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“Absolutely,” Victor agreed, gazing at her with an expression of quiet fascination.
She blushed, sheepishly biting her lip. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to gush like that.”
“Don’t apologize. I feel the same way you do. That same sense of awe at the realization that you’ve been entrusted with people’s lives, that all the education and training you’ve received comes down to that pivotal moment when someone’s life hangs in the balance, and they’re counting on you to pull them through.” He paused, shaking his head slowly at Tamara. “It’s powerful.”
“Very,” she whispered, shivers racing up and down her spine. She felt more connected to him than she’d ever imagined was possible before today.
They gazed at each other for several charged moments as lightning flashed outside the window.
A half smile quirked the corners of Victor’s mouth. “Have you ever questioned your sanity for choosing cardiothoracic surgery as your specialty?”
Tamara grinned. “Why? Because we have to undergo four years of college, four years of medical school, seven years of a general surgery residency, and three more years of a 120-hour-per-week cardiothoracic surgery fellowship? Nahhh.”
Victor grinned. “Piece of cake, right?”
“Ab-so-lute-ly.”
They looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
When their mirth subsided several moments later, Tamara let out a long, deep sigh. “Honestly? I have occasionally wondered whether I should explore a less demanding field, like dermatology or ophthalmology.
Something that would allow me to have some semblance of a life outside work.”
“Marriage,” Victor murmured. “Children. Guilt-free family vacations.”
“Exactly,” Tamara agreed. “I’ve never wanted to become one of those self-absorbed workaholics who’s never around for my family, who’s stuck in a hospital on gorgeous weekends while my husband and kids do fun things without me.” She sighed. “On the other hand, I’ve always wanted to be a heart surgeon. The best of the best. I can’t achieve that goal unless I’m willing to make some hard sacrifices.”
Victor nodded slowly.
She knew he understood where she was coming from. They were both driven to succeed as cardiothoracic surgeons, who were considered among the most talented and sophisticated of their surgical peers. Not only were they required to master the field of general surgery, they also underwent extensive training, charted new areas of research and technology, and performed extremely dangerous and complex operations. Being a cardiothoracic surgeon was not for the faint of heart—no pun intended.
“So what about you, Aguilar?” Tamara ventured, turning the tables on him. “After a grueling eighteen-hour day, have you ever thought about throwing in the towel? Just surrendering your scrubs and walking away from the madness?”
He chuckled softly, dragging his hands through his thick dark hair. “Even if I ever wanted to quit, I have too many people depending on me not to.”
“Your parents,” Tamara surmised.
He nodded. “They came to this country with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, and they worked their asses off to give me and my younger brothers a better life than the one we left behind in Colombia. I’m the first in my family to graduate from college. So my parents are counting on me to seize the American Dream so that I can reach back and help my siblings do the same thing. I’m not about to let them down.”
Tamara gazed at him, filled with newfound respect and admiration for his loyalty to his family. At the same time, she was struck by the realization that they were halfway through their two-year internship, and she didn’t know much about him.
She knew that he had at least one younger brother, who bore such a striking resemblance to him that Tamara had done a double take when she saw him. Alejandro Aguilar had stopped by the hospital one day to have lunch with Victor. Before they left, Victor had introduced his brother to Jaclyn and Isabelle, completely snubbing Tamara who’d been standing nearby, pretending not to notice or care.
Shoving aside the unpleasant memory of the slight, she asked curiously, “How many brothers do you have?”
“Four.”
Her eyes widened incredulously. “Your parents have five sons?”
Victor gave her a crooked smile. “That’s generally what four plus one equals.”
“Shut up, smart-ass.” But Tamara was grinning. “I feel sorry for your poor mother, being outnumbered like that.”
Victor chuckled. “If you ever met my mother, you’d save your pity. She’s always run the show in our family. Although my father would never admit it, we all know Mama’s the boss. So being the only female in the house has never made any difference to her.”
Tamara smiled softly, enjoying this rare glimpse into his background. Although he was well liked and respected by their fellow interns, he’d been known to keep the details of his personal life close to the vest. Which was something else he and Tamara had in common.
“It sounds like you and your family are pretty tight,” she observed.
“We are.” A quiet, reflective smile touched Victor’s mouth. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
Tamara nodded, then couldn’t resist asking gently, “Why did your parents leave Colombia?”
She watched as sorrow settled over his face like a veil. He looked past her, staring out the rain-streaked window. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low. “It was too dangerous to stay there. At the time, many parts of Bogotá were overrun with gangs. My parents lived in constant fear of something happening to one of us.” He paused for a long moment, and Tamara instinctively braced herself for what he would reveal next. “One day, my uncle and his daughter were sitting on their front porch when a gunfight broke out between two rival gangs. They were killed in the crossfire.”
A horrified gasp escaped Tamara’s lips. “Oh, my God, Victor,” she breathed. “How awful.”
Pain flickered in his eyes. “That’s the way it was,” he said grimly. “Even if you were at home minding your own business, you could still be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” His brooding gaze returned to Tamara’s. “Not long after my uncle and cousin died, my parents packed up the family and fled to America, along with my aunt and her surviving children.”
Tamara nodded, swallowing tightly. “Have you ever gone back?”
He nodded. “We still have many family members there. And I know it may sound hard to believe, but despite what happened, Bogotá will always be home.”
“Of course. I understand.” She shook her head mournfully. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Victor.”
He inclined his head, silently acknowledging her condolences.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Seeking to distract him from his painful memories, Tamara asked softly, “Would you like a snack?”
Victor eyed her blankly. “A snack?”
“Yeah.” She reached for her backpack and dug out a large plastic bag filled with an assortment of goodies. As she emptied the bag onto the bed, Victor lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to survey her stash.
“Whatcha got?”
Tamara grinned. “I got whatever you need, papi,” she said teasingly, feeling like a drug dealer. “I got protein bars if you need a quick shot of energy, healthy granola bars if you feel like being good, and candy bars if you—”
She laughed as Victor snatched a Snickers out of her hand and tore open the wrapper. After taking a huge bite of the chocolate bar, he groaned appreciatively. “Mmm, that hits the spot.”
Tamara tsk-tsked him. “I’m surprised at you, Dr. Aguilar, choosing empty carbs over more nutritious snacks.”
“Says the woman with the bag full of candy bars,” he muttered around a mouthful of chocolate.
Tamara grinned. “I only bring those to bribe the nurses into—”
“Bribe?” Victor interrupted in a tone of mock indignation. “Why, Dr. St. John, I didn’t know you engaged in such unethical behavior. Shame on you.”
Tamara chuckled. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have the nurses eating out of the palms of our hands. Some of us have to do more than wink and smile to get what we need around here.”
Victor gave her a look of sham innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tamara laughed . “Riiight.”
Grinning, he polished off his Snickers bar and snagged another one.
She shook her head at him. “Keep eating all that junk and your arteries will get clogged, then I’ll have to operate on you.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
He met her surprised gaze. “I wouldn’t entrust my life to anyone but you.”
Tamara warmed with pleasure at his words. “Likewise,” she murmured. And she meant it.
Victor smiled at her, his eyes glittering like molten sapphires.
As they stared at each other, the moment stretched into two.
Glancing away, Tamara busied herself with returning the remaining snacks to the bag. “You know,” she remarked offhandedly, “all the nurses think you look like Adam Rodriguez from CSI.”
“Yeah?” Victor drawled, leaning back in the chair and propping his sock-clad feet on the table as he continued munching on his candy bar. “And what do you think?”
She tilted her head to one side, lips pursed as she pretended to examine his masculine features. “I can definitely see the resemblance. But—” She broke off, shaking her head.
“But what?”
She hesitated, then sighed. “At the risk of further inflating your ego,” she said grudgingly, “I think you’re even better looking than Adam.”
A slow, wicked grin curved Victor’s mouth. “Are you flirting with me, Tamara?”
Heat rushed to her face. “Of course not.”
“Are you sure? Because that would be against hospital policy, and you know—”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’m not flirting with you. Sheesh. Can’t a woman compliment you without wanting to sleep with you?”
Victor looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”
Sputtering with indignation, Tamara slapped his hard, muscled thigh. “Pendejo!” she hissed, seizing on her expanding Spanish vocabulary to call him a jerk.
He threw back his head and laughed, a strong, deep laugh that rumbled up from his chest and raised goose bumps along her skin. She’d have to be an occupant of the morgue not to be affected by his raw sex appeal.
“I forgot that you’re learning Spanish from Isabelle so you can communicate with more of your patients,” Victor said.
“That’s right, and I’m a damn quick learner. So pretty soon I’ll be able to insult you in two languages.”
Again he laughed, discarding his Snickers wrapper in the trash. “You knew I had to say something to get a rise out of you,” he teased. “We were getting along too well.”
“God forbid we should do that,” Tamara muttered, plumping up the stiff pillows before lying down on her side. “I’m going to sleep.”
“You can’t.”
“Says who?”
“You have to keep me company until my sugar rush wears off.”
She snorted. “No one told you to eat two candy bars.”
“I had the munchies. Come on, Tamara,” Victor cajoled, moving his foot from the table to playfully nudge her leg, a simple touch that sent heat crashing through her veins. “Keep me company.”
“Fine,” she relented with a huff, knowing damn well she wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.
Over the next few hours, as the storm raged on outside, she and Victor talked and laughed, swapping horror stories from medical school and comparing notes on the best and worst professors they’d had. When Victor’s cell phone beeped, he turned off the alarm and tossed the phone aside without missing a beat in their conversation. It seemed like they could talk all night and never run out of things to say to each other.
But eventually Tamara felt drowsiness settling over her like a warm blanket. Taking pity on Victor, who’d appeared increasingly uncomfortable in the chair, she invited him to share the bed with her.
It’s just for another hour or so, she told herself as he stretched out alongside her, the heat of his body penetrating hers even though they weren’t touching. Surely it won’t rain all night.
Before sleep claimed her, the last thought that drifted through her mind was that after tonight, things would never be the same between her and Victor.
Chapter 3
Victor was having the most amazing dream.
It had to be a dream because he certainly didn’t remember taking a date home last night, though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up in a woman’s bed with no memory of how he’d gotten there.
But this time was different. The woman in his arms felt like she belonged there.
So she couldn’t be real, his subconscious rationalized. He had to be imagining the gentle rise and fall of plump breasts, the tantalizing thrust of nipples against his chest, the shapely swell of hips beneath his hand, the luscious curve of a feminine thigh draped across his waist. She wasn’t real, yet it seemed wholly natural for him to brush his lips over her forehead and nuzzle her soft, fragrant hair. And when she sighed contentedly and cuddled closer to him, he couldn’t be blamed for the hot rush of arousal that sped to his groin and had him cupping the woman’s lush, round bottom.
When she stiffened without warning, he snapped his eyes open.
And was greeted by the stunned, beautiful face of Tamara St. John.
They stared at each other in stricken silence.
An instant later they sprang apart, scrambling off the bed and facing each other from opposite sides.
“Wh-what happened?” Tamara whispered.
Victor, who could rattle off the most complex medical passages from the Gray’s Anatomy textbook without batting an eye, suddenly found himself tongue-tied. “The storm … It was late … We, uh, fell asleep.”
Their panicked gazes swung toward the window, where they could see the first blush of dawn breaking across the sky.
“When did it stop raining?” Tamara wondered aloud.
