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They hadn’t. She’d crept out early in the morning, while it had still been dark and had asked the desk to call her a taxi, unable to look anyone in the eye. But she’d made it. And the experience had changed her in a way she didn’t quite understand.
She’d gotten over her ex-boyfriend once and for all.
“Marcos is the head of oncology. He signs all the request forms for the department. But this project is all mine.”
That made her swallow. She would be working with him? Only with him? If she had known that ahead of time, she might not have applied.
The other man looked up finally. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you. Dr. Texeira has found you a studio apartment in the hospital. Is that okay? Or would you prefer to make other arrangements?”
Like maybe get on the first plane out of here?
“The apartment will be fine, thank you. It doesn’t make sense to try to look for something else. I won’t have to worry about transportation to or from the hospital this way.”
Besides, the rents in many parts of the city were so high she wouldn’t be able to afford it on what she’d be making. And although it was comparable to her salary in Rio Grande do Sul, the amount wouldn’t go nearly as far here. A thought occurred. Would she have to travel to get to wherever they were going to do the screenings?
“Is there a metro that goes from here to the screening site?”
“No. We have a mobile unit. We’ll leave from the hospital together.”
“Leave? Together?” Okay, the way she’d separated the words gave them an entirely different meaning from his simple statement.
If he’d heard it, he ignored it, because he didn’t hesitate with his answer. “The hospital is converting an old ambulance for us. We’ll go to where our patients are, instead of waiting for them to come to us.”
The reality of the situation was creating a buzzing noise in her head. She had been told what the job opportunity was and had jumped at the chance. But then again, she hadn’t known at the time who she would be working with. And if what he was saying was true, they would be working together much more closely than she’d been expecting.
She’d assumed they would bump into each other periodically. Had even steeled herself for that possibility.
Get a grip, Sara! If it were any other doctor you wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.
But it wasn’t. It was Sebastian, a man she’d made passionate love with. Surely the hospital didn’t approve of workplace romances.
The incident had happened before she knew she was coming here, so that didn’t count, right? And since it was never going to happen again, it was a moot point.
And it was never going to happen again, even if Sebastian wanted it to. Although right now he looked all business. It didn’t matter. He might be able to play loose and easy with relationships, but Sara really wasn’t built that way, as was obvious from the way she kept obsessing over the same topic.
“Like you said, that will make it easy, then. I take it you live close by.”
He gave a half-smile. “Close enough.”
And what was that supposed to mean? She had no idea, but the sooner she got away from him the better. “Well, I guess I have some paperwork to fill out?”
“Yes.” He scooped up a file that was on a nearby table. “I have it right here. We can go over it together.”
Perfect. That was all she needed, to have to sit next to him and have him go over things. But she’d better get used to it if she was going to take the job. Because if what he’d told her was true, she was going to be sitting next to him day after day.
Until either the job was done. Or she was.
CHAPTER TWO (#ub19a6f9a-ad1a-52e0-ae03-e6245029e71e)
THE VEHICLE WAS PERFECT. But not too perfect, given where they’d be working.
Once an ambulance, but now painted a cool silver to reflect the fierce Brazilian heat, it was fully outfitted and ready to go. The hospital’s name was not emblazoned on the side, for fear that it would be a target for thieves who were looking for illegal drugs. In fact, there were little nicks in the paintwork and a dent marred one side. A picture of two hands, palms outstretched, was painted in muted colors. Nestled inside them were the words “Mãos Abertos.” The name was fitting since the hospital saw it as opening their hands to those in need. Below the hands was a mobile number that would ring through to a special cellphone that Sebastian would carry. Word would get around quickly about what the old ambulance did, and hopefully it would become a symbol of hope.
“What do you think?” he asked Sara, who stood a few yards away.
“It doesn’t look like a normal ambulance.”
“The hospital didn’t want it to. Besides, I’m hoping to take away some of the stigma—the fear of the unknown that comes with emergency vehicles.”
Like the time his teenaged sister had been hauled off to the hospital in a flurry of red lights and sirens, while he’d been left at home with his ailing grandmother, wondering if he would ever see her again. Her cancer diagnosis had devastated everyone. But she’d pulled through, thank God. It was one of the reasons Sebastian had gone into oncology.
To help people like his sister. He’d always felt that if she’d been diagnosed earlier maybe she wouldn’t have had to have an internal prosthesis in her arm. It was another reason why this mobile unit was his heart’s desire.
“So what will we do, exactly?”
“We’ll do things never attempted before.” Only when her teeth came down on her bottom lip did he realize how that sounded. He was doing his best to keep his cool, but failing miserably. He cleared his throat. “We’ll do screenings and teach people what to look for in themselves. We’ll check for enlarged thyroids, breast lumps, do pap smears, look for skin cancers. If we find something suspicious, we’ll refer them for testing.”
“To Santa Coração?”
That was one of the sticking points. Their hospital wasn’t part of the public sector, so the administrator would probably balk at them sending dozens of people their way. But Sebastian was already building relationships outside his hospital. Lucas Carvalho, who ran a free clinic inside one of the larger favelas, worked with a public hospital as well as Santa Coração. Lucas had agreed to partner with him and use the mobile unit as a springboard to expand his clinic’s reach. It was the perfect way to get started. Hopefully as time went on, Lucas could use this as a means to garner donations and grants from outside agencies, since he and his wife traveled with relief groups quite a bit.
“The sister hospital Dr. Carvalho works with is called Tres Corações. They’re willing to take up to fifty patients a month.”
“Fifty?” Her eyes widened. “You think we’ll refer that many people?”
“Probably not. It depends on how many are willing to be screened. The whole ‘ignorance is bliss’ attitude is the scourge of most health-care professionals.”
“Ignorance is death.” Her voice was soft, maybe remembering what Sebastian had once told her father when he’d tried to refuse treatment. Thank God the man had changed his mind—all thanks to his sister’s willingness to be vulnerable and share her own story with him. It was exactly what Sebastian was hoping would happen with this unit.
Sara pulled her hair over one of her shoulders, catching the long dark waves together in one hand, the ends sliding over the curve of her breast. It was something he’d seen her do at Natália’s wedding as well—he’d been fascinated by the way she’d kept twisting those silky locks. It had taken his mind off his best friend marrying Sebastian’s sister, something he still had trouble wrapping his head around.
She twisted the rope of hair tighter. Nervous habit? He wasn’t sure, but with her crisp white shirt and dark skirt she was the epitome of a professional nurse, but not quite what he was looking to put forth when they ventured into the neighborhoods. But he wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject without appearing to be dictating what she should and shouldn’t wear. It was just that climbing in and out of the back of the ambulance was going to be difficult enough as it was, and it was Sebastian’s hope to appear casual and approachable—engender trust where there was normally suspicion.
His gaze traveled down to her feet, where a hole at the toe of each shoe allowed a glimpse of pink sparkly polish, something that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of her attire. She’d had the same sparkly polish on at the wedding. He’d kissed each of those gorgeous toes of hers…
Her hair not being pinned up was another of those little idiosyncrasies. Maybe that’s what was with his continued fascination with it. His eyes traveled back up her bare legs.
He definitely didn’t want men ogling them as she got in and out of the truck.
Like he’d ogled them that night? And was still ogling them?
No, he was simply trying to decide how to best bring up the subject of their attire.
He’d worn jeans and a dark T-shirt today.
Her fingers twisted the rope of hair yet again and a corresponding knot in his throat formed and then squeezed shut. He swallowed to loosen it. “Do you want to see inside the vehicle?”
Time to get this show on the road and Sara out of his thoughts.
She nodded, moving around to the back with him. When he opened the doors and pulled down the steps he’d had installed for their patients, her brows went up.
“Maybe this isn’t the best thing to wear out on runs.” She released her hair, the locks tumbling free as her palms ran down the smooth line of her skirt.
Okay, here was his chance. “I think the more casual we are the better, if that’s okay. I want people to see us as allies rather than as authority figures. It’s why we put a few dents and dings in our vehicle.”
She seemed to think about that for a second. “That makes sense. I guess.”
Her slight hesitation over that last word made him frown. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Will people take us seriously?”
Professionalism was one of the things impressed upon students in medical school, and it was probably the same in the nursing sector. But he’d seen from Lucas’s own practice in the favela that his friend had fit in and become a fixture in that community. He almost always wore simple, even slightly tattered jeans. Maybe it wasn’t his clothing that did it, though. Lucas had been born in that very same favela. But Sebastian thought it went deeper than that, and he hoped to be able to build on Lucas’s success. Maybe they could be an example to other doctors who would then give their time and talents in other communities. Sebastian had taken a trip into the Amazon several years ago and had worked with a medical missionary who’d traveled to villages providing free health care. It had impacted him deeply.
Almost as deeply as his sister’s cancer journey.
And his parents’ simmering anger toward each other. And how he’d always felt the need to shield Natália from it.
He guessed he’d done something right, since she’d fallen in love and gotten married. Too bad he’d been the one to see all the ugliness first-hand. It had soured him on relationships and made him suspicious anytime a woman started wandering a little closer than he wanted.
Like Sara?
Totally different situation.
“I would hope so.” He climbed the metal steps that led into the back of the truck. “We also have a ramp we can use for people who have trouble climbing stairs. Do you want me to slide it out?”
Her pink lips curved, activating a dimple in her right cheek. “I grew up on a ranch, remember? I’m actually a tomboy at heart, so wearing jeans will be a welcome relief. I can manage.”
Okay, so much for wondering if she was going to be upset about not wearing scrubs or skirts. When her dad was being treated at the hospital, she’d always worn sleek tops and fashionable slacks. And at the wedding she’d looked like every man’s dream.
And she’d been his for a single heady night.
As for tomboy, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her in jeans. But now that he thought about it, the description might not be so off the mark. It was there in the loose-limbed way she walked. In the slight twang to her words. Maybe she’d felt she had to dress to match the hospital’s fancy decor.
Sara put her first foot on the bottom step, the narrow skirt tightening and exposing a pale knee. Her skin was fairer than that of most of the women he knew, maybe because Rio Grande do Sul had a large contingent of people with German ancestry. Her hair was dark, though.
“Okay, so a handrail might be useful for women who come for screening wearing skirts or dresses.” She paused.
He got the hint, reaching a hand toward her. Her fingers wrapped around his, and she made short work of the other three steps, coming to stand within inches of him. He released his grip in a hurry. “Point taken. I’ll have one installed.”
Anything to avoid having to touch her each time she went up or down those steps. Something about the way she stood in front of him…
An image flashed through his head of a woman straddling his hips, laughing down into his face at something he’d said, his words slurring slightly due to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. The sensation of being squeezed. Soft hands with a firm grip, just like hers had been a second ago.
His brain went on hyperdrive.
What was wrong with him?
Then, almost without volition, the words came out. “Why did you leave that night?”
Something in her eyes flashed, and she suddenly grabbed for the metal edge of the ambulance’s door opening.
Afraid she might fall out of the back—or turn and flee—he wrapped an arm around her waist and turned them both ninety degrees, the narrow aisle providing precious little room between their bodies. But it also meant she couldn’t run away.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her face had gone white.
Maybe she didn’t even remember the events of that night. Except something about the way those words had shot out of her mouth said she did. Along with her horrified expression. A stab of regret speared through his gut. He remembered most of it. But her leaving without saying goodbye bothered him somehow. Had he done something awful?
His jaws clamped together for several tense seconds while he tried to figure out what to say to make this right. He came up empty.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Are you okay?” Realizing his arm was still around her, he let it drop to his side.
Right on cue, her chin went up as if daring him to say anything further. “I’m fine. My father doesn’t know, though, so I’d prefer you not to discuss it with him or anyone else. We both agreed it was one night. No strings. No regrets.”
So why was he feeling a whole lot of that right now?
That warning about not discussing it was completely unnecessary, though. He wasn’t about to go trumpeting it to her father, or to anyone else for that matter. “I would rather keep it that way as well.”
His head was reeling, still trying to blot out the more explicit images from that night. As drunk as he’d been, he should remember a whole lot less than he did.
“You still didn’t answer the question. Why did you leave?”
“Um—because I wanted to. I would just as soon forget it ever happened.”
Maybe he really had done something horrible at the end? Passed out on her? Thrown up? Been unable to perform?
No. He could remember each of those performances in stunning detail. Three encores, to be exact. And nothing horrific in any of those memories.
And could there be a more self-centered list of things to be worried about? He didn’t think so—except for one glaring issue.
“We used…” he forced himself to spit the word out, changing the term at the last second “…protection. So we’re covered, right?”
“You don’t remember?”
He wasn’t sure what she was asking. Merda! He did not want to be having this conversation.
“Yes, but we’d both had a lot to drink. I wanted to make sure.” And if that wasn’t the lamest excuse ever.
“We’re good. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
But he was, for some unfathomable reason. He tried to find the cause—decided to settle for the truth. “I wasn’t that thrilled that my sister was getting married.” He shrugged. “I never saw it coming, actually, and when she fell in love with my best friend, I was… Well, I acted like a jerk.”
“Do tell.” The dryness of the words made him laugh.
“Shocking, I know.”
Her dimple appeared again. “Not so much.”
He took a deep breath, the urge to reach up and touch her sliding through him. He forced it back. “I’m sorry I dragged you along on my little joy ride of misery. Believe it or not, I don’t normally drink. Or seduce wedding guests.”
