Tina Beckett - The Dangers Of Dating Dr Carvalho

She moved over to him and laid a hand on his arm. “What are you talking about? You disarmed him, Lucas. You saw how he threw me across the room like a toy. If you hadn’t stepped in to help, who knows what damage he could have caused?” She frowned. “Speaking of damage, how are your stitches?”

“They’re not happy, but they’re still there. I’ll be glad when the damned things come out.”

Paulina wheeled an office chair around the desk and put it behind him. “Sit, before you fall down.”

“I’m fine.” Despite his words, he carefully lowered himself into the chair. Was he really okay? Or just saying that for her and Paulina’s benefit?

“How about your side? Did he get you?”

“No. Believe me, I was keeping everything of value as far out of the reach of that scalpel as I could.”

Paulina giggled at the words, although it took Sophia a second or two to get his meaning. Then her face heated in a rush, and her glance instinctively dropped to his lap. “Oh.”

“Yeah. As it was, no harm done.” He dragged a hand through his hair, pausing to rub the area of his scalp where the patient had pulled his hair. “I’ll give you this, Nurse Limeira, you sure do run an exciting ward here.”

She laughed. “All in a day’s work, Dr. Carvalho.”

He sighed and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes for a second or two.

Hmm, the man really did look a bit shaky. Maybe it was time to get him out of there. “Are you still feeling well enough to be discharged today? Or do you want to stick around for one more night?”

“And risk another scene like that one?” He shook his head. “I think I’m more than ready to leave. A nice—quiet—apartment is sounding better and better.”

She glanced at Paulina, who seemed positively starstruck by Lucas, even going as far as to twirl a strand of her bleached-blonde hair around her index finger as she watched him.

Even injured, he had the same effect on other women that he’d had on her when she’d been little. A tiny part of her wondered if she was the only one he’d forgotten. Maybe he didn’t remember any woman he’d had contact with. He was handsome enough that he could have his pick—just look at Paulina. And maybe he did just that. Maybe he went through them so fast that none of them made a lasting impression.

Her mood took a sudden nosedive. She needed to remember her earlier admonition to steer clear of him as much as possible. Not that it was going to be possible as she’d volunteered to sleep over. If it weren’t for her longstanding friendship with Marcos, she wouldn’t have offered in the first place. But she had, and she felt obligated to go through with it.

Well, just because she had to sleep near him, it didn’t mean she was going to sleep with him.

She blinked. Why had that thought even come up?

Maybe because she’d gotten a good glimpse of rock-hard thighs and a nice tight tushie during the struggle with Ronaldo.

Yep, visions of sponge baths were now dancing through her head.

Well, there’d be none of that. Not here. Not at Marcos’s apartment. She was simply there to make sure the man didn’t fall and suffer a concussion.

Although if he didn’t wipe that knowing smirk off his face, a concussion wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. And she’d be the one inflicting it.

She stepped in front of Paulina in an effort to snap the woman back to reality. “Well, I guess that’s settled. Before we have any more mishaps, maybe we should find you something to wear and get you out of here.”

CHAPTER FIVE

AT LEAST HE didn’t have to wear his brother’s clothes.

Lucas knew it was a strange thing to be thankful for, but he was borrowing his brother’s apartment, sleeping in his brother’s bed, and making use of his brother’s friend.

No. She was their friend. At least, from what Marcos had told him.

Damn, if only he could remember.

Right now, Sophia was brewing coffee in his brother’s kitchen as if she’d done it a million times. That thought made him uneasy and he wasn’t sure why.

He should be grateful for all she was doing for him. And he was. After all, she’d gone to his hotel and arranged for his things to be taken to Marcos’s place. And he hadn’t had to watch her actually carry his stuff into the building while he’d trailed along behind.

Unlike her own suitcase. Which he’d been painfully aware he couldn’t offer to carry. It made him feel useless, something he wasn’t used to.

Perched on his brother’s couch, the scent of coffee hit his nose, and he breathed deeply as he surveyed his surroundings. Modern furnishings, almost painfully so, were strategically placed, from the black leather sofa and swivel recliner to the low black cabinet where a flatscreen television sat at eye level. A photo to the left of the set caught his attention.

Struggling to his feet while trying to ignore the fierce burning in his shoulder—a direct result of the scuffle at the hospital—he moved toward the picture.

“Do you want café com leite? Or do you take your coffee black?” Sophia’s voice came from behind him, distracting him for a second, and when he turned his head he found her peeking around the corner, a few locks of sleek black hair sliding over one bare shoulder as she leaned to the side. She flipped the strands back with a quick shake of her head, leaving a long line of tanned skin that seemed to call out to him.

Damn. He knew she had a shirt on, he’d seen it—some kind of fluttery green thing that wrapped around her just above the swell of her breasts. There were no straps, though, so right now all he could think about was how she’d look if she stood in that exact pose without the shirt. And, boy, could his imagination drum up a pretty good set of possibilities.

“Lucas?” she said. “What do you want in your coffee?”

Besides you?

He shook himself back to reality. “Just a couple of drops of sweetener, if Marcos has any.” Artificial sweetener in Brazil came in plastic bottles, he’d found, although some of the higher-end coffee shops carried packets of the stuff, along with sugar.

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.” A quick smile accompanied the words, and she popped back into the kitchen.

Lucas braced a hand on the television stand, swearing softly. He probably should have suggested that he hole up in his hotel room for another couple of weeks. Had suggested it, in fact, once his discharge papers had been written up, but Sophia had held him to his promise of letting her help—compliments of his brother. Again. The tattoo on his arm was a constant reminder that he kept his word when at all possible. He hadn’t been able to keep much of anything else in his life—not even his real last name—so it was the one thing he’d felt he had control over.

So he was stuck with her. For now.

Brazilian women tended to dress to accentuate their curves, and Sophia was no exception. There was no way he was going to tell her to change for his benefit. But he also hadn’t expected to be knocked for a loop by seeing her out of her customary scrubs either.

The slim white jeans she wore hugged her body, cupping her curves in all the right places. Then there was that blouse, the deep green fabric snug on top before floating down around her hips, the silky fabric molding to her form whenever she moved. It was almost long enough to be a dress—a teeny-tiny one. And those heels...

Whew.

Despite the sexy clothes, there was a youthful innocence to Sophia, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why she gave off that vibe. It wasn’t that she was a child—he shifted his aching shoulder as he turned back toward the framed photo on the television table—far from it. But there was a certain joie de vivre that clung to her as tightly as her narrow slacks. Strange that she would give off that kind of glow, despite growing up in a bare bones orphanage. Or after what she must have gone through with her facial surgery.