by Becky Wicks
‘Mary Tobias, sixty-seven, now married to the ex-head of the Department of Genetic Research and Bioinformatics in Oslo. Is that right?’
‘Correct.’ He nodded, then ordered a cappuccino from the too-skinny waitress who’d been orbiting them like a satellite since the second they’d arrived.
Even before the television fame and camera crews he’d had no problem attracting attention from the opposite sex, but he’d learnt to be discerning over the years. There had been way too many photographs and way too many tweets.
‘Coffee?’ he asked Madeline, ignoring the way the waitress was hovering a little too close to him yet again, with her apron ties practically dangling over his shoulder.
‘Flat white, please, no sugar,’ Madeline said, still scribbling furiously. ‘So she still lives in Norway?’
‘They travel back and forth. She’s good friends with my father, thank God,’ he said. ‘They’re better apart—they were both so driven, so ambitious, they never managed to head anywhere in the same direction. You can write that down.’
‘I am. Do you think you’re more like your mother or your father?’
He contemplated this, amused at the way she bit her lip or frowned as the sentences took shape beneath her pretty fingers. She was a woman who took great care and interest in what she did—he could tell that already. He wondered if she’d been the same as a nurse and almost brought it up. He decided not to.
‘I guess I have my father’s drive to help others, and my mother’s ambition to see the world,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Thankfully I’ve forged a career that lets me do both.’
‘A very successful one,’ she followed up. ‘Tell me more about your team. How do you choose who comes with you on your missions? Would you say you’re as close in reality as you seem on screen?’
He reached out quickly, took the pen from her hand and placed it on top of her notebook. She looked up, surprised.
‘I don’t think we’re there yet, are we?’ He held her gaze. He couldn’t help notice how she flinched.
‘Sorry.’
‘I thought we’d go over things in chronological order—my youth, my family, college... Don’t you want to hear about my days in the acapella club?’
Her eyes narrowed in amusement. ‘Seriously? That’s not on your Wikipedia page.’
‘Of course that’s not online. If it was, everyone would be asking me to sing. My job is to save lives—not to kill people.’
She picked up her pen again. ‘I’m sure you’re not that bad.’
‘Let’s just say you can worm your way into a lot of things on looks alone. It was a pretty short-lived experience anyway. I only joined because I had it bad for one of the girls in the group.’
‘So you were this handsome in college, too?’
She flushed as she said it, hiding her face behind her hair for a moment, and he did his best to hide his smile. He’d noticed the way she’d been sneaking glances at him, maybe a little starstruck herself. Although he had to admit she was a lot more subtle than a lot of people.
When their coffees arrived he sipped at the hot foam, breathing an internal sigh of relief that he’d diverted her most prying questions and potentially bought himself some time to decide exactly how he was going to keep diverting them once they came around to the elephant in the room. Could he get away with a memoir that didn’t mention Josephine?
Of course he’d been anticipating questions about her, and he knew he couldn’t stop this memoir being written altogether. He didn’t have to bare his soul completely, though, did he? He’d kept things light—telling her all about the blonde-haired soprano he’d followed about campus like a puppy dog, before she’d hooked up with the tenor and broke his tone-deaf heart.
By the time they got back to the hotel it was gone eleven p.m., and thankfully Madeline seemed content that her writing was off to a good start. He walked her to her room. The door clicked open at the swipe of her key card and she turned to him.
‘Thank you, Ryan, for tonight. It was...fun.’
He kept his hands in his pockets. In this light she looked less like Josephine. In fact, with her unique style, Madeline had been morphing since yesterday into her own skin right in front of him. It was getting easier to be around her in that respect...and when their conversation was under control she was easy to talk to, too. She was also incredibly, magnetically beautiful. It wouldn’t have taken much to let all his professionalism fly out of the window.
Just for one night.
He cleared his throat. ‘It was my pleasure. I doubt we’ll get as much one-on-one time once we’re at camp.’
He noticed she looked despondent.
‘We’ll get the job done,’ he added, ‘and who knows? Maybe you’ll have the chance to dust off your nursing skills again.’
‘I don’t think that will be happening,’ she said, clutching at the beads around her neck.
He saw a flicker of a warning in her green eyes—the kind he was already getting to know.
‘I know you think it will, but it won’t. I’m here solely for the memoir, OK?’
‘OK.’
Madeline stepped into her room, turning to face him again in the doorway. He could see her bed, all made up behind her. He rooted his feet to the floor, dug his hands deeper into his pockets.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘thank you for dinner.’
‘You’re more than welcome. It was fun. I have to say you make for excellent company, Maddy Savoia, even if you do ask a lot of questions.’
‘There are a lot more I could ask,’ she said, pursing her glossed lips for a second. ‘But I have a feeling you’re going to make me work for it.’
‘It’s no fun otherwise.’
He leaned in to drop a kiss on her cheek. He was about to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear when Madeline stepped back from him, putting the doorframe between them.
‘Goodnight,’ she said curtly, and shut the door.
CHAPTER SIX
THE JUNGLE STRETCHED below them like a deep green blanket and Madeline could imagine a million pairs of eyes on their helicopter—from monkeys to jaguars, bats, rats and snakes, all plotting to lure them in and keep them.
‘How are you feeling?’ Ryan asked from his seat next to hers.
She turned her head away from the window, her lips a thin line. He put a hand to her arm to reassure her, and she was grateful for his presence. He was dressed in a light blue shirt with the Medical Extremes logo on the right pocket and another pair of khakis. She was dressed the same, all the clothes given to her by the producer—only her shirt was a tight-fitting tank top.
‘You’re looking like part of the crew already,’ Ryan said loudly over the whir of the blades. ‘Are you ready for some flying doctor Amazon action?’
‘I don’t know how to answer that,’ she said honestly, noting the way his hair was sticking out adorably from the sides of his baseball hat. She clutched hard at the notebook on her lap under her seatbelt. Her hair was a mess and she’d long since given up trying to tame the flyaway strands that kept escaping from her ponytail. She assumed she should probably get used to looking dishevelled from this point on.
The flight from Rio to Saint Elena had been fine, but the helicopter now juddering towards the camp was an entirely different story. It was only the second time she’d ridden in one. Jason had taken her on a surprise flight over Manhattan the first time they’d been to New York together, complete with champagne.
Her fingers found the apple on its chain around her neck—a present from her ex on that trip. This helicopter had zero champagne. The box of ultrasound equipment sat strapped in place beside Ryan’s feet, and various packages, bags and boxes took up every other inch of space. There was even a box or two of bananas and another labelled ‘solar power’.
‘Chargers—so we can do it nature’s way,’ Ryan e
xplained, seeing her studying them. ‘We use the sun instead of batteries for a lot of things now...except our phones. Like I said, not much signal out here. Did you make your last-minute calls?’
‘A couple,’ she said, remembering the one she’d had to make to her insurance company, and also the one she’d sneaked to Emma, during which she’d told her all about the pair of them out in Rio, eating olives and talking about the intricacies of Ryan’s childhood.
Emma had squealed so loudly down the phone Madeline had been left with a partially deaf ear for ten minutes.
‘But, Maddy, is he single?’
‘I don’t know,’ she’d had to admit.
Madeline still felt weird around Ryan. He didn’t seem as if he was in a relationship. There had been a moment just before she’d left him lingering in her doorway when she’d suddenly panicked that he was going to kiss her—and not just on the cheek this time. She’d moved away from his face as if she’d been dodging a baseball. It made her hot, just remembering.
But even if they had been flirting a little over dinner there was no way in hell she was about to become another one of his adoring female fans and start looking at him the way that waitress had. Besides, she hadn’t kissed anyone like that...like Ryan Tobias...ever.
‘We don’t just eat those—don’t worry—but I’m afraid there won’t be too many tapas restaurants...’
‘What?’ Madeline blinked.
Ryan was still talking. He leaned in closer...so close his nose almost brushed hers as she turned.
‘The bananas. Sorry, it’s tough to hear over the blades, right?’
‘Oh, yeah, a bit. Don’t you ever fly these things yourself? I thought I saw you in the pilot’s seat in one episode.’
‘Sometimes—for kicks,’ he said, leaning his head back against the headrest. ‘I have my licence, but I prefer to let the professionals do their thing while I do mine.’
‘I see.’
‘Have you ever flown a plane, Miss City Girl?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
‘Lots of times! My brother had a radio controlled one. It worked pretty well until he crashed it into a tree in Hyde Park.’
He closed his eyes, faking disparagement. ‘Crazy Brits,’ he muttered.
But she didn’t miss his smile, nor the dimples that had taken to appearing more each time they talked.
At first Madeline had felt like a celebrity, being ushered on board the flight with Ryan Tobias. The new cameraman she’d met at that first dinner at the hotel had followed them, watching every move Ryan made through his viewfinder, his eyes shielded by the rim of his own Medical Extremes baseball hat.
She still didn’t know how she felt about appearing on camera throughout this mission, but the producer had assured her they wouldn’t be making a feature of her. She wouldn’t have to talk like the rest of the team, and if she appeared in the show at all she’d appear in the background. All of which went some way towards comforting her, she supposed.
‘What do you think of the view from up here?’ he asked her. ‘Better than Hyde Park?’
A rush of wind ruffled the trees below them like a Mexican Wave as they watched the shadow of the helicopter move like a black eclipse on the canopy.
‘It’s amazing...’ she breathed.
Madeline had seen the rainforest before—in Costa Rica. A very handsome man called Ricardo had dared to capture a poisonous red tree frog, which he’d located by following the sound of its distinct croak. He’d held it in his hands to demonstrate that such frogs were only poisonous at certain times of the year, when they’d eaten a toxic kind of ant.
She’d been fascinated as they’d walked on rope bridges, stretching into the air from lush tree to tree at howler monkey height. She’d felt relatively safe there, above the jungle floor with an experienced guide. Here, however, with an infinite ocean of green treetops disguising what she was sure were a thousand death traps, she was having trouble stopping her stomach from knotting—and they hadn’t even landed yet.
‘We’re heading in, boss,’ the pilot called over his shoulder after a few minutes, and when Madeline turned to the window at her side she could finally see a clearing.
They flew in closer. Ryan placed a foot on the box closest to him to stop it moving. Madeline could make out what looked like a thin, long pathway, and two long boats waiting on the murky brown coloured river nearby. The pilot was talking to someone on the ground on the radio, and as the sound of the blades increased her hair whipped up into what she knew with utter certainty would be a mass of unmanageable knots and tangles.
The landing strip was in clear sight now. Two men in knee-length shorts and sleeveless T-shirts were running towards them as Madeline held her hair back out of her face. Three minutes later they were bumping onto the ground in the clearing, gliding to a stop, and Ryan was leaning over her, impossibly close, undoing her seatbelt.
‘Home sweet home,’ he said.
She watched his big hands on her seatbelt. Her heart-rate spiked even further and she held her breath as her insides tangled like her hair.
One of the men on the ground helped her out of the helicopter with the backpack she’d been given for the trip. It held considerably less than her suitcase. The other man walked with her quickly across uneven ground covered in mud and grass towards the murky-looking water. The swish of the helicopter blades created a welcome fan, but already Madeline could feel the heat closing in on her.
‘Sólo tiene que esperar aquí, por favor,’ another guy said to her, helping her onto a small boat on the river.
A local, Madeline noted, seeing the black swirling tattoo which stretched all the way up the inside of one arm. He was looking up at the sky.
She replied that, yes, she would wait right there, but when she turned around on her seat she saw Ryan with the pilot, another cameraman she’d been introduced to as Jake and the other man who’d been waiting for them, all lifting each box from the helicopter through a haze of heat wafting up from the ground.
She stepped out of the boat again, walking back towards them. ‘Here—I can take those,’ she offered, and the pilot shrugged, handing her a box of bananas.
Back at the boat she apologised to the local man whose command she’d disregarded, placed the box carefully to the floor and held her arms out for another, and then another, ignoring the beads of sweat that had started to trickle from her temples.
She didn’t miss the look of approval Ryan threw in her direction as he fastened a radio to his belt, but neither did she miss the mosquitoes that were gorging themselves on her blood already.
She put the last box of supplies inside the boat and slapped at the top of her arm as Ryan climbed in beside her.
‘You might want to get the DEET out,’ he said. ‘I trust you’ve been taking the malaria pills you were given?’
‘For three days already—yes, sir.’ She reached for the pocket of her backpack. ‘Need some?’
Ryan shook his head as she sprayed her arms. ‘They don’t touch me any more. My blood’s not sweet enough.’
She raised her eyebrows. Ryan was sweating, too, but it made him look sexy. He lifted the hat he was wearing and swiped at his forehead before stepping to the front of the boat. She realised she’d always loved seeing him all sweaty on the show, and then rolled her eyes at herself. Behind her, the last of the other boxes was being piled into the second boat.
‘How far is it to the camp?’ she asked, spraying her legs, then shoving the DEET back into her backpack.
‘Not far.’
Ryan climbed back over the bench seats to sit beside her. A guy with a long pole stepped on and pushed off from the riverbank with it, quickly leaving the helicopter behind. Madeline couldn’t shake the growing sense of apprehension coiling around her like a python. They were literally in the middle of nowhere.
‘We need to get to camp soon—that sto
rm’s coming fast,’ Ryan said beside her.
He was looking at the sky. In the sunlight his eyes were shining under his Medical Extremes baseball hat, but she noticed a thick black cloud on the periphery of her vision that definitely hadn’t been there when they’d landed.
‘I hope the helicopter gets out in time.’ He leaned back to rest his elbows on the bench behind them. ‘Can you hear that?’
‘Hear what?’
‘The jungle talking. Gets louder when a storm’s on the horizon—they sense it. The insects and the birds...the cicadas and the frogs. The usual volume is loud enough—it sends me to sleep like a lullaby—but I wouldn’t trust any of it for a second. Remember what I told you before?’
‘I remember. No wandering off on my own.’
‘Not even when it looks and seems like the most idyllic place in the world. Promise me?’
She touched a hand lightly to his arm. ‘Trust me, I don’t want to get eaten by a snake any more than you do. I promise you.’
And then lightning struck somewhere inside her as he took her hand and squeezed her fingers.
‘Good,’ he said.
His radio made a sound. Madeline watched more insects swirling around them as he dropped her hand and pulled the radio from his belt.
Evan’s voice sounded out in the boat. ‘How close are you to our dock?’
‘Five...ten minutes—what’s going on?’
‘Emergency—fast as you can. I’ve called the helicopter back,’ came the reply.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DOCK WAS a flurry of action as it came into view through the trees. Ryan stood up as the boat drew closer and waved at Evan. He was standing on the edge of the water, supervising the scene. The sky was a dark chalky grey and the wind was raging. The weather could change in a heartbeat in the rainforest—he knew that well—but the timing of this particular storm was supremely unlucky.
‘Will we be able to help her?’ Madeline asked from behind him.
She’d obviously overheard what Evan had said about a local lady who’d been hurt. She’d been stepping into a boat with a heavy bag of fruit when she’d slipped and hit the metal stairs of the dock with such force that she could no longer move. She needed to be taken to a hospital.
