When he enveloped her not-exactly-petite hand in his much bigger one, making it seem more delicate than it ever had before in her life, her heart stopped. Hanging there for a beat, or ten—sensations raining down on her like she’d charged into the ocean splashing spray high into the air and was letting it land on her skin—before pounding back into life like a thousand horses galloping in her chest.
‘Flávia Maura,’ she bit out by way of introduction. And only after what felt like an eternity.
His eyes glinted, but still she couldn’t read them.
‘I know,’ he answered evenly. ‘If we’re going for a mutual love-in, then I feel duty-bound to point out that you’re one of today’s foremost authorities in the field of venom-based medicine. I caught your lecture on the application of a cancer-targeting toxin in Brazilian wasp venom some months ago.’
‘Oh...’ she offered, hoping that her scorching cheeks didn’t give her away. ‘Right.’
She could hardly admit that she recognised him from one question out of the raft of them she’d had that day, could she? Hardly tell him that his face had invaded her dreams ever since, like she was exactly the kind of weirdo Silvio Delgado would love the world to believe. Hardly confess that she’d looked for him after that lecture, wanting to ask him questions of her own.
So, instead, she fell back on her usual safety net. Discussing facts like they were the only conversation she knew how to have.
‘Polybia-MP1. It exploits the unusual make-up of lipids and fats within cancer-cell membranes and essentially creates holes in the latter. These gaps can be wide enough to let molecules like proteins escape, and since the cancer cells can’t function without them, the toxin ultimately acts as an anticancer therapy.’
She stopped abruptly, aware that this time his mouth was more than twitching with amusement.
‘As I said. I caught the whole lecture.’
‘Yes...well...there you go.’
With more effort than she cared to admit, Flávia attempted to propel herself forward again, away from this mesmerising man, needing the quiet respite now more than ever.
‘So what are you working on now?’
She stopped.
‘I... Well... I’m pretty much living my dream. Working as a naturalist and researcher, splitting my time between caring for pit vipers in a sanctuary in the rainforest, and my work at Paulista’s.’
‘I heard you were looking for ways to use venom to halt the metastasising of cancer cells in humans? Amazing to think that what had started as a passion for the wildlife of the Amazon rainforest can now enable you to save human and snake lives, alike.’
Flávia froze, her body practically shaking.
‘You’ve read my recent interview?’ Her voice cracked with shock.
‘Indeed.’
‘In Portuguese,’ she added weakly.
That slow, sexy grin of his was going to be her undoing. She was sure of it.
‘So I noticed.’
It stood to reason that he would know of VenomSci’s work. But the fact that he’d read a piece on her life, and her naturalist goals, and then quoted them back at her...? Well, that was doing insane things to her insides.
She needed to get away. Now. Before she did something as ridiculous as her sister had suggested.
Turning sharply, Flávia lurched off. It was only when she was a metre or so away that she realised he was falling into step beside her.
‘Where are we heading?’
‘We?’ she managed. ‘We are not heading anywhere. I was heading to the gardens.’
He moved with an enviable ease and confidence. A self-awareness as though he expected people—the world—to make way for him. Then again, it probably did, given the way people were hastily repositioning themselves to make way for him.
‘That desperate to escape already, huh?’ His voice actually seemed to rumble through her. ‘Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the gardens are locked now.’
‘They are?’ She snapped her head around. ‘How do you know?’
He hesitated. So fleeting that anyone else may not have noticed it. But Flávia wasn’t anybody. She hadn’t avoided being bitten by the fast, deadly vipers she had come to love by failing to miss tiny, telltale signs. It piqued her curiosity in an instant, although Jacob had apparently already shrugged the moment off.
‘I tried earlier,’ he answered smoothly. ‘They told me it was closed for the night.’
‘I see.’
There was something else. Something more. She’d lay a bet on it.
‘May I recommend the bar instead? That far end looks pretty quiet.’
She ought to decline.
Her mind was still racing. Trying to fill in that missing moment. And then she shocked herself again by flashing a dazzling smile, which her sister was always telling her to use more often with people other than merely her beloved nieces.
‘Why not? I’m sure we can have quite the party of our own.’
She ought to tell him she wasn’t interested in a party of their own. She ought to be mingling, the way her boss had told her to do. She ought to draw more people into the conversation—she could see a couple of other medical and surgical oncology team members hovering for a chance to talk to the highly respected Dr Cooper.
Yet she didn’t say any of those things, and by the time she reached the bar, Flávia found herself alone with a man who made her body fizz disconcertingly, and an empty countertop.
Then, with nothing more discernible than a diplomatic hand gesture, two fresh drinks materialised in front of them. A glass of champagne for her and, she hazarded a guess from the deep amber colour of the liquid swirling in the tumbler, a top-drawer whiskey or cognac for him. And suddenly, inexplicably, it all felt slightly too...intimate.
Flávia opened her mouth to refuse the drink and take her leave—not that she really believed her single glass of champagne was to blame for this...thing that hummed between them, but why take any chances? And then he thanked the bartender.
She had no idea what it was about the simple gesture, so understated yet so polite, and so unlike too many of the doctors in this room who thought themselves too good for something as apparently irrelevant as good manners.
She turned her head to look at him again and, once again, her heart slammed into her chest for no apparent reason. Was breath truly seeping from her lungs like a popped balloon or was she just imagining it? And never mind the dress feeling constricting and small, right now it was her very skin which seemed to be too tight for her own body.
Flávia couldn’t help it—her eyes scanned over him. Quickly. Then slowly. Like they didn’t know where to start. Or maybe where to stop. And still she stood there. Still. Ensnared.
No man had ever got under her skin like this. Ever. She told herself it meant nothing. That she must just be feeling out of her depth at this welcome gala, and vulnerable after Delgado’s dig.
‘Dr Cooper—’ she began.
‘Jacob,’ he interjected.
She sucked in a breath. ‘Jacob,’ she began, then paused. As ridiculous as it was, his name sounded altogether too intimate on her tongue. She tried again. ‘Jacob...’
‘But you can call me Jake,’ he interrupted, and this time she knew she didn’t mistake the amused rumble in his tone. ‘And for the record, you really shouldn’t let oafs like Delgado get to you.’
‘I don’t,’ she denied hotly, then cursed herself for sounding so defensive.
‘I beg to differ. It was clear from the way you reacted that he had rattled you. And you have to know that’s only going to encourage him all the more. Bullies like him thrive off making others feel small.’
‘I’m well aware of that.’ She bristled, despite her attempts not to. ‘But it was the doctor he called a frump who I was most concerned about.’
‘Who? Krysta
Simpson? I’m running a case with her at the moment... Actually, it would interest you—the patient has oral cancer and I’ll be using the scorpion-venom-based fluorescent contrast agent when I remove the tumour in their jaw. But the point is, there’s no need for you to worry about Krysta. She’s more than secure enough in herself not to let such a comment get to her.’
Yes, that much was clear. Flávia couldn’t help thinking that if she had a fraction of Krysta’s confidence then she, too, could be wearing a dress which—if she had to be entirely honest—might not be the most flattering, but in which Krysta looked entirely comfortable.
What must it be like to be so cool and self-assured when chatting with these people?
Instead here she was, feeling utterly self-conscious in a figure-hugging dress and statement shoes, both of which her far more fashion-forward sister had insisted on foisting on her for tonight’s event. Yet all Flávia could think was that one couldn’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—and she most definitely felt like a sow’s ear. And no matter the shocked compliments she’d been receiving all night.
Hastily, she told herself that she felt nothing at Jacob’s... Jake’s...apparent appreciation. Assuming that was what this was, of course. And if he did appreciate her, then it was the dress he admired—her sister’s dress—not her, per se.
Only, she wasn’t sure she believed that. Or, more pertinently, wanted to believe it.
Admittedly, she adored the colour—a forest green which shimmered to inky black as she moved, the stunning colour so like another of her beloved snakes—but other than that, she was too plagued with self-doubt to relax. Was the neckline too low? The slit in the skirt too high? Did it cling to her a little too much when she moved?
Her only consolation was that if she had looked as on display as she’d feared, then Silvio Delgado would surely have taken great delight in mocking her clothes, as well as her choice of career.
So maybe it was more that the clothes mirrored her environment and how she felt about her state of mind? Out in the forest, in her bush gear, she felt strong, powerful, in control. She spent practically twenty-three hours out of twenty-four in blissful solitude, with the glorious orchestra of the rainforest pleasing her senses. Here in this ballroom, in this city, harsh sounds assailed her from every side.
Some people loved the city with its shimmering lights, vibrant sounds and bustling life—her sister and brother-in-law being prime examples—but Flávia had never been able to understand its allure. Whether it was the light pollution, the noise pollution, the air pollution, Flávia couldn’t be sure.
She felt out of her depth, like she was suffocating.
At least, she had felt that way, right up until a few minutes ago—ever since Jacob Cooper. Now, the butterflies were still there, but instead of flutterings of fear and discomfort, she could swear they were flutterings of...awareness? Anticipation? Not least because he was looking at her as though he thought she was the only woman in the room.
And then she hated herself, because her goose-bumping body seemed to find that rather too thrilling.
‘Did you want to speak to me about anything in particular?’ The question came out sharper than she’d intended.
‘Frankly, Flávia Maura, I find myself curious about many things right now,’ he answered, and she couldn’t have said why but she wasn’t sure he’d intended it to have quite the huskiness that it did. ‘But how about we start with your antivenom therapy, and how you think your snakes can change the face of cancer treatment today?’
She could see the inherent danger in responding to Jake’s question—the effect he was having on her just from a few minutes in his company. Yet, like a frog attracted to the sweet-scented nectar in a tropical pitcher plant, Flávia couldn’t resist the open invitation to talk about her work—her true passion.
Even as she knew that, like the pitcher plant, a man like Jake would eat her up in a heartbeat.
Worse, the naughtiness of such an idea was almost deliciously thrilling.
She shook her head. It didn’t completely rid her head of the uninvited images, and that made her feel more combative than she knew she should.
‘You say it as though I’m suggesting the awful hoax remedies they call “snake oil.”’
‘On the contrary,’ Jake answered easily. ‘I’m well aware of the difference between “snake oil” and very real medicine. A recent study listed six groups of venom-based drugs which have gained FDA approval in the last thirty-five to forty years.’
Flávia didn’t know whether to be impressed by his knowledge or irritated that it wasn’t helping her to be any less attracted to him. She gritted her teeth.
‘I’m guessing that you also know that captopril, an ACE inhibitor used to treat high blood pressure, some types of congestive heart failure and kidney problems caused by diabetes, is derived from snake venom?’
‘I do know that, given that it’s used by around forty million people worldwide.’ Jake nodded.
‘Well, did you know that it comes from bothrops jararaca, which is another of the Brazilian pit vipers I deal with?’
‘That part I didn’t know,’ he conceded, and Flávia didn’t like that it gave her such a punch of triumph.
Was she really trying to impress this man that much?
‘Plus, clinical testing for venom-based drugs began in 1968 with an anticoagulant derived from a Malayan pit viper venom.’
‘I didn’t know that, either,’ he acknowledged with a grin that revealed straight, white teeth. As though he knew exactly what she was trying to do.
‘So, jungle woman,’ he asked softly in a way that didn’t make the term sound like an insult whatsoever, ‘what makes pit vipers so special?’
‘Because of disintegrins,’ she declared firmly, unable to help herself. ‘Which is a group of proteins found in bushmaster venom. Furthermore...’
The low reverberation of a gong cut her words short, and Flávia spun around as Isabella stepped forward to announce that the dinner was about to be served.
‘Shall we?’
Dropping her eyes, Flávia took in the sight of Jake’s proffered arm and strove unsuccessfully to quash another bout of shimmering nerves.
She bit back the stuttering words which suddenly cluttered up her throat and swallowed once, twice, until she was sure she could answer with confidence, even if she didn’t feel it.
‘I don’t believe we’re sitting at the same table so you should probably ask one of the women at your table. There’s a seating chart by the entrance.’
‘Actually, I believe we are.’ His voice rumbled around her, skimming over her skin and making it prickle like she’d somehow missed a joke she hadn’t realised someone had told.
‘Oh. Right.’ Her voice sounded odd, but she couldn’t help that.
It was the way he was watching her so curiously. So intently. His eyes holding hers and preventing her from dragging her gaze away, however hard she tried. And she did try. Because the longer he held the contact, the more certain she was that he could see into her, far deeper than her mere soul. Right down to that dark, unwelcome pit inside her, and every embarrassing secret that she’d long since buried within.
‘Very well, then.’
Squaring her shoulders, Flávia raised her arm and linked with Jake, but still she couldn’t steel herself enough against the thrill that rippled through her at the contact.
It was only as they moved to the entrance and past the board that she sneaked a glance at the chart; as she’d suspected, Jake—it still felt odd not thinking of him as Dr Jacob Cooper—wasn’t supposed to be at her table. Yet when he walked her to her seat—through the round tables, with their pale damask cloths and stunning flower-covered topiaries—there was his name, at the place setting right next to hers.
And she was far too pleased about it for her own liking. Not that she had to let him see tha
t. She pulled her face into a disapproving frown.
‘Did you sneak in here and change this around?’
‘Are you accusing me of schoolboy tactics?’
Another grin, and another glimpse of that perfect mouth, which she couldn’t stop imagining against her skin. At the hollow of her neck, or trailing down her body. This time, there was no pushing the images away. So, instead, she focused on the rules. The regulations. The things which couldn’t get her into trouble.
‘You can’t just move things around on a whim. How did you even get in here? You realise these doors were locked for a reason?’ She was rattling off too many questions, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. ‘Months and months of planning went into this. Besides, you’re meant to be on one of the VIP tables, with Silvio Delgado. Experts in your field. How do you think he’s going to react to someone from my table being bumped up to take your place at his table?’
Despite her rambling, Jake looked as composed as ever. He flashed her another even smile, and Flávia told herself she didn’t feel it rushing through her, right down to her very toes. The thing was, no matter how Dr Delgado reacted to Jake’s stunt, she couldn’t imagine it intimidating the man standing in front of her right now.
Honestly, she couldn’t imagine anyone intimidating this man.
‘I imagine Silvio will be rather irked.’ Jake shrugged, proving the point. ‘But then, I imagine if it wasn’t me inconveniencing him, then it would be someone else, so that’s no great issue. Besides, do you not think that you’re as much an expert in your field as he is in his, Flávia?’
‘Yes, well...’ Heat flushed her at the compliment. ‘You still can’t go around moving people quer queira ou não.’
‘I don’t see why not.’ He laughed, a deep, rich sound which...did things to her.
‘Dr—’
‘Fine.’ He cut her off with another dazzling smile. ‘Would it settle you to know that I didn’t change the place settings?’
‘Really?’ Flávia raised her eyebrows sceptically. ‘Then who did?’
Falling For The Single Dad Surgeon (A Summer In São Paulo Book 2) Page 3