Lussuria (New Version) (3 page)

I wonder if Cameron knows the news. If he does, he’s deliberately not telling me, knowing how I will react. I don’t even know the details, yet I’ve already freaked myself out. I’m a flipping basket case, and I need to breathe.

“Breathe. Just breathe, you daft idiot.”

“Hey, is everything okay? Are you alright?”

I hear a faint tap at the doorway, and a deep husky voice enriched with Italian accent asks me again if I’m okay.

Embarrassed, and startled by the intrusion, I jump up slam my phone on the desk next to my anatomy posters. I use the pad of my thumb to rub the tears away from my eyes, hoping mascara isn’t making its way down my cheeks. I can’t bring myself to turn around; I’m so breathless and ashamed of my little episode.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just had a moment, that’s all.” I’ve found the strength to talk, although my voice is broken and strained.

“Can I help you? I’m sorry, it’s rude of me not to turn around, but I’m looking awful at the moment. If you can give me a minute, please.”

The mysterious male walks around my side so that he is now facing me. I’m immediately uncomfortable with his presence in such close proximity to me, and my freaked out state is not helping.

“Hey, look up. It can’t be that bad, can it? I don’t bite. I’m worried, though. You don’t seem okay.”

I take a small step backwards, aware he is now invading my space, but I still don’t make eye contact. Just as I’m about to tell him I’m fine, he reaches out and places his large smooth hand under my chin, then lifts my head up to meet his eye gaze. It feels warm and kind of nice.

He intriguingly stares at me. I feel his eyes burn into me, studying me. Is he undressing me? Is this what this look is?

“There, that’s better. Here, let me.”

He reaches the thumb of his other hand over my cheek to wipe away a few tear stragglers that are dripping down.

I’m mesmerized by this stranger.

His warm, soft, yet deep voice ... his beautiful bright eyes ... round, large and crystal blue ... like marine azure blue ... his black wavy soft hair, fairly long and styled in a sexy shaggy way ...his jet-black eyebrows and extra-long matching eyelashes ... his perfect smile, a kind, sexy dimple smile ... amazing white teeth ... beautiful deep olive skin ... a square jaw line which is freshly shaven ... broad shoulders...

As I trace his physique with my eyes, I’m drawn to bulging biceps and triceps, evident through his tight running tee. I can’t stop staring at his defined pecs sprawling from one shoulder to the other, and nicely framing shapely chest muscles that go right down to his waist, all rippled like little rolls of tight perfection across his abdomen.

Sheesh, I reckon that’s an eight pack under that taut Lycra! Hazel would combust with eight multiple orgasms here and now if she witnessed this.

I’ve never felt like this, or even had the inclination to look at a patient like this before. He might be an Italian God, or a prince, or an Italian son of a God, or a male model.

Fuck!

File under N for Never. Never to have these thoughts again.

What the hell!

I give myself a shake and pull my head away, then turn my face down at an angle to hide my embarrassment and fury for allowing a stranger to break the boundaries and touch me. I can’t believe I broke my most important rule. Flipping hell! He’s distracting and gorgeous and smells divine ... I know this scent. My brother wears the same aftershave, but it’s more appealing on this man ... sort of sexier.

Fuck!

File under D for Ditch. Ditch Cameron’s aftershave because he can’t wear it now.

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t want to intimidate you in any way. I was just concerned.”

His English is perfect, but with Italian flavor coming through. He has a familiar local Scottish accent and it sounds sexy as hell.

Fuck!

File under N for Never. Never again.

I fidget with a curl of my hair in restlessness, hold the back of my hand to my mouth, and wiggle my fingers about, cracking my knuckles with nervousness.

“Thank you for your concern, but really, I will be okay. Now, is there anything I can help you with?” I sharply reply.

I’m such a bitch. Here the male model is being overly nice, yet I have stranger danger radar on.

“I actually came in the hope you could give me the once over.” He smiles.

“WHAT!”

He laughs, then smirks and flashes his beautiful long lashes up and down. A cheeky dimple appears.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, I’ve done my back in, and the lumbar area is killing me. I hope it’s not my discs. Anyway, I knew the clinic was being set up and hoped that I could get an assessment. I have never had this back pain before.”

“Oh, I thought you meant something else. Well, never mind what I thought.”

He grins…sexy…playful…daring.

I’m on the verge of firing up another panic attack at the prospect, but he doesn’t need to know this.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before? You seem awfully familiar,” he asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Perhaps you have seen me in the gym or something.”

I bite the inside of my lip, then unknowingly moisten my lips with my tongue. His mystifying eyes widen on me as if entranced. His eyes are very captivating, and I know I’m impressed by what I see. He is now smiling sexy as hell, sultry and picture perfect. This is the utmost mind blowing smile I have ever witnessed. My heart is pounding, racing, and I think my blood pressure is sharply increasing. But on a plus note, the chest pain is dissipating with the distraction, but flaring up with something else entirely.

I’m attracted to this man.

“I’m very sorry. I’m not seeing patients today. I’m unpacking as you can see, my colleague has had to go home sick, and my partner is on a course today.” I’m relieved as I pass over my excuses. The thought of having to have contact with him, even for assessment purposes, is making my heartbeat accelerate and my breathing speed up again.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. You do seem preoccupied, and in the middle of something, so maybe I could make an appointment to come in and see you?”

Persistent.

But then again, he is holding his hand on his lower back and seems to be shifting side to side. I think he is suffering some sort of discomfort. Now I feel guilty and unprofessional.

“Unfortunately, I leave on holiday tomorrow for two weeks, but my partner Mark is here. I can recommend him. He’s very good, especially with spinal care.”

A frown appears on his brow, and he lifts up his hand and pinches his forehead, using his thumb to rub along his eyebrows as if he is fractious.

“It sounds as though you’re passing me over because you don’t want to care for me. I’m sorry for the intrusion, and I hope I did not offend you in any way.” Now his voice sounds hurt with a little less enthusiasm than before.

That stings.

I can’t stand to see people struggle in pain, so I agree to assess him.

Folded once again!

“Okay, I have a bed in the middle partitioned area. I can assess your injury, then refer you over to Mark and he can treat you while I’m away.”

I don’t look him in the eyes when I say this. I know I’m a pushover, but he looks ecstatic that I’m cooperating. I feel as though I’m losing control. How will I manage this without being affected?

Fuck!

File under W for Weak. You weak idiot, get a grip!

He grabs the side of my face with both hands, then leans over and plants a soft kiss on both my cheeks. Oh my God...

A shock sparks through me at this mere touch. I step back again, feeling flustered ... hot and blushing ... tingly, nice tingly ... hmm...

“Grazie bellissimo, lei è molto gentile e sarà veramente mi aiutano.”

I go weak at the knees.

Jello.

Jesus, that is so sexy. That had a direct line sparking to my sex, and I’m immediately hot and damp there.

Already? Really?

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you said, but I will assume you’re thanking me.”

That sounds so lame. I’m mortified!

“Well, in that case, Voi siete la più bella donna intrigante che abbia mai conosciuto.”

Oh, please stop with the sexy words, my libido was just fine without this intrusion.

“Okay, I’m going to pretend that you told me your back is sore.”

I give him a quirky smirk and raise my eyebrows, not knowing what he really said. The stranger smiles and laughs, then lifts up his lip on the left side and winks at me.

Fuck!

File under T for Translate. Translate these words later.

And file under B for Betray. My mind and body are betraying me.

I must stay professional and stick by my rules...and what the hell? Is he flirting with me?

I ask him to take a seat while I clear some things off the desk. All the while he is watching me attentively. I search through a filing cabinet which I placed earlier against the side wall for registration forms and patient report logs. I advise him that I’m going to ask a series of questions and fill in his forms before assessing his back.

“Okay, can I have your name, please?”

“Lucca Caruso.”

Of course it would be like an Italian God movie star name.

“You never told me your name,” he adds optimistically.

“Mr. Caruso, can we just press on with your questions, please. I have a lot to do today.”

He appears slightly disheartened. His back can’t be that painful considering his buoyancy. This is not a frigging date. It is a professional evaluation, and a stranger will not corner me.

“Date of birth?”

In response, he tells me with the same directness, then adds, “And call me Lucca.”

Mental math makes him thirty-two years old. Hmm, he looks good, excellent actually.

“Where are you going on holiday?”

He doesn’t give up, but I won’t pander to his questions, absolutely not. Unless he wants panic attack number two in the space of ten minutes. I feel my hands getting sweaty.

“Address, please?” I ask in my most pleasant, but firm tone.

“The Smithstone, Bothwell,” he says modestly, “-and you never told me where you’re going on holiday.”

Hmm, a playful, curious answer and question.

He is staying at one of the most expensive residences in Bothwell, in a prime location. It’s a beautiful street, lined with traditional Victorian red sandstone houses, many of which have large, gated, private entrances. If his property is the one I’m thinking of, it’s a huge conversion near the end of the street secluded by rows and rows of tall green trees with an obtrusive red sandstone wall, and a large security gate making it very private. It’s lovely in the autumn when the rustic colored leaves fall from the trees and bustle around the red sandstone walls.

I live in Uddingston—the neighbouring town—so I frequently walk my dog Doris through Bothwell castle grounds and around all the lovely charming old wealthy historic streets. It’s a beautiful walk, full of character and class. I’m lucky to live in that area; the restaurants and boutiques are desirable and chic.

I can’t believe we’ve never met before now, living so close to each other.

“You know it?” he asks.

That’s a full 360 degree question. He’ll ask where I live next, and that’s off limits for strangers.

“No, sorry. I don’t, I’m afraid.

“So, where are you from? You have a beautiful accent.”

Intrusion or what? I flipping knew it was coming.

“Around.”

End of…period….

“Profession?” I stutter at him, feeling off guard.

“CEO, of Osurac Industries, Property management and Development, Health and Wellbeing facilities and Hospitality and Entertainment.”

He looks relieved to have sailed through that question and has now closed the space between us, leaning further into my space. He isn’t boastful; he seems appeased that the questions over, so I don’t pay any attention. I simply scribble down his answers and move on.

“Medical history? I know it’s personal, but I just need to run everything by you. It's standard procedure.”

“Absolutely, go ahead. I love personal.”

There is a sexy rasp in his cadence and a hotness about the way he is looking at me ... it’s smoldering.

After fifteen minutes of asking personal health questions, I’m feeling a little tired, and my phone is buzzing again.

“You want to attend to that?”

“No.”

Shaking my head, I lean over my desk and switch my phone off, then place it in my blazer jacket pocket over the back of my chair. He watches me carefully, rubbing his thumb over his left eyebrow in contemplation. He’s obviously thinking about something as he feathers his eyelashes up and down.

“It’s fine if you want to get your phone. I’m not in a rush, and I can wait.”

Damn he’s an absolute persistent pest, and my mental swearing is jumping up to a whole new level.

“No, it’s fine. I’m good to check it later, it isn’t important, I’m sure.” My shoulders rise up and down with a large exhale of breath as I finish saying this.

“You’re a terrible liar, but I won’t press you.”

How in God’s name does he know I’m lying? Right, I need to get this handsome stranger out of my clinic pronto.

“Let’s move on.” I swallow, but my throat is dry and tight.

I look through his medical history, and there is nothing untoward. In fact, he’s in fantastic shape and good health and has the physique to prove it.

Concentrate, you weak failure. FILE IT! Thoughts are feelings, and feelings are hurtful.

Fuck!

File under I for Intoxicating.

“Okay, can I take you over to the bed?”

Shit!

I blush, realizing how that sounds. I mentally kick my sorry lame ass.

“Please do! You’re on a roll today. I’m getting my hopes up here. It’s not every day a beautiful young physio throws herself at me.” He looks at the distress and discomfiture in my face. “I’m sorry, I thought it was a compliment, but you don’t and its upsetting you. I promise I’ll not make any more inappropriate comments if you feel uncomfortable.”

Clearly, I do feel uncomfortable. This is my worst frigging nightmare!

Having a mental breakdown ... meeting a gracious God who’s really bothering me and I don’t know why ... embarrassing myself and losing control...