Читать книгу Doctor's Guide To Dating In The Jungle - Tina Beckett - Страница 10

Stevie perched on the seat of the Land Rover, keeping her body braced against the passenger side door as they navigated around the worst of the potholes. The ones they couldn’t avoid, they plowed straight through.

With her teeth clicking together like castanets, she tried to gather her wits. Okay, so the introduction to her new job wasn’t going quite like she’d expected. No cheering, no gratitude. Just a doctor who acted like he’d rather she drop off the face of the earth.

So what? She wasn’t here to bask in anyone’s praise. She’d come to help people.

The memory of Michael’s laughter when she’d shown him the article on Projeto Vida swept through her mind. ‘Seriously?’ he’d said. ‘What kind of person practices medicine in the jungle?’

Too embarrassed to admit she found the idea fascinating, she’d laughed along with him and had quickly blanked out the computer screen. The truth was, she’d toyed with the idea for the past year. She used to think Michael felt the same way, that he wanted to give back to those in need. Why else would he be at the helm of a public hospital?

Certainly not just to commandeer a private room for his little no-tell rendezvous, like the one she’d caught him having with a female doctor. On her birthday, of all things.

Humiliation and pain washed through her, bringing with it an inner scream of frustration. Why couldn’t she get past this?

She must have made some sound because her new colleague’s head swiveled toward her. She squirmed in her seat before tilting her chin a bit higher.

Just because the good doctor wasn’t thrilled about having her on board it didn’t mean she should tuck her tail and go scurrying back to New York—no matter how much she wanted to right now. She’d agreed to stay for two years, and she intended to see them through, down to the very last day.

‘So, why leave New York and come to our little neck of the rainforest?’

She gave a guilty start. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been thinking. ‘Why do people normally do these types of things?’

His eyes searched hers before turning back to the road. ‘Sometimes they don’t think through the realities like they should.’

‘And sometimes they just want to help.’

‘Right. The last two doctors who “wanted to help,” ended up leaving before they’d been here a month. It would have been better if they’d just mailed Projeto Vida a check.’

‘Money can take the place of qualified doctors these days?’

His hands tightened on the wheel. ‘No, but it doesn’t help our cause when the faces change each time the boat pulls into a village.’

Interesting.

‘You’re talking about earning people’s trust.’

‘Yep. And it’s mighty hard to come by these days.’

No kidding. She knew that for a fact.

She turned in her seat, her attitude softening a bit as she watched him shove a dark lock of hair off his forehead with an attitude of resignation. ‘Every time someone leaves, you’re the one who has to break the news to the villagers, aren’t you? How long have you been with Projeto Vida?’

‘Long enough.’

‘Maybe it’s time you started thinking about packing it in yourself, Dr. Palermo.’

‘No.’ He glanced back at her. ‘And if you’re going to take a trial run down the river with me, you’ll need to call me Matt.

We try to be as informal as possible. The villagers will use your first name as well.’

She ignored the last part of his speech and concentrated on the first. ‘Trial run? I signed up for two years.’

He grunted. ‘So did the others.’

‘Maybe I’m tougher than they were.’ She smiled at him. ‘Maybe I’m even as tough as you.’

Dark brows winged upward. ‘Doubtful.’

‘That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.’

‘Does it?’

Stevie could swear his lips twitched as he said it and that the grooves where his frown lines sat became a little less pronounced. ‘It does. And you might be sorry later, because I rarely back down from a challenge.’

Unless it came from her cheating ex as she’d hightailed it for the nearest exit. If you leave now, you’ll have a black mark on your record! His shouted warning had cemented her decision to leave the hospital. To leave him.

‘We’ll soon see, won’t we?’ said Matt.

One of his tanned hands dropped from the wheel to the seat between them. There was a fresh cut across the knuckle of his middle finger that looked deep, and several old scars marring the back of his hand. Something about those hurts, old and new, made her stomach twist. This was a man who didn’t play it safe. Who put his all into everything he did. That was something Stevie could relate to. She’d gained a few new scars of her own over the last month or so.

‘You use protection, don’t you?’

He glanced over, eyebrows high. ‘Excuse me?’

Oops. That hadn’t come out right.

‘Surgical gloves,’ she clarified, touching a spot just beneath his cut, not sure where the urge came from. ‘Especially when you have injuries.’

He curled his fingers into a fist, the muscles in his forearm bunching. ‘Of course.’

‘Good.’ She gave a brisk nod as if the heat from his skin hadn’t just singed her. As if she wasn’t scrubbing her fingertips across her thigh in a vain attempt to remove the sensation.

He frowned, and Stevie realized he’d seen her reaction. Heat prickled along her scalp, and she turned her head to look out at the scenery. ‘How long until we get to the boat?’

‘About a half-hour.’ They hit another pothole, and she scrabbled for a handhold to avoid careening off the seat and onto the floorboards.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I keep forgetting you’re not used to roads like this.’

‘It’s okay. At least it’s not one big construction zone, like in New York.’

‘Which is why the roads there don’t swallow small children.’

She blinked. Wow, did the man actually have a sense of humor? Her mouth opened to respond when his cellphone went off.

He braked, fumbling to pull the phone from the holder on his belt. Stevie glanced back to make sure there were no cars heading their way, but the road was deserted, which made it odd that he’d stopped at all. Maybe he was a little more cautious than she’d thought.

‘‘Ello?’ He listened for a few seconds looking straight ahead. ‘Yep, she’s here. Listen, I told you what I wanted. Surely there were other appli—’

He sighed. ‘Just keep looking, will you?’

Her brows went up. So much for his ‘changing faces isn’t good for the cause’ spiel. It didn’t stop him from trying to swap her face for someone else’s post haste. Which meant she’d be out of a job, unless she went crawling back to Michael.

Fat chance of that happening.

‘I don’t know. She had quite a pile of suitcases, but she didn’t say anything about … Hold on.’ Matt pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing her way. ‘Mosquito nets?’

She nodded. ‘A hundred and fifty of them, just like Tracy asked for. I also brought a case of repellent wipes for use on board the boat.’ She frowned. ‘Don’t tell me you actually thought I had clothes in all those suitcases?’

Matt suddenly found himself unable to meet her eyes. Okay, so he’d misjudged her on one count. ‘Yeah, she brought them,’ he said into the phone.

‘Good,’ said Tracy. A few seconds of silence crawled by. ‘Listen, give her a chance, will you? You and I both know you need another doctor on that boat. So don’t say anything stupid.’ A laugh rose in his throat, which he quickly suppressed. Too late. He’d already said several stupid things. And for the past few minutes he’d suddenly realized how lonely his job was. The simple touch of Stefani’s fingers and the concern in her voice when she’d noticed the scratch on his hand had hit him in a dark corner of his mind.

He sent her a quick glance to find her staring out the side window in an obvious attempt not to eavesdrop. A long strand of hair had come loose from her bun and now trailed down her cheek, the tip curling just above her shoulder.

A strange sense of longing swept over him. What had Tracy been thinking, sending a woman? Didn’t she realize how flammable this situation could become? He tried to snuff out the image of Stefani’s long nimble fingers sliding across his skin, her surgeon’s brain dissecting and memorizing his every reaction. Or her long dark lashes fluttering shut as he …

He shook his head, realizing Tracy was waiting for his response. ‘Right. “Don’t say anything stupid.” I’ll do my best.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t make me come down there.’

As much as he wanted Tracy to witness her folly firsthand, he knew he couldn’t afford to hang around the port and do nothing. Waiting for Stefani’s arrival had already put him two days behind schedule, and he had people counting on him. As soon as they got to the boat, they needed to be on their way.

‘Your concern is duly noted, but I’m a big boy, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘Oh, I have. And I’m counting on you to act like one.’

Paint—long peeling ribbons of white—clung to portions of the boat. Other sections were laid bare, like bones stripped of their flesh. Stevie could have been looking in a mirror at her own reflection.

She was pretty sure this wasn’t what Matt had in mind when he’d mentioned battlefield triage, but the vessel certainly looked like it had been through a warzone.

And come out on the losing end.

This couldn’t be the medical boat. She tugged the doorhandle on the Land Rover and stepped out of the car, while Matt went around and hauled her luggage from the back of the vehicle.

The wall-to-wall grins on the faces of two men who’d disembarked from the ship and now hurried toward them said her premonition was correct. This vessel was indeed going to be her home for the next two weeks. Who was she kidding? Try two years. She shut her eyes and sent up a quick prayer. She’d put her name on a contract, effectively signing away her life. She’d see the far side of thirty before she left Brazil.

Matt smiled at the new arrivals and clapped each of them on the back before introducing them to her. ‘Nilson and Tiago, this is Stefani Wilson, the newest member of our team.’

Everything was said in Portuguese, so she should have understood it easily, but Stevie found herself having to concentrate to make out the words through their thick accents. But they were friendly and welcoming, more than she could say for Matt. The two crew members gathered up her luggage as if it weighed no more than a couple of sacks of groceries and took off toward the ship.

She bit her lip, her hopes of being mistaken fading. Even if the men weren’t already scampering up the gangplank, the raggedy lettering on the back of the boat spelled her fate out in no uncertain terms: Projeto Vida. This was the medical ship, for better or worse.

‘Home, sweet home.’ Low graveled tones slid across her senses like calloused hands moving over soft skin.

Palpable. Dangerous.

Shivering, she glanced up to find his attention fastened on the boat and not on her. Anything that could wring that kind of reaction out of the man couldn’t be all bad. Right?

Maybe she should try to see the ship from his perspective. ‘So this is it, then?’

He nodded, the warm affection in his eyes cooling as he studied her face. ‘Ready to run away yet?’

‘I don’t run.’

‘No?’

The way he said it made her wonder if he knew more about her situation than he was letting on. But so what if he did? She had nothing to hide.

Except for the tattered remnants of her heart. And the disciplinary note in her file.

Her lips tightened. She wasn’t hiding those either. She’d told Tracy that her ‘friend’ had had a run-in with his hospital, but that he’d done nothing wrong. Why, then, had she hidden her identity at first? Though, after receiving her résumé, Tracy had to have realized Stevie had been talking about herself on the phone that day.

‘No, I’m not going to run.’ Not this time. Not even if the boat had the name ‘Typhoid Mary’ inscribed on its side.

She slapped at a mosquito on her arm and immediately wondered if it was a carrier of some deadly ailment. Running didn’t seem like such a bad option all of a sudden.

‘You’ll need to wear repellent. They seem to attack newcomers more than residents. Must have sweeter blood or something.’

‘I bet they don’t attack you at all,’ she said, then realized how childish the words sounded.

A muscle worked in his jaw and one hand went to the back of his neck and rubbed as if trying to ease a knot from the firm muscles. ‘Ready to get to work?’

‘That’s why I’m here.’ The sharp tone made her cringe. ‘Ugh, sorry. Chalk up my bad manners to jet lag, okay?’

‘No problem.’ He lowered his hand and rotated his neck half a turn. Stevie heard several soft pops as the vertebrae along it cracked. He gave a low groan of relief.

‘Do you have back problems?’ No way would she admit she’d begun her education in chiropractic before switching to traditional medicine.

‘Nothing serious. Just getting old.’ But even as he said it, she noticed he slightly twisted his upper body—instead of just his neck—when looking down at her, a classic sign of pain. He’d been fine in the car when glancing over at her, so it was limited to one side. Her brain worked through possible diagnoses before she stopped herself.

It’s none of your business, Stevie. Just leave it be.

‘Shall we go aboard?’ she asked.

‘If you’re sure you’re up for it.’

Something about the way he said it made prickles rise along the nape of her neck. Surely the inside of the boat couldn’t be in worse condition than the outside. She could understand being busy, but lack of hygiene and sterility were things she wouldn’t stand for.

Once she stepped from the rickety dock onto the boat, her heart sank. More peeling paint and the deck’s wooden surface was gouged and pitted. ‘You see patients onboard?’

‘Yes, in the exam-room-slash-surgical-suite.’

Surgical suite. Wow. And maybe they still bored holes in skulls, too. She forced her tongue to the roof of her mouth and held it there, where it couldn’t flap around and say things she would later regret.

Their next stop was the galley. Stevie was relieved to find the food preparation area neat and tidy. ‘Where do you get your drinking water?’

‘The river. The filtration unit on the counter was donated by a relief agency. It’s a three-stage system that filters out particles and then zaps the water with UV rays to kill most bacteria. We can send it through an additional stage that injects a chlorine solution in areas where cholera is endemic.’ A lean finger hooked around the handle of an empty plastic bottle and lifted it. ‘Before the filter, we had to carry clean water aboard in these, which made scrubbing for surgery a complicated affair.’

‘I can imagine.’ She wandered over to the rectangular unit. The metal casing was spotlessly clean. She relaxed a bit. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as she’d feared. ‘I knew filters like this existed, but wow. It looks like something NASA would have.’

‘I hear the system used on the space station is similar.’

Matt lounged against a nearby doorframe, one shoulder propped against the wooden surface, observing her. Although lean, his body filled the opening, his dark silky hair brushing the top of the frame. She swallowed, feeling trapped all of a sudden and not sure why. He wasn’t threatening in a scary kind of way.

She rephrased that thought. He was scary, but only because he made her blood rush through her veins simply by looking at her. And that made the man doubly dangerous, since she could no longer trust herself to make wise choices when it came to the opposite sex. Meeting problems head on might work for some people, but for Stevie, avoidance was now the name of the game. And that included avoiding the six-foot-two-inch problem who stood right in front of her.

‘Com licença, Mateus.’ The voice came from behind him, and Matt moved into the room to let the crew members pass.

Mateus, the Portuguese equivalent of Matthew.

So they did go by first names, just like Matt had said. She liked that. Michael would have insisted on formality at all costs. He’d said that to get respect, you had to demand respect. She used to agree, but now she wondered. That kind of respect could be lost in the blink of an eye—or behind the closed doors of an examination room. Besides, she sensed an admiration from these men that wasn’t a result of social standing or titles, but something earned through time and trust.

Would she ever be included in their little circle? Probably not.

‘We’ve put the new doctor’s bags in your room.’

Dull color crept into Matt’s face, and Stevie sensed her scalp heating as well. They’d put her bags in his room? She hovered between saying ‘Thank you’ and squeaking out the protest that scrabbled up her throat, seeking the nearest exit. Before she could do either, Matt wrapped a hand around her upper arm. ‘I’ll show you where your things are.’

As soon as they were through the door, she planted her heels to stop their forward motion, ignoring the way the warmth from his fingers burrowed beneath her skin. Uh-oh. There went that blood-rushing-through-the-veins sensation again.

She tugged free of his hold, furious with herself for having any kind of reaction at all.

‘Why did they put my suitcases in your room? I don’t know what’s going on, but—’

‘Not here. Let’s get out of earshot, okay? They’ve already got enough to gossip about for the next two weeks. We all thought the new doctor was going to be … well, a man. Now you see why it’s so complicated.’

She didn’t. Not at all. ‘Just have them move my bags to another room.’

His brows went up. ‘You’d rather sleep with Nilson and Tiago in the crew’s quarters, then?’

‘What? No, of course not. There must be somewhere else.’

He walked down the narrow aisle, forcing her to follow him. She noted he had to hunch his shoulders to accommodate the low ceiling. ‘There’s not. The space is cramped as it is, there are no extra rooms.’

No wonder he’d flipped out when he’d realized ‘Stefan’ was a woman. Kind of hard to avoid someone when you had to share a bedroom with him. What was she going to do? Lordy, what if he only had one bed in that room?

She’d camp on deck if she had to.

And risk being devoured by mosquitoes?

Maybe.

They came to a doorway, and her heart raced as Matt pushed it open, motioning her through. She squeezed by him, careful not to touch, but all the precautions in the world couldn’t prepare her for the clean masculine scent that followed her into the room. It permeated the space, branding everything in it as his. If she stayed here, would it mark her as well?

She swallowed and forced herself to take shallow breaths as she examined the room. Even with her suitcases piled one on top of the other in the corner, there was barely enough room for two people to stand, much less move about.

She went slack with relief, however, when she spotted two beds, rather than one. Thick woven hammocks, actually, one above the other. A shared mosquito net hung suspended from a hook, tied to the side with a worn bungee cord at the moment. But at night it would be set free, encasing both hammocks in a tight intimate circle. As if they were in their own little world.

Her hard-won composure finally cracked, allowing panic to ooze between the gaps as she stared at the folded blanket and pillow resting on the bottom hammock. A worn paperback—Tom Clancy’s The Sum of All Fears—lay on top of the bedding. How apropos that title was.

Matt had mentioned seeing how tough she really was. They were about to find out.

Her laugh, when it came, was one cackle short of hysterical. ‘Well, I guess this means you want me on top.’