The Billionaire's Bedside Manner (3 page)

“Zeus is the god of justice. The supreme protector. Perhaps because he could have lost his life at the very moment he entered the world.”

“Really? How?” Moving to sit on the cool fountain ledge, she took another bite. She loved to hear about ancient legends.

“His father, Cronus, believed in a prophecy. He would be overthrown by his son as he had once overthrown his own father. To save her newborn, Rhea, Zeus's mother, gave him up at birth then tricked her husband into thinking a rock wrapped in swaddling clothes was the child, which Cronus promptly disposed of. He didn't know that his son, Zeus, was being reared by a nymph in Crete. When he was grown, Zeus joined forces with his other siblings to defeat the Titans, including his father.”

She couldn't help but be drawn by Mateo's story, as well as the emotion simmering beneath his words. Had she imagined
the shadow that had crossed his gaze when he spoke of that mother needing to give up her child?

“What happened to Zeus after the clash?” She asked.

“He ruled over Olympus as well as the mortals, and fathered many children.”

“Sounds noble.”

“The great majority of his offspring were conceived through adulterous affairs, I'm afraid.”

Oh.
“Not so good for the demigod kids.”

“Not so good for any child.”

Bailey studied his classic profile as he peered off into the night…the high forehead and proud, hawkish nose. She wanted to ask more. Not only about this adulterous yet protective Roman god but also about the narrator of his tale. Not that Mateo's life was any of her business. Although…

For the moment he seemed to have put aside his more paranoid feelings toward her, and this was an informal chat. In the morning she'd be well rested and on her way, so where was the harm in asking more?

Making a pretense of examining the gardens, she crossed her ankles and swung her feet out and back.

“Mama mentioned that you left Casa Buona when you were twelve.”

His hesitation—a single beat—was barely enough to notice.

“My father was moving to Australia. He explained about the opportunities here. Ernesto was an accountant and wanted to look after my higher education.”

“Have you lived in Sydney since?”

He nodded. “But I travel when I can.”

“You must have built a lot of memories here after so long.”

Who were his friends? All professionals like him? Did he have any other family Down Under?

But Mateo didn't respond. He merely looked over the gardens with those dark thoughtful eyes. From the firm set of his jaw, her host had divulged all he would tonight. Understandable. They were little more than strangers. And, despite this intimate atmosphere, they were destined to remain that way.

A statue caught Bailey's eye. After slipping off her perch, she crossed over and ran a hand across the cool stone.

“I like this one.”

It was a mother, her head bowed over the baby she held. The tone conjured up memories of Bailey's own mother…how loving and devoted she'd been. Like Rhea. Both mothers had needed to leave their child, though neither woman had wanted to. If she lived to one hundred, Bailey would miss her till the day she died.

“Is this supposed to be Zeus as an infant?” She asked, her gaze on the baby now.

Mateo's deep voice came from behind. “No. More a signature to my profession, I suppose.”

His profession. An obstetrician. One of the best in Australia, Mama had said, and more than once.

“How many babies have you brought into the world?” She asked, studying the soft loving smile adorning the statue's face.

When he didn't reply, she edged around and almost lost her breath. Mateo was standing close…close enough for her to inhale that undeniable masculine scent. Near enough to be drawn by its natural heady lure. As his intense gaze glittered down and searched hers, a lock of dark hair dropped over his brow and jumped in the breeze.

“…to count.”

Coming to, Bailey gathered herself. He'd been speaking, but she'd only caught his last words.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “To count what?”

His brows swooped together. “How many babies I've delivered. Too many to count.”

Bailey withered as her cheeks heated up. How had she lost track of their conversation so completely?

But she knew how. Whether he was being polite or fiery and passionate, Mateo exuded an energy that drew her in.

Indisputable.

Unwelcome.

Heartbeat throbbing in her throat, she lowered her gaze and turned a little away. “Guess they all blur after a time.”

“Not at all. Each safe delivery is an accomplishment I never take for granted.”

The obvious remained unsaid. Even in this day and age, some deliveries wouldn't go as planned. No matter how skilled, every doctor suffered defeats. Just like criminal lawyers.

She remembered her parents speaking about one client her father had failed to see acquitted. The man's family had lost nearly all their possessions in a fire, and her father donated a sizable amount to get them sturdily on their feet again. She'd felt so very proud of him. But he seemed to lose those deeper feelings for compassion after her mother passed away.

As Mateo's gaze ran over the mother and child, Bailey wondered again about
his
direct family. He'd lived with his grandmother in Italy. Had come to Australia with his father. Where was his mother?

“I'm turning in,” he said, rolling back one big bare shoulder. “There's a television and small library in your room if you can't get back to sleep.” That dark gaze skimmed her face a final time and tingling warmth filtered over her before he rotated away. “
Sogni d'oro,
Bailey.”

“Sogni d'oro,”
she replied and then smiled.

Sweet dreams.

Mateo sauntered back inside, his gait relaxed yet purposeful.

He was a difficult one to work out. So professional and together most of the time, but there was a volatile side too, one she wondered if many people saw. More was going on beneath the sophisticated exterior…deep and private things Mateo Celeca wouldn't want to divulge. And certainly not divulge to a troublesome passerby like herself. Even if they had the time to get acquainted, he'd been clear. She wasn't the kind of woman the doctor wanted to get too close to.

Bailey thought of those shoulders—those eyes—and, holding the flutter in her tummy, concurred.

She didn't need to get that close either.

E
arly the next morning, Mateo strode out his back door and threw an annoyed glance around the hedges and their statues. Not a sign of her anywhere. Seemed Bailey Ross had flown the coop.

After knocking on her bedroom door—politely at first—thinking she must be hungry and might join him for breakfast, he'd found the room empty. The shabby knapsack vanished. No matter her consequences, she shouldn't have taken money from an elderly, obviously soft-hearted woman. Equally, she ought to have had the decency to at least stay long enough to say “thanks for the bed,” and “so long.”

He'd practically laughed in her face when she'd vowed to pay that “loan” back. After this disappearing act, he'd bet all he owned neither he nor Mama would hear from Miss Ross again. She was a woman without scruples. And yet, he couldn't deny it—he was attracted to her.

After her stumble yesterday, when he'd cupped, then
searched, her face, the urge to lean closer and slant his mouth over hers had been overwhelming. Last night while they'd spoken among the shadows of these gardens, he'd fought to keep a lid on that same impulse. Something deep and strong reacted whenever she was near. Something primordial and potentially dangerous.

He'd felt this kind of intense chemistry once before, Mateo recalled, looking over the statue of mother and child Bailey had found so interesting last night. Unfortunately, at twenty-three he'd been too wet behind the ears to see that particular woman for what she was: a beautiful, seductive leech. He'd fallen hard and had given Linda Webb everything she'd wanted. Or, rather, he'd
tried.
Expensive perfume, jewelry, even a car. She was an unquenchable well. Took twelve months and a ransacked savings account before he'd faced facts—unemployed Linda hadn't wanted a fiancé as much as a financier.

Unlike Mama, he had no problem with being wealthy. He'd worked hard to achieve this level of security and he wouldn't apologize for doing well. He also liked to be generous—but only where and when his gifts were put to good use and appreciated. That cancelled out the likes of Linda Webb and Bailey Ross.

Giving up the search, Mateo rotated away from a view of bordering pines at the same time he saw her.

Beyond the glass-paneled pool fence, a lithe figure lay on a sun lounge, floppy straw hat covering the back of her head and the teeniest of micro bikinis covering not much of the rest. An invisible band around Mateo's chest tightened while his clamoring heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Last night in the moonlight she'd looked beyond tempting, but in an almost innocent way. There was nothing innocent about the way Miss Ross looked this morning.

Those bikini bottoms weren't technically a thong, but
far more was revealed by that sliver of bright pink fabric than was covered. Minus the jeans, her legs appeared even longer, naturally tanned. Smooth. His fingertips, and other extremities, tingled and grew warm. He couldn't deny that every male cell in his body wanted to reach out and touch her.

One of Bailey's tanned arms braced as she shifted on the lounge. The disturbed floppy hat fell to the ground. When she blindly felt around but couldn't find it, she shifted again, pushing up on both palms. A frown pinched her brow and, as if she'd sensed him standing nearby, her gaze tipped higher then wandered across the lawn.

When their eyes connected, hers popped and she sprang up to a sit while Mateo fought every impulse known to man to check out the twin pink triangles almost covering her perfect breasts. With difficulty, he forced his face into an unaffected mask.

Get a grip. You're a medical doctor. An obstetrician who has tended hundreds of clients.

But there was a distinction between “work” and this vastly different environment. Irrespective of profession, he was still a man, complete with a man's urges and desires. Under normal circumstances, being physically attracted to a member of the opposite sex was nothing immoral. Trouble was…he didn't
want
to be attracted to Bailey Ross. Whether she was a victim or a schemer, she was a drifter who seemed to court trouble.

As Bailey swiped her T-shirt off the back of the lounge, Mateo set his hands in his trouser pockets and cast an aimless glance around. When he was certain her top half was covered, he crossed over.

“I took an early morning dip,” she said as he entered the pool area.

“When I couldn't find you inside, I thought you'd run off.”

She frowned. “I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.”

“Unless I was your fiancé?”

“I'm grateful for the bed,” she said, standing, “but not appreciative enough to listen to any more of your put-downs.”

He moved to the rock waterfall, wedged his hands in his pockets again and, after debating with himself several moments, said calmly, “So tell me more about your situation.”

“So you can scoff?”

“So I can understand.”

Dammit, one minute he was wanting to help, offering her a bed, the next he was lumping her in the same class as Linda. Was Bailey genuine about paying that money back, or were her dealings with Mama merely a side issue for him? Was his interest more about that long fair hair, those blazing blue eyes?

That, after his last comment, seemed to have lost a little of their fire.

Folding back down again, she set that straw hat on her lap and explained.

“After that night…the night Emilio proposed,” she said, “his sisters jumped into organizing the wedding. Emilio set the date two months from the day he shoved that ring on my finger. He wouldn't listen when I told him it was a mistake. He only smiled and tried to hug me when I said this had all happened too fast. Everyone kept saying what a great catch he was.”

“Not in your opinion.”

“Sure, we had fun,” she admitted. “Up to that point. But after that night, whenever I got vocal and tried to return his ring, Emilio got upset. His face would turn red and beads
of sweat would break on his brow. He'd proposed, he'd say, and I'd accepted. I'd taken his family's charity by working at the taverna and sleeping under their roof. We were getting married and he knew once I got over my nerves I'd be happy. I didn't have nearly enough money for a ticket home. I was trapped.” Looking at her feet, she exhaled. “One day at Mama's place, I broke down. We were alone and when she asked what was wrong I told her I couldn't go through with the wedding. Everyone else might have been in love with Emilio but I wasn't.”

“Why not call your father?”

Regardless of disagreements, family was family. His own father had been there through thick and thin. Or rather the man he knew as a father was.

“If I introduced you to Dad,” she plopped her hat back on her head, “you'd understand why. I went overseas against his advice. The last thing he said to me was that if I was old enough not to listen, I was old enough to figure out my own problems.” Her voice dropped. “Believe me, he wouldn't want to know.”

“You've made a few mistakes in the past?” An insensitive question, perhaps, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this maze.

“Nothing monumental.”

“Until this.”

Screwing her eyes shut, she groaned. “I knew I could've said no to Emilio on the day of the wedding, but I couldn't bear to think of everyone's meltdown, particularly his. Or I could simply have packed up and stolen off in the middle of the night and moved on to the next town. But Emilio proved to me he wasn't the kind to let go what he believed was his. He'd come after me and do all he could to bring me back.”

From what Mateo remembered of Emilio, he had to agree. Beneath the superficial charm lived a Neanderthal.

Moving to a garden crowded with spiky Pandanus palms, Mateo swept his foot to move stray white pebbles back into their proper bed.

“What makes you so sure he won't come here?”

“I'm
not
sure. I mailed him a package from the airport. The letter explained how I wished he'd listened and I wasn't coming back. I put his ring in, as well. Hopefully that will be enough.”

Mateo grunted. “He's thick but not entirely stupid.” When she glanced over, curious, he explained. “The summer before I left Italy, a twelve-year-old Emilio tried to call me out. Can't recall the reason now but certainly nothing to warrant a fistfight. When Emilio and a couple of friends cut me off in an alley, I defended myself. Emilio didn't bother me after that.”

Surrounded by memories, Mateo absently brushed more pebbles into the garden bed. How different his life would have been if he'd stayed in Casa Buona. What if no one had come for him all those years ago in France? What would have become of him then? If Mama hadn't offered her help to this woman—if what she said was true—what would have happened to Bailey?

“I'm going to pay her back,” Bailey insisted. “If it takes five years—”

“Mama may not
have
five years.”

Her head went back as if she hadn't considered Mama's advanced age. But then one slender shoulder hitched up and she amended. “I'll get a loan.”

A loan to pay a loan. “With no job?”

Sitting straighter, she crossed those long tanned legs. “I'm fixing that.”

“Looks like it,” he muttered, eyeing the pool sparkling with golden east coast sunshine. Linda was always on the verge of getting a job too.

Bailey's jaw tightened. “Accepting Mama's money wasn't any moral highlight—”

“And yet you did accept.”

The frustration in her eyes hardened before the irritation evaporated into resignation. She slowly shook her head. “Someone like you…you could never understand what it's like to feel powerless.”

Oh, but he
did
know. And he'd spent his entire adult life making certain he never felt powerless again. He'd done it through hard work, not lying around a pool. Although part of her plan had merit.

“Getting a loan is a good idea,” he said, “but not from an institution. There's interest. If you get behind, there are fees.”

“Maybe I should throw some cash at a roulette wheel,” she groaned.

“I have a better idea. I'll pay Mama the money you owe—”

“What?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not!”

“—and you can pay me back.”

“I don't want to owe
you
anything.”

“So you're not serious about paying her back as soon as possible?”

She eyed him as Little Red Riding Hood might eye the big bad wolf.

“What are the terms?” She finally asked.

“A signed agreement. Regular repayments.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Not for you. For my grandmother.” The amount Bailey owed wouldn't make a dent in any of his accounts but he liked to think that, for once, Mama wouldn't be left out of pocket by virtue of her soft heart.

Bailey pushed to her feet, paced around the back of the sun lounge, studied him and then, defiant, crossed her arms. A
few more seconds wound out before she announced, “Well, then, I'd better get cracking.”

That floppy hat stuck on her head, she fished her jeans out of her knapsack and drove her legs through the denim pipes. When he realized he'd been staring while she wiggled and scooped her bottom into the seat of her jeans, he jerked his gaze away and heard her zip up. He'd already faced the fact Miss Ross wasn't the kind of woman with whom he wished to become more involved than he already was.

In time, he looked back to see her heading for the pool gate, that knapsack swinging over a shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To get a job. I'll be back by five to sign that contract. And about those repayments…” She stopped at the gate and her glittering blue eyes meshed with his. “I want them as steep as possible.”

His eyebrows jumped. “To get the debt paid off in record time?”

“To get you out of my life ASAP.”

As she strode away, Mateo gave himself permission to drink in the sway of those slim hips and long hair. High on each thigh, his muscles hardened as his thoughts gave over to how those curves and silk might feel beneath his fingers, his lips….

Regardless of whether she took Mama's money or not, she was attractive and fiery and…something more. Something he would dearly love to sample.

Whether it was good for him or not.