Luca's Bad Girl - By Amy Andrews Page 0,40

man, believing that he’d loved her when he’d been using her all along for her family connections.

She’d been humiliated and heartbroken and had endured the rather cruel twist of fate that had seen the hospital rumour mill peg her as the bitch of the piece. Apparently Dr Evie Lockheart had considered herself too good for the lowly Stuart.

It had taken her a long time to win back people’s respect after that.

She was damned if she was going to lose that hard-won respect by making a fool of herself over another doctor. Especially one as arrogant and infuriating as Finn Kennedy.

The apartment was quiet when she entered the open-plan living area, pulling on a thick woolly dressing gown over the clothes she’d worn all day yesterday and apparently to bed too. She had a vague memory of Mia getting her home and helping her into bed but she must have drawn the line at undressing her.

She flicked on the jug and waited impatiently for it whistle. The aroma of coffee infused her senses as the boiling water hit the granules and Evie’s stomach grumbled. She opened the fridge to grab the milk, only to find there was none.

Her stomach revolted. The fireworks in her head popped louder.

Oh, hell—she couldn’t do black coffee. She just couldn’t.

Without giving any thought to her appearance, she shrugged out of her gown, grabbed a mug, pushed her feet into some discarded shoes by the door and was standing outside the lift in under thirty seconds.

Susie and John were bound to have milk.

Finally the lift arrived on her floor and for a second Evie almost wept. It was a short-lived emotion as the doors opened to reveal Suzy, also in the same clothes as last night, looking like she hadn’t slept a wink. And not in that horrible bed-hair, bleary-eyed way that Evie was sporting. Oh, no. In that loose, relaxed, I’ve-had-all-my-kinks-ironed-out way.

Suzy smiled a bright, peppy smile. ‘Hi, Dr Lockheart,’ she chirped.

Evie cracked a small smile and gave what she hoped was a gracious nod because the alternative—launching herself at young, peppy, cute Suzy—was just not physically possible with a headache the size of Sydney Harbour.

Finn stared at the ceiling, absently massaging his right thumb to relieve the painful tingling, and wished he felt better after a very pleasant night with a gorgeous athletic young woman. But he didn’t. And it had nothing to do with his physical injuries.

He kept seeing the look in Evie’s eyes at Pete’s last night. Those twin hazel pools had been like a damn open book as she’d telescoped her disapproval. The disgust and scorn he’d seen there he could live with. He saw them in the mirror every morning and he was pretty immune to them by now.

The hurt had been a lot harder to get past.

It reminded him a lot of Lydia and those horrible few years. Trying to make things better for her—easier—but only making them worse. His brother’s widow had turned to him in a dark moment of grief and it had begun a long-drawn-out, complicated affair that he’d needed yet resented all at the same time.

Lydia had needed something that he hadn’t been able to give—comfort. After a childhood in institutions and the horror of losing his brother, Finn just hadn’t been capable of it. He hadn’t known how to comfort himself let alone a grief-stricken widow.

It had been a relief when she’d finally moved on enough to end it. And yet, strangely, he’d also felt bereft. His one link to his little brother, the little brother he’d defended and protected from one care home to the next, the only constant in his childhood, had no longer been there.

The fact that he hadn’t loved Lydia, or she him, hadn’t mattered so much after she’d walked away.

So he knew exactly how a woman looked when she was hurt. And there’d been no doubt about it—Dr Evie Lockheart had been hurt last night. And he’d been responsible.

But, damn it all, could he help it if she’d read too much into a fleeting moment?

A temporary weakness?

Princess Evie could keep her goo-goo eyes to herself. He was fine. Just fine.

Mia was shocked to see Luca standing on her doorstep later that night. Between her morning-after regrets and Evie’s monster hangover the day had dragged more slowly and become more depressing than a wet week.

She had been in her pyjamas and ready for bed when the knock had sounded. The cold air from the hallway rushed around her and she pulled