give her some ibuprofen, and that she should go home and get some rest?’ he asked Madeline, who promptly did as she was asked.
Back at the table, when the ibuprofen had been dispatched and the drama was all but 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.
THERE WAS SOMETHING about Rio de Janeiro, Madeline decided, that was quite entrancing. The streets were alive with the sound of market stall fruit sellers, and tourists examined cheap patterned sarongs and vibrant paintings of ladies dancing under starry spangled skies. The smell of coconuts and sunscreen permeated the air, and she’d seen more thongs, she mused, in the space of twenty minutes than she’d seen in twenty branches of her favourite high street store back in London.
Madeline had been wandering around in the sunshine for a couple of hours alone, trying to get some last-minute bits and pieces before they were due to catch the plane to Saint Elena at six p.m. The rush of the ocean in her ears as she strolled along the mosaic-riddled promenade, coupled with the whoosh of rollerblades, was like a musical symphony. It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours ago she’d been climbing out of a black cab in the awful London rain.
Madeline was grateful for this time to herself while Ryan rushed about filming another segment for Medical Extremes.
‘Go enjoy yourself in the sunshine,’ he’d said that morning at breakfast. ‘And don’t forget Sugar Loaf Mountain.’
She wasn’t sure she had the energy for Sugar Loaf. They’d stayed around the table till the early hours last night, discussing the mission they were about to undertake, and perhaps, on reflection, she’d enjoyed a bit too much wine after that incident in the kitchen.
She’d noticed that Ryan had stopped at one glass, and she remembered reading somewhere that Ryan didn’t drink much. Something about never knowing when he might need to help someone. She smiled, remembering the look on his face in the kitchen. He hadn’t realised she was fluent in Portuguese. Then again, how would he have known?
What Ryan had said about her actions being instinctive had been playing on her mind. She’d told herself a million times that her nursing days were over, but he was right. Someone had really needed her and she hadn’t been able to turn those instincts off at all.
‘Mango!’ a fruit seller was calling from her tiny stall.
Madeline shook her head politely. She’d avoided eye contact with Ryan all night after that. She knew without him saying another word that he was planning to demand her nursing skills in the Amazon.
‘Pineapple?’ another fruit seller called out as she turned another corner.
She smiled once again, holding up the plastic bag of fruit skewers she’d bought earlier.
Ryan had escorted her up to her room at around two a.m. By then she’d been almost asleep on her feet. She’d been acutely aware of his hand on her lower back over her dress as they’d left the dining room, and the sound of him clearing his throat in the elevator as he’d pressed himself against the wall opposite her. She’d felt his eyes on her in the mirror.
She’d pondered at the time that he might be trying to stand as far away from her as possible in the enclosed space. She’d been doing exactly the same thing.
‘Try to sleep in if you can in the morning,’ he’d said, stopping with her outside her room. ‘It might be the best sleep you’ll get for a few weeks. The sleeping arrangements won’t be up to this standard in the jungle. But I’m sure you’ve probably figured that out.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she’d said, trying to sound as if she meant it. ‘Thank you for tonight.’
‘Thank you,’ he’d replied softly.
‘We should pencil in some time for us to talk. I was thinking regular slots, maybe one every day...’
‘Let me see what I can do once we’re out there,’ he’d said, cutting her off quickly. ‘I mean, of course we have to get this memoir written, but things are going to be really hectic for the first few days at least.’
He’d been looking at the doorframe as he’d said that—not once at her.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he’d told her, and with that he’d leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
It had been as soft as a moth landing on a shadow. She’d felt the brush of his stubble on her skin, caught a whiff of his cologne. Then he’d turned on his heel and Madeline had watched his undeniably sculpted butt in his jeans as he’d walked the whole way back down the corridor and turned the corner.
For the first time in months, with questions she wanted to ask this mysterious doctor galloping maddeningly through her thoughts along with jet-lag, Madeline had eventually drifted off to sleep without thinking once about her ex. She was grateful for that at least.
Armed with sunscreen and mosquito repellent, plus a new bright yellow sarong and several colouring books and sets of crayons for the children she’d inevitably meet in the Amazon, Madeline reached the hotel again at four p.m.
She’d just arrived back in her room and was planning on changing, packing and heading down to find the team, when a knock on the door made her jump. She went to open it in bare feet, expecting someone from Housekeeping. Her insides performed an impressive somersault as she came face to face with Ryan.
‘Hi. Everything OK?’ she asked, clutching the doorframe and hoping she didn’t look terrible.
‘We’re still waiting on some of the ultrasound equipment we lost track of yesterday,’ he said.
She ran her eyes quickly over his blue denim shirt. The sleeves were rolled up over his tanned forearms and his practical, multi-pocketed khaki trousers made her smile. It was still a surreal dream, being face to face with this man.
She didn’t miss him looking her up and down in return, in her knee-length, red strapless sundress. She hoped she hadn’t dropped any fruit on it.
‘Some of it’s already halfway here, so unfortunately it means I’ll have to stay another night.’
‘Just you?’
‘It only needs one of us to wait. The rest of the team will leave today and set up camp as planned. I was just wondering if...’
He trailed off for a second, seeming to contemplate his words. She detected the slightest trace of hesitation.
‘I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me? I realise I’ve been a bit...well, aloof about this whole memoir thing, but I do appreciate you have a job to do. Maybe we can get to know each other a bit better over dinner. If you like. Just us this time.’
Just us this time.
Madeline