The Dangers Of Dating Dr Carvalho

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.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU’LL NEED SOMEONE at home to help you for at least a week.” Lucas’s doctor glanced up from his chart. “No driving or lifting anything heavier than a comb, so someone will have to take you to your physical therapy sessions. Is Dr. Pinheiro back from his trip yet?”

No, Dr. Pinheiro is not back yet.

Lucas’s temper flared for a second before cooling down again. He knew the standard protocol. It was just irritating to have it recited to him by another doctor. And as far as his dear brother went, who knew when he’d blow back into town. Not that he needed Marcos to run behind him and wipe his nose any more. Those days were long gone.

Lucas steadfastly refused to glance at the quiet figure waiting in the far corner of the room and tried to work through his options. If he were in the States, he could call on any number of friends, or simply ask to be moved to a rehab center for a couple of weeks. But here...