forgotten, the party resumed its happy chatter while the glorious Rio sunset made way for a sky full of stars.
‘You were pretty impressive in there, Nurse Madeline,’ he whispered, when he couldn’t keep it in any more.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—the way she’d sprung into action and known what to do, and say. His Portuguese was limited, as was his Spanish. He got by—but mostly on charm and miming, he had to admit.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ she said quickly.
He frowned. ‘Yes, you did. It was instinctive.’
She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with his eyes on her. Her jaw started pulsing and he knew not to say anything else.
He also knew without question that keeping away from Madeline Savoia was going to be impossible. Not only was she impossibly intoxicating—whether she liked it or not—she wasn’t just a writer.
If he had his way she’d be helping him with medical duties so frequently that the details she really needed for the memoir to be a hit would be the last thing on her mind.
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