From Passion To Pregnancy. Tina Beckett
He paused for a second, then leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, the briefest of touches that left her trembling and wanting more. So much more.
When he opened the passenger side door, he murmured, “Buckle up, Sara, because if I’m reading this correctly, things could get very, very bumpy before the night is over.”
She sank into the plush leather seat and clicked her seat belt into place, yanking it tight. “Is that a promise?”
“It is now.” His fingers feathered across her cheek and were gone. “And I never go back on my word.”
* * *
It was all a blur.
Sebastian Texeira’s arm stretched to the side and found…nothing. Sitting up, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and glanced at the pillow on the bed next to him.
She was gone. Not even the indentation of her head remained. Should he be relieved or upset?
He wasn’t sure of anything right now.
Deep purple curtains hid the view outside. And the same gaudy color was splashed with a generous hand throughout the room.
Damn. A motel.
But it had been the closest place to the bar. Not an accident, obviously.
He groaned and fell back against his own pillow. He hadn’t even had the decency to take her to a respectable place?
The motels in his country were all used for the same thing. Cheap encounters at a cheap price. Normally the place where affairs took place.
The type of place his dad would have holed up for a few hours.
His father had been the reason he’d been hell bent on getting away from the wedding as soon as possible. He’d had no desire to talk to his parents. And that toast his dad had given had been cringe-worthy.
What he hadn’t expected was for Sara Moreira to offer to go with him. Or to climb into the taxi beside him as he’d headed for this place. Which meant his car was still at the liquor joint.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. Except as soon as he did, images of the frantic press of mouths and bodies moving deep into the night flashed behind his eyelids. He snapped them back open.
He lifted the purple bedspread and peered underneath.
Still naked. Damn.
Where were his clothes? He scanned the room.
There. On the dresser. His formalwear was neatly stacked and folded.
Relief was beginning to outweigh regret and the throbbing in his head. It was easier this way. She obviously didn’t want to be found here with him. And that was fine with him. He’d rather her dad not find out about this at all. Although Antônio Moreira was no longer his patient, it could still prove to be awkward.
Climbing out of bed and stalking toward the bathroom, he showered quickly, using the tiny bottles of products he found on the counter. They were untouched, the seals intact until he opened them. She’d left in a hurry, evidently.
He finished and toweled off, his nerves beginning to settle as he padded back into the bedroom.
It was okay. Yes, he’d had a few too many drinks. Yes, he’d shared a couple of hours at a motel with a beautiful woman.
That this was not his normal behavior didn’t matter. What was done was done.
The shock of his sister and his best friend deciding they were “in love” had still not worn off, almost a year later. He’d kept thinking it was just a phase, that they would get over it. They hadn’t. And as of yesterday they’d sealed the deal. They were married.
He shook off the thoughts, snagging his clothes from the dresser and jerking them on. He should have at least thought to bring along some jeans to change into.
Grabbing 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