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Hannah’s incredible body.
His jaw dropped open.
There she stood, visibly fighting for composure, until she expanded her arms and said, ‘What do you think? Do I still resemble a bag lady?’
A bag lady? He could think of a hundred words to describe her but the adjective that sprang to the forefront of his mind was stunning.
Where the blue dress she had changed into on his plane had been a drab, ill-fitting creation, this soft blue dress was a million miles apart. Silk and Eastern in style with swirling oriental flowers printed onto it, it skimmed her figure like a caress, landing midthigh to show off incredibly shapely legs.
Whatever the hairdresser had been paid could never be enough. The thick mop of straw-like hair had gone. Now Hannah’s hair was twisted into a sleek knot, pinned in with black chopsticks. There was not a millimetre of frizz in sight. If his eyes were not deceiving him, she’d had colour applied to it, turning her multicoloured locks into more of a honey blonde.
She wore make-up, too, her eyes ringed with dark smokiness that highlighted the moreish hazel, her lips a deep cherry-red...
She looked beautiful.
And yet...
He hated it.
She no longer looked like Hannah.
‘No. You no longer resemble a bag lady.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ She shuffled into the room on shoes with heels high enough to make her hobble—although not as high as many women liked to wear—and stood before him, her hand outstretched. Her short nails hadn’t been touched, a sight he found strangely reassuring. ‘Can I have my phone back, please?’
‘You can have it back when you leave Sicily.’
‘I’d like it back now.’
‘For what reason?’
‘I’ve told you—I like to keep abreast of what’s going on with my patients.’
‘And what can you do for them here?’
‘Not worry about them. No news is good news.’
‘Then it seems I am doing you a favour.’
‘But how am I going to know if there is no news? Now I’ll worry that bad news has come and I won’t know one way or the other.’
Hiding his irritation, he said, ‘Do all doctors go to such lengths for their patients?’
Her lips pressed together. ‘I have no idea. It’s none of my concern what my colleagues get up to when they’re off duty.’
‘What happened to professional detachment? I thought you doctors were trained to keep your distance?’
A hint of fire flashed in her eyes. ‘Keeping a check on the welfare of my patients is at odds with my professionalism?’
‘I’m just asking the question.’
‘Well, don’t. I will not have my professionalism questioned by you or anyone.’
It was the first time Francesco had heard her sound even remotely riled. He’d clearly hit a nerve.
Studying her carefully, he got to his feet. ‘I think it will do you good to spend one evening away from your phone.’
Hannah opened her mouth to argue but he placed a finger to it. ‘I did not mean to question your professionalism. However, I am not prepared to spend the evening with someone who has only half a mind on what’s going on. Constantly checking your phone is rude.’
Her cheeks heightened with colour, a mutinous expression blazing from her eyes.
‘I will make a deal with you,’ he continued silkily. ‘You say you want to experience all the world has to offer, yet it will be a half-hearted experience if you are preoccupied with worrying about your patients. If you prove that you can let your hair down and enjoy the experience of what the casino has to offer, I will give you your phone back when we return to the villa.’
For the first time since she’d met him, Hannah wanted to slap Francesco. Okay, keep her passport until it was time to leave—that didn’t bother her. She knew she would get it back. She knew she would get her phone back eventually, too, but she needed it now. She needed to keep the roots the mobile gave her to the ward.
And how dared he imply that she had no detachment? She had it. But she refused to lose her empathy. Her patients were her guiding motive in life. Never would she allow one of her young charges to be on the receiving end of a doctor who had lost basic humanity. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She’d been at the other end and, while it hadn’t made the pain of what she went through any worse, a little compassion would have helped endure it that little bit better.
Eventually she took a deep breath and bestowed Francesco with her first fake smile. ‘Fine. But if you want me to let my hair down and enjoy myself it’s only fair you do the same, too. After all,’ she added airily, ‘I would say that, of the two of us, you’re the greater workaholic. At least I take weekends off.’
