From passion to pregnancy!

An encounter with Rafael Valentino is brokenhearted Cassandra Larrobee’s chance to live in the moment. It was supposed to be one night only, but the sinfully hot doc has left her with more than just memories...

Since a heartbreaking decision years ago, Rafe has been determined to remain alone—but when he’s sent to work with Cassie he can’t resist their reckless kisses! When he discovers Cassie’s shocking surprise, can Rafe let her bring light into his shadowed life...and become a daddy to their baby?

Dear Reader,

Sometimes the past comes back to haunt us in a thousand different ways: the painful decisions we’ve made, the difficulties we’ve faced...those hard goodbyes we were never quite ready to say. This is exactly the situation epidemiologist Rafael Valentino finds himself in. Until he crosses paths one night with a beautiful neonatologist who challenges every belief he holds. Maybe it’s because Cassie Larrobee has faced her own set of hardships—a set of circumstances which threatens to stand in the way of enduring happiness.

I dearly loved these two characters. They made me laugh and cry...and hope.

Thank you for joining Rafe and Cassie as they struggle to overcome emotional barriers that have been many years in the making. And maybe—just maybe—this special couple will find love along the way.

I hope you enjoy their journey as much as I loved writing about it. Happy reading!

Love,

Tina Beckett

Rafael’s One Night Bombshell

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my family. As always. I love you!

Three-times Golden Heart® finalist TINA BECKETT learned to pack her suitcases almost before she learned to read. Born to a military family, she has lived in the United States, Puerto Rico, Portugal and Brazil. In addition to travelling, Tina loves to cuddle with her pug, Alex, spend time with her family, and hit the trails on her horse. Learn more about Tina from her website, or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.

Books by Tina Beckett

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Christmas Miracles in Maternity

The Nurse’s Christmas Gift

The Hollywood Hills Clinic

Winning Back His Doctor Bride

Her Playboy’s Secret

Hot Doc from Her Past

Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss

A Daddy for Her Daughter

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Booklist

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

THE STRANGER AT the bar was as miserable as she was.

At least, judging from the three empty shot glasses in front of him, he was. He rolled a fourth glass between his thumb and index finger, staring at the amber contents as if looking for something he’d lost.

Kind of like she was. Only she hadn’t exactly lost anything. It was more like it had been thrown away. Echoes of her childhood.

You can do this.

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra Larrobee unscrewed the huge rock from the ring finger of her left hand and dropped it into her purse. It was better than drowning it in the storm drain just outside the door but not nearly as satisfying. She should have realized long ago that permanent relationships weren’t in the cards for her.

She scrubbed at the indentation left by the ring, hesitating for the barest second, and then walked across the floor of Mad Ron’s, heading for the only available barstool—the one right next to the stranger.

Little Heliconia’s go-to bar, Mad Ron’s was named after its eccentric owner and had been one of Miami’s most revered liquor joints for many years. It also happened to be the first one she’d come across during her flight from the scene of the crime.

Her fiancé’s crime.

The loud clink of glasses and raucous laughter provided a much-needed refuge. A sanctuary. And if the man at the bar was willing to raise a glass with her, all the better. It would be a brief visit—not long enough to become attached. “Temporary” was a state of being that Cassie knew how to rock. And she could at least blur the memory of what she’d seen tonight, even if she couldn’t blot it out entirely.

After that, she needed to find a new place to live.

She slung her purse over her shoulder as she reached her destination and parked her butt on the tall stool. Ron himself appeared in front of her, puffs of white hair and a pink Hawaiian print shirt making her smile.

Before he could even open his mouth to ask, she said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Where had that come from?

“Sure thing, chica.” As Ron reached behind the bar for a bottle, the stranger’s head swiveled toward her, his fingers still twirling the tiny glass. And those eyes... Straddling the line between brown and predatory, they caught at her, snatching away whatever clever quip she’d been getting ready to toss his way.

Clever? That was so not a word Cassie would use to describe herself.

Capable? Careful? Cautious?

Yep. Cs—all three of them. Only right now she was none of those things.

“Do you even know what I’m having?” He held his little glass up, the low lighting in the bar making the amber contents seem darker. More dangerous.

Or maybe that was the man himself.

“I’m sure I can handle whatever it is.”

The bartender set a matching shot glass in front of her. Suddenly she wasn’t quite sure she could handle it. But it was either slink off or gut it out. And Cassie was no quitter. Except when given no other choice.

She lifted her glass and clinked it against his, before putting it to her lips and chugging the contents down in one swallow.

There. As easy as taking medici—

Liquid fire consumed her throat, her abdomen suddenly spasming as the fumes sought escape. She forced her eyes to remain on his as he downed his own drink, somehow managing to suppress the cough building in her chest. Letting out a quick gust of air that she hoped would ease the pain, she thunked her glass down on the bar. Just like in the movies.

“Another?” Ron held up a half-empty bottle.

One corner of the stranger’s mouth curved as he continued to watch her, setting his own glass down with a mere whisper of sound. He knew, damn him. Knew that she was a lightweight as far as the drinking game went. Not that she would even try to outdo him. His last drink upped his total to four. She would be passed out on the polished surface of the bar before she got to three.

So she changed tack. “I’ll have a margarita this time around.”

Mad Ron was known around Miami for making the best in the area. And it was a drink she could sip—slowly—rather than slug.

“Rafe? What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee. Black.”

What?

“Coming right up.”

Damn. She couldn’t even get a stranger to drink with her on this sorry-ass evening. But she did know the stranger’s name now. Not that it mattered.

She swiveled her barstool a little to the right to face him. “Too much for you?”

“I’ll let you know a little bit later.”

The air caught in her lungs.

Was he talking about the drinks? Her own head felt a little woozy, but she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with what she’d just drunk and everything to do with the man sitting beside her.

Well, why the hell not? Her fiancé had played the cheating game, why shouldn’t she?

Was it still considered cheating if the engagement was over?

It didn’t matter. She could consider this the denouement of that failed relationship.

Ron slid a glass toward her. The huge bowl was precariously perched on top of a glass stem, the lime expertly stabbed onto the salted rim.

Oh, my. She’d forgotten how ginormous these things were. Ron must have seen her indecision because he set Rafe’s coffee in front of him and cocked a brow at her. “Everything okay?”

“I think I’ve changed my mind. Could I have a coffee as well?”

“Sure thing, chica.” Ron gave her a wink, picked up her glass and called out to his customers. “Anyone want a margarita? On the house.”

Within seconds her drink had found a new home, and she had a steaming café con leche in its place. “Thanks.” Maybe the splash of milk would help cool the whiskey that was still sending flames darting through her stomach. Or was that warm licking sensation caused by something else entirely?

“So,” the stranger said, taking a drink of his coffee, “thanks to Ron, you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

And she didn’t want him to. Her thoughts whipped through a couple of sharp responses, rejecting each one. She was never going to see him again, so what did it matter what name she gave him?

“Bonnie.” She crossed her fingers beneath the bar, hoping her dearest friend would forgive her for pulling her name out of the hat.

Rafe took another sip, regarding her with inscrutable eyes. “You don’t look like a Bonnie.”

“No?” She swallowed hard. “What do I look like?”

“Like a beautiful woman who just got out of a painful relationship.”

Shock wheeled through her system. “Excuse me?”

How could he have known that? Or was it just some kind of pickup line?

His fingers moved to her left hand, which was lying flat on the bar, and slid up her ring finger, rubbing across the base of it. “The ring just came off. I saw you drop it in your purse right before you came over here. Unless you’re just looking for a good time. And you don’t seem like that kind of girl.”

This time she wasn’t going to lie. “I’m not. So what are you in here for?” She motioned toward the empty glasses. “Or do you simply get hammered every night?”

“Oh.” His thumb rubbed across her finger again, sending more heat shooting through her veins. “I am not hammered. Not by a long shot.”

The bartender knew his name, though, so he was a regular. She came in with friends from time to time, but not often enough for Ron to actually know her by name. Thank goodness. Otherwise he might just tell this man what it was. And she didn’t want that.

“Four whiskeys is a lot to drink at one time.”

“Maybe. But I’ve celebrated this day at Ron’s for the last eighteen years or so. I think I know my limit.”

Okay, she had no idea how to respond to that, since his voice hinted that the date didn’t hold good memories. Especially not if he spent the night getting drunk every year.

Death of a spouse? A child? Divorce?

Each option went through her head, but there was no way she could voice any of them aloud. The doctor in her came to the surface, however, and she couldn’t help but ask. “You don’t normally drive yourself home, do you?”

“No. I spend the night at a hotel just around the corner.”

She blinked. There was something about the way he said those words...

Oh.

“You’re not alone when you go there.”

“No.”

She glanced at the coffee mug in front of him. Why had he suddenly stopped drinking?

Maybe for the same reason she’d found her way to this particular barstool and engaged a handsome man in conversation. Was it just to get back at her ex?

Yes. And why not? Darrin would never know. But she would. And she could show the universe that she too knew how to play the game.

She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t planning on leaving here alone either.”

His thumb paused its stroking for just a second. “Did you have your sights on anyone in particular?”

“I’m talking to him.”

Cassie couldn’t believe she’d just said that. But why the hell shouldn’t she have a little bit of fun? If he was celebrating something dark and disturbing, then that made two of them.

Unless he was a serial killer or something. Maybe she should check just to make sure. She blurted out, “So, how do you know Ron?”

“My family has known him for years. Including mi hermanos.”

He’d lapsed into Spanish with such ease that he must speak it regularly. He didn’t mention his mother or father, however. Just his brothers. Regardless, it was doubtful he was a Jack the Ripper type if his family and Ron’s were friends. Ron was a great judge of character, from what she’d seen and heard.

Speaking of the devil, the bartender appeared back in front of them. “How are things?”

“I think we’re about ready to get out of here.” Rafe pulled out his wallet and dropped some serious-looking cash on the counter.

“I can pay for my own drink,” she said to cover the disappointment caused by the loss of his touch.

“You can get them the next time.”

There wouldn’t be a next time, and they both knew it. But it was either sit there and argue, and possibly ruin the delicious awareness that had been slowly building in her, or let it go.

She let it go. This lie was one she could overlook. Unlike her fiancé’s declarations that “It wasn’t what it looked like.” Things were normally exactly how they seemed. No longer want a child? Transfer them to another home. Tired of your fiancée? Move on to the next woman.

Want a temporary fling? Head to Mad Ron’s Bar.

Yep, she definitely knew how to play.

“Next time,” she murmured.

He stood, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans.

For a second she thought he was planning on leaving. Alone. Until he held out his hand.

There was still time to chicken out. To sit there like she didn’t have a clue what he meant. Except she’d basically told him she wanted to hook up with him.

So she slid her fingers into his, relishing the way they enfolded hers in a strong grip. Her stomach somersaulted as she allowed her legs to swing to the floor. They shook, but somehow she braced her high-heeled sandals beneath her and remained standing. He said he normally went to a hotel a short distance away, but in little Heliconia there were several places that would fit that description. Some more respectable than others.

Who needed respectable for what they were about to do?

Not her, that was for sure.

Rafe towed her through the crowd and out the door. Twin pots of gardenias flanked the entrance, the breeze lifting the heavy fragrance of the blooms and sending it out into the night. She could hardly believe she was leaving a bar with a total stranger.

How long had it been since she’d done something so...dangerous?

And there was no mistaking that the man gripping her hand was dangerous, no matter how well he knew Ron. He was far removed from the world of her financier ex, who was busy building his empire—and amassing women as easily as he did money, evidently. Well, he was now down one percentage point. Or maybe since she’d been his fiancée, she was worth a little bit more, maybe a point and a half.

What had she learned through this experience? A stable career didn’t always translate into a stable life.

Ha! Who needed stable when there were men like Rafe in the world?

They were halfway down the block before the man in question stopped to face her. His hands slid up her arms as he gazed into her face. “Are you sure about this?”

No, but she was not about to admit that. Hadn’t she just said it had been ages since she’d let herself be picked up by a man in a bar? Actually, she’d never done that before. Well, she could now cross “Pick up stranger” off her bucket list.

Not that it had even been on there in the first place.

She took a deep breath and then nodded. “Yes. I’m sure. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“About your name not being Bonnie? Or about this?”

Then his lips found hers and every other thought she’d had vanished.

* * *

The second they hit the room at the hotel, his fingers smoothed across her hair, quickly finding the elastic at the back of her head and sliding it over her locks, freeing the messy knot she’d formed before she’d gone out. The whole mass tumbled free, spilling halfway down her back.

Before she could even cringe over how crazy her waves probably were from the humidity of the day, his voice rumbled above her.

“Hermosa. Me encanta su cabello.” Even as he murmured it, he wound her hair around his hand, tipping her head back. “Tu novio es un idiota.”

The flood of Spanish whisked up her spine, her brain scooping up the words and translating them with ease.

Wow. The man was as hot as they came.

The fact that he’d called her fiancé an idiot made him even hotter. It also gave her a shot of courage. Winding her arms around his neck, she went up on tiptoe, surprised at how far she had to stretch to get to his lips. Too far. She couldn’t reach, unless he bent down. “No more talking.”

“Agreed.”

His fingers went to the back of her fitted blouse and found the zipper, sliding it down with ease.

Okay. That was more like it. Sweet heat fizzed through her tummy and bubbled up her chest, making her shudder.

He stopped. “Okay?”

Far too okay. “Hurry.”

Up went that sexy smile.

The zipper finished its journey, and the back of her blouse parted. His palm skimmed down her skin, seeking something but not finding it.

“Dios mío.”

This time it was Cassie who smiled. She was small enough that she didn’t always wear a bra, and from his reaction she was glad today was one of those days. Coming here with him was the right thing to do. She was sure of it.

Her top fluttered over her shoulders and down her arms, landing on the floor at her feet. Rafe’s fingertips trailed over her collarbone, but didn’t venture any lower. Instead, he moved behind her, twisting her hair and dropping it over her left shoulder. It whispered over her nipple, sending a ripple of sensation through it that jetted straight to the region due south of her breasts. His lips went to the side of her neck, kissing softly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin he found there.

“Bonnie, open your eyes.”

The name jarred her, threatening to send her libido plummeting through the floor. Then she did as he asked, not even realizing she’d closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he knew they were closed since he was behind her, and she couldn’t see...

Her gaze found his.

That’s how. There was a mirror over the dresser in front of her. She swallowed as she took in the two of them standing there. Rafe’s head was still tilted, his lips less than an inch away from the skin he’d been kissing. All thoughts of the fake name skittered out of reach as his hands slowly skimmed up her abdomen, over her ribcage, his left palm dipping under her length of hair. When he reached her breasts he covered them. The sight was heady. And unsettling. And when his fingers parted, catching her nipples between them and pinching, her lids slammed shut again as a wave of need crashed over her.

He could take her right now, and she’d come.

That’s what she wanted.

“Open.”

She blinked again, although her eyes didn’t seem to want to co-operate.

His teeth caught her neck, mimicking what his fingers were doing to her breasts. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release.

“Open.” His words were softer this time. Almost a growl.

Her eyes were already open, so what did he...

A knee nudged the back of hers.

Oh, lordy. Her lips parted, her lungs dragging in air that suddenly seemed still and heavy, while the spot between her legs pulsed with heat.

Somehow she made her feet shuffle apart, the heels of her shoes giving a warning wobble.

“Encantadora.” His hips nudged forward, a ridge of hard flesh finding the groove between her buttocks. His hands left her breasts and traveled down to her hips, holding her in place while he slowly pressed against her again and again. All the while his gaze held hers in the mirror.

She was going to explode, very, very soon, if he didn’t...

He stopped moving, and all her fears about things ending too soon screamed at her for being an idiot. His hands found hers and lifted them, placing them flat on the smooth wood of the dresser. “Mantenerlos allí.”

Keep them right there.

Gulping, she somehow managed a nod, then felt an air-conditioned breeze slide over her calves, up the backs of her knees...her thighs.

Having her hands on the dresser had tipped her forward at the waist, and Rafe was gathering the fabric of her maxi-skirt in his hands, bunching it time and time again, until the whole length of it was up over her behind, baring her legs and exposing her underwear. Not a thong, but small enough that she started to shift.

“Don’t move.”

Heaving in breath after breath, she watched as he removed his wallet, opening it and removing a small packet. Here it came. The moment of truth. If she was going to tell him no, now was the time to do it.

Are you kidding me?

Her body evidently had a mind of its own, because it was screaming all sorts of protests at her.

He set the packet on top of one of her hands, sending another shiver through her. Did he want her to take it?

No. He’d told her to leave her hands where they were.

She heard the snick of another zipper. His, this time.

Cassie’s breath locked in her lungs when the elastic of her panties tightened and then slid over the curve of her backside until they rested just below it, one palm curving around the front of her thigh until he reached the heart of her.

Her body seized as a finger slid into her with ease.

“Ahhhh.” She was powerless to hold back the sound.

“Caliente. Mojado. Tal como esperaba.”

The rational side of her should feel embarrassed that with barely any effort at all he’d aroused her to fever pitch. And he knew it. But the not-so-rational side felt a stab of pride that her body had obeyed him.

All too soon, his hand withdrew. When she started to mutter a protest, he stopped her.

“Shhhh. Almost.”

He retrieved the condom from its resting place and ripped it open in front of her. He lifted it and stroked it down her cheek and over her lips. It was unbearably sexy. She could picture him against her mouth, asking to come in.

She wanted it. Wanted to feel him along her tongue.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I do.” Her eyes closed and then opened again, fixing on his. “I want you.”

“Yes.”

The condom disappeared below her line of vision, but she could picture him slowly rolling the latex cover over his length. His mouth went to her cheek, following the line he’d taken seconds before. She turned her head so she could kiss him. Their lips fused together as Rafe’s hands returned to her hips, easing them backward, tilting them, his mouth following hers as his movements forced her upper body toward the top of the dresser, until her breasts were resting on the wooden surface.

“Open. More.”

He definitely wasn’t talking about her mouth. She spread her legs wide, his chest pushing against her back, hands returning to her breasts.

With a quick thrust of his hips, he entered her, stretching her wider than she thought possible. He stayed like that, their labored breathing the only sound in the room for several long seconds. Then his thumbs were brushing across her nipples, and it was as if he was caressing her somewhere else. A sharp point of arousal began building rapidly, threatening to overtake her.

“Rafe... I don’t think I can... Please.”

“Say my name. Again.”

“Rafe.”

Then he was moving with powerful strokes, sending her hips into the edge of the dresser, the sharp pain only adding to the pleasure.

It was too much. The wave found her. Slammed into her and sent her spinning through the surf, taking her breath away and making her see stars.

She was vaguely aware of Rafe above her, shouting something in Spanish, but she was too lost to try to make sense of it as he thrust into her again and again.

Then it was over. His cheek against hers, nostrils flaring as he dragged in air.

Her own body eased its grip on her senses, and she blinked. The mirror showed that his eyes were closed. She swallowed.

Who would he be when those dark pupils met hers again?

She shifted, trying to brace herself for an abrupt withdrawal. A speedy exit into the night.

“Don’t move.” The eyes opened.

“But...”

His body slid from hers, but it was anything but abrupt. He turned her to face him. “Do you have to leave yet?”

The words sounded as if they’d been forced from him against his will. His sudden frown echoed that thought.

She should. She should go, tossing him a quick thank you on her way out the door. But she didn’t want to. To leave was to face the ugly reality that awaited her outside that door. “No. I don’t have to leave.”

One side of his mouth curved, his frown fading as he swung her into his arms. “Then let’s see if we can try that again. In the comfort of a bed this time.”

He leaned down and nipped her lower lip. “As great and sexy as that was, it was much faster than I’d hoped it would be. So for the next round...”

He tipped her shoulders down so he could catch at the edge of the bedspread and pull it down. “Let’s see just how slow we can go.” With that he set her down on the bed, went over to the dresser and retrieved his wallet. When he pulled out three more condoms, her eyes widened, and she had to moisten her lips.

Surely not.

As if reading her thoughts, he grinned again. “Oh, yes. We can. And we will.”

* * *

Bonnie—if that was even her name—was sprawled naked on her stomach, her hair in a deliciously tangled mess all around her face. A peculiar twinge went through Rafe’s gut as he stared down at her.

Shafts of sunlight were already ducking beneath the hem of the curtains and pooling on the carpet at the bottom of the bed. He was normally long gone by now, his one night binge doing what it always did: blotting out a specific memory.

Almost against his will, he took a step closer, noting her head was precariously perched near the edge of the mattress. The reason for that made a certain part of his body react yet again.

He should wake her up, make sure she got home safely, but something stopped him from touching her. He was due at work in a half hour, but it wasn’t that.

He’d approached last night the same way as he did every year on this date, and yet something about this woman’s appearance in the bar had been different. The way she’d jerked the ring off her finger as if she couldn’t stand it being there one second longer. She’d looked lost, the sense of desperation in her eyes dragging up a sense of protectiveness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hadn’t wanted to feel in a long time.

Rafe had thought for a moment she was running away from someone. He’d actually glanced behind her to make sure some abusive ex wasn’t following her. When he’d satisfied himself that she was alone, he decided to bide his time and leave her to someone else.

Except she’d sat down beside him, the clear blue of her eyes colliding with his glance and sending all rational thought running for the door. Maybe the alcohol had actually done the job he’d meant it to do and addled his thinking. The rest was history.

So what did he do now that he was no longer under the influence?

She was a big girl. Surely she could hail a cab and get home on her own?

The notepad on the end table caught his attention, along with a black elastic circle.

When she’d reached for the band to put her hair up before settling down to sleep last night, he’d stopped her, the thick mass of strands calling for him to sift through them one more time...to wrap them around himself and...

Hell, she’d driven him wild last night. He closed his eyes to banish the memory.

Time to go. Now. Before he woke her up and made himself later for work than he was already going to be.

Besides, goodbyes were one thing he’d never learned to do well.

Going to the table, he gripped the pen, his fingers accidentally brushing across the hair band in the process. Without thinking, he picked it up and pocketed it, picturing her leaving the hotel with her locks in sexy disarray from what they’d done in this room.

He would probably be damned to eternity for everything that had happened last night.

No. The damning had taken place many years ago, when shaking eighteen-year-old hands had placed his signature at the bottom of an irrevocable document.

He grabbed the hotel stationery. This time there would be no signature. The pen hovered over the pristine white paper for several seconds as he thought. Then he scrawled two words. No Goodbye. No Thanks for a fun evening. Just: Taxi fare. Then opening his wallet one last time, he drew out a crisp fifty-dollar bill. Because unless he wanted to go snooping through her purse or, worse, wake her up to ask if she had any money, it was the only thing he could think of to do.

Laying the bill under the note, he set a cheesy palm tree alarm clock on top of it.

Then he quietly exited the room. This was one event that would go down in annals of What Not to Do with a Beautiful Woman.

Because every moan and touch and thrust was permanently seared in his skull. A cautionary tale at best. So the only thing left to do was tiptoe back to his normal mundane life and never think of Bonnie—or whatever her name was—ever again.

CHAPTER ONE

One month later...

EVEN AS CASSIE wrapped the measuring tape around Renato Silva’s head, she knew. The newborn would fall below the circumference norms.

Microcephaly wasn’t something she encountered every day. Or even every year. And yet this child made three in the last eight weeks. A shiver went up her spine. With all of the reports coming out of Brazil and elsewhere, she worried that these cases could somehow be related.

Two centimeters below normal. Not terribly off, but still concerning.

One of the nurses glanced at her, brows up. Cassie knew what she was asking. She gave a subtle nod in response, her stomach churning inside her. And it was up to her to give the new mom the news. The obstetrician had already moved on to the next laboring patient.

She cradled the baby in her arms, and switched to Portuguese. “Você fala inglês?”

“Yes. Some. I am learning.” The young woman’s hungry eyes took in the swaddled infant. Her child. A tiny soul carrying a wealth of hopes and dreams.

Two centimeters surely wouldn’t destroy all of those dreams. She’d seen babies with terrible deficits go further than anyone had ever thought possible.

The baby gave a hoarse cry. It was a touch more strident than that of most newborns. Another worrying sign.

“Renato is breathing just fine and his color is good. We’ll want to run a few tests—”

“Something is wrong.” With those soft, knowing words, the whole atmosphere in the room changed.

Cassie couldn’t keep it from her, not and live with herself. “His head is a little bit smaller than we’d like to see, but we won’t know anything for sure until we check him out completely.”

Her patient fell back onto the pillows. “It was the sickness. I left...came here in December to get away from it. Ele me seguiu.”

It followed me.

The words sent a chill through her. “What sickness? You were sick while you were pregnant?”

“Yes. Just after I learned I carried him. I fear it was Zika.”

News and panic about the mosquito-borne virus had been a huge topic among doctors and journalists for the last year. Yes, she knew of it. This was the third incidence of microcephaly at the hospital. Like it or not, it was time to call the CDC again. She knew they were swamped—it was the excuse they’d given her three weeks ago when the second microcephaly case had appeared. They’d told her they’d get to her as soon as possible. But this time they had to listen to her. Her patients’ lives depended on it.

“You know for certain you had Zika?”

“I was sick. The mosquitoes, they were very bad.”

It was just turning summertime in the U.S. but since the seasons were the opposite on the southern side of the globe, December was the hottest part of the year in Brazil.

Her stomach took another turn, whether from the tragedy unfolding in front of her or from something else, she had no idea. She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the queasy feeling. It stayed with her no matter how much she tried to banish it.

“I’ll come back and talk to you as soon as we check Renato over.” She squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “I promise.”

Cassie nodded at the nurse to take the baby to the nursery, where they would carefully go over the newborn inch by inch.

But first...

She walked through the door and pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her lab coat. First, she was going to call the CDC in Washington one more time and give whoever answered a piece of her mind.

* * *

The canopy of the paraglider caught the wind and swept Rafael Valentino’s legs out from under him as it lifted him skyward. Still attached to the towline behind the boat, the wind whistled past his face, plastering his hair to his head. A familiar sense of weightlessness took over, allowing his problems to drop to the warm sands of the beach below, where they would stay until he touched down. A few more seconds, and he could relax into his harness. But not yet.

Rafe had flown more in the past month than he had in years. Not since those early terrible days after his father’s death, when the adrenaline rush had been one of the few things that had allowed him to blot out the reality of what had happened.

At a signal from the speedboat driver, he pulled the cord that would release the towline and set him free to glide for as long as the winds would sustain his flight. He sat, his harness cradling his butt and his thighs as he worked on changing his angle, catching the winds much as a sailboat did. Only there was something about being in the air, suspended far above the earth. It was heaven. There was nothing else like it.

Except for maybe those last frantic seconds of being suspended in a different kind of heaven. Like the one a month ago?

His jaw tightened. Thoughts like that were why he was out here today. He had to work in a few hours, but he’d needed something to erase those memories. Bonnie had been different in some indefinable way.

And the last thing he wanted to do was try to define anything about that night.

A sudden gust of air caused the nylon that covered the baffle cells to flutter, and he bobbed a time or two before his flight settled back out. The change in the wind conditions did the trick. Everything was wiped from his brain except for controlling his craft.

It was a perfect day for flying, and there were dots of color all up and down the beach as others had the same idea. Powerboats far below carved out white wakes in the ocean as some of the commercial parasail ventures towed thrill seekers up and down the coastline. He would have to descend with care when the time came, but he already had his landing site mapped out.

For now, he would just immerse himself in the moment and not let anything else clutter his skull. He adjusted the speed bar at his feet and shifted his weight to change direction.

Nothing could bother him here.

A sudden buzzing at his hip stopped that thought in its tracks. Damn.

Really? His phone? He should have turned it off. Glancing down and trying to read the caller ID while it was upside down, he swore softly when he was able to make it out.

Perfect. It was work. His boss wouldn’t call him on his day off unless it was urgent.

Fun time was over almost before it began. Scouring the beach for a place to land that was relatively free of sun worshippers, he shifted his weight once again and began his descent.

* * *

An hour later, Rafe was striding down the hallway of Seaside Hospital. He’d been hopping from facility to facility in the last several weeks, trying to keep up with the number of worried doctors and patients who were raising the alarm. It was the same in a lot of other cities—especially those in the South. The warmer the temperatures, the more likely a rogue virus was to dig in and spread. His home country of Heliconia was under a red alert, pregnant travelers being warned to stay away, just as they were in Brazil and most parts of Central and South America.

Zika had been around for decades, but for some reason it was now spreading quickly, crossing continents and the placental barrier alike, and wreaking havoc wherever it went. And the growing stack of evidence said that the virus could infiltrate host cells and cause insidious health problems for whoever was infected, long after the illness itself was gone.

Zika was the new Lyme disease.

Worse, new studies were showing it could be sexually transmitted from a man to his partner.

The hope was that a vaccine would be developed quickly, but until then, all Rafe could do was put out fires. Like the one he’d tried to drown a month ago at Mad Ron’s. He’d ended up having to put out a completely different fire that night.

His hand went to his pocket, fingers fiddling with the circle of elastic he’d been carrying around ever since then. He had no idea why he’d picked it up off the dresser, or why he hadn’t thrown it away in the weeks that followed.

A trophy?

No. He’d never brought anything home from his other encounters. But Bonnie had been different somehow. There’d been a frenzied desperation to her lovemaking that had matched his own.

Killing old demons?

It didn’t matter. He removed his hand from his pocket and forced his mind back to his obligations. He was here to meet the head neonatologist at the hospital, along with the head maternity nurse and the hospital administrator. He called up a file on his phone to retrieve their names. He only recognized one of them.

Bonnie Maxwell.

That’s why he’d shoved the tie in his pocket, although it was doubtful it was the same woman. And he’d never learned what her last name was.

And if she was the same Bonnie from the bar? Was he going to hand over the elastic and say, “Here you go. Sorry it went missing.”

He snorted, turning a corner and following the signs on the wall. Not hardly. He was not going to admit to picking it up from the dresser, although the thread of guilt for abandoning her the morning after their encounter was still there as strong as ever. A peculiar longing had fermented in his stomach and sent a sour broth splashing up his throat as he’d stared down at her. He’d taken things too far by not getting drunk enough before taking her back to the hotel. He’d started drinking coffee far too soon.

Cynthia Porter, Administrator. This was the place. He knocked, feet braced wide in preparation for what he might find inside.

“Come in.”

Rafe pushed through the door to find three women seated in the office.

The sight of sun-kissed locks tied into a familiar scrunchy mass made his stomach contract all over again, although she was facing away from him.

It was the same woman. It had to be.

Damn. Mistake number two: not making sure his date for the night was in a profession other than medicine.

The woman behind the desk stood. “Dr. Valentino?”

“Yes, and you must be Ms. Porter.”

He watched the blonde, who still hadn’t turned her head. There was no indication that his last name was familiar. Maybe because they’d never exchanged surnames. Or maybe she was much cooler than she’d seemed four weeks ago. Was the ring still off?

The third woman had already looked over at him with a smile, the tossing of red curls giving her a mischievous air.

“Thank you for coming, although it was Dr. Larrobee who discovered the connection between some of our newborns. Let me introduce you.”

Both women stood. And when Bonnie finally turned around to face him she gasped, every bit of color leaching from her face.

The administrator either ignored the sound or hadn’t heard it, because she continued with the introductions. “This is Bonnie Maxwell and Dr. Cassandra Larrobee. Cassie is the one who notified your office about the cases.”

His gaze remained glued to the blonde’s, his hand diving back into his pocket and finding the hair tie. “Bonnie and I have already made each other’s acquaintance.”

Blue eyes went wide, and she gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.

What the hell?

“I’m sorry? Have we met?” The words didn’t come from her but from the redhead, and his attention shifted to her.

Ah, so that was it.

One side of Rafe’s mouth twitched. He should have known. He had known actually, although he couldn’t prove it until now. His glance tracked back, and he couldn’t resist a murmured, “Liar, liar...”

Pants on fire.

Only her pants hadn’t been the only thing on fire that night. Her touch had scorched like wildfire across his senses.

Crimson washed into her face, gray stormy flecks appearing in those expressive eyes. “I think he got the names mixed up, but Ra...er, Dr. Valentino and I have met on one occasion.”

The redhead gave her a quick nudge with her shoulder. “Cassie, wow. You didn’t tell me!”

The administrator frowned. “You’ve already met to discuss the cases?”

Cassandra... Cassie—now that name fit her.

“No, I...we...” Her voice trailed away.

“We have a mutual acquaintance here in town.” He might not be able to count good old Jack D. since Cassie had obviously never shaken hands with a glass of whiskey in her life. But Mad Ron had definitely recognized her. And since he and Ron went way back, it wasn’t a lie. At least, not the whopper of a lie that “Bonnie” had been.

Cassie’s shoulders slumped, probably in relief. “Yes, we do.”

The woman who had to be Bonnie muttered something that sounded like, “Girlfriend, you and I need to have a long discussion.”

So that’s why she’d used the name. These two were friends. His smile widened. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, why don’t we sit down and discuss the cases, and you can share your concerns. In return, I’ll tell you what I know.”

Well, maybe not everything he knew, like that cute little dimple she had on her left shoulder blade. Or the way her soft murmurs had caused a chain reaction in him that wouldn’t be denied.

“I’ve got the files ready in the meeting room down the hall,” said Ms. Porter. “Shall we? There’s coffee in there as well.”

He would need bucketfuls of caffeine to knock him back to reality. Because right now he felt like he was floating in some otherworldly place where not a thing made sense. And it had nothing to do with the paraglider he’d just come off.

There was nothing he could do but to keep moving and get this meeting over with. Before he did something stupid. Like touch her to make sure she was really here.

Over coffee and some rather bad hospital sandwiches they went over the three cases and the ways in which each was similar and different. Two of the patients were from Brazil, including the last one. And one was from Honduras. They definitely met the parameters of exposure. All three of the babies had been born with microcephaly, one whose head was a third smaller than it should have been with some accompanying reflex problems. Another newborn was just under the norms. The third baby had clubbing of the hands and a cleft palate in addition to the microcephaly. There were pictures to accompany the reports.

Rafe’s gut twinged a warning as he studied the images of the damage this virus could cause. One fateful encounter and someone’s world changed forever. This time he wasn’t thinking about Cassie, or even about Zika, but about his own childhood. One life gone, another life saved. It seemed like an even exchange when you laid it all out on paper. Only it wasn’t. And yet that’s exactly what had happened, due to a senseless act.

Hadn’t he just celebrated that anniversary?

Celebrated wasn’t the word he was looking for, but when one went out drinking and picking up women to help blot the pain of loss, it was the only term he could think of.

Only he’d never had to face any of those women again.

Until now.

And he could honestly say the experience was not one he cared to repeat. The hair tie in his pocket seemed to mock all his efforts. So much for forgetting.

“Any nearby hospitals reporting anything?”

Cassie glanced at Bonnie and Ms. Porter. “I have a colleague who works at Buena Vista who had a baby born with a cleft palate a week ago. No microcephaly in that case, though.”

Alejandro spent most of his time over there, maybe he should give him a call. Although since his brother had found true love a few weeks ago and had adopted a special needs baby, he might be a little preoccupied with other things. No, Alejandro was nothing if not good at his job. But his specialty was pediatric transplants, not neonatal care, so it was a totally different field from what they were looking at here.

He tried not to think about the exact reasons his brother went into that field, because it brought up his own yearly vigil all over again.

It was his job to check every angle, though. “One of my brothers practices at Buena Vista, I’ll give him a call. What’s the name of your colleague?”

“Rebecca Stanton.”

Her eyes had lost the defensive gleam they’d held moments earlier. The ring wasn’t on her finger, so she and whoever she’d broken up with hadn’t gotten back together.

No involvement. Remember?

The hospital administrator gave him a few phone numbers and names of people he could contact over at Buena Vista. “Is there anything else?” she asked.

“Not that I can think of at the moment. Are any of the patients still at the hospital?”

Cassie nodded. “Renato Silva. He developed some breathing issues, which we need to stabilize before releasing him.”

“I’d like to examine him, if I could.”

Ms. Porter went to the door. “I’ll leave Dr. Larrobee to help you with that, then. Let me know if you have any further questions.”

He shook hands with her and the infamous Bonnie, and waited until they left the room before saying anything else. “Bonnie, huh?”

“I know. I’m sorry for giving you a fake name. I just never dreamed...”

“You never dreamed you’d see me again.”

“Actually, I didn’t, or I wouldn’t have...”

She wouldn’t have what? Sat next to him at the bar? Spent the night with him?

“Isn’t there a certain book that warns your sins shall find you out?”

A smile teased the corners of her mouth as color washed back into her face. “I think falsifying names were the least of our sins in that case.”

Yes, they were. Thoughts that caused certain synapses in his brain to begin firing.

“I see you found another hair band.”

Cassie’s fingers went to the bun at the back of her head. “I did. You wouldn’t happen to know where my other one went, would you?”

Any twinge of conscience he’d had over taking it vanished at the way her voice lowered, the sultry edge he’d heard the night at the bar coming back.

“Not a clue.”

Ha! If she knew the thing was about to burn a hole in his pocket, she’d probably kill him and leave his body in one of the supply closets.

It was one night, Rafe. Hardly worth mentioning.

Besides, he wasn’t here to talk about hair ties or what they’d done. He was here to see if Zika was growing to epidemic proportions on their shoreline. “You haven’t been to any of the countries involved, have you?”

She frowned as if confused by the question. “No. But it can be passed sexually, from what we’re hearing.”

“Yes. It can.” Thank heavens they’d used condoms over the course of the night. “Your ex?”

She gave a short sound that could have been described as pained. “He barely steps out of his office, much less travels out of the country.”

But they both knew that there were many diseases that could be spread down the line if there were multiple partners involved. And from what he’d sensed in Cassie at Mad Ron’s a month ago, the man had done some straying.

Maybe she sensed what he was thinking because her chin tilted. “Do you want to go see Renato? Or not?”

There was a definite chill to her voice that hadn’t been there a few moments earlier. He guessed she didn’t take kindly to him mentioning the man she’d once been with.

“Yes.” As she started to walk past him he touched her arm. “Sorry for leaving you alone in the hotel. Did you make it home okay?”

Her brows came together and she motioned to the conference room. “Yes. I’m not quite destitute, as you can see. I didn’t need your...contribution. I found it insulting, actually. I left it for the maid.”

Contribution? Oh, the money.

“I didn’t know what arrangements you’d made, and I was already late for work. I was afraid I might leave you stranded.”

“I’m a big girl. I make it a point never to get myself into a situation that I can’t get out of.”

Rafe himself lived by that same motto, actually. He never let himself get embroiled in something that might require any emotional input. Or painful goodbyes. Even the job he’d chosen reflected that. Although he was an MD, he’d chosen epidemiology as his specialty. He was one step removed from being in contact with patients on a daily basis. A buffer zone that physicians didn’t have. His role was more detached. And that’s the way he’d chosen to live his life.

Deciding whether or not to give a hair tie back to its owner was as personal as he wanted to get. And even that was giving him some trouble.

But it was on a whole different level from deciding whether or not to disconnect life support. He’d vowed never to be put in that position again. So as long as the only people he allowed into his life were his brothers, he was good to go. Besides, he should be celebrating. Santi, the brother who had up and disappeared for a long period of time, had just come back into their lives.

He switched his thoughts back to Cassie and her statement about not getting into situations she couldn’t get out of.

“And yet you came to Mad Ron’s because of one, didn’t you?”

She gave a visible swallow, not answering immediately. And then she said, “Shall we go see Renato?”

He let the subject go, waiting for her to pass him, then he followed her down the hallway. The decision about what to do with the hair tie was made. It would stay in his pocket, and when he got home he would throw it away. And then he would most definitely forget about it.

And her.

* * *

Poor Renato had been poked and prodded so much since he’d been born, and yet the baby was taking everything much better than she expected him to.

Maybe even better than she was. Rafe had seemed so genuinely puzzled over her reaction to the money he’d left her that it had put her mind at ease. She’d been just about ready to forgive the lapse in judgment, and then he had to go and poke at what was still a very sore spot: her reasons for going to Mad Ron’s in the first place. Her cheating fiancé, who she’d heard from exactly once since she’d caught him in flagrante, had asked for the ring back. Good thing she hadn’t dumped it down the storm sewer outside the bar, like she’d thought about doing. She’d sent it via certified mail, gratified that his signature closed the final chapter on that relationship. Thank goodness she’d discovered who he really was now, rather than after they’d been married.

And yet it still hurt that someone she’d trusted could do something like that to her. Especially since she didn’t hand that trust out to just anyone. Tossed from foster home to foster home—she’d been seventeen before a kind couple had decided to adopt her—she’d learned very early on that most relationships didn’t last.

So she’d avoided them altogether. Until Darrin. Who’d seemed like everything she could possibly dream of—steady, good-looking, career oriented. He was all those things. But he wasn’t faithful.

Well, she was putting it all behind her. No more dating for a while.

Was that why she’d jumped into bed with the first available guy?

Ugh! No, Rafe was simply the punctuation mark that ended her relationship with her ex. From now on her job and her patients were what she was going to focus on. They were enough.

She forced her mind back to where the man in question was carefully listening to Renato’s heart. “He has a slight murmur.”

“Yes. He has a prolapsed mitral valve. And his breathing isn’t quite where we want it to be yet, although it seemed fine right after birth.”

“All Zika-related?” Rafe glanced up from the exam table.

“We’re not sure. The mitral valve issue is common enough in the general population that we have no idea if it’s due to the virus or if his valve would have been that way anyway.”

“Any of the other cases include heart valves?”

What could seem like random anomalies, if taken on a case-by-case basis, could actually be part of a disease process if they occurred in clusters.

“Neither of the other two infants had heart involvement at all. But then again Renato doesn’t have clubbed fingers or a cleft palate like one of the other patients.” She hesitated. “And, honestly, if we don’t see any more suspicious cases of birth defects, I will be ecstatic.”

“So will the CDC. But we can’t operate under that assumption.”

“Any advances on the vaccine front?”

Rafe, who had handed her back her stethoscope, went to test the baby’s grip reflex. Renato’s fingers curled around the epidemiologist’s thumb and held on.

A strange quiver went through her stomach when he didn’t immediately tug free and move on to the other hand, but rather stood there, looking down at the baby. When he glanced up again, his eyes were dark, pupils large. “There are a couple of promising trials coming up. Hopefully we won’t have very many more Renatos before a breakthrough is discovered.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s so terrible, isn’t it? He had his whole life in front of him, and now...”

“I know.”

Somehow, Cassie sensed Rafe really did know. She’d never found out exactly why he’d been drinking that night. He’d figured her reasons out by watching her take off her ring. But once they’d left the bar he hadn’t been all that interested in holding lengthy conversations. He’d been too busy kissing her.

And more.

There it was again. That stream of heat that started in her head and rushed rapidly to the outer reaches of her body. If this was what hot flashes felt like, she wanted no part of them.

“Do you need anything else?”

“I think I have enough for this visit.”

This visit? As in there would be more? She had been counting on this being a chance meeting. A fluke. Kind of like Mad Ron’s had been.

Rafe eased his thumb from the baby’s grip and carefully picked him up, tucking him under his chin and holding him close for a moment.

The warm flush grew despite her best efforts. Some woman was going to be lucky to get him. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and she could tell babies held a special place in his heart.

Except she had a feeling she wasn’t the first woman he’d picked up in Mad Ron’s. And she probably wouldn’t be the last. That should tell her right there that he wasn’t a one-woman kind of man.

Well, neither was her ex.

Yes, and it was a good thing she’d thought of Darrin, because it was enough to put her back on the straight and narrow. Maybe she could find a convent that would take her in.

As ridiculous as that was, the thought made her stop. She didn’t want to join an actual cloister or abandon the human race entirely, but couldn’t she turn her heart into one? She’d let one man in and it had been a disaster. One she didn’t want to repeat. If she could figure out how to fashion her life into an impenetrable fortress, she could stand in its turret and rain arrows down on any man who ventured too close.

Like Rafe?

No, he’d been a one-night stand, a fling, nothing more, nothing less.

Liar, liar...

Rafe’s amused words during their meeting in the conference room came back to haunt her.

She may have been lying about her name, but she wasn’t lying about the one-night-stand part. This man was dangerous. The less she had to do with him, the better.

Maybe she should make things as plain as she could for him—and for her—to make sure his references to “next time” were just idle talk. Especially if the Zika thing was actually a “thing” and they really did need to work together more than this one time.

She hesitated.

Come on, Cassie. Embarrassment is a small price to pay to make sure things don’t get more awkward than they already are.

“Can I say something?”

He glanced up, the baby still tucked close. “Of course.”

“That night at the bar was... Well, I wasn’t myself. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

A frown appeared. “You made that pretty obvious when you came in with an engagement ring and handed me a fake name. But, just for the record, I agree with you. It was a one-time thing. Not to be repeated.”

The quick stab of pain was unexpected, but necessary. So were her next words. “As long as we’re both clear. And I’d appreciate your keeping what happened between us.”

“I wasn’t planning on writing any journal articles or using you as a reference on my résumé, if that’s what you’re worried about.” This time his voice was a little harder than it had been. She ignored it.

“Great. It sounds like we’re on the same page. Now, I’ll take the baby, if you’re done examining him.”

As he handed Renato back to her, Cassie breathed an inner oath to herself. As of this moment she was going to stay true to her word and watch her Ps and Qs with this man.

Although, if she were very, very lucky, there would be no more Zika cases at her hospital, and no reason to see a certain epidemiologist ever, ever again.

CHAPTER TWO

BONNIE CORNERED CASSIE in the cafeteria a few hours later, dropping into the seat across from her. “So what was that all about?”

Her friend was everything she wasn’t. With untamed red hair and a personality to match, they were about as opposite as they could be. And yet they’d been friends since elementary school—their friendship the only stable thing in an unstable childhood. Bonnie had dared her to do some outrageous stunts during the course of their lives, most of which had been turned down with a shocked “Are you insane?” Her friend was the one, though, who had talked her into going to medical school, saying she had the “smarts.” Working at the same hospital with her was both fun and, at times, extremely scary. Like right now.

She decided to play it cool. “What was what, Bon?”

“Um...that CDC man thinking I was you? He may have said my name, but he was staring right at you.”

“Was he?” Hadn’t she just asked Rafe not to mention their little tryst? She gulped. Well, he probably didn’t have someone like Bonnie grilling him. He seemed like a loner.

Her friend propped her arms on the table, leaning forward and giving her a dark glare. “If you could have seen the look on your face when he said he’d already met ‘Bonnie’ you wouldn’t bother using that innocent act on me. I can see right through it. What happened?”

“I picked him up at a bar.” Yep. She would just keep what had happened to herself. She gave an internal eye-roll.

“You...what?”

Cassie couldn’t prevent a laugh. “Okay, so if your face looks anything like you say mine did, then I’m in big trouble. Close your mouth, silly.”

Bonnie obliged with an audible click of her teeth. “Okay, just let me wrap my head around this for a second. I cannot imagine you picking up anyone. Especially so soon after Darrin. Where did you go?”

“Mad Ron’s. And it was the same night as the break-up actually. I yanked the ring off on the way through the door.”

“Wow. Just wow.” Her friend snagged a grape from Cassie’s plate and looked at her with something akin to envy. “This is probably the only impulsive thing you’ll do in your entire life, and I didn’t even get an invitation. Or a video.”

“Um... I don’t think you would have wanted an invitation, and certainly not a video, for part of it.” Most of it, actually. Her friend knew how to keep a secret so there was no harm in letting her in on it. Right?

Bonnie popped the fruit into her mouth, chewing for a few seconds. “Maybe not. But I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall. That still doesn’t answer my question, though. Why did he think I was—” She stopped, eyes widening. “Oh, wait. You gave him my name. You...you impersonated me.”

“I didn’t impersonate you. I would have had to wear a wig and get a personality transplant to do that. I just didn’t think I’d ever see the man again. And if he turned out to be some kind of weird stalker...”

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