Читать книгу The Dangers Of Dating Dr Carvalho - Tina Beckett, Tina Beckett - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

LUCAS HAD JUST perched on the edge of his bed when a buzzing sound came from the nurse’s pocket.

“Oh, sorry. I was expecting your brother to call me this morning between rounds. He wanted to check on you.”

He waved her away. “Go ahead.”

His legs felt like spaghetti, despite his trash talk a few minutes ago at the nurses’ station. He hated feeling helpless. Hated being at someone else’s mercy.

Something about that fact tickled the back of his subconscious. A memory he couldn’t quite grasp no matter how hard he tried.

Sophia pulled the phone from her pocket, her eyes still on his as she checked the readout. “It’s Marcos. I’m sure he’ll want to say hi.”

Answering the phone, her eyes sparkled as she chatted with his brother, asking him about how things were going in the States. Something he said made her laugh. “Well, tell Maggie I send my love.”

The way she said those words made a warm current flow through his chest. He hated to admit it, but being back in Brazil wasn’t like he’d expected it to be. Friendships here seemed more intimate somehow, not like the superficial relationships he tended to foster. Or maybe it was because Marcos and Sophia knew each other well...maybe they’d worked together for years.

“Sure. He’s right here.” Sophia pressed the mouthpiece to her shoulder. “He wants to talk to you.”

Lucas held out his hand, waiting as she placed the cellphone in his palm. The instrument was still warm from being in her pocket, and he hesitated before lifting it. Something about knowing she’d breathed into the receiver—had held it close to her lips, made the heat in his chest spread to his gut. It had to be the after-effects of the anesthesia and pain pills he’d had during and after his surgery. They hadn’t completely cleared his system yet. He took a quick breath and held the phone close to his ear, not quite letting it touch his skin.

“Hi, Marcos. How’s it going?” He spoke in English, feeling awkward talking to his brother in Portuguese. After all, he hadn’t even been able to understand a simple slang term the nurse had used.

The medical conference had seemed the perfect venue to visit his home country and learn more about his culture. Unfortunately it had only served to show him how little he knew—it was just one more place he didn’t belong.

His brother’s amused tone brought him back to the present. “Everything’s fine. I thought I’d check and see how the hospital was treating you.” A female voice murmured in the background, and his brother’s response came through muffled, indicating he’d turned his head to answer whoever it was.

He rolled his eyes. Surely Marcos wasn’t actually in bed with his new... Searching for a word, he came up blank, as he wasn’t quite sure what kind of relationship the two had. All he knew was that when he’d introduced himself to Dr. Maggie Pfeiffer at the medical conference, a glare from across the room had hit him like a fist to the jaw. He hadn’t known who Marcos was at the time but he’d recognized that pointed stare. It had said off-limits and mine in no uncertain terms.

He couldn’t blame his brother. Maggie was beautiful, her ready smile showing her love of life.

Not like Sophia, whose prickly attitude a few minutes ago seemed strange, seeing as they didn’t know each other. Maybe she’d had a bad day or maybe she was just that way with everyone. He glanced at her to find her busy straightening things on his bedside table, her scrubs doing nothing to detract from the generous curves beneath them.

He realized he was staring when Marcos repeated the question about the hospital.

“Everyone’s been great,” he said. “Thanks. The police still want to depose me in a day or two, and I should probably stick around for a couple of weeks to see if they make an arrest. So I’ll take you up on your offer to stay in your apartment, if it’s still okay.”

“Absolutely. I told the doorman you might be coming. He has a set of keys. So does Sophia. Make yourself at home.”

The thought of Sophia having a set of Marcos’s house keys made him uneasy. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

More murmurs sounded in the background, and that was definitely Marcos chuckling at something. Hand tightening on the phone, he realized he now had the thing mashed to his ear. So much for not letting it touch him any more than necessary. The fire in his gut burned just a little bit hotter when he caught a faint whiff of her scent clinging to the thing. His glance swung back to the nurse, wondering how he knew what she smelled like.

It’s your sick imagination, bud.

As soon as he got back to the States, he was going to sink deep into the first willing woman he came across. It had obviously been far too long since he’d gotten any. Maybe he’d even find someone here in Brazil at one of the clubs, if he was here long enough.

“Well, I’ll let you go.” Lucas was suddenly anxious to get off the phone.

“Okay... Oh, wait. I forgot to ask. How does it feel to see Sophia again after all these years? It’s hard for me not to still picture her as a little kid.”

Little kid? That was the last thing he’d pictured when he’d looked at Sophia. But Marcos’s words made a slight chill come over him, dousing the flames that had begun licking at places he’d rather were left alone.

“I don’t follow.”

There was a pause. “You don’t remember her? I guess it was so long ago that—”

“Remember her from where?” The chill grew. When he glanced to the side, he noted Sophia had turned toward him.

Before Marcos’s next words came over the line, he knew he’d somehow missed something. Something big.

“She was at the orphanage with us. Stuck to our sides like glue. O trio dinâmico. Ring a bell?”

The dynamic trio.

Why hadn’t she said anything?

“I...” Feeling like an idiot, Lucas stared at the woman in front of him, trying to see something that rang a bell. Instead, he settled for the first lame words that popped into his brain. “I was just a kid.”

“Right.” The disappointment surrounding that single word cut him to the quick.

How could he be expected to remember something that had happened thirty years ago? It wasn’t like he’d spent his whole life in Brazil, the way Marcos had. But it did explain why Sophia had been there each step of the way during his surgery and recovery. He suddenly felt like a first-class heel.

He tried to explain. “There’ve been things I haven’t been able to remember since the shooting. Maybe that’s why.”

Sophia turned away, just as Marcos said, “Don’t worry about it. Could you pass the phone back to her, please?”

“Sure.”

“Take care, Lucas.”

“You too.”

Jiggling the phone in his hand and not sure if he should just tap her on the shoulder or say her name, he settled for clearing his throat, even though the last thing he wanted to do was face her again. “He wants to talk to you.”

She turned back around and gave him a cheery smile then held out her hand, her eyes skipping away from his almost immediately.

Like a man caught in a riptide and unable to pull free of its deadly grasp, he slowly handed over the phone. Then he did the unthinkable. He took a step closer and cupped her chin, his thumb strumming over the softness of her cheek as he forced her to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you say something about the orphanage?”

* * *

She took a step back, dislodging his hand. “It didn’t seem important.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

And proving they were indeed brothers, the first words out of Marcos’s mouth were, “You didn’t tell him?”

* * *

This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in front of Lucas. Turning on her heel, she left the room. Once outside the door, she gulped down a couple of quick breaths, leaning a shoulder against a wall. With a shaky hand she brushed her hair off her forehead. “No. Why would I? Like he said, we were just kids. It’s ancient history.”

But the tremor in her voice said the same thing her heart did: she’d remembered him. Despite their ages.

What did it matter?

Exactly. She was being ridiculous. Lucas was alive—that was the only important thing. He’d be able to get on with his life as if this little interlude in Brazil had never happened. It was fine.

Her friend’s voice came back through. “Well, since it’s ancient history, I kind of feel funny asking you to...”

As if at a loss, he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Asking me to what?”

“Check in on him every once in a while at the apartment? Make sure he’s okay.”

She gulped. That was so not a good idea. Lucas already made her pulse race, and he didn’t even know who she was. It was one thing to act the part of his nurse at the hospital...but outside of it? “I don’t know.”

“Please, Soph. I know it’s not fair to ask you, but you’re the closest thing to family I have. You were practically a sister to us, whether he remembers it or not.”

“You and I grew up together. You only remember me because we were at the orphanage longer than he was. He doesn’t remember anything about his life here in Brazil.”

That wasn’t entirely true. She’d heard Marcos talk to Lucas after his surgery, and he’d remembered some things from his childhood. He’d remembered his brother. Remembered the promise he and Marcos had made to their father—those words were tattooed on his arm, in fact, along with his father’s name. Lucas even remembered the policeman who’d found the two boys sorting through a pile of garbage at their tiny shack of a house all those years ago.

Despite all that, Lucas probably didn’t recall much about his father’s sudden death or what had come afterwards.

She tried again. “I’m a complete stranger to him, Marcos.”

“Possibly. But you’re not a stranger to me.”

And there it was. He was calling up the friendship card. It wasn’t like she hadn’t given him enough grief over the years: Getting into trouble. Nagging. Matchmaking.

The matchmaking bit had worked out pretty well, actually, since it had given him Maggie. Still, in all the years she’d known him Marcos had never really asked anything of her. How could she say no and face herself in the mirror?

Sighing, she tipped her head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. “Fine. I’ll try, but only if he lets me.”

She brushed off Marcos’s thanks and murmured a quick goodbye, more than ready to be done with this particular conversation. Almost as soon as she hit the “end” button, a sudden swish of air brushed her left arm, making her tense.

Her head came off the wall, and she turned to find that Lucas had silently come through the door of his room, with no warning rattle from his IV pole to alert her. She couldn’t keep her gaze from tracking over him, pausing at the top of his hand, where a thin trickle of blood marred his tanned skin.

She frowned. “Where’s your IV?”

That’s why she hadn’t heard him. He’d pulled the catheter out of his vein.

“I don’t need it any more.”

Right. Marcos wanted her to take care of him? Well, they were off to a great start. “That’s for your doctor to decide.” She motioned to the door. “I’ll get you hooked back up.”

He pressed the needle puncture against the fabric over his thigh, drawing her attention to the fact that he was still in his hospital gown. Still naked beneath it.

A slow breath hissed between his teeth. “I feel like I should say something here. About what Marcos said about the orphanage—”

“No need to worry about it. Like you said, we were young. You’d just had your whole life torn apart. You would have clung to the one person who was a constant in your life: Marcos.”

The words made perfect sense, but they didn’t take away the tiny ache that lingered inside.

“I think I’ve just blocked some of those memories. The day my father...when he didn’t come home... Things are just a big blur. I don’t remember much more than snatches of sensation here and there.” He gave a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I do remember the food at the orphanage leaving something to be desired. I’m still not a big fan of beans and rice.”

And that should remind her, if nothing else did, that although he was Brazilian by birth, in his heart, he was just another rich man who’d left his roots far, far behind.

Her chin went up. “And I still love them.”

Something touched her wrist and then slid lower, wrapping around her index finger. She glanced down in surprise to find he was no longer putting pressure on his IV site but had hooked his finger around hers. A flare of something dangerous kicked to life inside her belly.

“They’re probably going to release me in a day or two. Maybe we could meet somewhere, and you could tell me what you remember from those days. Fill in some blanks. At least until Marcos gets back.”

And have him discover that, unlike him, she remembered quite a bit about their time together? That while Marcos might have been his lifeline, they’d both been hers? “I don’t think—”

“Please. I want to know.”

Deus. As much as she wanted to turn her back on him and forget their paths had ever crossed again, she couldn’t. Not only because of Marcos’s request but because—despite the macho display as he’d swaggered toward her desk earlier—there was a hint of something beneath the knowing smile he’d given her. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was enough that she couldn’t just brush off his request.

“Okay. But until the doctor releases you, you can’t go around unhooking yourself from your IV. Deal?”

The smile he gave her was just as lazy as before, but this time it reached all the way up to his eyes, making her stomach do a back flip.

This was a big mistake. She felt it in her bones. But at least if she got him tethered back to his IV pole she could keep him in one spot. And she could remain just out of reach. Far enough away that he couldn’t touch her again without warning, because her finger was painfully aware that he was still holding onto it. And the cheek he’d stroked a few minutes ago still tingled.

Yes, staying out of reach was a good thing. For her own peace of mind.

And if that meant keeping him at the other end of an IV line then the man was going to find himself pumped so full of fluids that he’d inflate like a water balloon.

And that’s how he’d stay. At least until she could get herself—and her out-of-whack emotions—firmly under control.