Tempted by Her Hot-Shot Doc

by Becky Wicks

  ‘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 stood up straighter. ‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘I think that would be a good idea—before things get too crazy. Good thinking. I have some questions prepared that will help me get a good head start. I’ll think up some more. What time should I meet you?’

  She hoped she was sounding professional in this moment, because even as she spoke she was mentally unpacking her suitcase, looking for the right thing to wear to dinner.

  Ryan shifted his weight onto his opposite foot and folded his arms. ‘I was thinking we’d get out of the hotel. I know a restaurant nearby that does great tapas.’

  ‘My favourite. Huge fan of olives.’

  He nodded. ‘Good. Shall we say seven in the lobby?’

  ‘Seven it is.’

  ‘Great. Well...’ He paused again, uncrossed his arms and let out a long, almost relieved sigh. ‘I’ll see you then, Maddy.’

  She shut the door after him, turning back to her room in a panic. She had precisely three hours to prepare a set of questions that wouldn’t make Ryan Tobias fear talking to her about the details they both knew she needed, and in that little time she had to make herself look worthy enough to be out in a restaurant with the world’s most famous flying doctor.

  She rammed her hands through her hair again.

  * * *

  By the time seven p.m. rolled around Madeline was more or less satisfied that she looked OK. She’d opted for her second-favourite green dress—a casual maxi-dress that plunged at the neck in a V without revealing too much. She’d paired it with a long beaded necklace and left her hair loose around her shoulders. Silver-strapped flat sandals completed the outfit, and a hint of peach lip-gloss made her mouth shimmer in a way she hoped made them look plumper, too.

  Gathering her green and silver sequined purse, she put her notebook and pen inside and took one last deep breath before reaching for the door.

  Ryan was already waiting for her in the lobby. She felt as if the jet set of the insect world was throwing a party in her stomach as she approached him. She hated being starstruck—if that was what this feeling was. But at least it was taking her mind off her break-up.

  ‘Green is definitely your colour,’ he said.

  His smile reached his eyes and she could tell it was genuine.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Ryan was still wearing his khaki trousers, but had chosen another white button-down shirt that highlighted his broad chest and deep bronze tan. The kind of tan only a travelling man had, she mused in appreciation.

  Madeline caught his eyes lingering for a split second on the hint of cleavage she knew she was displaying behind her beads, but instead of feeling self-conscious she realised she was feeling quite empowered.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Ryan said, patting his flat stomach. ‘I’m famished.’

  They walked outside together, through the hotel’s revolving doors and into the balmy night. The breeze picked up her long hair and tousled it about her shoulders as she walked alongside him.

  ‘Any more news on the supplies arriving?’ she asked.

  ‘First thing in the morning, so they said. We’ll fly at two p.m.’

  They passed a shirtless guitar player on the street—a beaming guy with huge, chunky dreadlocks. Ryan pulled some notes out of his pocket and dropped them into his upturned hat. The guy’s hands stopped moving instantly on the guitar frets and his eyes widened at what was clearly a significant amount of money, but Ryan didn’t stop.

  The palm trees swayed rhythmically to their own calypso as they walked along the street. Tourists strolling towards similar reservations were either hand in hand or holding selfi
e sticks between them, taking photos. She thought back to her friend Emma’s gushing email that morning, posing a million questions and demands of what she wanted Madeline to ask Ryan.

  Are you single? seemed to be top of her list.

  They were welcomed into the restaurant by a beaming waitress the size of a toothpick, who flicked her long, styled auburn hair over her shoulder as she raked over Ryan with eyes as wide as Bambi’s.

  ‘I hope this will be OK for you, sir,’ she gushed in a thick Portuguese accent as they were led outside to a table on the terrace. She made a big fuss over arranging Ryan’s napkin on his lap.

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ he replied, seemingly oblivious to the batting eyelashes an inch from his chest.

  Ryan took the wine list. A candle flickered in the middle of the table in a mason jar and Madeline studied his famous face, now bathed in a soft, flattering glow in a way she rarely saw on the television. The surgery lights were always so harsh.

  She placed her purse under her feet, careful to keep the strap around her knee. She’d been caught out once by a bag-snatcher in Peru, and these days she was disappointingly quick to suspect passing strangers of crimes they probably had no intention of committing.

  All around them people were chatting and laughing amongst themselves and Ryan leaned back in his seat.

  ‘Drink?’ he asked. ‘You might not get the chance again for a while. They don’t have much in the way of vintage wine in the Amazon. How about a cocktail?’

  ‘If you’re having one,’ she said. ‘Or maybe just a gin and tonic?’

  ‘Great idea—make that two, please,’ he told the waitress, handing back the drinks menu.

  ‘Coming up. I’ll be back to take your food order, Dr Ryan.’

  She tottered off on her high heels, and Madeline watched as Ryan took his phone out of his pocket and flipped it to ‘silent’.

  ‘Is it not weird that everyone knows who you are?’ she asked. ‘We’re in Rio!’

  He put his phone back and folded his arms in front of him on the table, unwittingly causing his biceps to bulge in his shirt. ‘It’s less weird than annoying.’

  ‘I read somewhere that you hardly ever drink,’ she followed up, training her eyes away from his biceps.

  ‘That’s true. I usually stop at one.’

  ‘In case somebody needs your help and you need to focus?’

  He grinned, thumbing the corner of the menu. ‘Did you read that online?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I don’t really drink because I choose not to. I guess that’s not exciting enough for some people. Anything you don’t eat?’

  Madeline liked the way he was talking to her. It was easy, somehow. She wondered what he’d been like before fame...whether he was different now.

  She thought about his question. ‘Just coriander. I think you call it cilantro where you’re from.’

  He smiled. ‘Can’t stand it either. Tastes like old books.’

  ‘I think it tastes like metal pipes.’

  ‘You’ve licked a metal pipe?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  He was laughing now—she could see his shoulders shaking. ‘Well, there’s a way to start the memoir. I don’t like cilantro and I refuse to dine with people who do—especially if they lick metal pipes, too.’

  She shook her head, laughing with him. ‘It has bestseller written all over it.’

  They ordered a selection of dishes, and as they chatted idly she scribbled a few notes about his childhood, memories of the years he spent in Chicago looking up to his ambitious yet workaholic father.

  ‘Do you have any siblings?’ she asked.

  His mouth twitched towards a smile. ‘I thought all the basics were on the internet?’

  ‘Some of them, yes, but I’d still prefer to hear it first-hand, from you,’ she replied. ‘As we’ve already discovered, people stretch the truth a lot.’ She crossed her legs under the table. ‘Have you ever looked yourself up on the internet?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘But it wasn’t my smartest move.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He pulled a face, leaned back in his seat and turned his glass on the checked tablecloth. ‘“As we’ve already discovered, people stretch the truth a lot”,’ he mimicked. ‘But some truths you read and you wish you hadn’t.’

  ‘Like messages from your boyfriend to his other woman,’ Madeline followed, without even thinking.

  She felt her cheeks flush instantly. Stupid gin.

  When she looked up Ryan was looking at her, his eyes dark now...in shadow. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Still raw, I suppose.’

  ‘Were you together a long time?’

  She couldn’t look at him now. ‘Four years. I thought he was about to propose.’

  He exhaled through his nose. ‘Damn.’

  ‘To be honest, I haven’t had time to think about him since I found out I was coming on this trip. I think I just need to keep busy.’

  ‘Keeping busy helps.’

  His tone made her lift her head. As he shifted in his chair she caught that look in his eyes again: a slow burning that unnerved her. Madeline wondered if she should just ask him outright whether he was ready to set the record straight about his team member Josephine McCarthy, but she was forced to close her mouth when the chirpy waitress tottered back over with the first few plates of tapas.

  Ryan gestured for Madeline to serve herself a helping of patatas bravas and skilfully steered the conversation back to his siblings—one older brother called David, who’d moved to New York and married an art curator, and a younger sister called Monica, who was studying dentistry. Madeline had the feeling Ryan wouldn’t be spilling any of his own secrets as quickly as she’d just done, even if she asked him outright. Especially not now.

  She popped an olive into her mouth. No matter how difficult the mission ahead of her, she refused to be deterred. To think this time last week she’d been wondering how on earth she was going to raise the money she needed to re-do her bathroom. Who knew ghost-writing a book while in the Amazon would wind up paying more than she’d ever earned by putting her own book up on the other Amazon?

  All she had to do was stay focussed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PILLAR-BOX-RED SUITED Madeline’s nails, Ryan thought—although it was going to be pretty damn hard for her to keep any element of her beauty regime going once they got to camp. He’d never let on, but the shine of her hair was also likely to be dulled after a few days of washing it in murky pond water.

  He’d felt for her when she’d mentioned her ex. While she amused him with her quirky comebacks, the stabs of pain he sensed in her with certain sentences had an effect on his heart. It seemed that for all of Madeline’s bravado in public she was a tiny bit broken.

  Not unlike me, he thought with a weary smile.

  ‘So, when did you know you wanted to be a doctor?’ she was asking him now.

  He leaned further towards her, saw the candle flame between them flickering in her pupils. ‘I think I was born knowing I would be.’

  ‘Really? Care to elaborate?’

  ‘Not much—but something tells me I’ll have to.’

  Madeline raised her eyebrows, putting her pen to her lips. Ryan replied to her questions in as much detail as he could, helping himself to more chorizo and making sure to keep Madeline’s plate topped up with her share of the food as she made notes.

  He wasn’t entirely certain she had the right idea about the food they’d be getting once they reached camp; he didn’t know if she had any clue that they’d be on rice, bananas and, if they were lucky, fish the entire time. Either way, he was determined to have them both eat as much as possible now.

  He told her how his brother’s love of art and the metaphysical had led him only to contemplate a career in the physical, and yet the same empathetic streak still rende
red them closer to each other than either of them was with their sister.

  He explained the cluttered corners of their large family home—the way his mother had diligently cleaned while silently resenting the fact that she had to before wealth arrived and saw to it that she could hire a cleaner—a dumpy, smiley Mexican lady called Rose, who had always jangled with keys and tiny candies for the kids wrapped in foil.

  He told her how his mother hoarded books of every genre, and always had a jigsaw puzzle on the go.

  ‘Hmm... I see... I think this would be good in more depth,’ Madeline would mutter every now and then. ‘Tell me more about your backyard? What trees and flowers grew there in summer? Did you spend much time outdoors?’

  He talked and talked, encouraged by her encouragement, until the waitress brought a brand-new candle to replace the one that had sizzled right down to a waxed lump in its jar.

  While Ryan was putting on what he thought looked like a pretty good show of wanting to get to work on the memoir, it was really just for Madeline. If Madeline Savoia had turned out to be the crinkly old cat lady of his imaginings he doubted he would have been so accommodating. He definitely wouldn’t have been sitting here, opposite her, spilling his family history in a Rio restaurant.

  He would have emailed his thoughts in a string of misspelled sentences, probably—last-minute musings thrown together after she had reminded him a hundred times that he was supposed to be helping her. He would have barely seen her, and she’d have sat alone in her room, or in the lobby, drinking coffee and working on her crochet, perhaps.

  He’d been selfish with his admissions, with his heart, for years. To the world Ryan was a giving man, generous and kind, but inside he was a tangled mass of secrets that he’d do anything to protect. When they got to the jungle he knew he’d have to remember to keep her busy. He had a feeling she already knew that was his plan. Still, he wouldn’t crack.

  He wouldn’t talk about Josephine.

  When the dessert menu arrived she was asking him about his relationship with his mother.