by Tina Beckett
“I think you mean catnap.”
“Kitty-nap does not mean the same thing?”
“No, it doesn’t mean anything, really. And I do think you should take some time to rest. You look...” Tired. That’s what she’d been going to say. Not gorgeous. Not dreamy. Or any of the other crazy adjectives that were now crawling around the dark spaces of her skull.
“I look...?”
He tilted his head and regarded her as if maybe reading her mind. Ack! Time to think of something really unflattering.
“Kind of wrung-out.”
His head stayed tilted, but now a frown appeared between his brows. He didn’t understand what she meant.
“It means very tired. Exhausted.”
“Ah, yes. I do feel a little tired.” His glance dropped back to her lips before he suddenly climbed to his feet. “You will be okay on your own?”
Maybe she should have felt insulted that he would ask her that. But she was in a different culture and she knew it. And actually, she appreciated his concern.
And the fact that he’d just been looking at her mouth again? She wasn’t going to check for foam. Not this time. Because it would just dig her in deeper. She needed to be by herself for a little while so she could regain her composure, which was being tested to the limit right now.
“I’ll be fine, thank you. I have an uncle in São Paulo. I’d like to see if I can find him. I’m hoping he’s still at the old address I have for him.”
“Would you like help tracking him down?”
She would actually. She had no idea how to go about it, other than go to his last known address. But to just show up at the door? “Maybe. When you have time. I’m more worried about the language barrier than anything.”
“I do not think it will be much of a barrier. But I will be happy to go with you, if you’d like.”
She hadn’t expected that. But the relief that went through her was so great that it was a struggle not to let it show. “Yes. I would like that. Thank you so much!”
He gathered their cups and saucers and started to turn toward the counter when he took a wrong step and very nearly tumbled. Her latte glass fell and shattered on the tile floor below.
“Maldito!”
Compassion poured through her, pushing aside her relief and everything else. “It’s okay, hand me the other things and I’ll get it.” She took them out of his hands and went down on her haunches.
He made no move to kneel down to help pick up the big shards of glass, and she realized he either couldn’t or he was worried that he might not be able to get up without help. And for someone like Roque, that thought was probably unbearable. He’d said he used his cane when his leg got tired. Well, if he was exhausted, that affected muscle was probably giving him fits.
The barista came over with a broom and dustpan. She murmured to let her get it and in short order had everything swept and tidy once again, taking the rest of their plates and cups and carrying everything over to the bar.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be, Roque. I could have just as easily dropped them myself.”
“But you didn’t.”
She touched his hand. “We’ve all been there.”
“Have you?” This time there was a touch of anger in his voice. He thought she was patronizing him. But she wasn’t. Yes, he had a permanent disability, but that didn’t make him any less valuable than the next person. Hadn’t she almost tripped over her dress at the welcoming party? More than once?
“Yes. I’ve dropped things for no good reason. Fallen while jogging. Slipped in the shower. All kinds of things. You’re human.” She forced a smile, maybe to keep the moisture that had gathered at the back of her eyeballs from moving toward the front. “Even if you don’t want to believe it.”
In a move that shocked her, his hand turned, capturing hers in his warm grip for several long seconds. Her heart picked up its pace until it was almost pounding in her ears.
“Of being human, I have no doubts. But thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Now go get some rest. I’ll see you at noon.”
He let go and gave a quick nod, reaching for his cane. “I will. If you have any questions, just stop and ask someone. Our staff is always happy to help.”
She’d noticed that from the time she’d arrived. But not just the hospital. Brazilians in general were a very friendly people. “I will, thank you.”
With that, Roque turned and started to make his way across the coffee shop. Only this time, instead of every four or five steps, his cane hit the floor each time he bore weight on his left leg. It really was hurting him.
Damn, maybe she really should suggest he get some PT done. Or at least a deep tissue massage to give that damaged muscle a way to recuperate some energy.
What was the worst he could say?
That she’d crossed over that invisible line.
Even if he knew she could offer him some relief?
She had a feeling it wasn’t just about the pain, or whatever else he was experiencing. It was about his pride. Something that Amy was all too aware of. She could remember people wanting to help her after her mom passed away and waving them off like it was no big deal. Like people lost their moms every single day. Even as she felt like she was dying inside.
So maybe she would just have to somehow make him think it was his idea.
Really? She didn’t think the man was going to come over to her and say, Hey, could you bring those magic hands over here?
Ha! No, he wouldn’t say it in those words. At all. Because it sounded like too much of a come-on.
Besides, he’d already tried the physical therapy route, he’d said.
Yes, maybe he had. But how long ago was that? There were always new ways of doing things. Probably ways he hadn’t tried, depending on how long ago the injury had occurred.
Well, that was something she could think about later. When she had a little space to breathe. Being around him was a lot more disconcerting than it should be, and Amy had no idea why.
But maybe she’d better sit down and try to figure out what it was about him that was putting her off balance, before she spent too many sleepless nights.
Because the sooner she understood why he was affecting her the way he did, the better it would be for her. And for him.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROQUE PUNCHED HIS pillow one more time, then dropped back onto it, propping his hands behind his head. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d offered to go to Amy’s uncle’s house with her.
He’d analyzed every possible “why” over the last two days and had marked them off one by one: first explanation, she didn’t know the language. Oh, yes, she did. Enough to understand almost everything that was said to her. Second possibility, he worried about her going out alone in some areas of the city. This was true to some extent, except they had the summer lecture program every year, and he had never felt the need to babysit anyone that came through the program. Third, those damned pink briefs that had been hanging out of the suitcase at her apartment. He leaped quickly over that possibility and headed straight for reason number four: there was an uncertainty about her that pulled at his gut. And this was the heart of the matter and something that had kept him up until well after midnight tonight, despite his killer of a day.
Maybe she would decide not to go and let him off the hook. Or maybe she would go without him.
He shut his eyes. Despite the awkward awareness that refused to die, and as much as he might regret offering—and even after all his tossing and turning, he wasn’t sure he did—he did want to help her. At least in this one thing.
There. That was the solution. It was one outing. One good deed out of several years’ worth of participating in this program. And anyway, she was nothing like the physical therapist that had made a pass at him in those early years o
f therapy. As long as she didn’t offer to treat him, he was fine.
With that settled, Roque finally rested fully against his pillow, realizing for the first time how tense he’d been. He mentally visited each muscle group, limb by limb, and consciously forced them to relax.
He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, allowing the darkness of the room to seep into him, doing his best to will his subconscious to do the same. Maybe then he could finally get a few hours of sleep, before the new day found him.
* * *
Three days down, eighty-seven days to go.
Oh, Lord. That was a lot of days. Amy rotated her neck and tried to work the odd kink out of it. At least things hadn’t been too bad yesterday after Roque had met up with the rest of their little group.
She came in through the double doors at the front of the hospital and showed her ID to the guard stationed by the gate.
At his nod, she passed through it, heading toward the elevators and seeing several people were already there.
Oh! Krysta was waving her over. And there was Flávia. She reached them. “I think I’m having a case of déjà vu. Only I wasn’t this tired at the welcome party.”
“We were just talking about how fast-paced everything is here in São Paulo.”
“Did you already do your seminars?” Krysta and Flávia were scheduled to speak on their respective areas. “I haven’t even looked at the lineup yet.”
“No.” Both women answered at once and they laughed. Krysta glanced at the elevator panel that sat out front. “Which floor are you headed to?”
“Fourth. I’m meeting Roque Cardoza.”
“Is he the one you were sitting by at the party?”
“Yep. He’s in charge of me for the next couple of weeks. I have to do anything he says, evidently.”
Both women’s heads swiveled toward her, and she realized they’d taken that the wrong way. “I mean related to the job.”
“Com certeza. Só o trabalho.” Flávia’s voice had a touch of mirth in it. “It’s not like he’s hard to look at. If that’s your thing.”
A flame seemed to lick up Amy’s face and ignite her cheeks. “You guys... I don’t think of him like that at all. Besides, he’s really not all that good-looking.”
Liar.
Ping!
“Looks like that’s your elevator,” Flávia said. “And here’s mine. See you both soon.”
Seconds later Amy slid into the elevator, just as Roque showed up behind her, his cane draped over his arm today. When she glanced up, she caught a half smile on his lips. Oh, no. Surely he hadn’t heard what they’d been talking about. Her face sizzled in mortification. “How are you?”
“I guess it depends on what part of me you’re talking about?”
He had! He’d overheard them. “You... Were you standing behind us?”
“Only long enough to hear how not attractive you find me.”
If she thought her face had been hot before, it was now an inferno. One she wished would consume her and turn her into a pile of ash.
But there was no way she would be that lucky. “Sorry. I didn’t know what else to say.” And thank heavens she hadn’t sat there and gushed over him or worse.
“I’m glad, actually, that you don’t think of me like that, because it could complicate things while you’re here. It’s much better to stick to the business at hand.”
Something she was having a difficult time doing, although she wasn’t sure why.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“So, the team is already upstairs waiting on us.”
The rest of the ride was spent talking about cases and how her physical therapy would be used over the next several weeks. A little thrill of excitement went through her that had nothing to do with Roque, this time. At least, she hoped it didn’t.
“I actually have an old friend who will be at the hospital shortly,” he said. “He is going to have his mandible rebuilt after cancer surgery. He’ll be looking to do physical therapy afterward, and I’d like you to handle the case.”
“Me?” The elevator doors opened.
“Yes. He’s had a hard go of it, and our physical therapy staff is stretched thin after a couple of therapists transferred to another hospital. His wife is English, and he has an excellent grasp of the language.”
He’d mentioned kind of inheriting her because of how busy things were in the PT department.
“I’ll help however I can, of course.” She thought for a second. “How much of his jaw was removed?”
“Enough to make it a challenge to reconstruct it. But Krysta Simpson is more than up to the challenge, from what I understand. Our own Dr. Francisco Carvalho will be working with her on this—you’ll probably meet him at some point in time. There was a bit of a glitch, but hopefully that’s been ironed out.”
“Glitch?”
“One of our senior oncologists wanted to take over the case, but that was pretty quickly squashed by all involved, as well as by the hospital administrator. Paulista isn’t without its own share of...how do you put it? Drama?”
Flávia’s comment about a snake that walked on two legs came back to her. But she wasn’t sure of the man’s name, so it probably wouldn’t be good to ask. “Anything I should steer clear of?”
“I wouldn’t think so...but if for some reason a doctor you don’t know stops by once the patient starts doing physical therapy, I would appreciate a quick text or call. It’s not that he’ll do anything wrong, I just don’t want Enzo put through anything more than he’s already endured.”
“Of course, I completely understand.”
He nodded off toward the waiting area. “There they are, shall we?”
Today, Roque’s steps were firm and sure, and her thoughts of trying to talk him into a massage or a little additional PT flew out the window. Maybe it really was only when he was tired. But watching him carefully, she thought she saw a hint of a limp, still, but it was small enough that she could have been mistaken.
He glanced back. “Coming?”
Lordy. She’d been standing staring at him as he walked. She hurried to catch up, then greeted Peter and Lara, and set out to put her mind completely on work.
* * *
She didn’t think he was all that good-looking?
It shouldn’t have stung, but after being up half the night thinking about her, Roque’s head kept replaying the words she’d said to her friends. And hell if it didn’t bother him. Maybe because he thought the woman was gorgeous with a capital G. And her smile...
Damn.
Maybe he just didn’t “do it for her,” or worse, maybe it was his leg. His ex had certainly changed her tune as soon as she found out he’d never play futebol again. She hadn’t been able to get out of that hospital room quickly enough, even though she’d said it was because she needed to go and get some clean clothes, so she could stay in the room with him. Only she hadn’t stayed. She’d come back for a few more visits. But once he got home, she said she wanted to give him space to recover.
She evidently needed her space as well...for something else entirely. Because not long afterward she’d broken it off, saying she was sorry but she’d fallen in love with someone else—that it had happened before he was injured. She wouldn’t tell him who it was.
But then the tabloids had picked up the story and shouted the news to the world: Halee Fonseca, queen of Brazil’s telenovelas, had dumped former Chutegol player Roque Cardoza. She was in love with another player. And the “who” would have been laughable if it hadn’t been Roque’s best friend on the team.
It had been a crushing blow. But who could blame her? She was famous and must have wanted an equally famous spouse. The pair were happily married now with two children. And Carlos had moved up to Roque’s spot on the team and was still successfully playing ball.
&nbs
p; He shook his head clear of those thoughts. He hadn’t thought about Halee in years and wasn’t sure what had brought her back to mind. Maybe Amy’s comment. One thing he knew, even if his ex came back and wanted to get back together, he’d turn her down. He was well and truly over her.
And if Amy came calling? Would he turn her down as well?
She wouldn’t. He’d heard her himself. She didn’t think he was all that attractive.
But if she did?
Caramba! She doesn’t. Just leave it there, Cardoza!
“Roque?”
Amy had asked a question. One that he’d totally missed. “I’m sorry. Say it again?”
“I asked if your Achilles’ tendon patient will come to Paulista for his physical therapy. I’d like to at least watch and see how things differ between here and the States.”
“I think you’ll find it doesn’t differ all that much, which is part of the reason for the yearly lecture series. We study rehabilitation methods from all over the world, as I’m sure you have as well. We adapt the methods to work in our particular situation, but you’ll find we’re kind of an amálgama of all of the world’s top hospitals.”
And now he sounded defensive...or worse, arrogant, which wasn’t what he meant at all. It had to have come from missing sleep last night. All he knew were that his muscles were tightening up all over again. Not a good thing for his damaged leg.
Peter hadn’t said much of anything, and Lara’s head was tilted as if puzzling through something, maybe sensing a little tension.
A little? Roque had been on edge ever since he stepped on that dress. Which reminded him. His mom had called this morning, saying the repairs on Amy’s dress were done. She’d been determined to bring it to the hospital, even though he’d asked her just to drop it by the house. He was too hard to catch there, she’d said. Besides, she wanted to meet this woman whose dress he had.
Why was she so interested? And exactly why was he so uptight about that happening?
