After just one night…

The last thing Dr. Sebastian Texeira wants is to settle down, but when one sizzling night with sexy nurse Sara Moreira results in pregnancy, he feels he must do the right thing!

Sara refuses to marry for anything less than love. Though she does agree to work at Sebastian’s hospital—where the temperature between them grows hotter than ever! All Sebastian needs to secure their happiness is to admit how much he really loves Sara, but sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to do…

From Passion to Pregnancy

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Books by Tina Beckett

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Hot Latin Docs

Rafael’s One-Night Bombshell

Christmas Miracles in Maternity

The Nurse’s Christmas Gift

The Hollywood Hills Clinic

Winning Back His Doctor Bride

Hot Brazilian Docs!

To Play with Fire

The Dangers of Dating Dr Carvalho

Her Playboy’s Secret

Hot Doc from Her Past

Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss

A Daddy for Her Daughter

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

To my babies.

You may not be little anymore,

but you will always hold my heart in your hands!

Praise for Tina Beckett

‘The book had everything I want from a medical romance and so much more… Tina Beckett has shown that the world of romance mixed with the world of medicine can be just as hot, just as wow and just as addictive as any other form of romance read out there.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on

To Play with Fire

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Booklist

Dedication

Praise

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

TWO THINGS CAME to mind as Sara Moreira stood behind the bride-to-be.

One: she was grateful her boyfriend hadn’t waited until her wedding day to ghost her. Instead, he had left in the middle of the night. No response to her texts. No returned calls. He’d just disappeared into the ether.

And two: Dr. Sebastian Texeira looked as gorgeous in a tux as he did in a lab coat.

More than gorgeous. Even when he slid a finger behind his bow-tie and tugged as if his collar were ten times too tight. Something he’d done repeatedly during the wedding, looking none too happy with the proceedings.

Why was she even noticing that? Wasn’t she supposed to be knee deep in her own woes, not worrying about someone else’s problems?

Her tummy tightened as she took in the broad chest and narrow hips. Wow, evidently her devastation hadn’t reached the more primal regions of her brain.

Dr. Texeira’s glance shifted with shocking swiftness and—yikes!—caught her staring. The second time he’d done that. His mouth kicked up to one side, sending her errant stomach diving feet first into a dark pool.

What was wrong with her?

This was his sister’s wedding, for heaven’s sake. She needed to keep her eyes to herself.

Besides, this man was way out of her league. Even further than the guy she’d imagined herself in love with. The man she’d cried bitter tears over a month ago.

Or had that just been wounded pride?

“Up here, please?”

Sara’s attention snapped back to the minister. He’d asked something and was staring right at her.

Céus. Was she supposed to be doing something? Straightening the bride’s train? Vacuuming the red carpet that covered the dusty ground of her dad’s ranch? Lying down and dying of embarrassment?

The last option was a definite possibility.

A sense of hysteria began building in her chest before Dr. Texeira snagged her gaze once more, lifting his right hand and waggling his little finger. The glitter of a diamond band appeared. What the…?

Oh…ring! She was supposed to give Natália the groom’s ring.

But where was it? Her mind went blank in an instant.

A few giggles came from behind her. Oh, Lord, she couldn’t believe this was happening.

The good doctor came over to her. “Here.” He reached for the bouquet she held. Tied to one of the ribbons was the errant ring. With a few quick twists, he teased it free of the knot.

“Give me your hand,” he murmured.

She jerked it back in a rush.

“I’m just going to give it to you.”

“Oh.” Feeling like a fool, she opened her hand, and the sizzle of cool fingers brushing across her palm made her suck down a couple of breaths. She handed the ring over to Natália as if it were coated with poison.

It might as well be.

She looked back across the aisle to where he had retreated.

Okay, the man was now watching her with open amusement. Her lower lip jutted slightly, then froze when his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Mini-frissons of heat overtook each of her limbs.

Was she getting heatstroke?

What had her father been thinking, inviting members of his cancer care team to have their wedding at the ranch?

Dr. Texeira had been part of that team. And Sara had spent the better part of last year at his hospital during her dad’s treatment.

And now Antônio Moreira was well again. Graças a Deus. She could feel his presence in the small group of people seated behind the wedding party.

Once they’d left São Paulo and returned home, she’d never expected to see the hunky doctor again. But here he was. And her thoughts were not the kind she should be having at a friend’s wedding.

He’d looked at her mouth. She was almost sure of it. Except when she gathered the courage to glance through her lashes, she found him staring straight ahead.

She’d imagined it.

Just like she’d imagined him leaning toward her and…

“You may now kiss the bride.” The minister’s proclamation whipped that thought from her head and sent it spinning away.

The pair at the front of the makeshift chapel turned toward each other, their happiness almost palpable as they came together for a long, long, long—she counted down the seconds—kiss that had her attention sliding back toward the best man.

She gulped.

Not her imagination. He was definitely looking at her. Then the bride and groom broke apart and swept down the aisle, leaving them behind. Dr. Texeira pivoted, his shiny black shoes unscathed by the red dust that covered every inch of the ranch. He held his right arm toward her.

Oh! She was supposed to go down with him.

She settled her hand in the crook of his arm, trying to calm her rattled nerves. “Nice wedding, huh?”

“Yes. Great.”

Hmm, that word didn’t ring true. In fact, she was pretty sure he was lying, which was odd considering the fact that it was his sister who had gotten married.

She frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Hmm. I just see someone I’d rather avoid.” He glanced down at her. “Mind cutting through that section of chairs on our way to the reception?”

Maybe he was ghosting someone too.

Without waiting for a response, he towed her between the rows of organza-draped seating to their right.

“I think we’re supposed to be following the bride and groom.”

“Humor me for a second. We’ll get there.” Only there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice.

Who exactly was he trying to evade? When they reached her dad’s huge barn, which had been converted into a reception hall for the big event, she led him to one of the side entrances. The massive sliding door stood open, and a drape of gauzy fabric had been interwoven with twinkle lights, a slight breeze making them wink in and out like stars against the growing dusk. “We can sneak in this way, if you want.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

Thinking he was just going to abandon her there at the door, she was shocked when he cupped her elbow and ducked through the curtains, eyeing their surroundings before moving toward the table set aside for the wedding party. The same frothy organza that graced the chairs and all the entrances had been tossed over it. Placed on a wooden platform lined with more tiny glimmering lights, Sara had to go up three steps to reach it. Natália and Adam were already seated. The bride glowed with happiness, while the groom gave Sebastian a pointed look. “I wondered if you were taking off before the toasts.”

“No.”

The answer was short and curt, and he cut around the table and went to Natália, whispering something in her ear. She gave a quick shrug and glanced out at the guests. “There was nothing I could do. They insisted.”

When Sara peered out at the tables, which were filling with guests, she saw a lot of strangers, so Natália could have been talking about anyone.

Just then, a small group with stringed instruments began playing, a fiddler stepping forward to set up a lively melody that drowned out Sebastian’s response. And, of course, there were only two more chairs at the table. One for Sebastian. And one for her. Right next to each other. There were even little printed cards with their names on them.

Unfortunately, those seats had been placed next to the groom, so she didn’t even have the luxury of turning and engaging Natália in conversation for the entire evening.

Did it matter? It shouldn’t.

She should just sit back and enjoy Sebastian’s company.

Except he made her just a little nervous. Because he was a city man like her ex?

Big deal. It was one night. She’d survived much worse.

He sat down next to her, his arm brushing her bare shoulder as he did. A shiver went through her.

Yep. Nervous.

One of her dad’s rugged ranch workers, looking out of place in formalwear, brought a tray with four champagne flutes. His hands gave him away. Gnarly with calluses he grinned at Sara as he moved down the table and handed her a glass. “You look great.”

“So do you, Carlos.”

He then turned to Sebastian, his tray outstretched. Sara was unable to suppress a smile when the doctor took the proffered drink with a frown.

“You don’t like champagne?” she asked after Carlos move away.

“I was hoping for something a whole lot stronger.”

He had to lean close to make himself heard, and his shoulder bumped hers again. This time she went with it, not even attempting to put any distance between them. Instead, she focused on that point of contact and allowed herself a tiny forbidden thrill. He’d never know.

“Something stronger? At a wedding?”

“Especially at a wedding.” The wry humor behind those words came through loud and clear.

“Drink enough of that stuff and it will probably have the same effect.”

“So would cough syrup.”

This time she laughed. “Okay, so champagne really isn’t your thing. If you want something fast and to the point, you can always head to the Casa de Cachaça afterwards. I can show you where it’s at.”

Why had she said that? Maybe because he was so obviously unhappy about someone in attendance. And his “especially at a wedding” comment resonated with her.

Boy, did it ever.

At least her ex hadn’t shown up tonight.

She scanned the guests again. Maybe Sebastian had an ex who had. Could that have been what he and Natália had been discussing a few minutes ago?

“Cachaça sounds like a good choice.” Sebastian set his fancy flute beside the plate. “In that case, I’d better hold off on those so I can drive us there.”

Us? An even bigger and more forbidden thrill cut through her belly. Well, she had just offered to show him where it was. He must have taken that to mean that she would be drinking with him.

If she was going to correct him, now was the time. Instead, she set her own glass down next to his.

Didn’t she deserve to drown her sorrows? She had always been about playing the good girl, and look where that had gotten her: abandoned and forgotten. Couldn’t she, for one night, do something daring? Something a little out of character?

She didn’t have to work in the morning. And if she was honest, having a man like Sebastian take an interest in her was highly flattering.

Not that he had. Not really.

The sound of spoons clinking against glasses began to filter up to their table, growing in volume until it almost drowned out the music. Right on cue, Natália and Adam turned to each other and kissed. Murmured to each other.

She glanced at Sebastian. Not even a hint at a smile. Wow, something really was wrong.

Just then an older gentleman at one of the center tables stood and lifted his glass high, sweeping it from side to side as if trying to gain everyone’s attention. The music stuttered, then faded to nothing.

The guest gave a toothy grin, staring up at them. “I’d like choo propose a toast. To my darrrrling girl and her new husband.”

The voice slurred its way through the words, and the woman next to him tugged on his sleeve, urging him to sit down. Sebastian’s hands curled into fists on the table, and he turned to Adam and Natália. Her friend seemed frozen in time.

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

Adam nodded at him, but Natália laid a hand on his arm. “No. It’s okay. Mom will get him back under control. If she can’t…”

The groom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Just say the word, and I’ll take care of it.” He then glanced at Sebastian. “Can you propose your toast now, to get everyone pointed in the right direction? Then we’ll get the dancing started. Hopefully that will circumvent any more problems.”

“Sure thing.” Picking up his own glass, he made a tall and imposing figure as he went to stand behind Adam and Natália’s chairs. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

The whole barn went silent. He waited a second or two longer, and Sara was pretty sure he leveled a glare at the man who’d made the previous toast.

“I’ve known these two people for a very long time.” A couple of chuckles came from the tables below. “And while in all those years I never dreamed this would happen, I’m happy for them. Genuinely happy.”

His gaze softened, and he put a hand on Natália’s shoulder. Tears gathered in her eyes as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Sebastian continued. “And while I gave them a hard time of it for a while, I can’t think of two people more deserving of happiness. May you have many years of it.” He raised his glass. “To my sister and my best friend. Cheers.”

Sara remembered to grab her champagne just in time to take a sip along with everyone else. Adam stood, and he and Sebastian embraced.

Then the groom held out his hand to Natália. “Dance with me.”

They made their way down to the floor where thick wooden planks had been fitted together to form a dance area. The music started back up, taking on a slower, more intimate tone that was perfect for the couple’s first journey around the room. Adam swept his new bride into his arms and smiled down at her.

It was beautiful. They were beautiful.

Her dad had made the right decision in having the wedding here, despite her earlier reservations. Sebastian sat back down, and only then did she realize he’d never lifted his glass to his mouth after giving his toast. Had he not meant what he’d said?

Struggling to find something to say, she settled for, “Nice job.”

He gave that wry smile that jerked at her tummy muscles. “Would you believe I wrote the words on my palm so I wouldn’t forget them?”

“No.”

She’d seen those hands, and there was nothing on them except a light, masculine dusting of hair. Neither had there been anything on them when his fingers had brushed her palm in a way that had shattered her composure.

His smile widened. “Well, I probably should have. I think that concludes my duties as best man. I am more than ready for that cachaça. Do you want to stay for the rest of the reception?”

She had a feeling his real motivation in wanting to leave was to avoid the toast maker from a few minutes ago. The same man he’d been trying to evade earlier? It had to be his father. Or stepfather, if she was reading the signs correctly.

Did she want to stay? He was obviously giving her an out.

She should take it and run.

And do what? Sit here all by herself while the happy couple—and everyone else—celebrated all around her?

No. She deserved a little bit of fun too, especially after all she had been through in the last several weeks.

“I’m not really interested in staying. Besides, I need to show you where the place is, remember?”

He studied her for a minute. “Are you sure? I probably won’t be in any condition to drive you home afterward.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl, and this is a very small town.”

“Let me tell Adam I’m leaving, then. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She had a feeling he wanted to make sure his friend could handle things with the older man, if they got out of hand.

A minute later, he was back beside her chair. “Okay, he cut me loose.”

They ducked out of the same entrance they’d come in at. By now, it was dark, the lights from the barn spilling out onto the ground. When they reached the parking area, he stopped in front of a sleek silver sports car.

“Are you sure you want to ride with me?”

There was something loaded about that question. The memory of his shoulder pressed tight against hers rolled through her mind, along with a warm, prickly sense of need.

This was a man who could help her forget the ache of loss in a way that no amount of champagne or Brazil’s famed sugarcane alcohol, cachaça, ever could. If she dared to let him.

And suddenly she realized that’s exactly what she wanted. To forget. For a few hours. Or an entire night. Whichever one he was offering.

“I’m very sure. I’ll ride with you.”

He paused for a second, then leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, the briefest of touches that left her trembling and wanting more. So much more.

When he opened the passenger side door, he murmured, “Buckle up, Sara, because if I’m reading this correctly, things could get very, very bumpy before the night is over.”

She sank into the plush leather seat and clicked her seat belt into place, yanking it tight. “Is that a promise?”

“It is now.” His fingers feathered across her cheek and were gone. “And I never go back on my word.”

* * *

It was all a blur.

Sebastian Texeira’s arm stretched to the side and found…nothing. Sitting up, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and glanced at the pillow on the bed next to him.

She was gone. Not even the indentation of her head remained. Should he be relieved or upset?

He wasn’t sure of anything right now.

Deep purple curtains hid the view outside. And the same gaudy color was splashed with a generous hand throughout the room.

Damn. A motel.

But it had been the closest place to the bar. Not an accident, obviously.

He groaned and fell back against his own pillow. He hadn’t even had the decency to take her to a respectable place?

The motels in his country were all used for the same thing. Cheap encounters at a cheap price. Normally the place where affairs took place.

The type of place his dad would have holed up for a few hours.

His father had been the reason he’d been hell bent on getting away from the wedding as soon as possible. He’d had no desire to talk to his parents. And that toast his dad had given had been cringe-worthy.

What he hadn’t expected was for Sara Moreira to offer to go with him. Or to climb into the taxi beside him as he’d headed for this place. Which meant his car was still at the liquor joint.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. Except as soon as he did, images of the frantic press of mouths and bodies moving deep into the night flashed behind his eyelids. He snapped them back open.

He lifted the purple bedspread and peered underneath.

Still naked. Damn.

Where were his clothes? He scanned the room.

There. On the dresser. His formalwear was neatly stacked and folded.

Relief was beginning to outweigh regret and the throbbing in his head. It was easier this way. She obviously didn’t want to be found here with him. And that was fine with him. He’d rather her dad not find out about this at all. Although Antônio Moreira was no longer his patient, it could still prove to be awkward.

Climbing out of bed and stalking toward the bathroom, he showered quickly, using the tiny bottles of products he found on the counter. They were untouched, the seals intact until he opened them. She’d left in a hurry, evidently.

He finished and toweled off, his nerves beginning to settle as he padded back into the bedroom.

It was okay. Yes, he’d had a few too many drinks. Yes, he’d shared a couple of hours at a motel with a beautiful woman.

That this was not his normal behavior didn’t matter. What was done was done.

The shock of his sister and his best friend deciding they were “in love” had still not worn off, almost a year later. He’d kept thinking it was just a phase, that they would get over it. They hadn’t. And as of yesterday they’d sealed the deal. They were married.

He shook off the thoughts, snagging his clothes from the dresser and jerking them on. He should have at least thought to bring along some jeans to change into.

Grabbing his wallet from the heart-shaped nightstand, his lip curled in disgust at the gaudy furnishings, an over-the-top nod to what the room was designed for, from the cheerful wicker basket of condoms on the dresser to the…

His gaze jerked back.

Condoms.

And three torn Cellophane wrappers.

He blew out a breath. At least they’d been protected. Both he and Sara were free and clear. And that’s the way he intended to keep it.

No weddings or rings in his future—he was strictly a best man kind of guy. Although as he’d held that ring over Sara’s hand, he’d had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Only here in the motel room, there was no ‘déjà’ and no ‘vu’. There was only him.

No wife. No children.

And “for as long as he alone shall live”, that was exactly the way it was going to stay.

CHAPTER ONE

Four weeks later

“WE’VE FINALLY HAD someone respond to our request for a nurse. It looks like your mobile screening unit is a go after all. We still need to discuss the start-up costs, though.”

The slums of Brazil weren’t the most desirable place to work, and yet Sebastian had hoped for more than just one taker so he could choose the most qualified individual. Especially since the memo had been sent out to hospitals in various states of the country.

He sat back in the chair and regarded Paulo Celeste, the hospital administrator. “The costs are all listed in the dossier. I know we have a couple of ambulances that are out of commission. If we could use one of those, it would cut costs tremendously. I’m donating my time, of course, so that will help as well.”

His trip to gaúcho country had brought more than just a wedding and a night in a motel, it had once again emphasized the need for screening services in areas where medical facilities were few and far between. Even in the state of São Paulo, there were rural locations that were difficult to access. And then there were the favelas. Hospital Santa Coração had a clinic in the slum down the hill, which was run by Lucas Carvalho. But if the mobile unit was up and running, they could go into some of the other areas as well.

The hospital administrator opened a folder on his desk. “So basically a portable ultrasound machine and some blood draw equipment?” The man peered a little closer. “And, of course, the nurse. She is willing to settle for the stipend listed as long as we provide her with lodging. Check and make sure there’s a place available in the hospital housing division.”

“Okay. And if there’s not?”

The administrator made a sound in his throat. “We can’t afford to rent her an apartment in the city.” He shuffled through a stack of files on the right-hand side of his desk. “She’s from a little hospital in Rio Grande do Sul. No local relatives. Her father was a patient here a while back, and she’s anxious to do an estágio in oncology. With the hiring freeze it’s a little tricky…but if there are no units in the hospital you could always consider housing her yourself.” The man gave him a sly smile.

“I don’t think so.” That was all he needed. He’d just hope there was something available. “The hospital bigwigs would probably frown on that kind of arrangement.”

“I am the bigwig, but yes. It was a joke. Professionalism is the key, especially in this kind of situation.”

“Of course.”

Wait. He flipped through his own mental file drawer. Rio Grande do Sul—wasn’t that where his sister’s wedding had taken place a month ago?

“Who was the patient?”

“I’d have to check. The daughter’s name is Sara Moreira.”

A stream of shock zipped up his spine. He knew exactly who that was.

Tall with legs that wouldn’t quit, and expressive eyes that reflected every single second…

Deus, it couldn’t be.

She was applying for the job?

“Does she know who the request came from?”

Paulo’s head tilted. “It came from Marcos Pinheiro, since he’s the head of oncology. Why?”

What was he supposed to say? “Oh, remember that whole professionalism is key thing? It’s already gone way beyond that.”

And boy had it. Several times. In multiple positions.

He swallowed hard. That was probably the dumbest move he’d ever made. And if he admitted to it here and now, his project was dead in the water. She hadn’t been a nurse at his hospital at the time, so there had been no problem. Right?

When Paulo started to hand him the file, he waved it away. “I know who she is.”

He wanted to tell the man, hell, no, he didn’t want her. Standing next to her at that wedding had made something in his gut churn to life, just like when he’d worked her father’s case. After a few drinks, things had gotten out of hand, and the rest was history. A crazy sensual history he was better off forgetting.

But if he said he wasn’t willing to accept this particular nurse, he would have to explain why, and that could make for a very awkward conversation. It could also mean the death knell for this project, since no one else had responded to their request. Was he looking a gift horse in the mouth here?

He’d certainly enjoyed kissing that mouth.

He took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “I can give her a try and see if she works out.”

The administrator shook his head. “We’d need to be able to offer her three months, minimum, and six months is what she prefers. She wants the experience, Sebastian. She can’t get it in less time than that. Take it or leave it.”

In other words, his pet project was resting on the answer to this one question.

The question was could he keep his hands to himself for that long? Yes. Some mistakes did not bear repeating, no matter how pleasurable they had been at the time.

“Sure. Why not.”

He could handle six months of anything. After all, he’d lived in a household that had been pure hell during the time Natália had been undergoing her cancer treatments. He’d never told his sister what he’d found out about their father. And seeing the jerk at her wedding had made a slow boil start up in his gut. It had been part of the reason he’d dragged Sara to the bar that night. To avoid having to interact with the louse that had cheated on his mother and made her cry, who had said terrible things about his sister when she’d been ill.

The folder slid back to Sebastian’s side of the desk. “Take this down to Human Resources, then, and tell them that I’m okaying the transfer.” The man tapped his pencil on the paper in front of him. “But I’m keeping six months as the maximum, and I’m holding you to these figures. So, keep the costs down as much as you can.”

Time for a little last-minute haggling. “I want to be up and running in a week or two.”

“A week or two? The ambulance needs to be painted at the very least. I don’t want anyone mistaking it for an emergency vehicle, especially if you’re taking it into the favelas.” His lips tightened. “And no narcotics of any kind are to be carried onboard, understood?”

The favelas could be dangerous places on a good day, and if someone thought that they could find drugs inside it would be a recipe for a disaster.

“Understood. I’ll make arrangements for the painting.” He wasn’t going to tell the administrator he already had a body shop lined up. A friend of a friend who was giving him a huge discount on the job.

“If this goes well, it will be great PR for the hospital. So make sure everything runs smoothly. No snafus, got it?”

“I understand.” And if there were snafus with Sara? What if she expected to take up where they’d left off at the motel, once she found out she’d be working with him? Although the fact that she’d disappeared before he’d woken up made him think she wouldn’t. There’d been no sexy good mornings. No breakfasts in bed. Just an empty motel room.

There would be no snafus. Sebastian would do everything in his power to make sure they were able to work together. As long as she was okay with keeping things purely professional.

And if she wasn’t?

Then she might very well make his life difficult. Or at least his job.

So he had to make sure that didn’t happen.

No matter how hard it became. At least for the next six months.

* * *

Sara was elated. Even though part of her had been dreading this trip for the last week.

Would she run into Sebastian? It had been five and a half weeks since they’d found themselves at that motel together. But they’d both had far too much to drink. He probably didn’t even remember that night. Not that she’d waited around to find out.

What did it matter? She had the job! Carrying her small suitcase up the walkway toward the huge modern hospital, she felt like she was coming home. She’d spent almost a year of her life at this place while her dad had undergone treatment—first chemo, and then surgery to replace part of his femur with an internal prosthesis, a surgery she hadn’t even known existed before they’d come here. That was when she’d realized how insulated her little world was.

Her dad’s care had been first class. His doctors had saved his life. And Natália, the neonatal doctor who had shared her personal story of surviving the same type of cancer, had infused him with the will to try. Sara really believed that. The two had become fast friends over the course of their time there. And if she had to face Natália’s brother at her new post, well, she would grit her teeth and bear it. He hadn’t tried to contact her since that night, but that was understandable, since she’d been the one to sneak out at the crack of dawn.

Her stomach gave a twinge of nerves, the butterflies she’d felt for the last week developing wings of steel as they flapped around her belly. Her dad was worried about her being this far away from home, but at twenty-six it was well past time she found her own wings and flew away. Even if they were waging war inside her at the moment.

She was pretty sure that in the big city men made love to women and then went on about their lives—wasn’t that how things were depicted on television? Thank God she’d never told her father what had happened that night. He would have been firmly against her coming here if he’d known, and it might tarnish his perception of Sebastian. Instead, Sara had simply told him that she’d spent the night with a friend after having one too many drinks.

And she had.

Pushing a buzzer at the entrance, she gave her name to the person who answered. The glass door promptly clicked open and she pushed through it, wiping Sebastian Texeira from her thoughts. At least for now.

The service entrance was well lit, the marble fittings she remembered being in the main corridor were echoed even here. Employees were treated well. You could tell by the care put into the details. They probably had to attract and keep the best talent in the country, so they treated them right. And now she was here. Among the best of the best. A place she’d never thought she’d be. The fact that it was only temporary made her determined to get as much as she could out of the experience. Maybe she would learn something she could introduce to her own hospital back home.

She swung into the door marked “Administration”, where she was supposed to meet some of the members of her team. As soon as she entered the room, however, she stopped, her heart stumbling for a beat or two. Sitting in a beige leather chair, one ankle propped on his knee, was the person she had just shoved from her mind. The wings in her belly turned into chainsaws, slashing at her innards and turning them to mush.

“What are you—?” She tried again. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to meet someone here.”

A someone who isn’t you.

His long legs uncurled as he stood upright. And he was much taller than she remembered, her neck having to tilt to look into his face, unusual for her. Of course, when you were horizontal, differences in heights didn’t—Stop it!

“I’m assuming that person is me.”

“Excuse me?” Shock streamed through her, washing away the saws, the wings and anything else that might still be cruising around inside her.

“Not who you were expecting?” His lips thinned, face turning grim. Other than that, not a hint of emotion flickered through those dark eyes. No “Hello, nice to see you again,” or “How have you been?”

So that’s how he wanted to play this. He was going to pretend he didn’t know her. Or maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe it had meant so little to him that he could just lock it away and hurl the key out into the universe. Something she should be doing as well. Maybe people here in São Paulo were like the hospital: cold and clinical. Wiped clean of anything that didn’t belong. Where she came from things were very different. She’d been a willing participant in his little game, so she was going to have to live with the consequences.

She’d wanted this job, had practically gotten down on her knees and begged her little clinic for the opportunity to come once she’d seen the ad go up on the staff bulletin board. So she’d better get over it or she was going to ruin everything.

“You’re in charge of the screening program?”

“I am. Partly because of your father.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“He made me realize that not everyone recognizes symptoms of illness before they’re advanced. I want to help change that by going into the poorer communities and working with people who wouldn’t normally come to the hospital.”

Her dad had made that happen?

And what about what had happened between her and Sebastian? Should she bring it up?

Why? So he could sit there and wonder if she was hung up on what had happened over the course of a few hours?

No way. If he could act like it hadn’t happened, then she damn well could too.

“I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

“That’s good. Staff at Hospital Santa Coração are already stretched thin. I couldn’t ask anyone to take this on pro bono.”

“I wasn’t aware this was an unpaid position. My understanding was that the estágio brought in a stipend. They quoted me a figure.” How was she going to support herself if she didn’t get paid?

“You’re right. It does. You were the only one to apply for the position…” He nodded toward another man in the room that she’d just noticed. That person’s eyes were studiously fixed on some document in front of him. “Did you want me to say no?”

He could have. He could have turned her down flat.

She swallowed. He’d said she was the only one who’d applied for the position. So, was she the only one who had raised her hand when he’d been looking for a sleeping partner at the wedding as well? The thought made her feel physically ill.

Doing her best to choke back the sensation, she drew herself up to her full height. “I guess you said yes.”

“And so did you.” His voice was soft as he said it, his glance studying her in a way that made her tummy ripple.

“Yes, and so did I. I actually thought I’d be working with Dr. Pinheiro, though.” So what if they’d slept together? It wasn’t like she’d had any expectations of that night other than what had happened.

But a motel? She’d never in her life set foot in one of those establishments and if anyone she knew found out…

They hadn’t. She’d crept out early in the morning, while it had still been dark and had asked the desk to call her a taxi, unable to look anyone in the eye. But she’d made it. And the experience had changed her in a way she didn’t quite understand.

She’d gotten over her ex-boyfriend once and for all.

“Marcos is the head of oncology. He signs all the request forms for the department. But this project is all mine.”

That made her swallow. She would be working with him? Only with him? If she had known that ahead of time, she might not have applied.

The other man looked up finally. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you. Dr. Texeira has found you a studio apartment in the hospital. Is that okay? Or would you prefer to make other arrangements?”

Like maybe get on the first plane out of here?

“The apartment will be fine, thank you. It doesn’t make sense to try to look for something else. I won’t have to worry about transportation to or from the hospital this way.”

Besides, the rents in many parts of the city were so high she wouldn’t be able to afford it on what she’d be making. And although it was comparable to her salary in Rio Grande do Sul, the amount wouldn’t go nearly as far here. A thought occurred. Would she have to travel to get to wherever they were going to do the screenings?

“Is there a metro that goes from here to the screening site?”

“No. We have a mobile unit. We’ll leave from the hospital together.”

“Leave? Together?” Okay, the way she’d separated the words gave them an entirely different meaning from his simple statement.

If he’d heard it, he ignored it, because he didn’t hesitate with his answer. “The hospital is converting an old ambulance for us. We’ll go to where our patients are, instead of waiting for them to come to us.”

The reality of the situation was creating a buzzing noise in her head. She had been told what the job opportunity was and had jumped at the chance. But then again, she hadn’t known at the time who she would be working with. And if what he was saying was true, they would be working together much more closely than she’d been expecting.

She’d assumed they would bump into each other periodically. Had even steeled herself for that possibility.

Get a grip, Sara! If it were any other doctor you wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.

But it wasn’t. It was Sebastian, a man she’d made passionate love with. Surely the hospital didn’t approve of workplace romances.

The incident had happened before she knew she was coming here, so that didn’t count, right? And since it was never going to happen again, it was a moot point.

And it was never going to happen again, even if Sebastian wanted it to. Although right now he looked all business. It didn’t matter. He might be able to play loose and easy with relationships, but Sara really wasn’t built that way, as was obvious from the way she kept obsessing over the same topic.

“Like you said, that will make it easy, then. I take it you live close by.”

He gave a half-smile. “Close enough.”

And what was that supposed to mean? She had no idea, but the sooner she got away from him the better. “Well, I guess I have some paperwork to fill out?”

“Yes.” He scooped up a file that was on a nearby table. “I have it right here. We can go over it together.”

Perfect. That was all she needed, to have to sit next to him and have him go over things. But she’d better get used to it if she was going to take the job. Because if what he’d told her was true, she was going to be sitting next to him day after day.

Until either the job was done. Or she was.

CHAPTER TWO

THE VEHICLE WAS PERFECT. But not too perfect, given where they’d be working.

Once an ambulance, but now painted a cool silver to reflect the fierce Brazilian heat, it was fully outfitted and ready to go. The hospital’s name was not emblazoned on the side, for fear that it would be a target for thieves who were looking for illegal drugs. In fact, there were little nicks in the paintwork and a dent marred one side. A picture of two hands, palms outstretched, was painted in muted colors. Nestled inside them were the words “Mãos Abertos.” The name was fitting since the hospital saw it as opening their hands to those in need. Below the hands was a mobile number that would ring through to a special cellphone that Sebastian would carry. Word would get around quickly about what the old ambulance did, and hopefully it would become a symbol of hope.

“What do you think?” he asked Sara, who stood a few yards away.

“It doesn’t look like a normal ambulance.”

“The hospital didn’t want it to. Besides, I’m hoping to take away some of the stigma—the fear of the unknown that comes with emergency vehicles.”

Like the time his teenaged sister had been hauled off to the hospital in a flurry of red lights and sirens, while he’d been left at home with his ailing grandmother, wondering if he would ever see her again. Her cancer diagnosis had devastated everyone. But she’d pulled through, thank God. It was one of the reasons Sebastian had gone into oncology.

To help people like his sister. He’d always felt that if she’d been diagnosed earlier maybe she wouldn’t have had to have an internal prosthesis in her arm. It was another reason why this mobile unit was his heart’s desire.

“So what will we do, exactly?”

“We’ll do things never attempted before.” Only when her teeth came down on her bottom lip did he realize how that sounded. He was doing his best to keep his cool, but failing miserably. He cleared his throat. “We’ll do screenings and teach people what to look for in themselves. We’ll check for enlarged thyroids, breast lumps, do pap smears, look for skin cancers. If we find something suspicious, we’ll refer them for testing.”

“To Santa Coração?”

That was one of the sticking points. Their hospital wasn’t part of the public sector, so the administrator would probably balk at them sending dozens of people their way. But Sebastian was already building relationships outside his hospital. Lucas Carvalho, who ran a free clinic inside one of the larger favelas, worked with a public hospital as well as Santa Coração. Lucas had agreed to partner with him and use the mobile unit as a springboard to expand his clinic’s reach. It was the perfect way to get started. Hopefully as time went on, Lucas could use this as a means to garner donations and grants from outside agencies, since he and his wife traveled with relief groups quite a bit.

“The sister hospital Dr. Carvalho works with is called Tres Corações. They’re willing to take up to fifty patients a month.”

“Fifty?” Her eyes widened. “You think we’ll refer that many people?”

“Probably not. It depends on how many are willing to be screened. The whole ‘ignorance is bliss’ attitude is the scourge of most health-care professionals.”

“Ignorance is death.” Her voice was soft, maybe remembering what Sebastian had once told her father when he’d tried to refuse treatment. Thank God the man had changed his mind—all thanks to his sister’s willingness to be vulnerable and share her own story with him. It was exactly what Sebastian was hoping would happen with this unit.

Sara pulled her hair over one of her shoulders, catching the long dark waves together in one hand, the ends sliding over the curve of her breast. It was something he’d seen her do at Natália’s wedding as well—he’d been fascinated by the way she’d kept twisting those silky locks. It had taken his mind off his best friend marrying Sebastian’s sister, something he still had trouble wrapping his head around.

She twisted the rope of hair tighter. Nervous habit? He wasn’t sure, but with her crisp white shirt and dark skirt she was the epitome of a professional nurse, but not quite what he was looking to put forth when they ventured into the neighborhoods. But he wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject without appearing to be dictating what she should and shouldn’t wear. It was just that climbing in and out of the back of the ambulance was going to be difficult enough as it was, and it was Sebastian’s hope to appear casual and approachable—engender trust where there was normally suspicion.

His gaze traveled down to her feet, where a hole at the toe of each shoe allowed a glimpse of pink sparkly polish, something that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of her attire. She’d had the same sparkly polish on at the wedding. He’d kissed each of those gorgeous toes of hers…

Her hair not being pinned up was another of those little idiosyncrasies. Maybe that’s what was with his continued fascination with it. His eyes traveled back up her bare legs.

He definitely didn’t want men ogling them as she got in and out of the truck.

Like he’d ogled them that night? And was still ogling them?

No, he was simply trying to decide how to best bring up the subject of their attire.

He’d worn jeans and a dark T-shirt today.

Her fingers twisted the rope of hair yet again and a corresponding knot in his throat formed and then squeezed shut. He swallowed to loosen it. “Do you want to see inside the vehicle?”

Time to get this show on the road and Sara out of his thoughts.

She nodded, moving around to the back with him. When he opened the doors and pulled down the steps he’d had installed for their patients, her brows went up.

“Maybe this isn’t the best thing to wear out on runs.” She released her hair, the locks tumbling free as her palms ran down the smooth line of her skirt.

Okay, here was his chance. “I think the more casual we are the better, if that’s okay. I want people to see us as allies rather than as authority figures. It’s why we put a few dents and dings in our vehicle.”

She seemed to think about that for a second. “That makes sense. I guess.”

Her slight hesitation over that last word made him frown. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Will people take us seriously?”

Professionalism was one of the things impressed upon students in medical school, and it was probably the same in the nursing sector. But he’d seen from Lucas’s own practice in the favela that his friend had fit in and become a fixture in that community. He almost always wore simple, even slightly tattered jeans. Maybe it wasn’t his clothing that did it, though. Lucas had been born in that very same favela. But Sebastian thought it went deeper than that, and he hoped to be able to build on Lucas’s success. Maybe they could be an example to other doctors who would then give their time and talents in other communities. Sebastian had taken a trip into the Amazon several years ago and had worked with a medical missionary who’d traveled to villages providing free health care. It had impacted him deeply.

Almost as deeply as his sister’s cancer journey.

And his parents’ simmering anger toward each other. And how he’d always felt the need to shield Natália from it.

He guessed he’d done something right, since she’d fallen in love and gotten married. Too bad he’d been the one to see all the ugliness first-hand. It had soured him on relationships and made him suspicious anytime a woman started wandering a little closer than he wanted.

Like Sara?

Totally different situation.

“I would hope so.” He climbed the metal steps that led into the back of the truck. “We also have a ramp we can use for people who have trouble climbing stairs. Do you want me to slide it out?”

Her pink lips curved, activating a dimple in her right cheek. “I grew up on a ranch, remember? I’m actually a tomboy at heart, so wearing jeans will be a welcome relief. I can manage.”

Okay, so much for wondering if she was going to be upset about not wearing scrubs or skirts. When her dad was being treated at the hospital, she’d always worn sleek tops and fashionable slacks. And at the wedding she’d looked like every man’s dream.

And she’d been his for a single heady night.

As for tomboy, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her in jeans. But now that he thought about it, the description might not be so off the mark. It was there in the loose-limbed way she walked. In the slight twang to her words. Maybe she’d felt she had to dress to match the hospital’s fancy decor.

Sara put her first foot on the bottom step, the narrow skirt tightening and exposing a pale knee. Her skin was fairer than that of most of the women he knew, maybe because Rio Grande do Sul had a large contingent of people with German ancestry. Her hair was dark, though.

“Okay, so a handrail might be useful for women who come for screening wearing skirts or dresses.” She paused.

He got the hint, reaching a hand toward her. Her fingers wrapped around his, and she made short work of the other three steps, coming to stand within inches of him. He released his grip in a hurry. “Point taken. I’ll have one installed.”

Anything to avoid having to touch her each time she went up or down those steps. Something about the way she stood in front of him…

An image flashed through his head of a woman straddling his hips, laughing down into his face at something he’d said, his words slurring slightly due to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. The sensation of being squeezed. Soft hands with a firm grip, just like hers had been a second ago.

His brain went on hyperdrive.

What was wrong with him?

Then, almost without volition, the words came out. “Why did you leave that night?”

Something in her eyes flashed, and she suddenly grabbed for the metal edge of the ambulance’s door opening.

Afraid she might fall out of the back—or turn and flee—he wrapped an arm around her waist and turned them both ninety degrees, the narrow aisle providing precious little room between their bodies. But it also meant she couldn’t run away.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her face had gone white.

Maybe she didn’t even remember the events of that night. Except something about the way those words had shot out of her mouth said she did. Along with her horrified expression. A stab of regret speared through his gut. He remembered most of it. But her leaving without saying goodbye bothered him somehow. Had he done something awful?

His jaws clamped together for several tense seconds while he tried to figure out what to say to make this right. He came up empty.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Are you okay?” Realizing his arm was still around her, he let it drop to his side.

Right on cue, her chin went up as if daring him to say anything further. “I’m fine. My father doesn’t know, though, so I’d prefer you not to discuss it with him or anyone else. We both agreed it was one night. No strings. No regrets.”

So why was he feeling a whole lot of that right now?

That warning about not discussing it was completely unnecessary, though. He wasn’t about to go trumpeting it to her father, or to anyone else for that matter. “I would rather keep it that way as well.”

His head was reeling, still trying to blot out the more explicit images from that night. As drunk as he’d been, he should remember a whole lot less than he did.

“You still didn’t answer the question. Why did you leave?”

“Um—because I wanted to. I would just as soon forget it ever happened.”

Maybe he really had done something horrible at the end? Passed out on her? Thrown up? Been unable to perform?

No. He could remember each of those performances in stunning detail. Three encores, to be exact. And nothing horrific in any of those memories.

And could there be a more self-centered list of things to be worried about? He didn’t think so—except for one glaring issue.

“We used…” he forced himself to spit the word out, changing the term at the last second “…protection. So we’re covered, right?”

“You don’t remember?”

He wasn’t sure what she was asking. Merda! He did not want to be having this conversation.

“Yes, but we’d both had a lot to drink. I wanted to make sure.” And if that wasn’t the lamest excuse ever.

“We’re good. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

But he was, for some unfathomable reason. He tried to find the cause—decided to settle for the truth. “I wasn’t that thrilled that my sister was getting married.” He shrugged. “I never saw it coming, actually, and when she fell in love with my best friend, I was… Well, I acted like a jerk.”

“Do tell.” The dryness of the words made him laugh.

“Shocking, I know.”

Her dimple appeared again. “Not so much.”

He took a deep breath, the urge to reach up and touch her sliding through him. He forced it back. “I’m sorry I dragged you along on my little joy ride of misery. Believe it or not, I don’t normally drink. Or seduce wedding guests.”

Mainly because his father had done a lot of that. His parents had battled relentlessly all during his sister’s illness. He’d finally realized they didn’t love each other—his dad’s dalliances proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. They had simply been staying together for their children—more specifically for Natália, because of her illness. It was one reason Sebastian had basically sworn off marriage and children. What if it didn’t last? Would he follow his parents’ example and stay in a miserable marriage because of any offspring he might have? They’d already been expecting him when they’d got married. He knew that for a fact. Sebastian, like most children, was attuned to whether his parents loved and respected each other—or when they didn’t.

“You didn’t have to seduce me. I wanted to go. Even though, I’ve never…” her smile faded “…spent the night at a motel with someone I barely know.”

A few more curse words tumbled around in his head. Had she been a virgin?

Before he could ask, she shook her head. “No, not because of that. I just don’t normally go to motels. Especially not with a stranger.”

Neither did he.

They knew each other in a superficial way because of her father, but for all intents and purposes she was right.

“Hell, Sara, I’m sorry. I have no idea what—”

She stopped his words with a raised hand. “Don’t. It’s over and done with. Let’s just do our jobs and keep the past where it belongs—in the past.”

Much easier said than done. And if the flashes of memory kept replaying in his head every time they worked together?

Well, he would just do what she’d suggested and put it behind him. Except Sara was standing in front of him looking too beautiful for words. A shaft of sunlight ventured in through the open door and touched the hair over her left shoulder, infusing the strands with gold. The sight tugged at something inside him.

“You’re right. I’ll try not to mention it again. Or even think about it.” Those last words came out rough-edged, and he knew they were a lie. He’d already been thinking about it. And his body was torturing him with whether or not they might be able to do any of those things again.

No. They couldn’t.

“Neither will I.” Her voice was soft. Almost a whisper. As if she sensed the turmoil that was chewing up his gut and was answering it with some of her own.

Not good. Because his gaze slid to her lips. Came back up to her eyes, where he saw it. The slightest shimmer of heat beneath the cool brown irises.

“We’ll put it behind us.”

“Absolutely.”

“Starting right now.”

“Yes.” The tip of her tongue peeked out, moistening her lips before darting back in. He wanted to follow it. Find it.

No, this was not good. Only it had been. Far too good.

He gave a pained groan.

“Sara?” His palms came up and cupped her cheeks, relishing the cool softness of her skin against his.

“Yes.”

There was no question mark after that single word. No “Yes? What do you want?” It was more like she’d breathed, “Kiss me. It’s what we both want.”

It had been what they’d both wanted on that fateful night.

He wanted it to happen again, his body already responding to the stimuli of having her this close. And it was too much.

Tilting her face, he met her halfway, his mouth covering hers in a way that muttered, Home. Finally.

Even though it wasn’t. It was merely a stopping place.

But, damn, the burst of steam that zipped through his veins erased that notion in a split second. He suddenly didn’t care about stopping places or anything else. Instead, he shifted so that the angle was perfect.

And it was. Her lips were warm and giving and the tongue that had played peek-a-boo with his senses a second ago was back, coaxing him to sneak away with her, luring him just like those sirens of old. Without hesitation he ducked inside, finding heat and wetness that shoved his body further down a forbidden road, a growing pressure behind his zipper impossible to ignore.

Sara’s hands went behind his back and slid upward until they curved around his shoulders, her body coming into full contact with his.

Maybe she felt the same sudden urgency that he did.

It was only when one of his hands left her face to pull the door next to him shut, only to have it bounce off something with a loud clang, that he realized how far gone he was. How far gone they both were.

Their lips came apart at exactly the same time, Sara being the first to come to her senses, uncurling her arms and pushing at his chest.

He released her and tried to take a step back, but his butt hit the metal counter behind him, stopping him from retreating any further.

Her mouth was pink and moist, lips still parted as she drew in several breaths.

He glanced to the side to see what had happened with the door and realized the metal steps had stopped it from closing.

Graças a Deus. Because otherwise…

What exactly would he have done? Tossed her onto that counter and made love to her? In the hospital parking garage?

What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been. That was the problem. Just like the night of the wedding. He’d been operating off pure lust.

Gripping that very same metal counter, he tried to get his bearings. Saying he was sorry was going to be met with angry words. But what else could he do?

“I take it that wasn’t what you meant by ‘putting this behind us’.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

“Not exactly. No.”

“So what do we do? I worked hard to get this estágio, and I’m not going to let a little thing like this make me run home with my tail tucked between my legs.”

A little thing like this? This was pretty damn huge in his book. He never mixed work with personal stuff. Ever. It was just the shock of being alone with her again. But it stopped right here.

“I would never ask you to go home. You’re here, and so am I. This project can’t go forward without both of us, so we are going to have to figure this thing out. Fast.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“By making sure we are alone as little as humanly possible.”

She blinked. “Isn’t that a little unrealistic? We’ll be driving around together in this thing—alone—in order to do our jobs.”

Maybe, but right now it was the only way. Because his head was still wrapped around the taste of her, the scent of her hair, the sounds of her breathing as they’d been fused together. “If you can think of a better option, I’m all ears.”

And mouth. And raging hormones.

She bit her lip. “I can’t.”

Neither could he. He was appalled that his body had responded with an immediacy that had yanked him from that fully-in-control-but-fake-as-hell persona he liked to cloak himself in. It had exposed the true Sebastian Texeira. And he didn’t like it. At all.

“We can still do this. We have to do this. Otherwise I might as well turn this mobile center back over to the hospital and forget I ever asked for the funds to try.”

“Which means there would be no reason for me to stay in São Paulo.” Her eyes sought his. “The hospital wouldn’t keep me on?”

“I could talk to them and ask—”

“No. I want to do this. I need to do this.”

“Why?” He wasn’t quite sure what had driven her to come here. She’d probably made more money in Rio Grande do Sul.

“When my dad was sick, I realized how isolated my little hospital was. Doing things the same way as they’d been doing them for decades. I want to make a difference.”

“I’m sure you already have.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but I saw the effect you, Natália and Adam had on my father. I want to be a part of something like that. To take back new ideas and ways of doing things.” She motioned around the inside of the truck. “This is exactly what I’ve been looking for. And I’m not going to let an embarrassing lapse in judgment stand in the way of that. Neither one of us should, if you’re as serious as I think you are about doing this.”

“I am.”

“Then let’s focus on that, okay?”

She was right. He knew she was.

The only thing left was to get his body to agree to forget this “lapse in judgment”, as she’d put it, had ever happened.

Only he knew that was going to be almost impossible.

So he was just going to have to pull that cloak tighter and pretend. And hope to God that Sara never saw the truth.

CHAPTER THREE

SIX WEEKS.

That time frame rattled around in her head over and over as she sat in the cab of the truck beside Sebastian.

Stress. A change of jobs.

Working with a man she’d slept with.

Slept. With.

Those two words linked arms with the other two words and began to dance a little jig in her stomach. Right beside the butterflies that had never left.

Six weeks.

She couldn’t be. They’d used protection. All three times.

Oh, God.

“Have you ever visited a favela?”

The question slid past her before turning in a smooth circle and coming back at her. “I’m sorry?”

He glanced at her with a frown. “I asked if you’d ever been to a favela.”

“Yes.” She blinked back the growing fear. “I think all cities have some kind of slum. There was one a few miles from our house. It was fairly safe—run by a group of women who decided to fight back against the image that all favelas are dangerous, drug-infested places. They had to give the okay for anyone new to move in.”

“This one is not like that. It has had—and still does have—a drug presence. You’ll need to be on the lookout for any unusual activity.”

She was. Only that unusual activity wasn’t happening outside the windows of the mobile unit. It was happening deep inside her body. And there was a sense of panic that said the unthinkable could very well be reality.

But it couldn’t. It was—while not impossible, it was highly unlikely.

Except hadn’t she read recently about a spate of condom tamperings across the country? A fad where kids dared each other to go into stores unnoticed and stab pinholes in packages? It had caused an uptick in unwanted pregnancies. And STDs.

Deus. STDs. An even stronger spurt of alarm went through her.

Surely she was safe. The condoms had been provided by the motel. There were quality control checks. There had to be.

At a motel?

Those establishments were gorgeous on the outside with their high walls, beautiful signs and manicured landscapes. But the elegant facade hid what really went on behind the entry gate. Sex. Lots of it. Mostly between people who weren’t married—or who were, but not to each other.

It’s okay. You’re overreacting. It’s an easy thing to check.

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