by Tina Beckett
I hope.
With that, he swept her down the hall, knowing that as soon as dinner was over her little karate chops would start all over again. And continue on the drive home, until she finally fell asleep in her bed.
We’re all friends here.
Were they?
Tessa had hoped Clay wouldn’t come to the capoeira studio when she was there, but Marcos had made a scoffing sound. Right before making his comment about them all being friends.
Besides, he had something to run by her, he’d said. And by Clay.
That filled her with trepidation more than anything.
She pulled up to the studio to see that Clay’s car was already in the parking lot, but he wasn’t in it. Great. She definitely didn’t want Marcos relaying some scheme while she wasn’t there to mediate. She’d never told the director of the studio what had happened between her and her ex, and he’d never asked. But surely, since Clay had stopped coming in to train, he’d figured out they were no longer together. At least she hoped he did.
When she pushed through the door to the studio, she saw the man in question immediately. He was there in the middle of a swarm of capoeiristas with his daughter. Everything in her relaxed. He’d said he wanted Molly to see a training session, so it hadn’t just been a line.
And after that kissing session in the park she’d halfway expected him to show up on her floor and start making plans about that night he’d talked about.
She’d had second thoughts about that. She could only hope his absence meant that he’d reconsidered, as well.
It had been a warm, dark evening, and the park had been beautiful. It had been natural that it would bring up old memories and emotions.
Emotions that had no place in her hectic life right now. She was getting ready to complete her residency and apply for that fellowship. The last thing she needed to do was rekindle a romance that was dead and gone.
Was it?
Of course it was. But she was also a young woman with normal urges. And it had been a very long time since she’d been with a man. Well over a year.
If Clay propositioned her, she couldn’t guarantee she’d say no. But it would be with the understanding that it was just about the sex.
S-E-X. Nothing more.
That tick-tick-tick going on inside her chest was not some biological clock warning her time was running out. Her residency took priority. But once that was done she planned on looking into adoption. Or checking into in vitro fertilization, using a sperm donor.
Clay’s blue eyes met hers and one side of his mouth tilted up in that crazy sexy smile. Okay, so she’d been staring at him as all those thoughts had gone wriggling through her head—just like a thousand swimmers all headed for the prize. Great. Clay was not a potential sperm donor, and she hardly thought he’d be amenable to dumping a sample in a cup and handing it over to some fertility expert.
No, he’d want his donation to be up close and personal.
She shivered for a second before realizing Marcos had said something.
Clay’s brow went up, his smile widening.
Caught again! Damn.
She dragged her eyes away from him and found Marcos at the front of the room. “I’m sorry?”
“I said it was good to have Clay back in the studio, Tessita. Do you not think so?”
Tessita. Oh, no. He was already irritated with her.
“Yes. Of course it is.” She kept her eyes off Clay and fixed them firmly on Marcos.
“Do you want to show him what you’re working on?”
“What?” Oh, no. She hadn’t planned on training in front of him. “It can wait. Really. I think he just wanted his daughter to see what capoeira is.”
“And who better to show it to her than someone who has mastered the sport, não é?” Marcos held out his hand. “After all, he has seen you train before. He has trained with you.”
I’ve done more than that, Clay’s glance seemed to say.
She wanted to send Marcos a biting reply in their native tongue, but Clay would know they were talking about him. Or arguing about him. She didn’t want him to think his being here bothered her at all.
Even if it did.
Marcos clapped his hands. “Form the circle. And we begin.”
The practicantes gathered in a loose ring, Clay standing just a bit back, still holding Molly up where she could see.
Tessa hadn’t even changed into her capoeira gear yet—she’d been running late from the hospital. All those recent night shifts had wreaked havoc on her concentration. She also hadn’t expected to be dragged into an impromptu exhibition. So she was in yoga pants and a loose T-shirt.
Something in her wondered exactly what Marcos had up his sleeve.
She moved to join the circle of students, dragging her T-shirt to the side and tying a knot to hold it tight against her waist. The last thing she wanted was for it to ride up in front of everyone when she did some of the flips and twists she’d been practicing.
The studio’s tambourine players started things off, snapping out the typical beat of the studio, while the stringed bow added its own unique twist. The rest of the circle joined in, clapping and chanting in time with the beat. Pointing at two of the studio members, Marcos signaled for them to be the first to enter the ring. The men moved forward and began the advances and feints that were typical of the martial art. One of the men fell as he attempted a single twist backflip, but leaped back to his feet.
“Ai caramba, gente. Força!” Marcos waved the man out of the circle and jabbed a finger at another participant, who took his place. The other capoeirista didn’t miss a beat, just engaged the new guy. Back and forth they went in a perfectly synchronized dance that often came within a foot or two of crashing into the bodies that formed the human cage behind them but not so close as to be a real danger to anyone.
Tessa clapped in time with everyone else, but glanced back at Clay, who stood on the outside of the ring. She’d always stood next to him in days past, translating whenever Marcos had gone on a tirade about something in Portuguese. He nodded, indicating he got the gist of it, although with the way the fallen guy had slunk out of the center of the circle it was pretty obvious he’d been scolded. He shifted his daughter to the other arm and said something to the girl with a smile. She then started clapping along with everyone else.
She couldn’t hold back her own smile. One of her earliest memories was of watching her dad in the ring, doing some of these very same moves, and the memory of receiving her very first cord—the capoeira equivalent of a belt. It had been white. She’d rapidly worked her way up the ranks, although her advancement had slowed once she’d gone to medical school and had only been able to come once a week rather than the usual three that most of the serious participants trained. The purple and green cordão she currently owned signified she could be an apprentice instructor if she wanted to.
But she didn’t have time to do anything except practice medicine and come to the studio once a week.
Marcos treated her as if she were one, though, being tougher on her than he was on a lot of the other students. Since she was participating in the exhibition, he had good reason to be. One mistake and the public demonstration would be ruined—and, like most Brazilians, he would see it as a reflection on his teaching abilities. And he would not be pleased.
Marcos motioned for a new player to enter the ring, the flow in and out of the circle seamlessly performed. A few minutes later it was her turn.
Gritting her teeth, she forced her concentration to spiral down to what was contained within the circle, not allowing it to stray as she performed a low bent cartwheel, which moved her to the center of the area. She immediately went into a cadeira squat as the other player swung his leg in an arc over her back.
Clay had once said capoeira looked like a form of breakdancing. With the sweeping circular movements and spins, she could see why he thought that. But a lot of the moves were contained in other martial arts—they’d just been modified a
bit and put to a beat. Capoeira had become a kind of art in motion in a lot of studios, rather than outright combat.
She twisted her body and went on her hands, both legs gliding over the other person’s bent head. Keeping the rhythm pulsing in her brain, she swept over and around and circled her opponent, her body constantly in motion, gaining speed as she went.
Her rival matched her move for move until there was nothing but the leaps and vaults and spins that swept her into another realm. Tessa likened it to a trancelike state, except she was aware of everything. Even the small commotion currently going on somewhere outside the circle. Her opponent backed up a few paces, still sweeping and twisting and ducking in time to her moves, but she sensed a change coming. Then he was leaving the ring and another player was entering. Not a craque, as she called experienced capoeiristas, but a novice.
She dialed down her pace and with a backward twist came face-to-face with her new partner. She faltered, almost falling right onto her head in the middle of a handstand before catching herself.
It was Clay.
What was he doing? And where was his daughter?
Those two thoughts ran through her head before Clay jumped high into the air, one leg sweeping over her as she came out of her handstand. She countered him with a leap of her own, her foot coming within inches of his chest as he spun back and went into a low crouch, one leg going beneath hers as she leaped over it.
Her heart began pounding, her concentration slipping in and out as they continued to parry and evade, advance and retreat. It was as if somewhere inside Clay he’d retained everything he’d been taught. Still a novice, but sure and confident and never giving quarter if she didn’t force him to. And she had to. She had to put an end to this or she was going to make a fool of herself in front of everyone. She edged in closer, still twisting and turning and leaning back whenever a foot or hand swished past her. She looked for an opening and found it within seconds. Making it look like an accident, she swept Clay’s legs out from under him in the batizado move she’d taken him down with all those years ago.
And he did go down, his back hitting the mat with a loud slap that reverberated through the studio. Breathing heavily in the absolute silence that followed—since the drums and other instruments had stopped playing—she stood over him, only vaguely aware that he’d suddenly moved with lightning speed, his legs scissoring hers and jerking them out from under her. She fell right across his chest.
Argh!
She opened her mouth to yell foul, but instead found herself laughing. He’d learned a thing or two since leaving the studio, evidently. Because even though she’d gotten the best of him, he hadn’t let that stop him from turning things right back around.
The sound of someone clapping in a slow, rhythmic way broke through everything else.
“This!” It was Marcos, and far from being angry at how she’d stopped the session he seemed delighted. “There is still that same fire between you. You must bring this to the exhibition.”
What? Her eyes widened in horror, and she leaped to her feet with a clumsiness she’d never had in the ring before.
No, no, no!
This was Marcos’s plan for the big finale he’d talked about?
There was no way in hell she was going up against Clay during that exhibition. She wouldn’t have even done it now if she’d known her friend was going to throw him into the ring while she was there.
Clay stood as well, leaning down to her ear. “Did you know about this?”
Well, if Marcos wasn’t angry, Clay more than made up for it. Because he was furious.
“No, I did not know.” Her voice came out as a hiss that matched his.
Several other players came into the circle and slapped Clay on the back, everyone laughing and talking at the same time, completely unaware of the tension flowing between them.
“What better way to end the exhibition than to have two doctors from West Manhattan Saints enter the roda together?” Marcos smiled at both of them. “We will have posters made up with your pictures and—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” Clay’s voice cut off the spiel in midstream. His easy charm was nowhere to be seen.
Tessa swallowed hard, trying not to let the pricking sensation in her gut mean anything.
Marcos countered, “But it will be perfect.”
Perfect? A perfect disaster maybe.
She shook her head, agreeing with Clay, even as the jabbing in her midsection increased. “It won’t work. There’s not enough time to practice. The festival is only three weeks away.”
“I will train you myself. And it will be a good thing if the moves don’t look so planned. It will help people see that anyone can train in capoeira.”
“Sorry. No.” Clay headed out of the ring, going to where one of the other members held Molly and taking her.
The little girl, unaware of the tight lines of her father’s jaw, brought the side of her hand down on Clay’s shoulder with a quick whack. “Fun!”
No, it hadn’t been fun. Clay’s outright rejection hurt more than she wanted to admit, but he was right. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point just from being in the practice ring with him. If she had to go up against him in front of thousands of people…
She’d be a wreck.
No, Clay had made the right call. And if she knew him, nothing would change his mind.
Not Marcos… or anyone.
Peter Lloyd was seated behind his desk, writing furiously on a report, when Clay entered the room. He had no idea what the hospital administrator wanted. In fact, he’d only met the man a couple of times. Once when he’d decided to transfer to the hospital to be closer to his apartment and his mom and dad’s place. And the other had been when he’d come in to fill out the paperwork. To be suddenly called down to his office made no sense. Unless there was something he still needed to do to finish his file.
“Ah, Dr. Matthews, come in and have a seat. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” True to his word, the man kept writing while Clay lowered himself into one of the leather chairs that flanked his desk.
Nothing like trying to intimidate your prey.
Only Clay wasn’t intimidated. He’d done nothing wrong.
Mr. Lloyd glanced up from his papers and pulled another sheet in front of him. “You’ve heard about the yearly Health Can Be Fun festival we hold to fund cancer research by now.”
Clay immediately tensed. He still hadn’t volunteered to do anything. He’d meant to do it this week, but then the capoeira session had messed with his head. As had Tessa. She seemed just as anxious to avoid being paired together as he was.
Except in Central Park. She’d certainly seemed willing to be paired in a completely different way when they’d been there.
“If this is about the sign-up sheet, I know I haven’t put my name on it yet, but I will. I fully intend to support the campaign.”
Tessa’s mom came to mind. How great would it be if someday cancer no longer took loved ones from their families?
“Good, good.” The man pushed the paper away. “Glad to hear it because a special opportunity has just presented itself.”
“It has?” Clay had no idea what the administrator was talking about. But he got the feeling he was about to find out.
“Actually, the opportunity is for you and Dr. Camara. It’ll provide great exposure for the hospital.”
His gut clenched. Had Tessa actually come back here and said something about the capoeira studio? She’d seemed just as against it as he was. Or had that all been an act?
He forced his mouth to say the words. “What exactly does this opportunity entail?”
Mr. Lloyd sat back in his chair. “I hear that you and Dr. Camara used to train together at one of our sponsor’s studios.”
He heard the words through a buzzing in his skull that was growing louder by the minute. “Are you talking about Traditional Capoeira of Brazil?”
“Yes. So you already know what I’m going to ask.”
Clay shook his head. “Not really.” Actually, he did, but he was hoping against hope he was wrong.
“The owner of the studio stopped by and made a convincing argument. He said this could be a huge draw to the festival. It would help the studio, and it would help the hospital. A win on both sides.” Mr. Lloyd reached behind his desk and pulled out a rolled-up poster board. When he slid the rubber band off the tube of paper Clay’s clenched gut tightened even further. It was an old snapshot of him and Tessa at his ceremonial induction, when his first cord had been presented to him.
Tessa’s leg was outstretched and poised just behind his knee. It was right before he’d gone down. Only the image had now been blown up to gargantuan proportions.
Hell. He and Tessa looked happy.
Really happy.
Looking at her face, he could remember what they used to be like together.
“I don’t think Dr. Camara is going to agree to this. In fact, I’m pretty sure this would not be a good idea.”
The administrator frowned. “You’re new here, aren’t you, Dr. Matthews.”
“As of a week ago, yes.” That was when he realized he wasn’t actually being asked if he would like to participate, he was being told.
“The studio has been one of our sponsors for a number of years. In fact, their exhibitions always attract quite a crowd.” He sent Clay a smile that looked genuine for the most part. “Hell, even my wife went over and took a few lessons from them after seeing it one year. So what do you say?”
There was a pregnant pause while the administrator’s eyes remained on his.
What choice did he have?
“I guess I say yes, provided Dr. Camara agrees.” Tessa was going to have his hide. “Have you already spoken with her about it?”
“I thought I’d leave that to you. She was already planning on taking part in the exhibition, so this shouldn’t be much of a surprise to her.”
Oh, it was going to be a surprise, all right. And not a good one. He’d be lucky if he came out of there with his head intact.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Great move, Clay.
He sighed. Surely they could work together for five or six hours without killing each other. And it would benefit the hospital and those in need. No big tragedy. They were both adults. They would get through this and come out stronger on the other side, right?
