Victor chuckled. “If you ever met my mother, you’d save your pity. She’s always run the show in our family. Although my father would never admit it, we all know Mama’s the boss. So being the only female in the house has never made any difference to her.”
Tamara smiled softly, enjoying this rare glimpse into his background. Although he was well liked and respected by their fellow interns, he’d been known to keep the details of his personal life close to the vest. Which was something else he and Tamara had in common.
“It sounds like you and your family are pretty tight,” she observed.
“We are.” A quiet, reflective smile touched Victor’s mouth. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
Tamara nodded, then couldn’t resist asking gently, “Why did your parents leave Colombia?”
She watched as sorrow settled over his face like a veil. He looked past her, staring out the rain-streaked window. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low. “It was too dangerous to stay there. At the time, many parts of Bogotá were overrun with gangs. My parents lived in constant fear of something happening to one of us.” He paused for a long moment, and Tamara instinctively braced herself for what he would reveal next. “One day, my uncle and his daughter were sitting on their front porch when a gunfight broke out between two rival gangs. They were killed in the crossfire.”
A horrified gasp escaped Tamara’s lips. “Oh, my God, Victor,” she breathed. “How awful.”
Pain flickered in his eyes. “That’s the way it was,” he said grimly. “Even if you were at home minding your own business, you could still be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” His brooding gaze returned to Tamara’s. “Not long after my uncle and cousin died, my parents packed up the family and fled to America, along with my aunt and her surviving children.”
Tamara nodded, swallowing tightly. “Have you ever gone back?”
He nodded. “We still have many family members there. And I know it may sound hard to believe, but despite what happened, Bogotá will always be home.”
“Of course. I understand.” She shook her head mournfully. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Victor.”
He inclined his head, silently acknowledging her condolences.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Seeking to distract him from his painful memories, Tamara asked softly, “Would you like a snack?”
Victor eyed her blankly. “A snack?”
“Yeah.” She reached for her backpack and dug out a large plastic bag filled with an assortment of goodies. As she emptied the bag onto the bed, Victor lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to survey her stash.
“Whatcha got?”
Tamara grinned. “I got whatever you need, papi,” she said teasingly, feeling like a drug dealer. “I got protein bars if you need a quick shot of energy, healthy granola bars if you feel like being good, and candy bars if you—”
She laughed as Victor snatched a Snickers out of her hand and tore open the wrapper. After taking a huge bite of the chocolate bar, he groaned appreciatively. “Mmm, that hits the spot.”
Tamara tsk-tsked him. “I’m surprised at you, Dr. Aguilar, choosing empty carbs over more nutritious snacks.”
“Says the woman with the bag full of candy bars,” he muttered around a mouthful of chocolate.
Tamara grinned. “I only bring those to bribe the nurses into—”
“Bribe?” Victor interrupted in a tone of mock indignation. “Why, Dr. St. John, I didn’t know you engaged in such unethical behavior. Shame on you.”
Tamara chuckled. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have the nurses eating out of the palms of our hands. Some of us have to do more than wink and smile to get what we need around here.”
Victor gave her a look of sham innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tamara laughed . “Riiight.”
Grinning, he polished off his Snickers bar and snagged another one.
She shook her head at him. “Keep eating all that junk and your arteries will get clogged, then I’ll have to operate on you.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
He met her surprised gaze. “I wouldn’t entrust my life to anyone but you.”
Tamara warmed with pleasure at his words. “Likewise,” she murmured. And she meant it.
Victor smiled at her, his eyes glittering like molten sapphires.
As they stared at each other, the moment stretched into two.
Glancing away, Tamara busied herself with returning the remaining snacks to the bag. “You know,” she remarked offhandedly, “all the nurses think you look like Adam Rodriguez from CSI.”
“Yeah?” Victor drawled, leaning back in the chair and propping his sock-clad feet on the table as he continued munching on his candy bar. “And what do you think?”
She tilted her head to one side, lips pursed as she pretended to examine his masculine features. “I can definitely see the resemblance. But—” She broke off, shaking her head.
“But what?”
She hesitated, then sighed. “At the risk of further inflating your ego,” she said grudgingly, “I think you’re even better looking than Adam.”
A slow, wicked grin curved Victor’s mouth. “Are you flirting with me, Tamara?”
Heat rushed to her face. “Of course not.”
“Are you sure? Because that would be against hospital policy, and you know—”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’m not flirting with you. Sheesh. Can’t a woman compliment you without wanting to sleep with you?”
Victor looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”
Sputtering with indignation, Tamara slapped his hard, muscled thigh. “Pendejo!” she hissed, seizing on her expanding Spanish vocabulary to call him a jerk.
He threw back his head and laughed, a strong, deep laugh that rumbled up from his chest and raised goose bumps along her skin. She’d have to be an occupant of the morgue not to be affected by his raw sex appeal.
“I forgot that you’re learning Spanish from Isabelle so you can communicate with more of your patients,” Victor said.
“That’s right, and I’m a damn quick learner. So pretty soon I’ll be able to insult you in two languages.”
Again he laughed, discarding his Snickers wrapper in the trash. “You knew I had to say something to get a rise out of you,” he teased. “We were getting along too well.”
“God forbid we should do that,” Tamara muttered, plumping up the stiff pillows before lying down on her side. “I’m going to sleep.”
“You can’t.”
“Says who?”
“You have to keep me company until my sugar rush wears off.”
She snorted. “No one told you to eat two candy bars.”
“I had the munchies. Come on, Tamara,” Victor cajoled, moving his foot from the table to playfully nudge her leg, a simple touch that sent heat crashing through her veins. “Keep me company.”
“Fine,” she relented