room filled with porters, nursing staff, ward clerks and doctors, all chattering and drinking copious cups of coffee before the first session started in less than two minutes. And why the heck, with a room full of attendees who looked interested and invested in learning about social media, she was shamefully disappointed that she couldnât see Mr Finelliâs famous backside in the foray, she couldnât fathom. Only that she now appeared to be locked in some sort of battle of wills with the doctor and sheâd been looking forward to showcasing her side and proving her very valid points. The man may have been infuriatingly narcissistic but sheâd believed him a worthy adversary. Clearly not. Typical that he hadnât bothered to turn up.
Mind you, with those dark Mediterranean eyes, that proud haughty jaw and thoughts ofwhat was under those scrubs, it was probably a good thing. And it would be hard to concentrate on her talk with that glower searing a hole in her soul.
âOkay, Miss Leighâ¦â Becca handed her the folders of hand-outs for the participants. âOne each and a few to spare. Morning teaâs at ten-thirty. Catering will deliver at about ten-fifteen.â
âAnd lunch? You know how these things go. If they donât get regularly fed and watered they get grouchy.â
âOne oâclock. In the Steadman Room. Oh, and the laptopâs all set up with the projector, youâre good to go. Good luck.â
Excellent. Everything was running perfectly, apart from a niggle of a headache. âThanks, and, Becca, please, please, drop the formality and call me Ivy. I know the last incumbent had you calling him sir, but I do things differently.â
âOkay. If youâre suâ¦â Her assistantâs face grew a deep shade of puce as her gaze fixed on something over Ivyâs shoulder. âOh⦠Just, oh.â
âAre you okay?â
âOh, yes. Just peachy. Such a shame heâs a break-your-heart bad boy.â Becca grinned, and moved forward as if levitated and as if breaking your heart was some kind of spectator sport and he was the numero uno world champion title-holder. Which he probably was. âMr Finelli,please grab a coffee first and then take a seat. Let me show you where the cups are.â
Great. For some reason Ivyâs heart jigged a little. First-time nerves, probably. She was always jittery at the beginning of a workshop. There was so much to think aboutâ¦technology not working, correct air-conditioning levelsâtoo hot and everyone fell asleep, too cold and no one could concentrateâsnacks arriving on time, holding everyoneâs attention, keeping trackâ¦
Suddenly he was walking towards her. She imagined Becca would think him hot, all brooding chocolate-fudge eyes and unruly dark hair. But Ivy had switched off her sexy radar years ago when sheâd learned that men wanted their women perfect, and that she didnât fit that bill. Since then sheâd watched her flatmates have their hearts broken and her mother reducedâ¦just less, diminished somehowâ¦because of a manâand Ivy had decided she wasnât going there. Give her books and her career any day. There was something perfect about a beginning, a middle and an end of a novelâa whole. Complete. And, truth be told, reading was just about all she had the energy to do after a dayâs work.
Unlike the other consultants, heâd adopted informal dressâno suit and tie for Dr Delicious of peachy-bottom fame. Just a white T-shirt over formidable shoulders, with dark jeans huggingslender hips. The same uniform sheâd seen on every youth in Florence when sheâd been there on a weekend break. She imagined him with dark aviator sunglasses on, perched on a moped like something out of a nineteen-fifties movie. Then her mind wandered back to that picture of him naked, and the knowledge of exactly what was under that uniform