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‘You’ll tell me I’m nagging but I worry about you, that’s all. I care about you.’
‘I know you do.’ Alice curled her hands into fists, uncomfortable with the conversation. Another person—a different person to her—would have swept across to Rita and given her a big hug, but Alice could no more do that than fly. Touching wasn’t part of her nature. ‘I know you care.’
‘Good.’ Rita gave a sniff. ‘Now, drink your water before you die of dehydration and then go and see Gio. And this time take a closer look. You might like what you see.’
Alice walked back to her desk and poured water into a glass. ‘All right, I’ll speak to Gio then I’ll see the police. Ask Mary to give them a coffee and put them in one of the empty rooms. Then see if she can placate the remaining patients. Tell them I’ll be with them as soon as possible.’ She paused to drink the water she’d poured and then set the glass on her desk. ‘Goodness knows if I’ll get through them all in time to do any house calls.’
‘Gio is going to help you see the patients once he’s discharged the boy. For goodness’ sake, don’t say no. It’s like the first day of the summer sales in the waiting room. If he helps then we might all stand a chance of getting some lunch.’
‘The letting agent is dropping the keys to his flat round here. He needs to get settled in. He needs to rest after the journey and shave the designer stubble—’
‘Any fool can see he’s a man with stamina and I don’t see his appearance hampering his ability to see patients,’ Rita observed, with impeccable logic. ‘We’re just ensuring that the surgery is going to be crammed for weeks to come.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because he’s too gorgeous for his own good and all the women in the practice are going to want to come and stare.’
Alice opened the door. ‘What exactly is it about men that turns normally sane women into idiots?’ she wondered out loud, and Rita grinned.
‘Whoever said I was sane?’
With an exasperated shake of her head, Alice walked along the corridor and pushed open the door of the room they used for minor surgery. ‘Dr Moretti, I’m so sorry, I’ve had a steady stream of patients and I lost track of the time.’
He turned to look at her and for a brief, unsettling moment Alice remembered Rita’s comment about him being a walking fantasy. He was handsome, she conceded, in an intelligent, devilish and slightly dangerous way. She could see that some women would find him attractive. Fortunately she wasn’t one of them.
‘No problem.’ His smile came easily. ‘I’ve just finished here. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.’
‘Shame,’ Rita breathed, and Alice shot her a look designed to silence.
Gio ripped off his gloves and pushed the trolley away from him. ‘I think he’s safe to discharge. He wasn’t knocked out and his consciousness isn’t impaired. Fortunately he obviously drank less than his friends. I see no indication for an X-ray or a CT scan at the moment. He can be discharged with a head injury form.’ He turned to the boy, his expression serious. ‘I advise you to stay off the alcohol for a few days. If you start vomiting, feel drowsy, confused, have any visual disturbances or experience persistent headache within the next forty-eight hours, you should go to the A and E department at the hospital. Either way, you need those stitches out in four days. Don’t forget and don’t think it’s cool to leave them in.’
The boy gave a nod and slid off the couch, his face ashen. ‘Yeah. I hear you. Thanks, Doc. Are the guys outside?’
‘They’re having a cosy chat with the police,’ Rita told him sweetly, and the boy flushed and rubbed a hand over his face.
‘Man, I’m sorry about that.’ He shook his head and breathed out heavily. ‘They were a bit the worse for wear. We were at an all-night beach party.’ He glanced sideways at Alice, his expression sheepish. ‘You OK?’
She nodded. ‘I’m fine.’ She was busy looking at the wound. She couldn’t believe how neat the sutures were.
The boy left the room, escorted by Rita.
‘You did an amazing job, thank you so much.’ Alice closed the door behind them and turned to Gio. ‘I never would have thought that was possible. That cut looked such a mess. So many ragged edges. I wouldn’t have known where to start.’
But obviously he’d known exactly where to start. Despite appearances. If she hadn’t seen the results of his handiwork with her own eyes, she would still have struggled to believe that he was a doctor.
When David had described his friend, she’d imagined a smooth, slick Italian in a designer suit. Someone safe, conservative and conventional in appearance and attitude.
There was nothing safe or conservative about Gio.
He hovered on the wrong side of respectable. His faded T-shirt was stretched over shoulders that were both broad and muscular and a pair of equally faded jeans hugged his legs. His face was deeply tanned, his jaw dark with stubble and his eyes held a hard watchfulness that suggested no small degree of life experience.
She tried to imagine him dressed in a more conventional manner, and failed.
‘He’ll have a scar.’ Gio tipped the remains of his equipment into the nearest sharps bin. ‘But some of it will be hidden by his hair. I gather from Rita that you have a very long queue out there.’
Remembering the patients, exhaustion suddenly washed over her and she sucked in a breath, wondering for a moment how she was going to get through the rest of the day. ‘I need to talk to the police and then get back to work. I’m sorry I don’t have time to give you a proper tour. Hopefully I can do that tomorrow, before you officially start.’
‘Forget the tour.’ His eyes scanned her face. ‘You look done in. The girl who made your coffee told me that you were up in the night, dealing with an asthma attack. You must be ready for a rest yourself. Let’s split the rest of the patients.’
