents.

  ‘This is my main present to you.’ She handed him a small box, hugely pleased with herself.

  The man in the shop had assured her that it was the perfect present for an Italian male. Or any male, for that matter.

  Carlo ripped off the paper and stared down at the toy car in his hand.

  ‘It’s a Ferrari,’ Zan said breathlessly. ‘Apparently it’s called an Enzo Ferrari and there aren’t very many and they cost almost half a million pounds. So I thought I’d get you one for Christmas.’

  Carlo was very still, staring down at the car with a strange expression on his face.

  Zan’s smile faded and she looked at him anxiously. ‘Do you hate it? Have you already got one?’

  Carlo seemed to shake himself. ‘No. Not like this.’

  ‘Good.’ He seemed totally distracted and Zan looked at him i
n confusion. ‘When I win the Lottery I’ll buy you the real one.’

  His eyes met hers.

  ‘Zan, there’s something I have to tell you.’ His voice sounded strange and his expression was deadly serious. He put the car on the floor and reached for her hand. ‘I should have told you before, but I—’

  The shrill tone of his mobile phone interrupted them and he said something in Italian that she was sure wasn’t polite.

  ‘We’ll talk in a moment.’ He flipped open the phone. ‘Carlo Bennett.’ He listened, frowning slightly as the person on the other end spoke briefly. ‘OK—I’ll come in. Yes, she’s coming, too.’

  He closed the phone, his expression grim. ‘Helen Hughes has gone into labour.’

  ‘Well, what’s the problem with that? Oh, no.’ Zan clamped a hand over her mouth and started to giggle. ‘I’d forgotten about her mother staying. She won’t even have had time to put the turkey in the oven yet. Why are you looking so tense?’

  Carlo hesitated. ‘Because I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘You can talk to me while we get dressed.’ Zan scrambled to her feet and dashed into the bedroom. ‘What stage is she at?’

  ‘Her waters have just broken and she’s been having regular contractions for the past two hours so they’ve told her to come straight to Labour Ward. They wanted to let me know and I said I’ll go in and check on her. I know you’re not officially working until lunchtime but I thought you’d like to do the same as you’re her named midwife.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come with you.’ Zan dragged a uniform out of the wardrobe. ‘Try keeping me away! Would you believe, I’ve never delivered twins? I’m really excited. This is the best Christmas ever!’

  Carlo looked oddly tense as he pulled on a pair of tailored trousers and dug a roll-neck jumper out of his bag.

  She reached for her coat and glanced across at him. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

  He hesitated briefly and then shrugged. ‘It can wait.’

  She smiled. ‘We can talk tonight, after we’ve delivered these twins.’

  Whatever it was couldn’t be that important.

  * * *

  The two men in the car watched them leave.

  ‘I’ll say this for Santini—he’s got taste,’ one of the men muttered. ‘That girl is gorgeous.’

  His friend frowned at him. ‘You shouldn’t be looking at the girl. You should be looking for the bodyguard.’

  ‘Parini?’

  ‘He’s the best there is. I’m not going near that apartment until I know he’s out of the way. I value my life.’

  They sat in silence for several minutes and then the larger of the two men gave a sigh of satisfaction.

  ‘There he goes. He’s not letting Santini out of his sight.’

  ‘Which means that he’s not watching the apartment. Now what?’

  His friend gave a nasty smile. ‘We go upstairs and leave Carlo Santini a message.’

  * * *

  Helen Hughes was waiting for them on the labour ward.

  ‘How did you know?’ She glared at Carlo and then screwed up her face as another contraction hit her. It was half a minute before she could finish the conversation. ‘You said that I wasn’t going to cook Christmas dinner. How did you know?’

  ‘Experience. And instinct.’ Carlo gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I had a lousy night. Backache, leg-ache, headache—you name it, it ached. Then I got up to make a cup of tea and my waters broke so I started Christmas morning by cleaning the floor. I’ve been getting regular contractions ever since.’

  Carlo nodded. ‘OK. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to examine you to check what’s happening and then, providing your cervix has dilated sufficiently, I’m going to put a scalp electrode on the first baby’s head to help us monitor his heart-rate.’

  Helen looked worried. ‘What about the other twin?’

  ‘We’ll monitor that one externally,’ Zan assured her, helping her onto the bed while Carlo washed his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves.

  She opened the pack for him and got everything ready.

  ‘You’re three centimetres dilated, Helen,’ he said eventually, reaching to pick up the electrode. ‘I’m just going to attach this to his scalp.’

  His fingers moved swiftly and skilfully and he attached the electrode with the minimum of fuss. Then he connected it to the machine.

  Helen looked at it doubtfully. ‘What on earth does that thing measure?’

  Carlo ripped off his gloves and tossed them into the bin. ‘It allows us to watch the baby’s heart and how it responds during each contraction. Zan will put an external monitor on the other twin now, so that we can measure his heartbeat, too.’

  Zan strapped the ultrasound transducer to Helen’s abdomen and checked that she had a heart trace.

  ‘That seems fine.’ She glanced up at Carlo. ‘Do you want to get a line in?’

  She knew that it was important to have intravenous access in twin delivery because of the risk of complications.

  ‘Definitely.’

  He explained what they were doing to Helen and then waited until another contraction had passed before he found a vein and inserted a venflon.

  ‘Are the babies in the right position?’ Helen looked worried, but Carlo gave her a reassuring smile.

  ‘The first baby is fine, and we don’t worry about the second one until the first is safely born. Once he has room to move he might change position,’ Carlo explained. ‘After delivery of the first twin we will scan you to check on how the second one is lying.’

  ‘You always call the baby him,’ Helen pointed out tartly, and Carlo gave a sheepish grin.

  ‘Because all Italian men are chauvinists. We always call babies him until proved otherwise.’

  ‘So what happens if it’s a girl?’ Helen teased. ‘Do you refuse to deliver it?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Carlo gave her a wink. ‘I love girls.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Helen’s tone was dry and Zan changed the subject. She didn’t want to think about the fact that Carlo loved girls.

  ‘What’s happening at home, Helen?’ Zan handed her a drink of water and waited while she took a few sips. ‘Is your husband coming in?’

  Helen handed the cup back and tried to make herself more comfortable. ‘Later. The children were ripping open their stockings when my waters broke, so we thought we’d try and give them as normal a Christmas as possible.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I even managed to get the turkey into the oven between contractions and I did all the veg last night.’

  ‘Sounds incredibly relaxing.’ Carlo glanced up from the notes, his tone dry. ‘No wonder you went into labour.’

  ‘Well, Christmas is not the ideal time to have a baby,’ Helen agreed, biting her lip and sucking in her breath as another contraction hit her. ‘Ouch—this is really starting to hurt.’

  ‘When we talked about pain relief in antenatal classes, you wanted to try and stick to gas and air,’ Zan said quietly, ‘but you know that you can change your mind, don’t you?’

  Helen breathed carefully. ‘I don’t know what to do any more,’ she confessed. ‘I read somewhere that if I have an epidural it means you can operate in an emergency.’

  ‘I don’t foresee an emergency,’ Carlo said calmly. ‘You do what’s right for you. If we need to intervene at any stage then we’ll tell you.’

  Helen gave him a grateful smile. ‘In that case, I’ll stick to gas and air for now and see how it goes.’ She looked at Zan. ‘Will you be with me the whole time? It helps just to have people I trust around me.’

  ‘I promise I’ll be with you all the way,’ Zan said quietly, giving her hand a squeeze.

  Helen bit her lip. ‘I’ve ruined your Christmas,’ she muttered, and Zan grinned.

  Ruined her Christmas?

  She thought back to the night before and everything that had happened between her and Carlo.

  ‘Are you k
idding? I’m having the best Christmas I can ever remember, and delivering twins will be the highlight.’ Her green eyes sparkled and she glanced up to find Carlo watching her with a heat in his eyes that made her draw breath.

  He was so sexy.

  And he loved her.

  She was so happy she could barely keep it to herself.

  ‘The labour ward staff were telling me that you weren’t even supposed to be working this morning,’ Helen said, clearly fretting that she’d made Zan give up her Christmas.

  ‘I’m on a late,’ Zan told her, ‘which means that officially I start at lunchtime, but this is fine. I had time to open my presents.’

  She looked at Carlo again, remembering the pretty earrings and the doll. He’d chosen her great presents. He wasn’t just a fantastic lover and a great doctor, he was thoughtful and caring as well.

  She couldn’t believe she’d known him for less than a week.

  Satisfied that Helen was doing well, Carlo made his excuses. ‘I have to go and see some other patients now, but I’ll be checking up on you and I’ll be here for the delivery.’

  Helen watched him go with a sigh. ‘Gorgeous.’

  Zan spent the rest of the morning by her side, monitoring the baby’s heart and the strength of the contractions, satisfied that everything was going well.

  At lunchtime she examined Helen again and found that she was seven centimetres dilated.

  ‘This is going well, Helen,’ she said, dropping her gloves in the bin and helping Helen into a more comfortable position. ‘Are you sure that the gas and air is enough?’

  ‘Just as long as you keep telling me funny stories to distract me,’ Helen said, sucking in a breath as another contraction started.

  Zan held her hand and encouraged her. At the end of the contraction there was a tap on the door and Kim walked in, a rope of silver tinsel wrapped around her neck and reindeer antlers on her head.

  Zan looked at her. ‘Something’s stuck in your hair.’

  Kim glared. ‘Oh, very funny.’ She smiled at Helen. ‘I’m so sorry that Zan’s your midwife today. She was all we could get on Christmas Day.’

  Helen laughed. ‘She’s great. My favourite person, as you know.’

  ‘Well, if you need a real midwife just press the buzzer.’ Kim adjusted her antlers and grinned at her friend. ‘Go and grab a coffee and a mince pie from the staffroom. I’ll stay on twin watch.’