Her Brooding Italian Surgeon by Fiona Lowe Page A

why had he even suggested she ask him out on apromise he’d stop asking her out? He’d thought it such a clever idea, a way to spend time with Abbie on her own turf, gambling on a bigger chance that she’d relax some of those barriers she held up so hard and high. Relax them and lower them so they could resume that kiss. That mind-blowing, blood-pounding kiss that had planted a craving deep inside him which burned like an eternal flame seeking more fuel. But the idea had bitten him hard, leaving his game plan frayed and exposing a part of his life he kept very deeply buried.
    He pushed his way out through the double doors, needing to concentrate on doing his final job as the surgeon and keep all thoughts of the past at bay.
    â€˜Buon giorno, Sofia. The operation went very well and Lorenzo will be back eating your wonderful zuppa in no time.’
    â€˜Grazie , Leo.’ Sofia, a younger friend of his Nonna’s, pinched his cheek. ‘You are a good boy and a talented man. You must come soon and eat with us in the Cantina while you are home.’
    Home. He knew there was no advantage in pointing out he’d lived in Melbourne for a year longer than he’d ever lived in Bandarra. Country towns never completely let their favourite sons go, no matter how much they wanted to be gone. He also knew there was no point in refusing the invitation because a ‘no’ would not be accepted.
    â€˜That would be lovely, Sofia.’
    â€˜Good. My granddaughter, she is a good cook; I think you should meet her.’
    Good cook or not, Leo didn’t want to be matched up. ‘I’ll bring a friend who can enjoy her cooking as well.’ He spoke the protective words with no friend in mind but he immediately heard Abbie’s voice in his head. I know enough to feed myself and that’s all I need to know.
    The thought of watching Abbie’s lush lips close around a slice of the delectable wood-fire pizza that Sofia was famousfor, and being next to her the moment she made the connection that food wasn’t just for sating hunger, jolted him with heat.
    â€˜Bene.’ Sofia tried not to look too disappointed as she walked towards the ward to wait for Lorenzo.
    Leo puffed out a breath, his duty done. Unless the nursing staff paged him, he wasn’t required at the hospital or the clinic until tomorrow. The afternoon stretched before him—him and Bandarra—the thought sent a restlessness to him. He could go home but his parents’ house would be empty and he wanted to avoid a quiet and censorious house.
    La Bella winery thrived because of hard work. His father would be in the vineyard but, ever since Stefano’s decree that Leo stay for the vintage, Leo had made sure he was never alone with his father because he anticipated a conversation he didn’t want to have. A tour bus was booked in and his mother and younger sisters would be busy at the cellar door and Anna would be directing lunch at the restaurant. No problem, he’d visit Nonna and then he’d— He had no clue what to do.
    He ran his hand through his hair. He supposed he could help at the cellar door but his sisters would either moan he was in the way or organise him and neither scenario appealed. He could play tennis but his nieces wouldn’t be home to partner him until four. The prickling unease he always experienced in Bandarra had, over the last few days, formed into a tight burr that had embedded itself hard and fast. Too many memories made it impossible to relax and he felt like a caged lion, pacing back and forth.
    Talk to Abbie.
    He rejected the thought immediately. There were plenty of things he wanted to do with Abbie but talking wasn’t one of them. As he crossed the car park he heard a whirring sound and a peloton of cyclists in bright green, white and red Bandarrahospital jerseys shot past him with a wave, and he recognised the physiotherapist and the radiologist. Lunchtime cycling?