Tina Beckett - The Dangers Of Dating Dr Carvalho

She sucked in a breath then released it in a slow, steady current of air. “That doesn’t really have anything to do with this situation. You’re Marcos’s brother, and he’s a special friend.”

Exactly how special?

He shook his head clear of that thought. His brother had said he’d had trouble picturing Sophia as an adult so surely... Besides, Marcos and Maggie were evidently an item now. And Sophia didn’t act as if she was jealous. In fact, she seemed genuinely happy for them.

With gloved fingers she took hold of his arm. “You might want to look away.”

This time Lucas was the one who lifted his brows. “I think I can handle it.”

“Okay.” She put the cotton ball over the catheter and slid it free of his vein, then pressed on it lightly. “Hold this for a few seconds.”

He blinked at her then gave the arm in the sling a little wiggle, grimacing when it hurt more than he’d expected. “Kind of hard to do that right now.”

Her face turned pink. “Oh. That’s right. Sorry.” She kept pressure on his wrist with her thumb for a few seconds, fingers curling around his wrist. The contact lasted long enough that Lucas began to wish he’d used his chin or something else to hold onto that cotton ball as the warmth of her skin was quickly cutting through the chill of the room.

At last she eased the compression and lifted the gauze to look. “That should do it.” She dropped the cotton ball into a basin then quickly peeled apart a sticking plaster and applied it over the puncture mark.

Dragging a nearby chair to the bed, she dropped into it and regarded him with serious eyes.

“What?” For the first time he wished he actually had some real clothes on, because if a certain part of him decided to go rogue, it was going to be awfully difficult to conceal it.

“The doctor was right. We need to work out the details.”

“Of?” He decided to play stupid.

“How things between us are going to work.”

Okay, that rogue part was already feeling the heat.

Think of something else.

Should he refuse her offer of help? Or should he suck it up and decide to make the best of a bad situation? He’d asked her to tell him about their shared past, so he could look at it as a way to kill two birds with one stone. “How many bedrooms does Marcos’s apartment have?”

“Two, of course.” She leaned back and crossed her legs. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered to stay.”

“Right.” And she’d just made everything worse because now he was picturing a single shared bed and Sophia’s lush figure sprawled across the mattress.

She fiddled with the hem of her top. “Besides, you weren’t worried about the number of bedrooms a few minutes ago when you were talking about hiring a nurse.”

Bingo. But then again he doubted any other nurse was going to mess with his head the way this particular one did. And he had no idea why she affected him so much. He’d love to blame it on the pain meds, but as he’d refused to take anything yesterday or today, that was impossible.

“I wasn’t expecting a hired nurse to actually spend the night.”

“Oh. I think that’s what the doctor intended, though.” She smiled at him, her brow clearing. “I’ve taken the rest of the day off, so whenever you’re ready we can get your discharge papers signed and be on our way.”

Something about that rattled around in his brain for a moment or two before he realized what he was looking for. “You were already going to offer to stay with me, weren’t you, even before the doctor said anything? Why?”

“Because Marcos asked me to.”

Ah, yes. His brother, the saint. Sophia would never have agreed to do it on her own, evidently.

Even though he knew his waspish reaction was childish, he couldn’t help it. Lucas had often felt guilty over the years, wondering if his brother had been adopted as well. Finding out he hadn’t been...that he’d spent most of his childhood in that orphanage...was hard to swallow. He had no idea why his folks hadn’t taken them both, and by the time he’d been old enough to have asked, he’d rarely thought of the life he’d left behind in Brazil. And what memories he’d had weren’t ones that would make him proud.

And yet he’d permanently inscribed his father’s name on his arm, along with a rod of Asclepius and the words “Promises Kept” written beneath it. He did remember both he and his brother promising their father they’d become doctors—that they’d make him feel better. Of course they hadn’t been able to keep the last part of that promise. Their father had died, leaving them orphans.

To take his mind off those morbid thoughts, he slid off the bed and stood. “Well, since you seem determined to stay at the apartment, I do have one rule about this whole setup.”

“And what’s that?” Sophia stood as well.

“I don’t want any help in the bathroom. So if you could leave me to my own devices when I’m in there, I’d appreciate it.”

Her eyes went wide. “Tell me you don’t do drugs.”

What the hell?

“Of course not. Where’d you get that idea?”

“If you don’t want anyone near the bathroom while you’re there...”

“Because I intend to bathe and...” he shrugged “...do whatever else I need to do all by myself. I don’t need your help.”

A little scoffing sound came from her lips. “You might surprise yourself and actually ask for my help.”

That rogue part of him began stirring right on cue, forcing him to shift his stance.

She’s not helping you with anything, you idiot. The doctor—and Marcos—want her there in the event you have an aneurism or something.

Which might be now, actually, because he was desperately trying to keep his mind off the tightening sensation in his groin that just wouldn’t let up.

If she didn’t hurry and get him some pants, he was going to embarrass both of them. “Let’s just agree to play it by ear for the next couple of days. Now, if you could send me in the general direction of my clothes...”

“Oh, about that...”

She seemed flustered all of a sudden. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes. Kind of.” She made a production of sliding the chair back against the wall. When she faced him again, her face was back to that delicious pink color he was beginning to enjoy. “You don’t actually have any clothes.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHAT DO YOU mean, I don’t have any clothes?”

Lucas’s narrowed eyes made her want to take a step back but she forced herself to hold her ground. “You were shot, remember? Twice. You were bleeding profusely when you arrived, and we had to...cut them off.”

She expected him to focus in on the last part of her sentence, but instead his gaze sharpened. “We had to?”

Licking her lips, she tried to explain. “I don’t mean we, literally. I mean the team who worked on you.”

“I see.”

Did he? Because he sure didn’t act like it. She didn’t understand why he was so upset all of a sudden. He acted like they’d done something obscene to him while he’d been lying helpless on that table. “I assure you everyone acted professionally.”

“Were you there?”

“Well, no, but—”

“You weren’t?” The line of his jaw relaxed so suddenly that she found her own muscles untensing as well.

“No. None of us knew who you were when you arrived.” She hurried to add, “That ‘us’ is also figurative.”

“It’s okay.” He gave a half-shake of his head that seemed self-deprecating, his mouth twisting into a half-smile. And just like that his mood shifted back toward that of the charmingly flippant man who’d strolled toward her desk less than a week ago. The man whose ass she’d never quite got a good look at. “But I don’t think I should leave the hospital like this, do you?”