From Passion To Pregnancy. Tina Beckett

drugs. In fact, there were little nicks in the paintwork and a dent marred one side. A picture of two hands, palms outstretched, was painted in muted colors. Nestled inside them were the words “Mãos Abertos.” The name was fitting since the hospital saw it as opening their hands to those in need. Below the hands was a mobile number that would ring through to a special cellphone that Sebastian would carry. Word would get around quickly about what the old ambulance did, and hopefully it would become a symbol of hope.

      “What do you think?” he asked Sara, who stood a few yards away.

      “It doesn’t look like a normal ambulance.”

      “The hospital didn’t want it to. Besides, I’m hoping to take away some of the stigma—the fear of the unknown that comes with emergency vehicles.”

      Like the time his teenaged sister had been hauled off to the hospital in a flurry of red lights and sirens, while he’d been left at home with his ailing grandmother, wondering if he would ever see her again. Her cancer diagnosis had devastated everyone. But she’d pulled through, thank God. It was one of the reasons Sebastian had gone into oncology.

      To help people like his sister. He’d always felt that if she’d been diagnosed earlier maybe she wouldn’t have had to have an internal prosthesis in her arm. It was another reason why this mobile unit was his heart’s desire.

      “So what will we do, exactly?”

      “We’ll do things never attempted before.” Only when her teeth came down on her bottom lip did he realize how that sounded. He was doing his best to keep his cool, but failing miserably. He cleared his throat. “We’ll do screenings and teach people what to look for in themselves. We’ll check for enlarged thyroids, breast lumps, do pap smears, look for skin cancers. If we find something suspicious, we’ll refer them for testing.”

      “To Santa Coração?”

      That was one of the sticking points. Their hospital wasn’t part of the public sector, so the administrator would probably balk at them sending dozens of people their way. But Sebastian was already building relationships outside his hospital. Lucas Carvalho, who ran a free clinic inside one of the larger favelas, worked with a public hospital as well as Santa Coração. Lucas had agreed to partner with him and use the mobile unit as a springboard to expand his clinic’s reach. It was the perfect way to get started. Hopefully as time went on, Lucas could use this as a means to garner donations and grants from outside agencies, since he and his wife traveled with relief groups quite a bit.

      “The sister hospital Dr. Carvalho works with is called Tres Corações. They’re willing to take up to fifty patients a month.”

      “Fifty?” Her eyes widened. “You think we’ll refer that many people?”

      “Probably not. It depends on how many are willing to be screened. The whole ‘ignorance is bliss’ attitude is the scourge of most health-care professionals.”

      “Ignorance is death.” Her voice was soft, maybe remembering what Sebastian had once told her father when he’d tried to refuse treatment. Thank God the man had changed his mind—all thanks to his sister’s willingness to be vulnerable and share her own story with him. It was exactly what Sebastian was hoping would happen with this unit.

      Sara pulled her hair over one of her shoulders, catching the long dark waves together in one hand, the ends sliding over the curve of her breast. It was something he’d seen her do at Natália’s wedding as well—he’d been fascinated by the way she’d kept twisting those silky locks. It had taken his mind off his best friend marrying Sebastian’s sister, something he still had trouble wrapping his head around.

      She twisted the rope of hair tighter. Nervous habit? He wasn’t sure, but with her crisp white shirt and dark skirt she was the epitome of a professional nurse, but not quite what he was looking to put forth when they ventured into the neighborhoods. But he wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject without appearing to be dictating what she should and shouldn’t wear. It was just that climbing in and out of the back of the ambulance was going to be difficult enough as it was, and it was Sebastian’s hope to appear casual and approachable—engender trust where there was normally suspicion.

      His gaze traveled down to her feet, where a hole at the toe of each shoe allowed a glimpse of pink sparkly polish, something that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of her attire. She’d had the same sparkly polish on at the wedding. He’d kissed each of those gorgeous toes of hers…

      Her hair not being pinned up was another of those little idiosyncrasies. Maybe that’s what was with his continued fascination with it. His eyes traveled back up her bare legs.

      He definitely didn’t want men ogling them as she got in and out of the truck.

      Like he’d ogled them that night? And was still ogling them?

      No, he was simply trying to decide how to best bring up the subject of their attire.

      He’d worn jeans and a dark T-shirt today.

      Her fingers twisted the rope of hair yet again and a corresponding knot in his throat formed and then squeezed shut. He swallowed to loosen it. “Do you want to see inside the vehicle?”

      Time to get this show on the road and Sara out of his thoughts.

      She nodded, moving around to the back with him. When he opened the doors and pulled down the steps he’d had installed for their patients, her brows went up.

      “Maybe this isn’t the best thing to wear out on runs.” She released her hair, the locks tumbling free as her palms ran down the smooth line of her skirt.

      Okay, here was his chance. “I think the more casual we are the better, if that’s okay. I want people to see us as allies rather than as authority figures. It’s why we put a few dents and dings in our vehicle.”

      She seemed to think about that for a second. “That makes sense. I guess.”

      Her slight hesitation over that last word made him frown. “I’m not sure I follow.”

      “Will people take us seriously?”

      Professionalism was one of the things impressed upon students in medical school, and it was probably the same in the nursing sector. But he’d seen from Lucas’s own practice in the favela that his friend had fit in and become a fixture in that community. He almost always wore simple, even slightly tattered jeans. Maybe it wasn’t his clothing that did it, though. Lucas had been born in that very same favela. But Sebastian thought it went deeper than that, and he hoped to be able to build on Lucas’s success. Maybe they could be an example to other doctors who would then give their time and talents in other communities. Sebastian had taken a trip into the Amazon several years ago and had worked with a medical missionary who’d traveled to villages providing free health care. It had impacted him deeply.

      Almost as deeply as his sister’s cancer journey.

      And his parents’ simmering anger toward each other. And how he’d always felt the need to shield Natália from it.

      He guessed he’d done something right, since she’d fallen in love and gotten married. Too bad he’d been the one to see all the ugliness first-hand. It had soured him on relationships and made him suspicious anytime a woman started wandering a little closer than he wanted.

      Like Sara?

      Totally different situation.

      “I would hope so.” He climbed the metal steps that led into the back of the truck. “We also have a ramp we can use for people who have trouble climbing stairs. Do you want me to slide it out?”

      Her pink lips curved, activating a dimple in her right cheek. “I grew up on a ranch, remember? I’m actually a tomboy at heart, so wearing jeans will be a welcome relief. I can manage.”

      Okay, so much for wondering if she was going to be upset about not wearing scrubs or skirts. When her dad was being treated at the hospital, she’d always worn sleek tops and fashionable slacks. And at the wedding she’d