LITMIR.BIZ

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the superficial relationships he tended to foster. Or maybe it was because Marcos and Sophia knew each other well...maybe they’d worked together for years.

      “Sure. He’s right here.” Sophia pressed the mouthpiece to her shoulder. “He wants to talk to you.”

      Lucas held out his hand, waiting as she placed the cellphone in his palm. The instrument was still warm from being in her pocket, and he hesitated before lifting it. Something about knowing she’d breathed into the receiver—had held it close to her lips, made the heat in his chest spread to his gut. It had to be the after-effects of the anesthesia and pain pills he’d had during and after his surgery. They hadn’t completely cleared his system yet. He took a quick breath and held the phone close to his ear, not quite letting it touch his skin.

      “Hi, Marcos. How’s it going?” He spoke in English, feeling awkward talking to his brother in Portuguese. After all, he hadn’t even been able to understand a simple slang term the nurse had used.

      The medical conference had seemed the perfect venue to visit his home country and learn more about his culture. Unfortunately it had only served to show him how little he knew—it was just one more place he didn’t belong.

      His brother’s amused tone brought him back to the present. “Everything’s fine. I thought I’d check and see how the hospital was treating you.” A female voice murmured in the background, and his brother’s response came through muffled, indicating he’d turned his head to answer whoever it was.

      He rolled his eyes. Surely Marcos wasn’t actually in bed with his new... Searching for a word, he came up blank, as he wasn’t quite sure what kind of relationship the two had. All he knew was that when he’d introduced himself to Dr. Maggie Pfeiffer at the medical conference, a glare from across the room had hit him like a fist to the jaw. He hadn’t known who Marcos was at the time but he’d recognized that pointed stare. It had said off-limits and mine in no uncertain terms.

      He couldn’t blame his brother. Maggie was beautiful, her ready smile showing her love of life.

      Not like Sophia, whose prickly attitude a few minutes ago seemed strange, seeing as they didn’t know each other. Maybe she’d had a bad day or maybe she was just that way with everyone. He glanced at her to find her busy straightening things on his bedside table, her scrubs doing nothing to detract from the generous curves beneath them.

      He realized he was staring when Marcos repeated the question about the hospital.

      “Everyone’s been great,” he said. “Thanks. The police still want to depose me in a day or two, and I should probably stick around for a couple of weeks to see if they make an arrest. So I’ll take you up on your offer to stay in your apartment, if it’s still okay.”

      “Absolutely. I told the doorman you might be coming. He has a set of keys. So does Sophia. Make yourself at home.”

      The thought of Sophia having a set of Marcos’s house keys made him uneasy. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

      More murmurs sounded in the background, and that was definitely Marcos chuckling at something. Hand tightening on the phone, he realized he now had the thing mashed to his ear. So much for not letting it touch him any more than necessary. The fire in his gut burned just a little bit hotter when he caught a faint whiff of her scent clinging to the thing. His glance swung back to the nurse, wondering how he knew what she smelled like.

      It’s your sick imagination, bud.

      As soon as he got back to the States, he was going to sink deep into the first willing woman he came across. It had obviously been far too long since he’d gotten any. Maybe he’d even find someone here in Brazil at one of the clubs, if he was here long enough.

      “Well, I’ll let you go.” Lucas was suddenly anxious to get off the phone.

      “Okay... Oh, wait. I forgot to ask. How does it feel to see Sophia again after all these years? It’s hard for me not to still picture her as a little kid.”

      Little kid? That was the last thing he’d pictured when he’d looked at Sophia. But Marcos’s words made a slight chill come over him, dousing the flames that had begun licking at places he’d rather were left alone.

      “I don’t follow.”

      There was a pause. “You don’t remember her? I guess it was so long ago that—”

      “Remember her from where?” The chill grew. When he glanced to the side, he noted Sophia had turned toward him.

      Before Marcos’s next words came over the line, he knew he’d somehow missed something. Something big.

      “She was at the orphanage with us. Stuck to our sides like glue. O trio dinâmico. Ring a bell?”

      The dynamic trio.

      Why hadn’t she said anything?

      “I...” Feeling like an idiot, Lucas stared at the woman in front of him, trying to see something that rang a bell. Instead, he settled for the first lame words that popped into his brain. “I was just a kid.”

      “Right.” The disappointment surrounding that single word cut him to the quick.

      How could he be expected to remember something that had happened thirty years ago? It wasn’t like he’d spent his whole life in Brazil, the way Marcos had. But it did explain why Sophia had been there each step of the way during his surgery and recovery. He suddenly felt like a first-class heel.

      He tried to explain. “There’ve been things I haven’t been able to remember since the shooting. Maybe that’s why.”

      Sophia turned away, just as Marcos said, “Don’t worry about it. Could you pass the phone back to her, please?”

      “Sure.”

      “Take care, Lucas.”

      “You too.”

      Jiggling the phone in his hand and not sure if he should just tap her on the shoulder or say her name, he settled for clearing his throat, even though the last thing he wanted to do was face her again. “He wants to talk to you.”

      She turned back around and gave him a cheery smile then held out her hand, her eyes skipping away from his almost immediately.

      Like a man caught in a riptide and unable to pull free of its deadly grasp, he slowly handed over the phone. Then he did the unthinkable. He took a step closer and cupped her chin, his thumb strumming over the softness of her cheek as he forced her to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you say something about the orphanage?”

      * * *

      She took a step back, dislodging his hand. “It didn’t seem important.”

      Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

      And proving they were indeed brothers, the first words out of Marcos’s mouth were, “You didn’t tell him?”

      * * *

      This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in front of Lucas. Turning on her heel, she left the room. Once outside the door, she gulped down a couple of quick breaths, leaning a shoulder against a wall. With a shaky hand she brushed her hair off her forehead. “No. Why would I? Like he said, we were just kids. It’s ancient history.”

      But the tremor in her voice said the same thing her heart did: she’d remembered him. Despite their ages.

      What did it matter?

      Exactly. She was being ridiculous. Lucas was alive—that was the only important thing. He’d be able to get on with his life as if this little interlude in Brazil had never happened. It was fine.

      Her friend’s voice came back through. “Well, since it’s ancient history, I kind of feel funny asking you to...”

      As if at a loss, he didn’t finish his sentence.

      “Asking me to what?”

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