So what? She wasn’t here to bask in anyone’s praise. She’d come to help people.
The memory of Michael’s laughter when she’d shown him the article on Projeto Vida swept through her mind. ‘Seriously?’ he’d said. ‘What kind of person practices medicine in the jungle?’
Too embarrassed to admit she found the idea fascinating, she’d laughed along with him and had quickly blanked out the computer screen. The truth was, she’d toyed with the idea for the past year. She used to think Michael felt the same way, that he wanted to give back to those in need. Why else would he be at the helm of a public hospital?
Certainly not just to commandeer a private room for his little no-tell rendezvous, like the one she’d caught him having with a female doctor. On her birthday, of all things.
Humiliation and pain washed through her, bringing with it an inner scream of frustration. Why couldn’t she get past this?
She must have made some sound because her new colleague’s head swiveled toward her. She squirmed in her seat before tilting her chin a bit higher.
Just because the good doctor wasn’t thrilled about having her on board it didn’t mean she should tuck her tail and go scurrying back to New York—no matter how much she wanted to right now. She’d agreed to stay for two years, and she intended to see them through, down to the very last day.
‘So, why leave New York and come to our little neck of the rainforest?’
She gave a guilty start. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been thinking. ‘Why do people normally do these types of things?’
His eyes searched hers before turning back to the road. ‘Sometimes they don’t think through the realities like they should.’
‘And sometimes they just want to help.’
‘Right. The last two doctors who “wanted to help,” ended up leaving before they’d been here a month. It would have been better if they’d just mailed Projeto Vida a check.’
‘Money can take the place of qualified doctors these days?’
His hands tightened on the wheel. ‘No, but it doesn’t help our cause when the faces change each time the boat pulls into a village.’
Interesting.
‘You’re talking about earning people’s trust.’
‘Yep. And it’s mighty hard to come by these days.’
No kidding. She knew that for a fact.
She turned in her seat, her attitude softening a bit as she watched him shove a dark lock of hair off his forehead with an attitude of resignation. ‘Every time someone leaves, you’re the one who has to break the news to the villagers, aren’t you? How long have you been with Projeto Vida?’
‘Long enough.’
‘Maybe it’s time you started thinking about packing it in yourself, Dr. Palermo.’
‘No.’ He glanced back at her. ‘And if you’re going to take a trial run down the river with me, you’ll need to call me Matt.
We try to be as informal as possible. The villagers will use your first name as well.’
She ignored the last part of his speech and concentrated on the first. ‘Trial run? I signed up for two years.’
He grunted. ‘So did the others.’
‘Maybe I’m tougher than they were.’ She smiled at him. ‘Maybe I’m even as tough as you.’
Dark brows winged upward. ‘Doubtful.’
‘That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.’
‘Does it?’
Stevie could swear his lips twitched as he said it and that the grooves where his frown lines sat became a little less pronounced. ‘It does. And you might be sorry later, because I rarely back down from a challenge.’
Unless it came from her cheating ex as she’d hightailed it for the nearest exit. If you leave now, you’ll have a black mark on your record! His shouted warning had cemented her decision to leave the hospital. To leave him.
‘We’ll soon see, won’t we?’ said Matt.
One of his tanned hands dropped from the wheel to the seat between them. There was a fresh cut across the knuckle of his middle finger that looked deep, and several old scars marring the back of his hand. Something about those hurts, old and new, made her stomach twist. This was a man who didn’t play it safe. Who put his all into everything he did. That was something Stevie could relate to. She’d gained a few new scars of her own over the last month or so.
‘You use protection, don’t you?’
He glanced over, eyebrows high. ‘Excuse me?’
Oops. That hadn’t come out right.
‘Surgical gloves,’ she clarified, touching a spot just beneath his cut, not sure where the urge came from. ‘Especially when you have injuries.’
He curled his fingers into a fist, the muscles in his forearm bunching. ‘Of course.’
‘Good.’ She gave a brisk nod as if the heat from his skin hadn’t just singed her. As if she wasn’t scrubbing her fingertips across her thigh in a vain attempt to remove the sensation.
He frowned, and Stevie realized he’d seen her reaction. Heat prickled along her scalp, and she turned her head to look out at the scenery. ‘How long until we get to the boat?’
‘About a half-hour.’ They hit another pothole, and she scrabbled for a handhold to avoid careening off the seat and onto the floorboards.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I keep forgetting you’re not used to roads like this.’
‘It’s okay. At least it’s not one big construction zone, like in New York.’
‘Which is why the roads there don’t swallow small children.’
She blinked. Wow, did the man actually have a sense of humor? Her mouth opened to respond when his cellphone went off.
He braked, fumbling to pull the phone from the holder on his belt. Stevie glanced back to make sure there were no cars heading their way, but the road was deserted, which made it odd that he’d stopped at all. Maybe he was a little more cautious than she’d thought.
‘‘Ello?’ He listened for a few seconds looking straight ahead. ‘Yep, she’s here. Listen, I told you what I wanted. Surely there were other appli—’
He sighed. ‘Just keep looking, will you?’
Her brows went up. So much for his ‘changing faces isn’t good for the cause’ spiel. It didn’t stop him from trying to swap her face for someone else’s post haste. Which meant she’d be out of a job, unless
