Greek Doctor, Cinderella Bride Read online

  And then there were the scars on his neck, fully displayed again. As Reg talked about Cairns she found herself thinking that if he only wore his shirt buttoned up, and a tie, they’d be completely covered. Why didn’t he? She had the same urge to touch them as she did his eye crinkles. Feel their irregularity. Smooth them. Kiss them.

  ‘I don’t know, Roland,’ Alex said to the man sitting beside him. ‘I think it’s a field that attracts a more mature workforce. Most people seem to come from other occupations into the lab. Take Isobella, for example. She was a nurse before becoming a research assistant.’

  Tuned in as she was to the rumble of Alex’s conversation, Isobella’s head snapped up instantly.

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that,’ Roland murmured.

  She heard the surprise in Roland’s voice and saw it mirrored all over his face. In fact the whole table was looking at her, as if Alex had just proclaimed she’d been a nun prior to joining the team.

  Imagine their surprise had he announced she’d been on track to becoming the next supermodel.

  Isobella looked at him. His blue eyes were challenging her to elaborate. Her cheeks grew warm beneath her colleagues’ scrutiny, and her pulse pounded through her head. She thought at this moment she quite possibly hated Alexander Zaphirides.

  Hated his supreme confidence and how comfortable he looked in this social situation, in contrast to the near panic that was sweeping through her own veins. She hated him for insisting she come tonight, dragging her out of her comfort zone and then putting her in the spotlight. She wanted to crawl under the table and hide from prying eyes.

  How the hell did he know this stuff anyway? She’d gone through the interview process with his admin people, and whilst she assumed he’d had the final say she’d also assumed he’d taken their recommendation and approved her employment without more than a cursory glance at her application.

  ‘Yes,’ Isobella confirmed, uncomfortably aware of the growing silence. She wasn’t used to being the centre of attention any more. She was used to fading into the background. She didn’t want their interest piqued. ‘For a while.’

  ‘And what made you decide to jump ship?’ Alex probed.

  Conscious of everyone waiting for her response, Isobella squirmed. This was none of his business—none of their business. But avoiding the question would only serve to arouse further interest. After all, this was a social evening with colleagues. People talked about themselves in social situations.

  Which was exactly why she avoided them.

  Isobella suppressed a sigh. Where did she start without sounding like a complete loon? By saying that six weeks in hospital had given her a true appreciation for what nurses did? That it had been a natural progression for her, eager for a new career and jaded from the selfishness of modeling, to fall into that honourable profession? That she’d enjoyed being a nurse—in fact missed the patient contact more than she allowed herself to admit? But it had been too…social? And…open.

  How crazy did that sound? Even if it was the truth. Her nursing colleagues, used to being entrusted with people’s most personal details, had never really understood her desire to keep to herself. Their candidness and their expectation of it being returned had made her uncomfortable. Also, the uniforms had made hiding her tracheostomy scar really difficult. Civvies and a white coat had been an absolute dream.

  ‘I enjoyed being a nurse very much,’ she said primly. ‘But…’ Isobella adjusted her glasses. ‘I wanted to try something different.’

  Alex noted the nervous fiddle, and the way her gaze didn’t quite reach his eyes. She was lying. He wanted to reach across the table, whip those god-awful glasses off her face and demand to hear the truth. He hated that she hid herself behind those dreadful, unfashionable, clunky frames.

  ‘Did you have to retrain?’ Roland asked.

  Isobella nodded. ‘I did a science degree, majoring in medical research.’ Thanks to her modelling years she’d had a nice nest egg saved, and had been able to undertake her degree full-time and not have to worry about money.

  ‘I was going to be an engineer at uni.’ Reg joined in the conversation. ‘Bored me stupid.’

  Isobella could have kissed Reg for stepping into the conversation, sparking others to share their stories. Not that she heard what they were saying. She was conscious only of Alex’s eyes on her. He knew. She could tell. Knew that she had fobbed him off. His Aegean gaze held hers and she was powerless to look away.

  Alexander Zaphirides was a man who could see right past her reserve. And, frankly, it scared the hell out of her.

  The meal and the conversation flowed around her for the next couple of hours, requiring very little input from her—thankfully. Most of the chat centred around the Cairns Envenomation Symposium, and Alex and Reg’s scheduled visit to the Piccolo Island scientific station. The facility, situated on a small island north of Cairns, sent many box jellyfish specimens their way, and both men were keen to look around.

  Isobella added very little, uncaring of the itinerary or any of the other topics. Her colleagues heeded her shuttered demeanour, but Alex felt no such compunction and drew her into the conversation with practised ease at every opportunity. Not even Isobella’s guarded, progressively stilted replies seemed to daunt him. She knew he was doing it deliberately. And she knew he knew she knew.

  Isobella finished her dessert and wondered what the time was, and if it was too early to leave. Just listening to his voice was its own brand of erotic torture, and she’d had more than she could take for one evening. Once or twice a week for a couple of minutes at a time was usually more than enough for her sanity. His voice, those eyes, made her want things she couldn’t have.

  ‘Have you got the time, Reg?’ she asked quietly, turning to face him.

  Reg turned his wrist. ‘Nine-thirty.’

  Isobella heard the slight puff in his reply and frowned. Reg was sweating and looking a little pale. Sure, it was November, but the restaurant was air-conditioned. ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  Reg nodded. ‘Heartburn’s playing up,’ he nodded, rubbing his chest.

  Isobella nodded back. Reg wasn’t the healthiest specimen of manhood she’d ever seen. He had a massive beer belly and lived on liquid antacid. He always seemed to be swigging on a bottle. She’d never pried into whether or not he’d ever had it checked out, because she didn’t believe in prying. But he was looking particularly pasty just now. ‘Have you got your antacid with you?’ she asked.

  ‘Nah. Left it at the lab. Probably time for me to mosey on home anyway. The wife doesn’t like being in the house at night by herself. She’s pretty annoyed about me going up north for the week. I think I’m in the bad books enough.’

  Reg stood and made his goodbyes, and Isobella took the opportunity to depart also. ‘Think I’ll call it a night too,’ she said, rising to her feet.

  Alex rose, his gaze glittering his disapproval, telling her he knew she was chickening out. Isobella returned his look defiantly. He didn’t own her, and she’d had enough of this charade.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Reg,’ he said, turning his attention away from Isobella, holding out his hand. ‘I’m really looking forward to attending the symposium with you.’

  Reg nodded, and Alex frowned as he felt the sweatiness of Reg’s palms. He looked at the man closely. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  Reg nodded briskly. ‘Bloody heartburn.’

  Isobella felt a prickle of unease as Reg turned and staggered a little.

  ‘Reg?’ Alex flicked a glance at Isobella, who was also regarding Reg with obvious concern.

  Then Reg clutched his chest and let out a guttural moan, before sinking to his knees on the ground beside his chair.

  ‘Reg!’ Isobella sank down with him, a hand on his arm, knocking her chair over in the process.

  Alex strode around the table and joined her as their work colleagues hovered around. ‘Call an ambulance!’ he barked, straining his voice as he positioned himself behind Reg, easing t
he man back to support him whilst reaching for Reg’s pulse.

  The fast, erratic pace was worrisome, and whilst Alex might not have practised real medicine in quite a few years, he’d never quite forgotten what a heart attack victim looked like. And Reg’s pale, cold, clammy skin was a big red warning flag. The man certainly fitted the description of heart-attack-waiting-to-happen.

  The entire restaurant stopped as Alex’s hoarse demand sliced through their evening merriment, and then bedlam ensued as people gasped, some stood and at least one person from every table made an emergency call.

  ‘Reg, have you ever had angina before?’ Isobella demanded.

  Reg groaned, still clutching his chest. ‘No.’

  ‘The pain? What’s it like? Does it go anywhere?’ she fired again.

  ‘Down my…my arm,’ Reg huffed. ‘I feel like…like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.’

  Isobella glanced up at Alex. She looked away quickly, stunned that even in the midst of this crisis he could take her breath away. Reg cried out again, gripping his chest, and then slumped against Alex. Isobella shook him vigorously and called his name.

  ‘It’s no use. He’s not responsive,’ Alex said.

  Her hand trembled as her fingers sought his carotid pulse.

  ‘Anything?’ Alex demanded.

  Isobella kept her fingers in place, praying for a bound, a flutter, any movement against her fingers to prove that everything was okay. She shook her head and looked at Alex again. ‘Nothing.’

  They exchanged a look, both knowing this was a very bad development. If he’d lost his cardiac output so quickly then the heart attack must be significant.

  ‘Clear some of these tables back.’

  His voice might have been low but it was laced with urgent authority. He shifted so he could lie Reg on the ground. It was too cramped to do adequate CPR, and the paramedics were never going to get a trolley in here.

  ‘I’ll look after the airway,’ Alex said to her. ‘Can you do compressions?’

  She nodded, her medical training coming back to her with surprising clarity. ‘Pass me my bag,’ Isobella said to one of her colleagues.

  She fished in it and found the small sealed package she was looking for. ‘Here.’ She passed it to Alex.

  Alex looked at the protector kit. ‘Thanks,’ he said, ripping it open to reveal a handkerchief-sized square transparent piece of plastic, with a central two-way mouthpiece to prevent the exchange of bodily fluids during expired air resuscitation. He inserted it into Reg’s mouth and delivered his first two rescue breaths.

  ‘What’s the ETA on the ambulance?’ Alex asked, pausing while Isobella performed the chest compressions.

  ‘It’ll be here in a few minutes,’ Roland confirmed.

  A waiter pushed through the crowd. ‘Here,’ he announced, ‘we have this. Will this help? My boss had it installed last year, when our head chef had a heart attack.’

  Isobella and Alex looked up to find the waiter holding a portable automatic defibrillator. At this particular moment it was worth more than the Holy Grail.

  Alex grinned as Isobella kept up her chest compressions. ‘Yes, sir, it most certainly will.’ He relieved the waiter of the treasure.

  Alex wasn’t overly familiar with this type of unit, but he knew that once switched on it gave audible prompts and only delivered a shock if it deemed the patient’s rhythm warranted it. It was designed for lay people to use, and at the moment it was Reg’s best chance. Alex knew that early defibrillation was crucial to ensure the best outcome in this rapidly deteriorating situation.

  He worked around Isobella, tearing Reg’s shirt open and slapping the two adhesive pads in the indicated positions on Reg’s cold, clammy chest. The automated voice on the machine asked them to cease CPR while it assessed the rhythm. They waited for the machine, and Alex tried not to notice the way Isobella’s blonde fringe had fallen forward in his peripheral vision.

  The machine prompted him to deliver a shock, and asked everyone to stand clear. ‘Stand clear,’ Alex said, raising his voice, cursing the gravelly wobble and the havoc the increased volume wreaked on his damaged vocal cords.

  He put his arm out in front of Isobella’s chest and urged her back further. The last thing he wanted to do was to electrocute her. ‘Stand clear,’ he repeated to the crowd as his finger hovered over the button.

  When Alex was satisfied no one was in contact with Reg’s body he hit the green button, and Reg’s body arced as the electricity charged through him. The machine re-evaluated and prompted another shock, and Alex delivered the second one.

  Finally Reg moved. He gasped and moaned and the entire restaurant seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Welcome back, Reg,’ Alex murmured as he helped Isobella roll the big man on his side.

  He looked at her and she gave him a relieved smile. A totally candid, non-guarded, elated smile. It was exhilarating. He grinned back, pleased beyond measure to be finally seeing the real Isobella. It was only the wail of a siren breaking between them that stopped his sudden impulse to lean over and kiss her soft full lips in triumph.

  The paramedics pushed through the crowd, and then it was a blur of activity as they applied oxygen and hooked the patient up to their own monitor. Reg was throwing worrying ectopics and having short runs of ventricular tachycardia as the paramedics hastily inserted an IV and administered some GTN spray under his tongue.

  ‘Let’s scoop him and go,’ the female paramedic said. ‘I don’t like the look of his rhythm.’

  Isobella and Alex assisted, and they had him on the stretcher and were loading him into the back of the ambulance in two minutes.

  ‘Ring my wife,’ Reg whispered to Isobella, pulling the oxygen mask aside.

  ‘Yes, I will.’ Isobella nodded, her anxiety increasing at the grey tinge to Reg’s skin.

  ‘I’m going with him,’ Alex said to her.

  ‘I’m so sorry about the symposium,’ Reg groaned as they locked the stretcher into place.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Alex dismissed. ‘Nothing is more important than getting you better.’

  ‘You can ride in front,’ the paramedic said to Alex as she slammed the back doors.

  Alex nodded. He turned to Isobella. ‘Well, that’s one way to break up a party.’

  Isobella gave him a weak smile as his voice scratched along her taut nerves. The adrenaline that had surged into her system during the crisis was making her even more sensitive to its sinful eroticism.

  ‘Thanks for your help tonight.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ she dismissed.

  He nodded. The ambulance engine roared to life. ‘I need a favour,’ he said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

  Isobella hesitated, wary of the sudden gleam in his too intriguing eyes. ‘Okay…?’

  ‘I need you to come to Cairns with me.’

  Isobella blinked. What the—? ‘No.’

  ‘It’s not a request.’ Alex grinned at her increasing look of horror. ‘I’ll have the tickets transferred,’ he said, turning away.

  Isobella gaped at him, watched him climb into the cab. No way. No way was she going away for a week with him.

  Absolutely not.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘GOOD morning, this is your captain speaking. Thank you for joining us today on Flight 103, bound for sunny Cairns. We’re currently cruising at an altitude of…’

  Isobella closed her eyes and let the announcement flow around her, still unable to believe she was sitting in a first-class seat, with Alex’s arm occasionally brushing against hers.

  ‘So you’re just going to ignore me for the next two hours?’

  The sound was low and husky near her ear, his warm breath fanning her cheek. Isobella gripped the arm of her chair and cursed her body for the blatant physical reaction his voice evoked.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, mustering a quiet resilience. ‘Yes.’

  Alex laughed as Isobella shut her eyes again. He examined her face.
Her bone structure really was magnificent. Not even her horrible glasses could disguise the classic features. ‘Anyone would think I’d asked you to Outer Siberia instead of on a first-class ride to one of Australia’s premier tourist destinations.’

  Isobella felt the slow flare of goosebumps individually prick at her skin and the languorous hardening of her nipples within the confines of her pink Chantilly lace bra. Must he speak?

  ‘Most women would be ecstatic.’

  She opened her eyes and pinned him with a hard stare. Did he think she was going to fawn all over him? Use this time away to get cosy with him? She was here under duress and this was strictly business. ‘I’m not most women.’

  That one he’d already figured out for himself. In the four days he’d been in her company she hadn’t acted like any other woman he knew. She didn’t flirt, lean in when she talked to him, pat him on the arm or even smile at him. She did her job with ruthless efficiency and avoided him like the plague.

  He regarded her seriously ‘Yes. I can see that.’

  Isobella wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted, and she was annoyed that she even cared. She shut her eyes, removing his impossibly sexy face from her vision, and wished it was as easy to erase him from her thoughts.

  ‘I’m really grateful that you’ve stepped into the breach like this.’

  As if he had given her a choice. ‘Yes, well, Reg’s heart attack and triple angioplasty could hardly have been anticipated,’ she said magnanimously. She had to remember that Alex was her boss. It was his project she was working on. Giving him a piece of her mind, though very appealing, wasn’t wise.

  ‘Still, I hope it didn’t inconvenience you too much.’

  She opened her eyes to find his cerulean gaze disconcertingly close. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  Alex nodded. ‘I’d feel better had you not taken so much persuasion,’ he said derisively.

  Well, tough. He’d known she hadn’t wanted to come. She wasn’t in the business of making a grown man feel better about himself.

  Her eyes shut again, and Alex suppressed a smile. Did nothing ruffle her? On one hand he admired her single-mindedness, but on the other…