his wallet from the heart-shaped nightstand, his lip curled in disgust at the gaudy furnishings, an over-the-top nod to what the room was designed for, from the cheerful wicker basket of condoms on the dresser to the…
His gaze jerked back.
Condoms.
And three torn Cellophane wrappers.
He blew out a breath. At least they’d been protected. Both he and Sara were free and clear. And that’s the way he intended to keep it.
No weddings or rings in his future—he was strictly a best man kind of guy. Although as he’d held that ring over Sara’s hand, he’d had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Only here in the motel room, there was no ‘déjà’ and no ‘vu’. There was only him.
No wife. No children.
And “for as long as he alone shall live”, that was exactly the way it was going to stay.
Four weeks later
“WE’VE FINALLY HAD someone respond to our request for a nurse. It looks like your mobile screening unit is a go after all. We still need to discuss the start-up costs, though.”
The slums of Brazil weren’t the most desirable place to work, and yet Sebastian had hoped for more than just one taker so he could choose the most qualified individual. Especially since the memo had been sent out to hospitals in various states of the country.
He sat back in the chair and regarded Paulo Celeste, the hospital administrator. “The costs are all listed in the dossier. I know we have a couple of ambulances that are out of commission. If we could use one of those, it would cut costs tremendously. I’m donating my time, of course, so that will help as well.”
His trip to gaúcho country had brought more than just a wedding and a night in a motel, it had once again emphasized the need for screening services in areas where medical facilities were few and far between. Even in the state of São Paulo, there were rural locations that were difficult to access. And then there were the favelas. Hospital Santa Coração had a clinic in the slum down the hill, which was run by Lucas Carvalho. But if the mobile unit was up and running, they could go into some of the other areas as well.
The hospital administrator opened a folder on his desk. “So basically a portable ultrasound machine and some blood draw equipment?” The man peered a little closer. “And, of course, the nurse. She is willing to settle for the stipend listed as long as we provide her with lodging. Check and make sure there’s a place available in the hospital housing division.”
“Okay. And if there’s not?”
The administrator made a sound in his throat. “We can’t afford to rent her an apartment in the city.” He shuffled through a stack of files on the right-hand side of his desk. “She’s from a little hospital in Rio Grande do Sul. No local relatives. Her father was a patient here a while back, and she’s anxious to do an estágio in oncology. With the hiring freeze it’s a little tricky…but if there are no units in the hospital you could always consider housing her yourself.” The man gave him a sly smile.
“I don’t think so.” That was all he needed. He’d just hope there was something available. “The hospital bigwigs would probably frown on that kind of arrangement.”
“I am the bigwig, but yes. It was a joke. Professionalism is the key, especially in this kind of situation.”
“Of course.”
Wait. He flipped through his own mental file drawer. Rio Grande do Sul—wasn’t that where his sister’s wedding had taken place a month ago?
“Who was the patient?”
“I’d have to check. The daughter’s name is Sara Moreira.”
A stream of shock zipped up his spine. He knew exactly who that was.
Tall with legs that wouldn’t quit, and expressive eyes that reflected every single second…
Deus, it couldn’t be.
She was applying for the job?
“Does she know who the request came from?”
Paulo’s head tilted. “It came from Marcos Pinheiro, since he’s the head of oncology. Why?”
What was he supposed to say? “Oh, remember that whole professionalism is key thing? It’s already gone way beyond that.”
And boy had it. Several times. In multiple positions.
He swallowed hard. That was probably the dumbest move he’d ever made. And if he admitted to it here and now, his project was dead in the water. She hadn’t been a nurse at his hospital at the time, so there had been no problem. Right?
When Paulo started to hand him the file, he waved it away. “I know who she is.”
He wanted to tell the man, hell, no, he didn’t want her. Standing next to her at that wedding had made something in his gut churn to life, just like when he’d worked her father’s case. After a few drinks, things had gotten out of hand, and the rest was history. A crazy sensual history he was better off forgetting.
But if he said he wasn’t willing to accept this particular nurse, he would have to explain why, and that could make for a very awkward conversation. It could also mean the death knell for this project, since no one else had responded to their request. Was he looking a gift horse in the mouth here?
He’d certainly enjoyed kissing that mouth.
He took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “I can give her a try and see if she works out.”
The administrator shook his head. “We’d need to be able to offer her three months, minimum, and six months is what she prefers. She wants the experience, Sebastian. She can’t get it in less time than that. Take it or leave it.”
In other words, his pet project was resting on the answer to this one question.
The question was could he keep his hands to himself for that long? Yes. Some mistakes did not bear repeating, no matter how pleasurable they had been at the time.
“Sure. Why not.”
He could handle six months of anything. After all, he’d lived in a household that had been pure hell during the time Natália had been undergoing her cancer treatments. He’d never told his sister what he’d found out about their father. And seeing the jerk at her wedding had made a slow boil start up in his gut. It had been part of the reason he’d dragged Sara to the bar that night. To avoid having to interact with the louse that had cheated on his mother and made her cry, who had said terrible things about his sister when she’d been ill.
The folder slid back to Sebastian’s side of the desk. “Take this down to Human Resources, then, and tell them that I’m okaying the transfer.” The man tapped his pencil on the paper in front of him. “But I’m keeping six months as the maximum, and I’m holding you to these figures.
