…’ Stevie’s mind tried to work through what the man was saying. ‘You didn’t sleep here last night?’
‘Mateus said it was too hot.’
The fiery color moved from Matt’s neck to the tips of his ears. ‘What I said was it was cooler out there.’ He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the deck before turning away. ‘Let’s get that breakfast you mentioned.’
As he moved out of the room, Stevie wondered why he’d let her believe that he’d slept below her the whole night when obviously he hadn’t. He’d even talked about what a disaster it would have been if she’d fallen on top of him, all the while knowing it hadn’t been a remote possibility.
Had it all been an act? Or had he simply woken up to a stuffy room and moved his bed onto the deck?
Except Tiago’s shifting seemed to indicate what he’d done wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Which implied he normally stayed in his room.
All night.
Stevie stopped off at the restroom to dress and wash her hands and face the best she could. When she finally made it to the dining area, she’d halfway composed herself.
She filled the plate Nilson gave her and found Matt already sitting at the picnic-style table. Dropping onto the bench across from him, she set the food in front of her. ‘You know, I can sleep on deck if you’re uncomfortable sharing the room with me.’
‘I told you why I moved. Besides, it’s not good for Tiago and Nilson to have to worry about tiptoeing around during the night.’ He glanced down at his plate. ‘Or finding a half-dressed woman on deck. I’d prefer you sleep in the bedroom.’
He had a point. But it didn’t seem fair to have kicked him out of his own bed. She glanced at the small eating space. ‘How about this, then? We can string your hammock up in here before you go to bed and then stow it in the mornings.’
Tiago, who’d evidently been listening in on their conversation—putting paid to her hope that he didn’t understand English—chimed in, ‘This is a good idea, Mateus. I will install some strong hooks in the wall and center beam … and one in the ceiling for the mosquito net you insist on everyone using.’ He paused, fiddling with his fingers. ‘Although I understand now why it is so important.’
Matt nodded, a shadow passing through his eyes before he switched over to Portuguese. ‘Thank you, my friend.’
Turning his attention to Nilson, he asked, ‘How long before we reach the village?’
‘We should arrive sometime before dinner.’
‘Good. I’d like to go over the charts with you and decide our schedule for the next couple of weeks.’ He glanced at Stevie.
‘Can you fend for yourself for a little while? We’ll still need to discuss our … story before we reach the village, though.’
She tensed. Their story. How could she have forgotten about that? She forced a smile to her lips, wondering what he had in mind. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Shall we meet back here in, say, three hours?’
‘That sounds good.’
Three hours. Just enough time to focus some of her nervous energy on something other than the situation at hand.
Stevie ran a forearm over her damp brow, the piece of fine-gauge steel wool gripped between her fingertips.
Okay, boat varnish was a whole lot tougher than the glossy finish on the floors in her apartment in New York.
Which she guessed was a good thing, since the stuff was holding up nicely, despite being pitted and dark with grime. She’d hoped her scrubbing would take off the dirt and leave the finish intact. And that’s exactly what was happening.
And that nervous energy she’d been worried about?
Gone. Washed away by rivers of sweat.
Kneeling on a towel to protect her legs from the scorching surface of the deck, Stevie leaned closer to her work area and rubbed at the one-foot section of planking. She paused to adjust her bikini top, admiring the area she’d just cleaned. It might take for ever, but hidden beneath layers of dirt the wood was a rich, glossy mahogany.
Just like the dark sun-kissed hair of the man she’d be working with. So different than Michael’s blond hair and fair skin. The only thing they had in common were their blue eyes. But while Michael’s were darker and sparkling with intelligence and determination, she hadn’t noticed the flecks of cruelty that lay just below the surface until it had been too late. In one careless blow, he’d destroyed their future together, and then, when she’d dared to call him on it, reached out in a rage and crushed her dreams as well. It had only taken one phone call to a few key board members, and she’d been as good as finished.
She shuddered. Michael’s eyes were definitely not her favorite feature. Not any more.
Matt’s, on the other hand, seemed … She searched for the right word.
Haunted.
She scrubbed harder, forcing her fingers to the task. Why was she even comparing the two men?
A bead of moisture dripped into her eye, and she shook her head, as much to rid herself of any stray thought as to relieve the burning. She settled for blotting it on her bare shoulder, wishing she’d scrounged up a second towel to wipe her face. At this rate, her huge bottle of sunblock wouldn’t even last a full day. She peered at the large area of deck behind her.
Three feet down. Thirty or so more to go.
She groaned aloud and pulled the brim of her baseball cap further down her forehead, thankful for the slight shade it provided, and went back to work. It couldn’t be easy, keeping up a boat while tending to patients—and she had a feeling money was tight on the hospital ship. But surely someone could have tried to do something for the poor thing. It seemed weary of life in general.
It’s not a living thing, Stevie. It’s just a boat.
Maybe Michael was right when he’d poked fun of the Projeto Vida article. Maybe coming here had been crazy on more than one count, but she hadn’t been able to just stay in New York and watch him run her reputation into the—
‘You don’t have to do that.’
The steel wool went spinning out of her hand, and she scrabbled for it, almost doing a face plant onto the deck. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Matt standing just behind her, a pair of khaki shorts and grey shirt covering his powerful frame. Tanned feet, the lightest smattering of dark hair visible on top, were shoved into a pair of beige flip-flops.
She sat up in a rush, praying her top was still glued to the right spots. ‘I thought we’re agreed to meet in three hours.’
‘Someone tattled on you, and I had to come see for myself.’
His brows went up, his glance trailing over her. ‘So this is what a vascular surgeon looks like when swabbing the decks.’
She stood, all too aware of how grubby she must look in comparison to Matt’s neatly
