Doctor's Guide To Dating In The Jungle. Tina Beckett

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Doctor's Guide To Dating In The Jungle - Tina Beckett Mills & Boon Medical

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that you’ve seen the boat?’

      Her shoulders straightened. ‘I knew what I was signing on for.’

      ‘That would normally be my cue to argue and give you one more chance to change your mind, but we’re already behind schedule. And, as Tracy continually reminds me, I really could use the help. I’ll be right back.’

      Once he asked Nilson to cast off, he gave Stefani the tour, stopping by the restrooms first. He suppressed a smile when her nose wrinkled at the mention of river water being pumped in for showers. ‘We do run it through a filter, so you won’t find anything crawling through your hair when you’re done.’

      ‘Ugh. It’s better not to put images like that in my head.’

      When they arrived at the examination room, her eyes widened. ‘This is amazing.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I have to admit, you had me worried for a while.’

      He peered at the room, trying to see the space through her eyes. ‘How so?’

      ‘When I saw the outside of the boat and the … er, restroom … Let’s just say I wondered what I might find in here. But it’s spotless.’ She touched the gleaming chrome handle of the scrub sink. ‘Does this water come from the river as well?’

      ‘Yes, but it goes through a steam process, then stored in a sterile tank prior to use.’

      ‘It seems you’ve thought of everything. How are the instruments sterilized?’

      ‘Same method. Afterwards, they’re shrink-wrapped into kits. It’s time-consuming, but we don’t do many surgeries.’

      She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to her high cheekbones and long dark lashes. There was a china-doll delicacy to her that made him wonder what crazy impulse had led her to sign up for a tour down the Amazon. Was she trying to prove something to herself? To someone else?

      Wandering to the center of the room, she paused between the twin stainless-steel exam tables. ‘These are top of the line. This set up must have cost a small fortune.’

      ‘Yes. Which is why the rest of the boat looks a little worse for wear.’ It was a half-truth, and he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend the ship’s condition, but now that the words were out, he stubbornly expanded on them. ‘We put as much money as possible into caring for our patients. As long as the ship is solid and in good mechanical order, I figure the doctors and crew can afford to scrimp on the little things.’

      She laughed. ‘Like real beds.’

      ‘Actually, no. Hammocks are more practical. No risk of bedbug infestations or other creepy crawlies that can hide inside a mattress. And they’re cooler than traditional beds. I think you’ll be surprised at how comfortable they are.’

      He omitted the fact that the beds swung gently with every movement, whether that movement came from the boat or from other, more sensual, activities.

      She tilted her head and looked up at him as if she could read his thoughts. ‘I’ll have to re-evaluate some of my opinions.’

      Time to put some space between them and the subject of beds. ‘Anyway, as far as this particular room goes, we need to keep the risk of contamination to a minimum. Which means access is limited to doctors and patients.’

      ‘Understood. Do you ever keep patients overnight?’

      ‘On occasion. If we’ve had to operate, for example. Or if …’ he forced air into his lungs ‘… one of the team becomes ill and we have to transport them to a major city.’

      She paused, her eyes sliding across his face. Her pupils dilated, and compassion flared within their depths. ‘You’ve had to do that, haven’t you? Transport a team member.’

      He couldn’t go down this road. Not today. Trying to head off any further questions, he checked his watch, relieved to find it was almost noon. ‘Let’s go see what Tiago has come up with for lunch.’

      Lunch turned out to be a one-pot meal called carurú do Pará, featuring dried shrimp and okra. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted, but delicious just the same.

      ‘Do you like it?’ Matt asked, forking a piece of shrimp into his mouth.

      ‘It’s wonderful. I’ve never had okra in anything but jambalaya.’

      Tiago, who she’d found out was the team’s cook, nodded. ‘Good, yes?’

      Reverting to Portuguese, she asked what other kinds of dishes were popular in the region. Smiling, he rattled off several names, but the words were unfamiliar. It was amazing how two languages could be the same and yet so very different.

      Matt must have noticed her confusion as well. Keeping the conversation going in Portuguese, he asked, ‘Your accent is different. Where did you learn the language?’

      ‘I lived in Portugal for seven years as a child. My father worked at the American Embassy.’

      ‘That explains it.’

      His furrowed brow made her sit a bit taller. ‘Is there something wrong with the way I speak?’

      ‘Not at all. But you’ll find sentence construction is a little different here.’

      ‘I’ve noticed.’

      Tiago spoke up. ‘I think your accent is very nice, Miss Stefani.’

      She smiled her thanks. ‘Stefani is my formal name, but all my friends call me Stevie. Won’t you do the same?’

      ‘Sh-tée-vee?’ He struggled to get the name out, and she noticed Nilson—busy manning the helm, his plate balanced on the control panel—mouthed the word as well.

      ‘Perfect,’ she said.

      Matt just shook his head. ‘From Stefan, to Stefani, to Stevie. No wonder I was confused about your gender.’

      ‘And now? Are you still confused?’

      ‘Confused?’ His lips tilted in a sardonic smile. ‘More than ever.’

      With that cryptic statement he stood and walked to the sink, carrying his plate. Since Tiago and Nilson followed his lead, she shoveled one last mouthful of the delicious meal into her mouth and stood as well. ‘Thank you so much for lunch. It was wonderful.’

      ‘I’m glad you liked it.’ After Matt ducked through the door, Tiago leaned in a bit closer and whispered, ‘I think you will be good for Mateus. He misses his wife very much.’

      Wife? Matt was married? Oh, Lordy, and she’d practically insisted on playing share-sies with his bedroom. What was she thinking?

      ‘Where is she? His wife, I mean.’ The words were out before she could stop them. But she wanted to know. Because other arrangements definitely had to be made. No wonder he’d offered to sleep with the crew. Her face flamed. She’d told him not to worry about her throwing herself at him and yet she’d offered to sleep right above the man’s head. Surely he didn’t think—

      ‘His

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