The Italian GP's Bride - Kate Hardy Mills & Boon Medical

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his name sounded sexy. Her best friend’s words echoed in her head: Even if this thing doesn’t work out, a week in Italy will do you good. What you need is some Italian glamour…and a fling with a gorgeous man to get that sleazebag Jeremy out of your head.

      Tamsin would definitely describe Orlando de Luca as gorgeous. Her exact words would be along the lines of ‘sex on legs’. Eleanor couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

      ‘My name makes you laugh?’

      ‘No.’ Though she certainly wasn’t going to explain why she was smiling. What was ‘sorry’, again? ‘Mi dispiace.’

      ‘You speak some Italian.’

      She needed to turn this back to business. Fast. ‘A little. But not enough to help Fabiola. Thank you for that. Grazie.’

      ‘Prego.’ He inclined his head.

      At that moment, Giulietta recovered full consciousness and pulled at the mask.

      Immediately, Orlando went back into doctor mode, taking her hand and calming her and speaking to her gently in Italian. Eleanor guessed he was telling Giulietta what had happened and where she was going as soon as they reached Milan. She caught the words ‘Inglese’ and ‘dottoressa’—clearly he was explaining who she was, too.

      The flight attendants managed to persuade people in the aisle seats to change places with Eleanor and Orlando, so they could continue monitoring Giulietta throughout the descent—both of them were aware that she could easily go back into VF and need shocking again.

      But at last they were at the airport. The paramedics boarded the plane with a trolley, and Orlando gave them the full handover details in rapid Italian, pausing every so often to check readings with Eleanor. Fabiola accompanied her mother off the plane, and Eleanor returned to her seat—at the opposite end of the plane to Orlando’s.

      She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when he didn’t suggest changing places and sitting with her. Relieved, because then she wouldn’t have to make polite conversation and her stomach was already in knots with her impending meeting tomorrow. Yet disappointed, because there was something calming about Orlando—the way he’d assessed the situation, acknowledged that she was the one with emergency experience and hadn’t made a fuss about her leading, and had gently turned Fabiola’s reaction from panic to understanding. He was the kind of man who made people feel safe.

      But then again, she knew her judgement in men was lousy. Just because he was a good doctor, it didn’t mean he was a good man: Jeremy certainly wasn’t. And Orlando was probably married anyway. A man that good-looking couldn’t possibly be single. Even if Eleanor was going to act on Tamsin’s suggestion of having a holiday fling—which she had no intention of doing—Orlando de Luca wasn’t the one for her.

      Their paths would probably never cross again, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Besides, she had something else to think about.

      Her meeting tomorrow, with the man who might just turn out to be her real father.

      And maybe, just maybe, she’d have a family to belong to again. Wouldn’t be alone any more.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THEY were two hours late getting to the airport at Naples. And then there was the wait for the luggage to arrive…except Eleanor couldn’t see her suitcase at all.

      Maybe she’d just missed it, taken her eye off the conveyor belt during the moment it had passed her, and the suitcase would be there the second time round.

      Except it wasn’t. Or the third time.

      Oh, great. Not only was she late—tired, and in need of a shower and a cup of decent coffee—now her luggage was missing. Thank God she’d put the most important things in her hand luggage. She still had the original photographs back in England, so she could’ve had replacement copies made, but she’d wanted to hand them over in person.

      And although, yes, she could go into the centre of Naples and replace most of her luggage first thing tomorrow morning, she already had plans. A meeting to which she didn’t want to go wearing travel-stained clothes. Even if she rinsed her clothes out in her hotel room tonight, they’d be crumpled and scruffy and…

      Oh-h-h.

      She could have howled with frustration. The shops were probably closed by now and, even if she got up really early tomorrow morning, she wouldn’t have enough time to find the shops, buy new clothes and be on time to meet Bartolomeo.

      First impressions were important. Especially in this case. This really, really wasn’t fair.

      ‘Problems, Dottoressa Eleanor?’

      Orlando’s voice was like melted chocolate. Soothing and comforting and sinful, all at the same time.

      And she really shouldn’t give in to the urge to lean on him. She was perfectly capable of sorting things out on her own. She had a phrasebook in her bag—given a little time and effort, she’d be able to make herself understood. Luggage must go missing all the time. It was probably just mislaid, on the wrong carousel or something. And when she got to the hotel, she could talk to someone in the reception area and ask where she should go to buy clothes and shoes tomorrow. She could call Bartolomeo and put back their meeting by an hour, if need be.

      ‘I’m just waiting for my luggage,’ she said.

      ‘It hasn’t arrived yet?’

      He was carrying a small, stylish case. And there were only three cases left on the conveyor belt—none of which was hers.

      ‘I was just about to go and ask.’

      ‘Let me,’ he said.

      Before she could protest, he added, ‘You said on the plane that you didn’t speak much Italian. So let me help you.’

      Italian was his native tongue and he spoke perfect English, too: it made sense to let him interpret for her instead of struggling. ‘Grazie.’ Though she still had reservations. ‘But won’t it make you really late home? Especially as our flight was delayed.’

      He shrugged. ‘Non importa. It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘It’s not fair to your family, to keep them waiting even longer.’

      He spread his hands. ‘Nobody’s waiting for me. I live alone.’

      Now, that she hadn’t expected. She’d been so sure a man like Orlando de Luca—capable, practical and gorgeous—would be married to a wife who adored him, with several children who adored him even more and a menagerie of dogs and cats he’d rescued over the years.

      ‘I won’t be long. What does your bag look like?’

      ‘It’s a trolley suitcase—about so big.’ She described the size with her hands. ‘And it’s, um, bright pink.’

      ‘Bright pink,’ he echoed. His voice was completely deadpan, but there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes—as if he thought she’d chosen something completely frivolous and un-doctor-like.

      She wished now she’d bought her luggage in a neutral colour. Grey, beige or black. She’d just thought that a bright suitcase would be easier to spot at the airport.

      He smiled at her and went over to one of the airport staff. During the conversation, the man nodded, looked over at Eleanor with an expression of respect, said something to Orlando, and then strode away.

      ‘He’s going to check for you,’ Orlando confirmed when he returned. ‘I explained that our flight was late in because of a medical emergency on the plane. You saved the patient’s life and we should be looking after you, not losing your baggage.’

      She felt colour flood into her face. ‘I didn’t save Giulietta’s life on my own. You did the chest compressions and got a patient history from her daughter. I couldn’t have done

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