by Tina Beckett
“I think I will not have to tell them... Amy.” Her name came out sounding like “Ahh-Mee,” all musical and so horrifyingly attractive.
She licked her lips, trying to maintain her grip on what little composure she had left.
He was right. There was no way she could keep her knowledge of the language a secret. But the truth was, she was embarrassed to speak. She hated making mistakes of any kind. And yet Roque’s English wasn’t perfect, and he was still willing to try in order to be understood. And at a hospital like Paulista he was probably called on to speak English fairly often. “You’re right. I’ll give myself away, won’t I?”
“Yes. Most assuredly.”
She smiled at him, feeling silly all of a sudden. What would her mom have done in this situation? She would have tackled that language barrier and conquered it, just like she’d done when she’d married her father. While her mom had always maintained her accent, she’d spoken English very well. “Well, I won’t try to hide it, then.”
One side of his mouth kicked up. Not quite as big as the smile he’d lavished on the blonde, but it transformed the rugged lines of his face in ways that made warmth pool in her stomach.
She took a deep breath and dug into her food, hoping to take her attention off the man beside her. Just in time, too. Because the next speaker was at the podium giving instructions on how the scheduling would work. She forced herself to listen, since she didn’t want to be lost tomorrow, when things got under way. It seemed those who were not giving lectures would shadow a staff member for the first half of their stay in order to learn the ropes. Then they would be given more latitude and allowed to have input in patient care.
That was exciting. From the information she’d seen online, Paulista would rival any hospital she’d visited in the US.
“For those of you who have just arrived, there is an envelope on the table listing who you’ll be paired with. There will be two or three visiting medical professionals shadowing the same staff member. Who knows, you might even be sitting at the same table with them.”
There were a few chuckles at that comment, but Amy didn’t share in the mirth. Her hands suddenly turned to ice, her fork stopping halfway to her mouth.
She spotted the envelope the woman had mentioned. Cream-colored and tipped with gold, it shouldn’t look ominous, but it did. Knowing she couldn’t simply drop the fork and dive for the list, she forced herself to pop the shrimp into her mouth and chew as the person to Roque’s left drew the sheet from the envelope and glanced at it. The man then passed the paper to Roque, while Amy struggled to swallow her food.
The orthopedist didn’t even glance at the names. Instead, a muscle in his jaw flickered and one brow edged up, and he handed the sheet to her, eyes meeting hers and lingering.
Oh, God! Why? Her and...the Reaper?
That’s why he’d mentioned working together. She hadn’t thought he’d meant so closely together. Amy forced herself to look at the paper in her hands...to find her name. But it was all a pretense. And there it was in black and white: Roque Cardoza, Amy Woodell and two other names.
She didn’t know how she’d expected this thing to work but had assumed there’d be some kind of short orientation as a group before listening to the various lecturers and participating in treatment as opportunities arose. But to work closely with someone she was already uneasy with? For half of the three-month stint? That was a whole month and a half. Of watching every move the man made.
She passed the sheet to the woman next to her. Why couldn’t she be with Flávia and Krysta?
Because they were both lecturing.
The woman she’d spoken to a few minutes earlier smiled. “It looks like I’m in your group, and I’ve met the other man on the list as well. He’s on the far side of the table.”
Okay, so at least that was something. “That’s great.” But there was no conviction in her voice.
The speaker addressed them again. “So once you’ve finished dinner, find your group and set a meeting time and place for tomorrow, if you would.”
Roque leaned over. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a little longer. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone your little secret.”
Little secret?
The words made her heart skip a beat. Then another. Had he guessed what he did to her? Her face became a scorching inferno. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“That you understand Portuguese.” He frowned. “Is there some other secret I should know about?”
Her shoulders sagged and her strap actually started to slide down her shoulder. She shrugged it back into place.
“No. No other secrets.” Liar. “And since we both agreed it would be impossible to keep my Portuguese under wraps, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Somehow she got through the rest of the meal, which was followed by a luscious crème brûléé for dessert. Then people were getting to their feet, and groups formed all over the room, the sounds of excitement building in the air.
Except the air where she was sitting.
“So here we are.” Roque stood, not reaching for his cane.
She scrambled to her feet as well. “Yes, we are.”
It’s only six weeks, Amy. You can do this.
The sports medicine doctor introduced herself to the group as Lara Smith. And a man with light brown hair came over and shook Roque’s hand and then hers. “I am Dr. Peter Gunderfeld. You must be Dr. Cardoza and Dr. Woodell?”
Everyone in her group was a doctor. Except for her.
“Just Amy, for me.” Her uneasiness about her decision to come to Brazil grew. These people were all brilliantly talented in their respective fields, from what she was discovering. Maybe she should have just planned a vacation to the country and skipped the summer lecture program.
“You can call me Peter, then.”
“And Lara is fine with me.”
“I am Roque.”
The pronouncement landed like a hammer, although she was sure he hadn’t meant it to.
They went through a few moments of exchanging social pleasantries about where they were from. She already knew Lara was from England. And Peter was from Munich, Germany.
Roque was from Rio de Janeiro, originally. She had noticed a difference in his speech patterns as opposed to her mom’s, who was from São Paulo. Many of his s’s had the “sh” sound characteristic of the famous city.
“Did you know that the name Florida comes from the Portuguese word meaning ‘flowered’?” Roque’s mouth curved slightly. She forced her gaze not to dwell.
“I did.” This would be a perfect time to ask what his name meant, but that might be a little too personal.
Peter had no problems sharing personal information, however. He was married with a two-year-old daughter.
“It had to have been hard to leave them at home,” Lara said.
“Yes. But they’re going to meet me here the last week of our stay, and then we’ll vacation in Iguaçu Falls.”
“Good choice. Foz do Iguaçu is worth the visit.” Roque glanced at Amy. “I hope you and Lara added extra time on to your trip as well.”
She hadn’t really thought about that. She already had her return ticket, in fact. Maybe she should check to see how hard it would be to switch the dates.
“I’ve been to Brazil several times actually. And no husband or kids to bring,” Lara said, smiling at Peter. “So I’m just here for the conference.”
Roque hadn’t commented on his relationship status, and Amy wasn’t about to ask nor share hers. Not only was it not any of her business, she didn’t want him thinking that she was interested in him like that.
She wasn’t.
Those thoughts about flings and the flutters in her belly were strictly animal survival instincts. Nothing more. If she stuck to work topics, it should be easier to view him as a colleague and not as
a person whose speech patterns did crazy things to her libido.
Maybe she did need to hook up with a good-looking man and knock some of this stuff out of her system. It had been ages since she’d had sex.
She wasn’t going to number Roque in with the possible candidates for that, though. Her gaze scouted the room, and while she saw several other attractive men, there was no pull toward them.
Well, all that meant was that she wasn’t shallow, right?
Hmm...and yet she’d been glued to almost every word that came out of Roque’s firm, sexy mouth.
She rolled her eyes.
The man picked that moment to glance at his watch. “I have an early day tomorrow. Do you all know your way to the condominium?”
“Yes. The Fonte Cristalina, right?” Amy had already dropped her luggage off at the apartment building the hospital had put them up in. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and had a gorgeous view of the city.
“Yes.” Roque looked from one to the other. “It’s within walking distance of Paulista. But it’s better to do that during the day. So, let’s meet in the hospital lobby at eight in the morning?” There was a slight furrow between his brows now, though.
“Very good. I must go call my wife,” Peter said. “See you tomorrow.”
“And I’m meeting a friend for a nightcap,” Lara added a second later.
Amy said her goodbyes. Was she the only one feeling lost at sea?
Maybe Roque sensed some of her thoughts because he stayed where he was. “Would you like me to drop you off at the apartment complex?”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. I can catch a cab. There are some out front, I’m sure.”
“Very likely.” He moved sideways to let someone through, which put him way too close to her for comfort.
Amy took a quick step back, and a sharp tug at her shoulder was followed by a distinct ripping sound. Then things began a slow slide. Straight down. Including her mind.
Oh! Oh, no!
She grabbed at the bodice of her dress just as the shoulder strap flopped uselessly over the top of her hand.
Roque turned...stared at her shoulder, before glancing down at where his foot was planted on her hem. His face turned a dull red.
“Merde! I am sorry, Amy. I did not realize.”
Her name came rough-edged off his tongue, and she shut her eyes as hot embarrassment rained down on her. She knew she hadn’t stitched the strap enough, but hadn’t given much thought to it. A huge mistake.
Just like this whole damned trip.
“It’s okay, but I’d better find that cab now.”
“I will take you home. It’s only right.”
The thought of running out of the hotel holding up her dress was mortifying, so she decided to accept his offer. “Thank you. Could you stand in front of me for a second, though?”
His head tilted sideways, but he shifted until they were face-to-face, and much, much closer than they had been last time.
Hot flames licked at her innards, and she had a hard time catching her breath. “I—I kind of meant for you to turn the other way. I want to tuck my strap into my dress so it’s not as obvious.”
This time, his eyes did what she’d wanted them to do earlier. Trailed over her bare shoulder and lower before coming back up to meet her gaze. That muscle in his jaw twitched the way it had when he’d handed her the list of names, but he said, “Of course,” before turning away from her, shielding her from prying eyes.
She quickly shoved the strap into the front of her dress, hoping it didn’t cause any awkward bulges, then she clamped her right arm across her chest and picked up her clutch purse. Where were those few lost pounds when you needed them?
“Okay, you can turn around now.”
He did, his glance going back to her shoulders, now bereft of any fabric. “I will pay for the damage I caused.”
No, he wouldn’t. Because the real damage wasn’t anything that could be seen with the naked eye.
“It’s my fault. I tried to alter the length on my own, when I should have bought higher heels. I’m just glad it happened at the end of the evening rather than at the beginning.”
“I know a very good seamstress. It would also be free.”
Oh, God! Maybe he really was married. She could picture him trying to explain to some faceless wife how he’d practically stripped one of his charges naked in front of an entire room of doctors.
Well, not naked. But almost. She didn’t have a bra on, since the dress had one built into it. “I’m sure that’s not—”
“It is my mother. It would take her little time to make it right. She could even arrange for a fitting to adjust the length, if you would like. Her shop is at my parents’ home.”
Somehow the fact that his mom was the seamstress made her relax. “That would be an awkward conversation, wouldn’t it?”
“No. She’s come to expect me to be a little more...clumsy than I used to be.”
Inadvertently, her glance shifted to the cane. “You’re not clumsy. It was an accident.”
He was the most elegant, graceful man she’d met in a long time, whatever the reasons for that cane.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, I do insist on making it right.”
Amy had a feeling he wasn’t going to let it go. “At least ask your mom if she’d mind, first, before just assuming she’ll say yes.”
“I will. But I know she will not mind.” He gave her that slow smile of his. The one that devastated her senses and made it hard to think beyond it. “Let me do this for you, Amy. This one small thing.”
It wasn’t a small thing. Not to her. But if she tried to keep arguing the point, he was eventually going to realize there was something more behind it. Something that made her wary of him—wary of working on his team for the next three months. Wary of shadowing him for half of those three months.
So all she could do was agree and say a fitting wasn’t necessary, and hope that once the dress was returned, she could forget about this incident once and for all. Maybe then she could focus on her real reasons for coming to Brazil. Those had to do with her mom and finding her uncle. And her career, of course.
And none of those things included the man in front of her.
CHAPTER TWO
DAMN, WHAT HAD he done?
The very physical therapist he’d tried to veto having on his team seemed to be a nice person. But she carried an air of fragility that socked him in the gut and made him wish he’d stuck to his guns. But the physical therapy department was running short-staffed at the moment and couldn’t spare anyone to participate in the summer lecture program.
And then he had to go and ruin her dress. And when he’d misunderstood and stood face-to-face with her, almost touching, and definitely close enough to...
Close enough to nothing!
This damned leg. Even as the thought went through his head, a phantom pain shot through his thigh. One that had nothing to do with his reaction to her. Or that dress.
He stepped on the gas as the drive to the apartment seemed to take forever, even though it was less than three blocks away. Part of it was due to navigating in heavy traffic. But also because his peripheral vision kept checking the top of her dress to make sure it hadn’t crept any farther down. If that happened, he might have to do a major reboot of his sanity. Because as he’d gazed at her in that room full of people, he’d found himself wishing it would. Which was ridiculous. Not to mention unprofessional.
They finally arrived, and Roque pressed the code into the security box at the front of the building, waiting as the heavy garage door swung open to allow his Mercedes to slide past. It closed behind them with a sense of finality, trapping him in the space with her.
He forced himself to say something in hopes she wouldn’t guess where his thoughts were straying. “The hospital bought several apartments in this co
ndominium for visiting doctors or VIP patients coming in from other areas of the country. So everyone’s staying at the same place.”
“That makes sense.” Her dress seemed to edge down a millimeter, and his mouth went completely dry.
He found a parking spot. “Would you like me to wait while you take off the dress?”
“Excuse me?”
A flare went off in his head, sending up an alarm that the rest of his body failed to heed. His thoughts about it sliding down were evidently starting to come out in his speech. “I did not mean in the car, of course. I meant in your apartment. You could bring the dress back down to me, unless you prefer to bring it to the hospital.”
Yes, the sooner she was out of sight, the sooner he would be able to get that image out of his head. But he was pretty sure it would reappear—along with a few others—the second he went to sleep tonight.
“Oh, of course.” She hesitated. “I’d rather not bring it to the hospital, if that’s okay with you. Why don’t you come up to the apartment and I can give it to you there? It’s really not necessary to have your mom repair it, though.”
“It is to me. And if you’re okay with it, I’ll come up. It will save you the trip back down.”
Why the hell had he just offered to do that? Hadn’t he just thought how glad he’d be to have her out of sight?
“Okay, great.” Still keeping her arm across her dress, she turned sideways and tried to hit the button on her seat belt, struggling with getting her hand that far back.
Roque reached over to hit the release latch for her, his sleeve brushing her bare arm as he did and catching a light floral scent that seemed to cling to her skin. He swallowed. “Wait there.”
Getting his cane from the back and climbing out of the car, he came around to her side, the tension in his jaw making itself known in his leg. He leaned a little of his weight on the cane’s handle. No wonder he’d stepped on her dress. Maybe this was some elaborate joke perpetrated by karma after his response to his mom’s nudging at dinner last night. She’d asked about him meeting someone special. He’d bluntly told her he wasn’t interested in meeting anyone—special or not so special. Less than twenty-four hours later, he’d stepped on someone’s dress and found his thoughts riveted to all kinds of “what if” scenarios.
