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‘Madeline Savoia is my ghost-writer...for the memoir,’ Ryan said calmly as Madeline dutifully held out her hand. ‘But she’s a nurse, too. I’ve explained that it’s all hands on deck at times.’
He felt her eyes burning his cheek as he spoke, but he didn’t turn his head.
‘Excellent,’ Evan enthused, throwing him a look Ryan knew only he could read. Evan knew everything about Josephine. And he hadn’t said a word.
‘I’m a huge fan of your work, Dr Walker,’ Madeline said.
‘Thank you very much. So, have you been out to these parts before?’
A waiter approached and guided them all to their seats.
‘No, I can’t say I have,’ she replied.
Ryan pulled a chair out for her and motioned for her to sit down beside him. He’d noticed the way Evan was looking at her now.
‘You know, you really look a lot like...’
‘What is there to drink?’ Ryan put a hand up for the waiter and signalled for a menu.
Evan seemed to take the hint. He took his seat and started pouring the three of them water from a jug full of ice and lemon.
‘You’re in for a treat, Madeline,’ he continued, ‘these are some of the nicest people on the planet. Always so grateful and patient. It’s harsh out there, you know?’
Madeline pulled her glass towards her. Ryan noticed her nails were drumming slightly on the glass. ‘So I hear.’
‘And they live pretty differently to how we do. Most have no idea that all this is even here, and even if they did they’d probably hate it.’ He gestured around him now at the opulent restaurant, with Rio de Janeiro’s Ipanema in their direct line of vision through the windows.
Ryan gazed out with Madeline at the swirling cormorants and emerald hills in the distance. The beautiful side of the jungle, he thought to himself, feeling a sudden twinge of familiar guilt.
He forced himself to think of something else.
He couldn’t help but wonder yet again what the story was with Madeline quitting nursing. Whenever anyone brought it up she looked as though she might run for the hills. He kind of understood how that felt, though. He’d been running for years.
He’d hidden behind deadlines and responsibilities, creating more work for himself than one man should probably have to deal with in a lifetime. But now it had caught up with him in the form of this woman—sent to spill his secrets to the world.
He motioned to the waiter approaching with the wine. ‘White, please,’ he said. He turned to Madeline. ‘You?’
‘Red,’ she said. ‘Just a bit, though, I don’t want to fall asleep at the table. I’m trying to outsmart my jet-lag.’
He smiled.
Evan was still talking. ‘Last time we were here we helped a little baby—just nine months old, I think. She had a temperature of one hundred and two and climbing...and she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She had pneumonia...she was malnourished. If we hadn’t been there...if Ryan hadn’t been there...she would have been dead in two days.’
Madeline turned to him as a starter of fresh fruit was placed before her on the table, and he was surprised to notice the glistening of tears in her eyes at the mention of the baby.
Casual conversation about supply checks and sleeping arrangements at the camp kept them going as their starters were consumed and everyone’s glasses were refilled, and then, just as the waiters hovered on the periphery with their main courses, Ryan tapped his fork on his glass to silence the table.
He rose to his feet, dropping his napkin.
‘Ladies and gents,’ he said, smoothing down his white shirt and holding up his glass. ‘I’d like to thank you all for coming on this brand-new mission with Medical Extremes. Let’s welcome Pablo, our new cameraman from right here in Rio, who’ll be joining us where thousands wouldn’t and hopefully not capturing everything on camera. No one looks their best after living on bananas and tropical rain for a few weeks.’
He paused for laughter, which flittered around the table as he’d known it would.
‘I’d also like to introduce Madeline, here. She’ll be working on some writing and lending a hand wherever possible, so I’d like you all to give her the Medical Extremes welcome we give everyone and make her feel like one of the family.’
He raised his glass higher, but before she or anyone could say another word, a noise from the kitchen made the entire room jump in their chairs.
‘Fogo! Fogo! Fogo!’
The voice was female.
‘Help!’
Ryan just had time to see Evan grab his medical bag before they were both off their chairs in a flash, running for the kitchen. He made it to the back of the restaurant just in time to see the blaze of orange fire running up a woman’s sleeve—just before he plunged her arm into a nearby sink, under a gushing tap. She was sobbing.
‘What happened?’ he asked, and was flooded with a stream of Portuguese. The fire was gone, but a crowd of people in white coats and chef’s hats were all talking at once.
Evan was behind him, pulling out a sterile bandage from his bag as Ryan moved closer to keep the woman’s arm under the water. It was blistered and red, but he could already tell she wasn’t going to need hospital treatment—thank God.
‘I’ll go tell everyone not to panic—you got this?’ Evan said.
‘All good,’ Ryan told him, and watched him shoot back through the door.
‘She was pouring pecans into the chocolate mix when her sleeve caught on fire. That’s why they’re all over the floor.’
Madeline.
Ryan had only just realised she was there, too. She was holding the bandage Evan had given her and translating every word. He took the bandage from her, noticing the pecan nuts under his feet for the first time.
‘She says she’s worried the dessert is ruined. It’s been cooking too long now without being stirred.’
Ryan listened as Madeline spoke in Portuguese to the crowd and someone moved to stir the pot she was pointing at. She reached for a clean dishcloth, soaked it under another tap and handed it to him. On autopilot Ryan placed it over the woman’s arm for a moment, before wrapping the bandage around it and fastening it behind her wrist. Her tears were subsiding already and she really did seem more concerned about her dessert.
‘Can you tell her I’ll give her some ibuprofen, and that she should go home and get some rest?’ he asked Madeline, who promptly did as she was asked.
Back at the table, when the ibuprofen had been dispatched and the drama was all but forgotten, the party resumed its happy chatter while the glorious Rio sunset made way for a sky full of stars.
‘You were pretty impressive in there, Nurse Madeline,’ he whispered, when he couldn’t keep it in any more.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—the way she’d sprung into action and known what to do, and say. His Portuguese was limited, as was his Spanish. He got by—but mostly on charm and miming, he had to admit.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ she said quickly.
He frowned. ‘Yes, you did. It was instinctive.’
She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with his eyes on her. Her jaw started pulsing and he knew not to say anything else.
He also knew without question that keeping away from Madeline Savoia was going to be impossible. Not only was she impossibly intoxicating—whether she liked it or not—she wasn’t just a writer.
If he had his way she’d be helping him with medical duties so frequently that the details she really needed for the memoir to be a hit would be the last thing on her mind.
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf50b1f41-d8e8-59d0-8c87-85462b43624f)
THERE WAS SOMETHING about Rio de Janeiro, Madeline decided, that was quite entrancing. The streets were alive with the sound of market stall fruit sellers, and tourists examined cheap patterned sarongs and vibrant paintings of ladies dancing under starry spangled skies. The smell of coconuts and sunscreen permeated the air, and she’d seen more thongs, she mused, in the space of twenty minutes than she’d seen in twenty branches of her favourite high street store back in London.
Madeline had been wandering around in the sunshine for a couple of hours alone, trying to get some last-minute bits and pieces before they were due to catch the plane to Saint Elena at six p.m. The rush of the ocean in her ears as she strolled along the mosaic-riddled promenade, coupled with the whoosh of rollerblades, was like a musical symphony. It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours ago she’d been climbing out of a black cab in the awful London rain.
Madeline was grateful for this time to herself while Ryan rushed about filming another segment for Medical Extremes.
‘Go enjoy yourself in the sunshine,’ he’d said that morning at breakfast. ‘And don’t forget Sugar Loaf Mountain.’
She wasn’t sure she had the energy for Sugar Loaf. They’d stayed around the table till the early hours last night, discussing the mission they were about to undertake, and perhaps, on reflection, she’d enjoyed a bit too much wine after that incident in the kitchen.
She’d noticed that Ryan had stopped at one glass, and she remembered reading somewhere that Ryan didn’t drink much. Something about never knowing when he might need to help someone. She smiled, remembering the look on his face in the kitchen. He hadn’t realised she was fluent in Portuguese. Then again, how would he have known?
What Ryan had said about her actions being instinctive had been playing on her mind. She’d told herself a million times that her nursing days were over, but he was right. Someone had really needed her and she hadn’t been able to turn those instincts off at all.
‘Mango!’ a fruit seller was calling from her tiny stall.
Madeline shook her head politely. She’d avoided eye contact with Ryan all night after that. She knew without him saying another word that he was planning to demand her nursing skills in the Amazon.
‘Pineapple?’ another fruit seller called out as she turned another corner.
She smiled once again, holding up the plastic bag of fruit skewers she’d bought earlier.
Ryan had escorted her up to her room at around two a.m. By then she’d been almost asleep on her feet. She’d been acutely aware of his hand on her lower back over her dress as they’d left the dining room, and the sound of him clearing his throat in the elevator as he’d pressed himself against the wall opposite her. She’d felt his eyes on her in the mirror.
She’d pondered at the time that he might be trying to stand as far away from her as possible in the enclosed space. She’d been doing exactly the same thing.
‘Try to sleep in if you can in the morning,’ he’d said, stopping with her outside her room. ‘It might be the best sleep you’ll get for a few weeks. The sleeping arrangements won’t be up to this standard in the jungle. But I’m sure you’ve probably figured that out.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she’d said, trying to sound as if she meant it. ‘Thank you for tonight.’
‘Thank you,’ he’d replied softly.
‘We should pencil in some time for us to talk. I was thinking regular slots, maybe one every day...’
‘Let me see what I can do once we’re out there,’ he’d said, cutting her off quickly. ‘I mean, of course we have to get this memoir written, but things are going to be really hectic for the first few days at least.’
He’d been looking at the doorframe as he’d said that—not once at her.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he’d told her, and with that he’d leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
It had been as soft as a moth landing on a shadow. She’d felt the brush of his stubble on her skin, caught a whiff of his cologne. Then he’d turned on his heel and Madeline had watched his undeniably sculpted butt in his jeans as he’d walked the whole way back down the corridor and turned the corner.
For the first time in months, with questions she wanted to ask this mysterious doctor galloping maddeningly through her thoughts along with jet-lag, Madeline had eventually drifted off to sleep without thinking once about her ex. She was grateful for that at least.
Armed with sunscreen and mosquito repellent, plus a new bright yellow sarong and several colouring books and sets of crayons for the children she’d inevitably meet in the Amazon, Madeline reached the hotel again at four p.m.
She’d just arrived back in her room and was planning on changing, packing and heading down to find the team, when a knock on the door made her jump. She went to open it in bare feet, expecting someone from Housekeeping. Her insides performed an impressive somersault as she came face to face with Ryan.
‘Hi. Everything OK?’ she asked, clutching the doorframe and hoping she didn’t look terrible.
‘We’re still waiting on some of the ultrasound equipment we lost track of yesterday,’ he said.
She ran her eyes quickly over his blue denim shirt. The sleeves were rolled up over his tanned forearms and his practical, multi-pocketed khaki trousers made her smile. It was still a surreal dream, being face to face with this man.
She didn’t miss him looking her up and down in return, in her knee-length, red strapless sundress. She hoped she hadn’t dropped any fruit on it.
‘Some of it’s already halfway here, so unfortunately it means I’ll have to stay another night.’
‘Just you?’
‘It only needs one of us to wait. The rest of the team will leave today and set up camp as planned. I was just wondering if...’
He trailed off for a second, seeming to contemplate his words. She detected the slightest trace of hesitation.
‘I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me? I realise I’ve been a bit...well, aloof about this whole memoir thing, but I do appreciate you have a job to do. Maybe we can get to know each other a bit better over dinner. If you like. Just us this time.’
Just us this time.
Madeline stood up straighter. ‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘I think that would be a good idea—before things get too crazy. Good thinking. I have some questions prepared that will help me get a good head start. I’ll think up some more. What time should I meet you?’
She hoped she was sounding professional in this moment, because even as she spoke she was mentally unpacking her suitcase, looking for the right thing to wear to dinner.
Ryan shifted his weight onto his opposite foot and folded his arms. ‘I was thinking we’d get out of the hotel. I know a restaurant nearby that does great tapas.’
‘My favourite. Huge fan of olives.’
He nodded. ‘Good. Shall we say seven in the lobby?’
‘Seven it is.’
‘Great. Well...’ He paused again, uncrossed his arms and let out a long, almost relieved sigh. ‘I’ll see you then, Maddy.’
She shut the door after him, turning back to her room in a panic. She had precisely three hours to prepare a set of questions that wouldn’t make Ryan Tobias fear talking to her about the details they both knew she needed, and in that little time she had to make herself look worthy enough to be out in a restaurant with the world’s most famous flying doctor.
She rammed her hands through her hair again.
* * *
By the time seven p.m. rolled around Madeline was more or less satisfied that she looked OK. She’d opted for her second-favourite green dress—a casual maxi-dress that plunged at the neck in a V without revealing too much. She’d paired it with a long beaded necklace and left her hair loose around her shoulders. Silver-strapped flat sandals completed the outfit, and a hint of peach lip-gloss made her mouth shimmer in a way she hoped made them look plumper, too.
Gathering her green and silver sequined purse, she put her notebook and pen inside and took one last deep breath before reaching for the door.
Ryan was already waiting for her in the lobby. She felt as if the jet set of the insect world was throwing a party in her stomach as she approached him. She hated being starstruck—if that was what this feeling was. But at least it was taking her mind off her break-up.
‘Green is definitely your colour,’ he said.
