by Tina Beckett
She had no idea. What she did know, though, was that she was going to do her very best to get Enzo back on his feet and working again.
Roque smiled at his friends and said they’d let Enzo get some rest. She glanced at her phone. Almost four o’clock. They were supposed to be at Roque’s parents’ house at six.
A shiver went through her that she tried to suppress before he noticed it.
Walking through the door, she sucked down a quick breath and asked the first question that popped to her head. “Who was the doctor you were talking about? The one they don’t want involved in Enzo’s treatment? Do I need to know his name?”
He looked at her, dark eyes inscrutable, a lock of hair tumbling over his forehead before he dragged it back in place with a flick of his fingers. “Let’s head to my office.”
Walking down a hallway, she felt her belly tighten. In the time she’d been in Brazil she’d never been back to Roque’s office. There’d never been any reason to. But it wasn’t like he wanted to blurt a name out in the open where someone might overhear them. He reached a door with a placard listing his name and credentials. Pushing through it and motioning her inside, he closed it behind them. “Have a seat.”
His voice had suddenly gone formal and cool. Or maybe that her imagination. Had she been wrong to ask him who the doctor was? But it wasn’t blind curiosity. She wanted to be on guard if someone tried to upset her patient during physical therapy.
Her legs were suddenly a bit wobbly and she was glad to sit. Roque didn’t go behind his desk; instead he leaned a hip on it. “Silvio Delgado.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s the doctor’s name. I don’t want him anywhere near Enzo. He tried to take the case from Dr. Simpson. Let’s just say he was prevented from doing so.”
“By you?”
“In part, but also by Dr. Carvalho and the administration. I won’t go into the reasons for Delgado not being allowed near him. We’ll just leave it at the fact that our patient doesn’t like or trust him.”
Our patient.
Had he actually said that? A feeling of warmth crashed over her, coursing through her veins and making her heart beat a little bit faster.
“I understand. Can you tell me what he looks like?”
One side of Roque’s mouth went up in that devastating grin of his, making her mouth go completely dry.
“Let’s just say you’ll know who he is before you actually see him.”
Why? Did he smell bad? Was he loud?
Ah, that was it. He was probably insufferable.
She was more and more sure that this was the snake that Flávia had been talking about during the welcome party. She’d meant to ask her who it was, but then figured it didn’t really have anything to do with her, so she just forgot about it. Until now.
“Okay.”
She relaxed back into the leather chair, amazed at how comfortable it was. Actually, his whole office had a welcoming feel to it, which surprised her. She hadn’t thought of Roque as a welcoming kind of guy, although that image was slowly shifting the more she got to know him. He was kind of dark with an intense, mesmerizing charm that she didn’t quite understand. But she also caught glimpses of warmth in those dark eyes. Like a cup of cocoa that you wanted to savor for as long as possible.
And...making comparisons like that was not very smart. Even though he looked like heaven on earth perched over her like that.
“Okay, so I’ll alert you if he shows up.”
“Yes. Do.” He paused. “And we need to talk about tonight. I don’t want you to feel pressured into going.”
“I don’t, but if we need to postpone it I understand.”
“No, I just wanted to give you a—how do you say it?—an out.”
She sat up. “I’m not looking for an out. Unless you’d rather I not come.”
“My mamãe can be rather direct with her requests.”
“Kind of like her son?” He’d been pretty direct about not wanting her to go to the beach on her own.
There went that grin again. “You think I’m direct?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” He tilted his head. “But only when speaking from one doctor to another.”
He’d evidently misunderstood what she was talking about. “I’m not a doctor.”
“No. But I have a feeling you will be. Someday. Why did you never pursue your doctorate in physical therapy?”
That was a hard question. Her mom had been on her own for a very long time, and had helped Amy as much as she could during her years in college. Amy hadn’t thought it fair that she continue her studies on her mom’s dime.
“It’s complicated. But I’m thinking of going back to school to get it once I get home. There are just never enough hours in a day.”
“I know that feeling. Okay. So, tonight is set. And about tomorrow. Are you still wishing to go?”
Wishing? Probably more than she should.
“I am, if it’s okay with you. Although I really don’t mind going by myself, if you have too many things you need to take care of.”
“No. I said I would take you, and I try to always keep my word.”
Making it sound like he wasn’t looking forward to it at all. And how did she feel about going with him without the side trip to her uncle’s house?
Excited. And that scared her. Weeks were starting to fly by, and that wild, sexy fling she’d envisioned having with some man while she was here hadn’t happened. There wasn’t even a single prospect. By the time she finished work each day, she was too tired to feel lonely. And going to a bar by herself looking for a likely prospect seemed kind of pitiful and not very safe. Here or in the United States. There was always Krysta and Flávia, except she’d heard the venom specialist was traveling back and forth to the Atlantic Forest region of Brazil, and she’d only seen Krysta in passing, although she had suggested the pair of them meet up for a dinner or a shopping trip sometime.
“Do you want to surf or swim tomorrow?”
He’d said taking a suit was up to her, but she’d already decided against it. And there was a tension in his voice that said she’d made the right choice.
“I think I’d just like to sightsee this time, if that’s okay.” She was already in a state about going with him. She didn’t need to throw a bathing suit and water into the mix. And although water could conceal a whole lot of what happened below its surface, if she were going to have that fling, she’d rather it be in complete privacy.
Was she actually considering Roque for the position?
No, of course not, although Roque hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend, and the blonde from the soiree had never reappeared.
“That’s fine. We can see more that way. We’ll just walk on the sand.”
She smiled. A walk on the beach with him sounded very, very nice. Too nice, in fact. “I don’t want to fill your car with the stuff.”
“It’s seen worse.” He shifted his cane, pushing it a little to the left. “How do you feel speaking in Portuguese when it’s just you and me?”
Just you and me.
Her toes tingled at the sound of that, the sensation spreading up her calves and tickling her thighs. She loved hearing him speak in his native tongue. Maybe a little too much. “I—I’m not the best at it, but I can try.”
Great. Now she was stammering, even in English.
“I think it would be an asset for your work. You said you live in South Florida. Isn’t there a large community of Brazilians there?”
There was. She’d had a couple of patients who were Brazilians actually, and Amy had practiced tae kwon do at her local dojang with a Brazilian instructor. Marcos had sent a couple of people injured at tournaments to physical therapy and had offered to “hire” her if she ever needed a little extra work. She’d gotten the feeling that the interest went beyon
d pupil/instructor relationship, but she hadn’t wanted things to get messy and ruin their professional relationship. And she’d been pretty wary of getting involved with men back then.
Maybe she should remember that decision and treat her relationship with Roque the same way. If she were smart, she’d call off the beach trip. And dinner with his folks. Except she wanted to go to both. More than she should. But she was only here in Brazil for a couple more months, so how messy could it get in that period of time?
Pretty damned messy, if she wasn’t careful.
But right now it wasn’t, and he wanted to start speaking in Portuguese.
She swallowed.
“You’re right. There is a large population of Brazilians there. So I probably should practice.”
“We can start by using the language on our beach trip, and I will correct you when you make a mistake. How’s that? It will also make you look less like a tourist if we’re not speaking English.”
Ah, now she got the reason for it. It would make them less of a target for thieves while at Guarujá. “That makes sense.”
It would be awkward, since she “knew” Roque in English. Speaking Portuguese with him would seem intimate, even though she knew he didn’t mean it that way.
And she knew her mom in two languages, so how was that any different? Maybe it wasn’t, except Amy had never been required to respond in Portuguese. She’d just needed to understand what was said.
“I see worry on your face. Don’t be scared. I think it will become easier with practice. And you’ll find I am a very forgiving coach.”
She bit her lip as the tingling spread to places far higher than her calves.
The image of him “coaching” her in hoarse tones as they practiced things other than Portuguese trickled through her subconscious, becoming a torrent as each mental picture became more explicit than the last.
Oh, God. Time to move this conversation to something else.
“Speaking of coaches. Do you miss playing football?”
Ugh! “Something else” did not mean reminding him of a time in his life that was probably painful.
“Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“It’s okay.” His fingers, as if on automatic pilot, found his cane and fingered the handle. “Yes, I miss some things about it. But not others. I miss having a leg that is whole more than I miss the game.”
Whole? Did he really think that?
“Your leg is whole. It’s just a different kind of whole. It’s a part of what makes you...you.”
“A different kind of whole? I’m not sure I agree with that. I live in this body, I know what it feels.”
From her Google search—and yes, she was ashamed to admit that she’d done more of her share of reading up on him—he’d been very good at what he did. Had been one of his team’s top players, in fact.
“It’s just your normal. People are not cookie cutter shapes. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.”
“Cookie cutter.”
“It means people are not exactly alike.”
He smiled, and the act warmed any chilliness that had gathered in his expression. “No. People are not just alike. And that is a good thing, I think.”
“Yes, it is.” Roque was like no one she’d ever met.
His hand had moved away from his cane and was now gripping the edge of his desk beside his left thigh.
A very strong-looking thigh.
She struggled to think of something to say that would stop her train of thought, which was starting to barrel into dangerous territory. “I heard Peter mention missing his wife and kids today.”
“It is natural. You don’t have someone at home that you miss?”
The sad thing was, she didn’t. She had no serious relationship; she wasn’t even dating. And although she had friends at the hospital and at the rehab center, she didn’t hang out with them as much as she might expect. Many of them were married with families and, like Peter, all they wanted to do was get home to them. More and more, she’d been thinking of what Roque had said about getting her doctorate. She’d put it off as something to do later. But what if later never came and she looked back with regret. Maybe it was a time to make a promise to herself.
“No one special, but that’s okay. Especially since I’m going to apply for the doctorate program as soon as I get home.”
And just like that, the decision she’d been toying with for some time was made.
The hand that had been gripping his desk relaxed a little. Was he worried that she might be interested in him...in staying because of him?
The brakes on that train screeched as she applied them hard, the engine struggling to stop, the boxcars she’d added over the last couple of weeks piling up behind it.
“I’m glad you are. The Achilles’ tendon patient liked what you had to say. And it would give you opportunities to teach at universities.”
She’d thought the same thing. If she ever got to a place that she didn’t have the strength she needed to manipulate patients the way they needed to be, it would give her options. And although she hadn’t been intimately involved with that first patient’s surgery she’d observed at Paulista, she had been at his appointments and observed his rehab. She was due to go again in a few days as a matter of fact.
“Yes, that’s what I thought as well.” She tilted her head. “When is Mr. Dos Santos going to start physical therapy?”
“In a couple of weeks. The repairs are stable and he’s due for his swallow test tomorrow.”
The day they’d be at the beach. “You don’t want to be here for him? I’ll understand if we have to put off our trip.”
“His wife will be there, and I’ll check on him when we get back. I think the last thing Enzo wants are for twenty people to be gathered around to watch him. He’s a pretty determined guy. I don’t doubt he’ll pass with flying colors, which is a good thing with where his mind has been lately. I know. I’ve been there.”
Was he talking about what Enzo had written about his depression? Well, Roque had had a right to be depressed, if so. He’d been a brilliant young soccer player, and in the blink of an eye everything he’d worked so hard for had been taken from him.
“Sometimes things work out the way they should. You do brilliant work here at the hospital.” She nodded at his left leg. “Would you be at Paulista if you hadn’t been injured?”
“Probably not. I’m old enough now that my career would be pretty much over, and I’d probably be coaching or stuck at a desk job somewhere.” He sighed. “That doesn’t mean the road from there to here was easy. It took ten long years of school to become a doctor.”
“No. I’m sure it wasn’t. But where are you more needed at this point in your life?”
He laughed. “You have a way of turning things around to look at their best side.”
“The dangers of being a physical therapist. We’re trained to be positive and optimistic. It’s a good way to motivate our patients.”
“I think those characteristics come naturally to you.”
Did they? She didn’t always feel all that optimistic. She just needed to be “up” for her patients. Needed to be a motivator when they came in feeling life would never be the same, ever again.
The exact way Roque had probably felt when told his career as a football player was over. “Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s true. It’s just part of my job description. You mentioned being a coach. That never appealed to you?”
“No. I thought about it once or twice, but didn’t see myself doing that. Not with my old team, anyway.”
“It would have been too hard to watch them play while you felt sidelined?” The way he’d said the words gave her pause.
“That would have been hard, yes, but my reasons were more...personal.”
Personal? He and the team’s owner seemed to get along great
; he’d even confided in Roque about that other oncologist, Dr. Delgardo. So she didn’t see that “personal” reason arising there. But if he wanted her to know, he would tell her, so that was her signal to leave it alone.
Oh! Roque had been engaged to an actress, according to her search. Who was now married to a player on his former team. Of course he wouldn’t want to see her day in and day out. That made perfect sense.
Her heart cramped. Surely it was better to know what a person was like before getting married to them. She could certainly thank her lucky stars now that her boyfriend had dumped her before marriage rather than after. Although she’d been gutted at the time.
“Things have a way of showing you a person’s true colors.” In case he didn’t know that expression, she added, “Of seeing them for who they really are. Like your accident. When your soccer days came to an end, it revealed who you really are.”
“Interesting.” His smile was slow and unbearably sexy. “And who am I...really?”
The ground had suddenly gotten shaky under her feet. Why had she said that? “You’re a man who cares about his patients and his friends, and who likes to keep his word.”
There! That was the least personal thing she could think of to say. And they were both true.
He got to his feet. “But you could say that about almost every doctor here at Paulista.”
“But we’re not talking about every doctor.” She was suddenly having a hard time catching her breath. “We’re talking about you.”
Thinking he was ready to shoo her out of his office, she climbed to her feet as well. Big mistake. Because it set her right in front of him. Close enough to catch the warm musky scent of his aftershave. To see the slight dusting of stubble across his chin. And those lips that seemed to capture her attention time and time again...
Roque made no effort to move away. “So we were. So let’s talk about you. Do you want to know how I see you?”
She wasn’t sure she did, but it was as if her mouth was controlled by forces outside of her body. “Yes.”
He touched a finger to her jawline. “I see a woman in a teal dress that’s an inch or two too long for her. A woman who didn’t let that stop her from coming to the party.” He’d switched to Portuguese, and she stood there transfixed by his touch and his voice as he continued. “I saw bits and pieces of you in that patient file you included in your application to the program. And the real you made me very glad I said yes to you being in the program.”
