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The Last Temptation of Dr. Dalton
Robin Gianna


Taming the notorious ladies’ man…When cool, collected hospital director Charlotte Edwards throws caution to the wind for one hot, reckless night with Dr. Trent Dalton she has no idea it’s going to backfire on her so spectacularly—because the next morning she has to bury her pride and ask for his help!Trent shouldn’t mix business with pleasure…again! But Charlotte is a delicious temptation he just can’t resist. Yet when Trent finds out she’s been keeping him around under false pretences he might just have to teach this little minx a lesson…in passion!









Why did his mouth say one thing when his brain told him to shut up and walk out?


Until the slow blink of her eyes, the tip of her tongue licking her lips, the rise and fall of that tantalizing vee of skin beneath her robe obliterated all regrets.

“I don’t think your sleep is my responsibility,” she said. “You’re on your own.”

She swayed closer, lids low, her lips parted, practically willing him to kiss her. What was the reason he’d been trying not to? Right now, he couldn’t quite remember. Didn’t want to.

“Seems to me we agreed you were in charge of my life while I’m here.” Almost of their own accord his feet brought him nearly flush with her body. Close enough to feel her warmth touch his bare chest. To feel her breath feather across his skin. “Got any ideas on a cure for insomnia?”

“Maybe a hammer to the head? I’ve got one in the toolbox in the closet.”

He reached for her, put his hands on her waist. “I know you said you couldn’t promise not to hurt me, but that seems a little drastic.” His head lowered, because he had to feel her skin against his lips, touch them softly to her cheek, beneath her ear. “Any other ideas?”

Her warm hands flattened against his chest. When they didn’t push he pulled her tightly against him, fitted her curves perfectly to his angles. Much as he knew he should back off right now, there was no way he could do it. He wanted her even more than the night they’d fallen into her bed together. And that night had knocked him flat in a way he couldn’t remember ever experiencing before.


Dear Reader

As I was writing my debut Medical Romance™, CHANGED BY HIS SON’S SMILE, I fell a little in love with a secondary character—charming playboy Dr Trent Dalton. Writing a book about him and how a certain spunky woman turns his life upside down was sure to be fun!

I chose Liberia as the setting for this story because of its unique ties to the United States, as well as its interesting West African culture. The civil wars the people of Liberia endured in the very recent past were horrific, with medical care nearly non-existent during the worst of it. Mission hospitals and schools like my fictional ones in this story are an important part of the country’s healing and growth. I hope you enjoy learning a little about Liberia, too, as you read the story.

Trent travels the world working in mission hospitals, careful never to get tied to one place—or one woman—for very long. Beautiful Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Edwards certainly has to be determined and feisty to meet the challenges of running a mission hospital, and I knew she was the perfect heroine to tame him. But just when he finally realises she’s the one worth sticking around for, he finds out she just might have been playing him all along.

Please drop me a line through my website, www.robingianna.com, if you enjoy Trent and Charlie’s story. I’d love to hear from you!

Robin


After completing a degree in journalism, working in the advertising industry, then becoming a stay-at-home mum, ROBIN GIANNA had what she calls her mid-life awakening. She decided she wanted to write the romance novels she’d loved since her teens, and embarked on that quest by joining RWA, Central Ohio Fiction Writers, and working hard at learning the craft.

She loves sharing the journey with her characters, helping them through obstacles and problems to find their own happily-ever-afters. When not writing, Robin likes to create in her kitchen, dig in the dirt, and enjoy life with her tolerant husband, three great kids, drooling bulldog and grouchy Siamese cat.

To learn more about her work visit her website: www.RobinGianna.com

A recent title by Robin Gianna:

CHANGED BY HIS SON’S SMILE

Also available in eBook formatfrom www.millsandboon.co.uk


The Last

Temptation

of Dr. Dalton

Robin Gianna






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


Many thanks to:

Critique partner, writer friend and paediatric emergency physician Meta Carroll, MD, for spending so much time walking me through medical scenes and double-checking them for accuracy. I appreciate it so, so much!

My sister-in-law, Trish Connor, MD, for helping me figure out why my heroine had needed plastic surgery as a child.

Cynthia Adams, piano teacher extraordinaire, for the perfect music choices in the story.




DEDICATION


Mom, you always told me how important writers are to the world.

This one’s for you.


Contents

Chapter One (#ud649e477-56c7-59fb-b9be-b24905099735)

Chapter Two (#u276c4539-49b2-5eca-b131-119cd187a49b)

Chapter Three (#u0a1ca990-54f6-5018-8bc7-e43d3d77a82b)

Chapter Four (#u2d13a09f-445d-52c1-8746-4ac0a24145a4)

Chapter Five (#u082b153f-d70e-524d-b4de-bb59a332d778)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS ALL she could do not to throw her stupid phone out of the car window.

Why wasn’t he answering? Charlotte Edwards huffed out a breath and focused on driving as fast as she possibly could—not an easy task on the potholed dirt road that was just muddy enough to send her sliding into a tree if she wasn’t careful.

Thank goodness it was only May in Liberia, West Africa, and just the beginning of the rainy season. Her battered four-by-four handled the terrible roads pretty well, but once they were inches deep with mud and water all bets were off.

Adrenaline surging, Charlie cautiously pressed harder on the gas pedal. No matter how uncomfortable it would make her feel, she absolutely had to catch Trent Dalton at the airport before he left—then tell him off for not answering his phone. If he had, she’d have paid for a taxi to bring him back stat to her little hospital, instead of wasting time making this trek both ways.

The sudden ringing of her phone made her jump and she snatched it up, hoping it was Trent, seeing she’d called a dozen times. “So you finally decided to look at your phone?”

“It’s Thomas.”

The hospital technician sounded surprised and no wonder. Her stomach twisted with dread, hoping he wasn’t delivering bad news. “Sorry. You calling with an update?”

“The boy is still holding his own. I pray he’ll be okay until Dr. Dalton gets back here. But I wanted to tell you that Dr. Smith has offered to do the appendectomy.”

“What? Tell him no way. I’m not having a liar and a hack working on any of our patients—unless Trent’s already gone, in which case we’ll have no choice but to reconsider. I’ll let you know as soon as I get to the airport.”

“Yes, Ma.”

She hung up and shook her head, managing a little smile. The word “Ma” was used as a sign of respect in Liberia, and no matter how many times she’d asked Thomas just to call her Charlie, or Charlotte, he never did.

Dr. Smith had been sent by the Global Physicians Coalition to work at the Henry and Louisa Edwards Mission Hospital for a one-year commission. But when his arrival had been delayed they’d asked Trent to fill in for the five days until Smith could get there. Though he’d just finished a stint in India, Trent had thankfully not minded his vacation being delayed until Smith showed up.

Not long after Trent had left to start his vacation, though, the GPC called to tell her they had discovered that Smith had falsified his credentials. No way would she have him work here now.

And, because problems came in multiples, they had a very sick little boy whose life just might depend on getting surgery pronto. If only John Adams, her right-hand man for everything to do with the hospital and school, hadn’t been off getting supplies today. Charlie would’ve sent him to drag Trent back to take care of the little boy, saving her from enduring an hour’s drive in close quarters with the man. That was, if he hadn’t flown off to wherever he was going next.

Anxiety ratcheting up another notch, Charlie almost called Trent again, knowing there was little point. Then she spotted the airport in the distance. Shoving down the gas pedal, hands sweating, she slithered and bumped her way down the road, parked nearly sideways and ran inside.

Relief at seeing him still sitting there nearly made her knees weak. And, of course, that weakness had nothing to do with again seeing the gorgeous man she’d enjoyed a one-night stand with just hours ago. Memories of what they’d spent the night doing filled her cheeks with hot embarrassment, and she wished with all her being she’d known their last kiss this morning wouldn’t really be goodbye. She wished she had known before she’d fallen into bed with him. If she had, she most definitely would have resisted the delicious taste of his mouth and the all too seductive smile.

He was slouched in a hard chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a Panama hat pulled over his face with just his sensuous lips visible. Lips that had touched every inch of her body, mortified heat rushed back to her face. Even sitting, his height made him stand out among the passengers sprawled everywhere in the airport. A battered leather bag sat next to his feet. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked sound asleep.

Dang it, this was all too awkward. She squirmed with discomfort at the very same time her nerve-endings tingled at the pleasure of seeing him again. Disgusted with herself, she took a deep breath, stepped closer and kicked his shoe. “Wake up. We need to talk.”

She saw him stiffen, but other than that he didn’t move, obviously pretending he hadn’t heard her. What—he thought she’d come all this way just to kiss him goodbye again? Been there, done that and now it was over between them. This was about business, not pleasure. But with that thought instantly came other thoughts. Thoughts of all the pleasure she’d enjoyed with him last night, which made her even more annoyed with herself.

“I know you’re not asleep, Trent Dalton. Look at me.” She kicked him in the ankle this time, figuring that was sure to get his attention.

“Ow, damn it.” He yanked back his leg and his finger inched up the brim of his hat until she could see the nearly black hair waving across his forehead. His light blue eyes looked at her, cautious and wary. “What are you doing here, Charlotte?”

“I’m here because you wouldn’t answer your stupid cell phone.”

“I turned it off. I’m on vacation.”

“If you’d left it on, I wouldn’t have had to spend an hour driving here, worried I wouldn’t catch you before you left. We have to talk.”

“Listen.” His expression became pained. “It was great being with you, and moving on can be hard, you know? But going through a long-drawn-out goodbye will just make it all tougher.”

“We can’t say goodbye just yet.”

“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I have to leave. I promise you’ll be fine.”

Of all the arrogant... Did he really think women had a hard time getting over him after one night of fun? Fabulous fun, admittedly, but still. She felt like conking him on the head. “Sorry, but you have to come back.”

“I can’t,” he said in a soft and gentle voice, his blue eyes now full of pity and remorse. “We both knew we only had one night together. Tomorrow will be better. It will. In a few weeks, you’ll forget all about me.”

“You are so incredibly full of yourself.” She couldn’t control a laugh that ended in a little snort. The man was unbelievable. “Our fling was over the second you kissed me goodbye, tipped your hat and left with one of your adorable smiles and the “maybe see ya again sometime, babe” parting remark. What would make you think I had a problem with that? That’s not why I’m here.”

He stared at her, and she concentrated on keeping her expression nonchalant, even amused. She wasn’t about to give him even a hint that she would think about him after he was gone.

“So why are you here, then?”

“I’m throwing out the new surgeon.”

“Throwing him out?” Trent sat up straight. “What do you mean?”

“The GPC contacted me to tell me they found he’d falsified his credentials. That he’d had his license suspended in the U.S. for alcohol and drug use—over-prescribing of narcotics.”

“Damn, so he’s a loose cannon.” He frowned. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not a good surgeon.”

“Just because we’re in the middle of West Africa doesn’t mean our docs shouldn’t be top notch. The GPC left it up to me whether I wanted him to work for us or not. And I refuse to have someone that unethical, maybe even doped up, working on our patients.”

“So when is the GPC sending a new surgeon?”

“As soon as possible. They think they can get someone temporary like you were in a few days, no more than a week. Then they’ll round up a doc who can be here for the year. All you have to do is come back until the temp gets here, or a day or two before.”

“I can’t. I just spent a solid year in India and I need a break before I start my new job in the Philippines. I have vacation plans I can’t change.”

She had to wonder what woman those plans might be with. “I don’t believe your vacation is more important to you than your job.”

“Hey, the only reason I worked twelve straight months was to pay for my vacation.”

“Yeah, right.” She made a rude sound in her throat. “Like you couldn’t make tons more money as a surgeon in the U.S., paying for vacations and country club memberships and fancy cars. Nobody works in a mission hospital for the money.”

“Maybe I couldn’t get a job in the U.S.” His normally laughing eyes were oddly serious.

“Mmm-hmm.” She placed her hands on the arms of his seat and leaned forward, her nose nearly touching his. The clean, manly scent of him surrounded her, making her heart go into a stupid, accelerated pit-pat. But she wasn’t about to back down. “So, I never did ask—why do you work exclusively in tiny hospitals all over the world, pulling up stakes every year? Most docs work for the GPC part-time.”

“Running from the law.” His lips were so close, his breath touching her skin, and more than anything she wanted to close that small gap and kiss him one more time. “Murdered my last girlfriend after she followed me to the airport.”

She had to chuckle even as she watched his eyes darken, showing he still felt the same crazy attraction she felt. That she’d felt the first second she’d met him. “I always knew you were a dangerous man, Trent Dalton. I just didn’t realize quite how dangerous.”

Just as she felt herself leaning in, about to kiss his sexy mouth against her will, she managed to mentally smack herself. Straightening, she stepped back.

“So. We have an immediate problem that can’t wait for you to think about whether playing golf or chasing skirts, or whatever you do on vacation, is more important than my little hospital.”

“What problem?”

“We’ve got a seven-year-old boy who’s got a hot appendix. Thomas is afraid it will rupture and says he doesn’t have the skill to handle it.”

“Why does he think it’s his appendix? Even if it is, Thomas is a well-trained tech. I was impressed as hell at the great job he does on hernias.”

“Hernias aren’t the same thing as an appendix, which I think you know, Dr. Dalton. Thomas says he’s sure that’s what it is—that you’re the only one who can do it. And to tell you that the last thing the kid needs is to get septic.”

His brow lowered in thought before he spoke. “What are his symptoms?”

“His mother says he hasn’t eaten for two days. He’s been feverish—temp of one-hundred-point-four—and vomiting.”

“Belly ache and vomiting? Maybe it’s just the flu.”

“The abdominal pain came first, then the vomiting.”

“Has the pain moved?”

“From his umbilicus to right lower quadrant.” She slapped her hands back onto the chair arms. Was the man going to ask questions all day in the hope of still getting away from here? “Listen, Trent. It’s been thirty-six hours. If the appendix doesn’t come out, it’s going to rupture. I don’t need to tell you the survival rates of peritonitis in this part of the world.”

A slow smile spread across Trent’s face before he laughed. “Maybe you should do the surgery. Why the hell didn’t you become a doctor?”

“I can get doctors. I can’t get somebody to run that hospital. So are you coming?”

He just looked at her, silent, his amusement now gone. The worry on his face touched her heart, because she was pretty sure it was on her behalf—that he didn’t want to come back because she might get hurt, which she’d bet had happened often enough in his life as a vagabond doctor.

As though it had a mind of its own, her palm lifted to touch his cheek. “I’ve only known you a few days, but that’s enough time to realize you’re a man of honor. I’m sure you’ll come take care of this little boy and stick it out until we can get someone else. A one-night fling was all it was meant to be for either of us—anything more would be pointless and messy. From now on, our relationship is strictly professional. So let’s go before the boy gets sicker.”

His hand pressed against the back of hers, held it a moment against his cheek then lowered it to gently set her away from him. “You’re good, I’ll give you that.” He unfolded from the chair and stood, looking down at her. “But I can only stay a few more days, so don’t be trying to guilt me into more than that. I mean it.”

“Agreed.” She stuck out her hand to seal the deal, and he wrapped his long, warm fingers around hers. She gave his hand a quick, brisk shake then yanked her own loose but didn’t manage to erase the imprint of it.

It was going to be a long couple of days.

* * *

As the car bounced in and out of ruts on the way back to the hospital, Trent glanced at the fascinating woman next to him while she concentrated on her driving. The shock of seeing Charlotte’s beautiful face at the airport had nearly knocked the wind out of him. The face he’d seen all morning as he’d waited to get away from it.

He stared at her strong, silky eyebrows, lowered in concentration over eyes as green as a Brazilian rainforest. Her thick brown hair touched with streaks of bronze flowed over her shoulders, which were exposed by the sleeveless shirts she liked to wear. He nearly reached to slide his fingers over that pretty skin, and to hell with distracting her from driving.

He sucked in a breath and turned his attention back to the road. How could one night of great sex have seemed like something more than the simple, pleasant diversion it was supposed to have been?

“The road is worst these last couple miles, so hang on to your hat,” she said, a smile on the pink lips whose imprint he’d still been feeling against his own as he’d sat in that damned airport for hours.

“You want me to drive?”

“Uh, no. We’d probably end up around a tree. You stick with doctoring and let me handle everything else.”

He chuckled. The woman sure took her role as hospital director seriously, and to his surprise he enjoyed it. How had he never known he liked bossy women?

“So, where were you headed?” Charlotte asked.

“Florence.” But for once he hadn’t known what the hell he was going to do with himself for the three weeks the GPC gave doctors off between jobs. Getting in touch with one of his old girlfriends and spending time with her, whoever it might be, in London, Thailand or Rio until his next job began was how he always spent his vacation.

“Alone? Never mind. Pretend I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, alone.” She probably wouldn’t believe it, but it was true. He hadn’t called anyone. He couldn’t conjure the interest, which was damned annoying. So he’d be spending three weeks in Italy all by his lonesome, with too much time to think about the fiery woman sitting next to him. The woman with the sweet, feminine name who preferred going by the name of a man.

Charlotte. Charlie. If only he could have three weeks of warms days and nights filled with her in Florence, Rome and the Italian Riviera—with her sharp mind, sense of humor and gorgeous, touchable body. Last night had been... He huffed out a breath and stared out of the window. Not a good idea to let his thoughts go any further about that right now.

At least there hadn’t been a big, dramatic goodbye. Seeing tears in those amazing green eyes of hers and a tremble on her kissable lips would have made him feel like crap. He had to make sure that during the next few days he kept his distance so there would be no chance of that happening. Which wouldn’t be easy, since he’d like nothing more than to get her into bed again.

He looked out over the landscape of lush green hills and trees that led to the hospital compound and realized he hadn’t got round to asking Charlotte how she’d ended up here. “You never did tell me how your family came to be missionaries in Liberia. To build all this.”

“My great-grandparents were from North Carolina. My great-grandfather came from a family of schoolteachers and missionaries, and I’m told that when he and his new wife were barely twenty they decided to head to Africa to open a school. They came to Liberia because English is the primary language. Three generations later, we’re still here.”

“They built the whole compound at once?” The hard work and commitment so many missionaries had put into their projects around the world amazed him.

“The hospital came about twenty years after they built the house and school in 1932. I’ve always loved the design of that house.” She gave him a smile. “Since Liberia was founded by freed slaves, my great-grandparents brought the Southern antebellum style with them. Did you know that antebellum isn’t really an architectural style, though? That in Latin it means ‘before war’? It refers to homes built before the U.S. Civil War. Sadly ironic, isn’t it? That the same could be said for here in Liberia too.” She was talking fast, then blushed cutely. “And you probably didn’t want or need a history lesson.”

“Ironic’s the word,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never worked here before. What the civil wars have done to this country is... Heck, you can’t begin to measure it.”

“I know. Unbelievable how many people died. What the rest have had to live with—the chaos and terror, the shambles left behind. The horrible, disfiguring injuries.” Her voice shook with anger, her lips pressed in a tight line. “Anyway, nothing can fix the past. All we can do is try to make a difference now.”

“So, your great-grandparents moved here?” he prompted.

A smile banished her obvious outrage. “Apparently my great-grandmother said she’d only move here if she could make it a little like home. They built the house, filled it with beautiful furniture and even got the piano that’s still in the parlor.”

“And Edwardses have been here since then? What about the wars?”

“The wars forced my parents to leave when I was little and go back to the U.S. Eventually we moved to Togo to start a new mission. The hospital and school here were badly damaged by gunfire and shrapnel, but the house was just in bad disrepair, stripped of things like the windows and sinks. John Adams and I have been fixing it up, but it’s third on the list of priorities.”

He couldn’t imagine how much work—and money—it was taking to make that happen. “So what made you want to resurrect all this? It’s not like you really remember living here.”

“Just because I haven’t lived here until now doesn’t mean my roots aren’t here, and John Adams’s roots. They are. They’re dug in deep through our ancestors, and I intend to keep them here. My plan is to grow them, expand them, no matter what it takes.”

“No matter what it takes? That’s a pretty strong statement.” He’d met plenty of people committed to making things better for the underprivileged, but her attitude was damned impressive.

“These people deserve whatever it takes to get them the help they need.” Her grim tone lightened as they pulled in front of the one-story, painted cement hospital. “Let’s get the boy fixed up. And, Trent...” Her green eyes turned all soft and sweet and he nearly reached for her. “Thanks for coming back. I promise you won’t be sorry.”


CHAPTER TWO

THOMAS HOVERED IN the clinic outside the door to the OR, looking anxious. “Where is the patient?” Trent asked. “Is he prepped and ready, or do you want me to examine him first?”

“I thought he should be examined again, to confirm my diagnosis. But he’s in the OR. With Dr. Smith.”

“Dr. Smith?” Charlie asked. What the heck was he doing in there? Hadn’t she asked him to stay out of the hospital and away from patients? “Why? Did you tell him Dr. Dalton was coming back?”

“Said since he was here and the boy needs surgery fast he’d take care of it.”

Anger welled up in Charlie’s chest at the same time she fought it down. She supposed she should give Smith kudos for stepping up despite the circumstances, instead of being mad at her refusal to let him work there. “Well, that’s...nice of him, but I’ll tell him our other surgeon is here now.”

“Give me a minute to scrub,” Trent said as he grabbed a gown and mask and headed to the sink.

Charlie hurried into the OR to find Don Smith standing over the patient who was being attended to by the nurse anesthetist but not yet asleep. She stopped short and stared at the anxious-looking little boy. Could there be some confusion, and this wasn’t the child with the hot appendix? His eyelid and eyebrow had a red, disfiguring, golf ball-sized lump that nearly concealed his eye completely. How in the world could he even see?

Her chest tightened and her stomach balled in a familiar pain that nearly made her sick. The poor child looked freakish and she knew all too well how horribly he must be teased about it. How terrible that must make him feel.

She lifted a hand to her ear, now nearly normal-looking after so many years of disfigurement. Her hand dropped to her side, balled into a fist. How wrong that he’d lived with this, when a kid in the States never would have. More proof that the project so dear to her heart was desperately needed here.

“Is this the child with appendicitis?” At Dr. Smith’s nodded response, she continued. “I appreciate you being willing to take care of this emergency, but my other surgeon is here now. Help yourself to breakfast in the kitchen, if you haven’t already.”

“I’m here. Might as well let me operate. You’ll see that I’m a capable and trustworthy surgeon. I want you to change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind. Losing your license and falsifying your credentials is a serious matter, which frankly shows me you’re not trustworthy.”

“Damn it, I need this job.” Smith turned to her, his face reddening with anger. “I told everyone I’d left to do humanitarian work. If I don’t stay here, they’ll know.”

“So the only reason you want to work here is to save your reputation?” Charlie stared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but your drug addiction and loss of license is already public record in the States.”

“For those who’ve looked. A lot of people I know haven’t.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Smith, but you’ll have to leave. Now.”

“I’m doing this surgery and that’s all there is to it. Nurse, get the anesthesia going.” He turned to the patient and, without another word, began to swab the site while the child stared at him, his lip trembling.

Anger surged through her veins. Who did this guy think he was? The jerk wouldn’t have spoken to her like this if she’d been a man. “Janice, don’t listen to him. Stop this instant, Dr. Smith. I insist—”

Trent stepped between Charlie and Smith, grasping the man’s wrist and yanking the cotton from his hand. “Maybe you didn’t hear the director of this hospital. You’re not doing surgery here.”

“Who the hell are you?” Smith yanked his arm from Trent’s grasp. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, but she can. And I work for her.” Trent had a good three inches on the man, and his posture was aggressive, his usually warm and laughing eyes a cold, steely blue. “I know your instincts as a doctor want what’s best for this boy, which is immediate attention to his problem. Your being in here impedes that. So leave.”

Smith began to sputter until his gaze met Trent’s. He stepped back and looked away, ripping off his gown and mask and throwing them to the floor. “I can’t believe a crappy little hospital in the middle of nowhere is too stupid to know how good I am. Your loss.”

He stalked out and Charlie drew in a deep, slightly shaky breath of relief. She’d thought for a minute that Trent would have to physically take the guy out, and realized she’d completely trusted him to do exactly that. Then she pulled up short at the thought. She was in charge of this place and she couldn’t rely on anyone else to deal with tough situations.

“Thanks, but you didn’t need to do that. I had it handled.”

Trent looked down at her with raised brows. “Did you, boss lady?”

“Yeah, I did.”

He reached out, his long-fingered hand swiping across her shoulder, and she jerked, quickly looking down. “What, is there a bug on me?”

“No—a real big chip. I was wondering what put it there.” His lips tipped up as his eyes met hers.

What? Ridiculous. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I’m just doing my job.”

“Accepting help is part of being head honcho, you know.” Those infuriatingly amused eyes lingered on her before he turned to the nurse. “Have you administered any anesthesia yet?”

“No, doctor.”

“Good.” He rolled a stool to the gurney and sat, that full smile now charmingly back on his face as he drew the sheet further down the child’s hips. “So, buddy, where’s it hurt?”

He pointed, and Trent gently pressed the top of the boy’s stomach, slowly moving his hand downward to the right lower quadrant.

“Ow.” The boy grimaced and Trent quit pressing his flesh to give the child’s skinny chest a gentle pat.

“Okay. We’re going to fix you up so it doesn’t hurt any more. What’s your name?”

“Lionel.” The child, looking more relaxed than when Charlie had first come into the room, studied Trent. With his small index finger, Lionel pushed his bulging, droopy eyelid upward so he could see. “My belly will be all better? For true?”

“For true.” Trent’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkled at the corners as his gaze touched Charlie’s for a moment before turning back to the child. “Inside your body, your appendix is about the size of your pinky finger. It’s got a little sick and swollen, and that’s what’s making your belly hurt. I’m going to fix it all up while you sleep, and when you wake up it won’t hurt any more. Okay?”

“Okay.” Lionel nodded and smiled, showing a missing front tooth.

“But, before we take care of your sore belly, I want to talk about your eye.” Trent gently moved the boy’s hand before his own fingers carefully touched all around the protrusion on and above the eyelid. “Can you tell me how long it’s been like this?”

Lionel shrugged. “I’nt know.”

“I bet it’s hard to see, huh?”

“Uh-huh. I can’t see the football very well when we’re kicking around. Sometimes Mommy has tape, though, and when she sticks it on there to hold it up that helps some.”

“I’m sure you look tough that way. Scare your opponents.” Trent grinned, and Lionel grinned back. “But I bet you could show how tough a player you are even more if you could see better.”

Charlie marveled at the trusting expression on the child’s face, how unquestioning he seemed as he nodded and smiled. She shifted her attention to Trent and saw that his demeanor wasn’t just good bedside manner. The man truly liked kids, and that realization ratcheted the man’s appeal even higher. And Lord knew he didn’t need that appeal ratcheted up even a millimeter.

“Is your mother around? Or someone I can talk to about fixing it at the same time we fix your belly?”

“My mommy brought me. But I don’t know where she is right now.”

As his expression began to get anxious again, Trent leaned in close with a smile that would have reassured even the most nervous child. “Hey, we’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

He stood and took a few steps away with a nod to Charlie. When they were out of hearing distance, he spoke in an undertone. “I want to take care of his hemangioma and we might as well do it while he’s under for the appendix. There’ll be a lot of bleeding to control, and I’ll get him started on antibiotics first. After I remove the tumor, I’ll decide if it’s necessary to graft skin from his thigh to make it look good. In the States, you wouldn’t do a clean surgery and an appendix at the same time, but I can do it with no problems.”

“If it wouldn’t be done in the States, we’re not doing it here.” Didn’t he get that this was why she’d thrown Smith out?

“If you think mission doctors don’t do things we wouldn’t do in the U.S., you have a lot to learn.” No longer amused, a hint of steel lurked within the blue of his eyes. “Here, I can follow my gut and do what’s best for the patient, and only what’s best for the patient. I don’t have to worry about what an insurance company wants, or cover my ass with stupid protocol. You can either trust me to know I’m doing what’s best for Lionel, or not. Your call.”

Charlie glanced at the boy and knew better than anyone that they were talking about a tremendously skilled procedure, one that would require the kind of detailed work and suturing a general surgeon wouldn’t be capable of. “I’m in the process of getting a plastic surgery center together. That’s what the new wing of the hospital is for. How about we suggest to his mommy that she bring him back when it’s operational?”

He shook his head. “First, there’s a good chance they live far away and it won’t be easy to get back here. Second, he’s probably had this a long time. The longer we wait, the more likely the possibility of permanent blindness. Even if it is fixed later, if his brain gets used to not receiving signals from the eye that part of his brain will die, and that’ll be it for his vision. Not to mention that in West Africa a person is more susceptible to getting river blindness or some other parasitic infection in the eye. What if that happened and he ended up blind in both eyes? Not worth the risk.”

“But can you do it? Without him still looking...bad? The plastic surgery center will be open soon. And a plastic surgeon would know how to do stuff like this better than you would.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with here.” His eyes held a mocking laugh. “He’ll look great, I promise.”

She stared at him, at his ultra-confident expression, the lazy smile. Would she be making a mistake to let him fix the hemangioma when in just a few weeks she was supposed to have a plastics specialist on board?

She looked back at Lionel, his finger still poked into the disfiguring vascular tumor so he could see out of that eye as he watched them talk. She looked at the trusting and hopeful expression on his small face. A face marred by a horrible problem Trent promised he could fix.

“Okay. You’ve convinced me. Do it.”


CHAPTER THREE

HOURS PASSED WHILE Trent worked on Lionel. Worry over whether or not she’d made the right decision made it difficult for Charlie to sit in her office and do paperwork, but she had to try. With creditors demanding a big payment in three weeks, getting that funding check in her pocket for the new wing from the Gilchrist Foundation was critical.

She made herself shuffle through everything one more time. It seemed the only things that had to happen to get the money were a final inspection from a Gilchrist Foundation representative and proof she had a plastic surgeon on board. Both of which would happen any day now, thank heavens.

So how, in the midst of this important stuff, could she let her attention wander? She was thinking instead about the moment five days ago when Trent had strolled into this office. Thinking about how she’d stared, open-mouthed, like a schoolgirl.

Tall and lean, with slightly long, nearly black hair starkly contrasting with the color of his eyes, he was the kind of man who made a woman stop and take a second look. And a third. Normally, eyes like his would be called ice-blue, but they’d been anything but cold; warm and intelligent, they’d glinted with a constant touch of amusement. A charming, lopsided smile had hovered on his lips.

When she’d shaken his hand, he’d surprised her by tugging her against him in a warm embrace. Disarmed, she’d found herself wanting to stay there longer than the brief moment he’d held her close. She’d found her brain short-circuiting at the feel of his big hands pressed to her back; his lean, muscled body against hers; his distinctive masculine scent.

That same friendly embrace had been freely given to every woman working in the hospital, young and old, which had left all of them grinning, blushing and nearly swooning.

No doubt, the man was dynamite in human form, ready to blast any woman’s heart to smithereens.

But not Charlie’s. She’d known the second he’d greeted her with that genial hug that she would have to throw armor over that central organ. She’d cordially invited him to join her and John Adams for dinners, enjoying his intelligence, his amusing stories and, yes, his good looks and sophistication. She’d been sure she had everything under control.

But the night before he was to leave, when that embrace had grown longer and more intimate, when he’d finally touched his lips to hers, she hadn’t resisted the desire to be with him, to enjoy a light and fun evening. An oh-so-brief diversion amidst the work that was her life. And, now that circumstances required they be in close contact for a little longer, there was no way she’d let him know that simply looking at him made her fantasize about just one more night. That was not going to happen—period.

Yes, their moment together was so last week. She smirked at the thought, even though a ridiculous part of her felt slightly ego-crushed that he, too, wanted to steer clear of any possible entanglement.

But that was a good thing. The man clearly loved women, all women. She’d known she was just one more notch in his travel bag, and he’d been just another notch in the fabric of her life too. Except that there hadn’t been too many opportunities for “notching” since she’d finished grad school and come back to Africa.

She had to grin as she grabbed the info she wanted to share with the teachers at the school. Notching: now there was a funny euphemism for great sex if ever there was one.

She was so deep in thought about the great sex she’d enjoyed last night that she stepped into the hall without looking and nearly plowed her head into Trent’s strong biceps.

“Whoa.” His hands grasped her shoulders as she stumbled. “You late for lunch or something?”

Her heart sped up annoyingly as he held her just inches from his chest. “Is that a crack about how much I like to eat?”

“Not a crack. I’ve just observed that when you’re hungry you don’t let anything get between you and that plate.”

She looked up into his twinkling blue eyes. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that women don’t like people implying they’re gluttons?”

“No negative implications from me. I like a woman who eats.” His voice dropped lower. “I like the perfect and beautiful curves on your perfect and beautiful body.”

As she stared up at him, the light in his eyes changed, amusement fading into something darker, more dangerous.

Desire. It hung between them, electric and heavy in the air, and Trent slowly tipped his head towards hers.

He was going to kiss her. The realization sent her heart into an accelerated tempo. A hot tingle slipped across her skin as his warm breath touched her mouth, and she lifted her hands to his chest, knowing she should push him away, but instead keeping her palms pressed to his hard pecs.

She couldn’t let it happen, only to say goodbye again in a few more days. He’d made it clear he felt the same way. But, as she was thinking all that, she licked her lips in silent invitation.

His hands tightened on her arms as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull her close or push her away, then he released her. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I forgot we’re just casual acquaintances now.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression now impassive, all business. “I wanted to let you know it went well with Lionel.”

She sucked in a breath, trying to be equally businesslike, unaffected by his potent nearness and the need to feel his lips on hers one more time. “He’s okay? You fixed the hemangioma? And he looks good?”

“You probably wouldn’t think he looks good.”

Her stomach dropped. “Why...? What, is it messed up?”

He laughed. “No. But right now it’s sutured and swollen and would only look good to a zombie. Or a surgeon who knows what he’s doing. We’ll take the bandage off in a few days.”

“Okay. Great.” She pressed her hand to her chest, hoping to goodness it really had turned out all right. Hoping the hard beat of her heart was just from the scare, and not a lingering effect of the almost-kiss of a moment ago.

“Can you unlock your car for me? I need to get my stuff out and take it to my room.”

“Of course. But I didn’t tell you—even though I’m not happy with our Dr. Smith, I couldn’t exactly throw him out on the streets until his flight leaves tomorrow. So he’s going to be staying in the room you were in for just tonight.”

“What? I’m not staying at your house again.”

It was hard not to be insulted at the horror on his face. ‘Goodbye, Charlie’ took on a whole new meaning with Trent. “Sorry, but you’re sleeping on a rollaway here in my office. I don’t want you staying in my house, either.”

“You do too.” His lips quirked, obliterating his frown.

“Uh, no, I don’t. Like I said before, you’re an egomaniac. Somebody needs to bring you down a peg or two, and I guess it’s going to be me.”

“Thanks for your help. I appreciate it more than you know.” That irritating little smile gave way to seriousness. “And it’s good we’re on the same page. Second goodbyes can get...sticky.”

“Agreed. And you’re welcome. I’ll get my keys now before I head to the school.” She turned, so glad she hadn’t fallen into an embrace with the conceited guy. His long fingers grasped her elbow and the resulting tingle that sped up her arm had her jerking it away.

“Wait a second. You’re going up to the school?”

“Yes. I have some things I want to go over with the teachers. I’m having lunch with them and the kids.”

He was silent, just looking at her with a slight frown over those blue eyes, as though he couldn’t decide something. He finally spoke. “Mind if I come along? I’d like to see it, and I’m not needed in the clinic right now.”

“Sure. If you want.” She shrugged casually. Did the man have to ponder whether seeing the school was worth being with her for a few hours? Or was she being hypersensitive?

She led the way down the short hall into the soupy, humid air, making sure to stand on Trent’s left so her good ear would be closest to him. “The kids love visitors. But we’ll be walking, so don’t be surprised if you get a little muddy.”

“Glad I’m not wearing my designer shoes today. Then again, I could’ve taken them off. Nothing like a little mud between the toes.”

The thought of cool, squishy mud on bare feet, then playing a little footsie together, sounded strangely appealing, and she rolled her eyes at herself as they trudged up the road to the schoolhouse. Maybe she needed to try and find a local boyfriend to take off this edge she kept feeling around Trent. He reached for the binder of papers she was carrying and tucked it under his arm.

“So you were the boy who earned points by carrying a girl’s books to school? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Hey, I looked for any way to earn points. Carrying books was just one of them.”

“I can just imagine. So what other ways did you earn points?” And why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? “You know, never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

“You already know some of them.” He leaned closer as they walked, the scent of him teasing her nose. “But a few things got me more points than others. For example, my famous shoulder-rubs always scored big.”

The memory of that shoulder rub came in a rush of clarity—them naked in her bed, sated and relaxed, the ceiling fan sending cool whispers of air across their skin. Her breathing got a little shallow and she walked faster.

“One of the ground rules is to stop with the references to last night. Got it?”

“I wasn’t referring to anything but the shoulder rub I gave you at your office desk. Can I help it if your mind wants to go other places?”

She scowled at the bland innocence on his face. The man was about as far from innocent as he could be. “Mmm-hmm. So, when you mention back rubs, you don’t picture me naked?”

His slow smile, his blue eyes dancing as he leaned closer, made her feel a little weak at the knees. “Charlotte, you can bet I frequently picture you naked.” His gaze held hers, then slid away to the road. “Again, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Let’s talk about the school. Did you open it at the same time as the hospital?”

Phew; she had to stop just blurting out what she was thinking, though he seemed to have the same problem. Good thing he changed the subject, or she just might have melted down into the mud.

“John Adams concentrated on getting the school open while I focused on the hospital. His daughter, Patience—I think you met her?—will be going to school next year, so he’s been pretty excited about the project. They live in a small apartment attached to the school, so she’ll probably be there today. She loves to hang out in the classrooms and pretend she can read and write.”

“Patience is a cutie. She and I bonded over ice-cream.” His eyes always turned such a warm blue when he talked about children; it filled her chest with some kind of feeling she didn’t want to analyze. “So, is John from here?”

“Just so you know, he’s always gone by both his first and last name. I’m not sure why.” She smiled. “John Adams’s parents both worked with my parents here. They left too when the war broke out. Their family and mine met up again in Togo and, since he’s just a few years older than I am, he’s kind of like a brother. And I love Patience like I would a niece.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“She died suddenly of meningitis. It was a terrible shock.” She sighed. “Moving here with me to open this place has been a fresh start for John Adams and Patience, and hugely helpful to me. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“I’ve been wondering where your funding is coming from. The GPC’s been cutting back, so I know they can’t be floating cash for the whole hospital.”

“We’ve shaken down every possible donor, believe me. The school was as big a shambles as the hospital, and usually donor groups focus on one or the other. But we managed to get the building reasonably repaired and the basics in—desks and supplies and stuff. We opened with thirty primary-school-aged kids enrolled and have almost a hundred now.” She shook her head. “It’s not nearly enough, though, with half a million Liberian kids not attending school at all. And sixty percent of girls and women over fifteen can’t read or write.”

He frowned. “Is it as hard to raise cash for a school as it is for a hospital?”

“It’s all hard. But I’m working on getting a donation from a church group in the States that’ll help us hire a new teacher and have enough food for the kids’ lunches. I’m excited. It looks like it’s going to come through.” Charlie smiled at Trent, but his expression stayed uncharacteristically serious. “We hate turning families away, but can’t just endlessly accept kids into the program, you know? It’s not fair to the teachers or the students to have classrooms so big nobody gets the attention they need. So I’m sure hoping it works out.”

“How soon will you know?”

“In the next day or two, I think.”

His expression was oddly inscrutable. “Be sure to tell me if the donation comes through or not, okay?”

“Okay.” She had to wonder why he wanted to know, but appreciated his interest. “As for the hospital, I’m supposed to get a giant check from the Gilchrist Foundation as soon as the new wing is ready to go, thank heavens.”

He stopped dead and stared at her. “The Gilchrist Foundation?”

“Yes. You’ve heard of them?”

“Yeah. You could say that.”


CHAPTER FOUR

“HAS THE GILCHRIST Foundation donated to hospitals you’ve worked at before?” Charlotte asked. “Did they come through with their support? I’m a little worried, because we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel just to get the wing finished.”

Trent looked into her sweet, earnest face before turning his attention to the verdant landscape—not nearly as vivid and riveting as the color of her eyes. “They’re a reputable organization.”

“That’s good to hear.” She sounded slightly breathless, her footsteps squishing quickly in the mud, and he slowed his stride. He resisted the urge to grasp her arm to make sure she didn’t slip and fall. “I heard they were, but they’re making us jump through some hoops to get it.”

He almost asked what hoops?, but decided to keep out of it. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with anything to do with the Gilchrist Foundation. Or for Charlotte to find out his connection to it. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure. So, this is it.” He looked up at the one-storey cement building painted a golden yellow, the windows and door trimmed in a brick color. “Looks like you’ve done a nice job restoring it.”

“It took a lot of money and manpower. It was basically a shell, with nothing left inside. The windows were gone and there were bullet holes everywhere. John Adams and I are pretty proud of how it turned out.”

As they reached the wooden door of the school he saw Charlotte glance up at the sky, now filling with dark-gray clouds. “Looks like rain’s coming, and I wasn’t smart enough to bring an umbrella. Sorry. We won’t stay too long.”

“I’m not made of sugar, you know. I won’t melt,” he teased. Then the thought of sugar made him think of her sweet lips and the taste of her skin. It took a serious effort to turn away, not to pull her close to take a taste.

They left their muddy shoes outside before she led the way in. Children dressed in white shirts with navy-blue pants or skirts streamed from classrooms, laughing and chattering.

“Mr. Trent!” Cute little Patience ran across the room, the only one in a sleeveless dress instead of a uniform. “Mr. Trent, you bring me candy?”

“Sorry, Miss Impatience, I don’t have any left.” She wrapped her arms around his leg and the crestfallen expression on her face made him wish he’d brought a whole lot more. Too bad he hadn’t known he’d be here longer than a few days.

“How about gum?”

He laughed and swung her up into his arms. “Don’t have any of that left either.” He lowered his voice. “But, next time you’re at the hospital, I’ll sneak some pudding out of the pantry for you, okay?”

“I heard that.” Charlotte’s brows lifted. “Since when are you two best friends? Dr Trent just got here a few days ago.”

“Mr. Trent and me are good friends, yes.” The girl’s arms tightened around his neck, which felt nice. Kids didn’t want or expect anything from you but love. And maybe candy too, he thought with a smile. There weren’t too many adults he could say that about.

“Patience and I share a fondness for that chocolate pudding.”

“Hmm.” A mock frown creased Charlotte’s face as she leaned close to them. “I didn’t know you were stealing supplies, Dr Dalton. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”

“What’s the punishment for stealing?” His gaze dropped from her amused eyes to her pink lips. Maybe if he stole a kiss he’d find out.

“I don’t think you want to know.” Her eyes were still smiling and he found himself riveted by the glow of gold and brown flecks deep within that beautiful green.

“Miss Edwards!” Several kids ran their way. “You coming to see our play this Wednesday? Please come, Miss Edwards!”

Charlotte wrapped her arms around their shoulders in hugs, one after another, talking and smiling, making it obvious she wasn’t a distant director around here; that she put in a lot of face time, truly cared about these kids. That impressed the hell out of him. He’d seen a lot of hospital directors in his day, even some in mission hospitals, who were more focused on the bottom line and making donors happy than they were about helping the patients they existed for.

Trent set Patience back on her feet. “Have you been doing any more drawing? You know I like to see your art.” Nodding enthusiastically, her short legs took off running back down a hall.

He watched Charlotte with the kids. He’d never worked at a mission hospital that included a school in its compound. He hadn’t been able to resist a chance to peek at it and see what they were accomplishing, even when he knew it wasn’t the best idea to spend much time with Charlotte.

The whole reason he’d come was to see the school children, but he found it impossible to pull his attention from the smiling woman talking to them. He’d teased her about picturing her naked, but the truth was he couldn’t get the vision of her out of his mind at all: clothed or unclothed, smiling and happy or ready to kick someone’s ass.

Damn it.

Time to get his mind on the whole reason he was here—to find out what the kids were learning and how the school helped them. Charlotte patted a few of the children and turned her attention to him.

“Is this where we’re going to eat?” he asked. The room was filled with folding tables that had seats attached, and some of the children were already sitting down.

“What, are you hungry? And you were making fun of me wanting lunch.”

He grinned at her teasing expression. Man, she was something. A fascinating mix of energy, passion and determination all mixed in with a sweet, soft femininity. “I haven’t eaten since five a.m. But I still wouldn’t knock someone over in a hallway in search of a meal.”

“As if I could knock you over, anyway.” She took the binder from him and gestured to the tables. “Find a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Standing here, looking at all the bright-eyed and happy kids, he was annoyed with himself. Why hadn’t it hadn’t ever occurred to him to donate some of his fortune to this kind of school? He’d focused on giving most of his anonymous donations to the kind of hospitals he worked in. To those that medically served the neediest of humans in the world.

But that was going to change to include helping with education—a whole other kind of poverty. Not having access to learning was every bit as bad as having no access to health care.

“Here’s my picture, Mr. Trent!” Patience ran up with a piece of construction paper crayoned with smiling children sitting at desks, one of them a lot bigger than the others.

“Who’s this student?” he asked, pointing at the large figure he suspected just might be a self-portrait of the artist.

“That’s me.” Patience gave him a huge smile. “I sit in class sometimes now. Miss Jones said I could.”

“I bet you’re really smart. You’ll be reading and writing in no time.” And to make that happen for a lot more kids, he’d be calling his financial manager pronto.

“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “I go to read right now.”

She took off again and he chuckled at how cute she was, with her little dress and pigtails flying as she ran. He sat at one of the tables and saw the kids eyeing him, some shyly, others curious, a few bold enough to come close. Time for the tried and tested icebreaker. He pulled a pack of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle. “Anybody want to see a card trick?”

Faces lit, giggles began and a few children headed over, then more shoved their way in, until the table was full and the rest stood three-deep behind them.

“Okay.” He fanned the cards face down and held them out to a grinning little girl with braids all over her head. “Pick a card. Any card.” When she began to pull one out, he yanked the deck away. “Not that one!”

Startled, her grin faded and she stared at him.

“Just kidding.” He gave her a teasing smile to let her know it was all in fun, and she giggled in relief as the other children hooted and laughed. He held out the fanned deck again. “Pick a card. I won’t pull it away again, honest. Look at it, show it to a friend, but don’t let me see it. Then stick it back in the deck.”

The girl dutifully followed his directions. He did his sleight-of-hand shuffling before holding up a card. “Is this it?” He had to grin at how crestfallen they looked as they shook their heads. “Hmm. This it?”

“No, that’s not it.” She looked worried, like it would somehow be her fault if the trick didn’t work.

“Well, you know third time’s a charm, right? This is the one you picked.” He held up what he knew would be the card she’d chosen, and everyone shrieked and whooped like he’d pulled a rabbit from a hat or held up a pot of gold.

“How you do that, mister?” a boy asked, craning his neck at the card deck as though the answer was written there.

“Magic.” One of the best parts about doing the trick was showing the kids how to do it themselves. “How about we do it a few more times? Then I’ll teach you exactly how it’s done.”

* * *

Before Charlie and the teachers even got back to the common room, the sound of loud talking and laughter swept through the school’s hall. Mariam, the headmistress, pursed her lips and frowned. “I’m sorry, Miss Charlotte. I don’t know why they’re being so rowdy. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s fine. They’re at lunch, after all.” Though she was pretty sure it hadn’t been served yet. Curious as to what was causing all the excitement, she walked into the room, only to stop in utter surprise at the scene.

Looking ridiculously large for it, Trent sat at a table completely surrounded by excited children, like some handsome Pied Piper. He was holding up cards, shuffling and flicking them, then handing them to kids who did the same, all the while talking and grinning. As she came farther into the room, she could hear the students bombarding him with questions that he patiently answered more than once.

She hadn’t seen this side of Trent before. Yes, she’d seen his gentle bedside manner with Lionel, his obvious caring for the boy. Still, she couldn’t help but be amazed at the connection she was witnessing. So many of the children in this school had been traumatized in one way or another and a number of them were orphaned. Yet, to watch this moment, you’d think none of them had a care in the world other than having a fun time with whatever Trent was sharing with them.

She moved closer to the table. “What’s going on here?”

One of the older boys waved some cards. “Mr. Trent is showing us card tricks, Miss Edwards! See me do one!”

“I’d love to.” Her eyes met Trent’s and her heart fluttered a little at the grin and wink he gave her. “But you should call him Dr Trent. He’s a physician working at the hospital for a few days.”

“Dr Trent?” Anna, a girl in the highest grade they could currently offer, looked from Charlie to Trent, her expression instantly serious. “You a doctor? My baby brother is very sick with the malaria. Mama Grand has been treating him, but we’re worried. Would you care if I go get him and bring him here for you to see?

“Can your mommy or grandmother bring him to the hospital?” Charlie asked.

Anna shook her head. “Mommy is away working in the rice fields. But I can get him and carry him there if that is better.”

“How old is he?” Charlie asked.

“Six years old, Ma.”

Charlie knew many of these kids walked miles to get to school, and didn’t want Anna hauling an ill six-year-old that kind of distance. Not to mention that she could hear rain now drumming hard on the roof of the school. “How about if I drive and get him? You can show me where you live.”

Trent stood. “It’s pouring outside. I’ll go back and get the car and pick you two up, then we’ll just see him at your home.”

Charlie pulled her keys from her pocket and headed for the door. “It’s okay, I’ll just...”

In two strides, Trent intercepted her and snagged the keys from her hand. “Will you just let someone else help once in a while? Please? I’ll be right back.”

Charlie watched as he ducked out of the doorway into the heavy rain, all too aware of the silly surge of pleasure she felt at the way he insisted on taking on this problem, never mind that she could handle it herself. Well, not the medical part; she was thankful he’d be able to contribute his expertise as well as the nurses and techs at the hospital.

Her car pulled up in no time and, before she and Anna could come out, Trent had jogged to the door with an open umbrella and ushered Anna into the backseat. Water slid down his temples and dripped from his black hair as he opened the passenger door for Charlie. “You’re riding shotgun this time, boss lady.”

“It’s my car. I know how to drive in this kind of weather.”

He made an impatient sound. “Please just get in and stop arguing.”

She opened her mouth to insist, but saw his set jaw and his intent blue eyes and found herself sliding into the seat, though why she let him tell her what to do she wasn’t sure. It must have something to do with the man’s overwhelming mojo.

She wasn’t surprised that he proved more than competent at the wheel, despite the deepening mud and low visibility through the torrential rain. Even in good weather, this thinning road was barely more than a track through the bush. It couldn’t really be called a road at all at the moment.

A group of crooked, heartbreakingly dilapidated zinc shacks appeared through the misty sheets of rain, and the distinctive smell of coal fires used for cooking touched Charlie’s nose.

“It’s up here. That one,” Anna said, pointing.

The car slid to a stop. “Sit tight for a sec,” Trent said. He again grabbed the umbrella and brought it to their side of the car before opening Charlie’s door.

“I’m not made of sugar, you know. I won’t melt,” Charlie said, repeating what he’d said to her earlier as she climbed out to stand next to him.

“You sure about that? I remember you tasting pretty sweet.” Beneath the umbrella, he was so close she could feel his warmth radiating against her skin. The smell of the rain, mud, coal fires and Trent’s own distinctive and appealing scent swirled around her in a sensory overload. His head dipped and those blue eyes of his met hers and held. She realized she was holding her breath, struck by a feeling of the two of them being completely alone in the world as the rain pounded a timpani concerto on the fabric above their heads.

Her heart did a little dance as his warm breath touched her face. Blue eyes darker now, his head dipped closer still until his lips slipped across hers, whisper-soft, clinging for a moment. “Yeah. Like sugar and honey.”

His lids lowered in a slow blink before he straightened, turning to open Anna’s door.

The child led the way as they trudged up to a group of metal shacks, giving Charlie’s heart rate a chance to slow. Why had he kissed her when they’d agreed not to go there? Probably for the same reason she’d wanted him to—that overwhelming chemistry between them that had caught fire the first day they’d met.

They approached a shack that looked as though it must be Anna’s home. A cooking pot sat over a coal fire with what smelled like cassava simmering inside. The shack’s crooked door was partially open, and Anna shoved it hard, scraping it along the muddy ground until they could step inside the dark interior.

A young child lay sleeping on a mat on the dirt floor and another was covered with a blanket, exposing only his or her outline. An older woman with a brightly patterned scarf on her head sat on a plastic chair, stitching some fabric.

“Mama Grand, I bring a doctor to see Prince.”

The woman looked at them suspiciously. “No need, Anna. I use more healing herbs today and Prince will be fine soon.”

Anna twisted her fingers and looked imploringly at her. “Please. The doctor is here, so let him see if Prince is getting better.”

Trent stepped forward and gave one of his irresistibly charming smiles to the woman. “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job taking care of Prince. But the boss lady, Miss Edwards here, will be mad at me if I don’t have work to do today. She might not even pay me. Can I please just take a look at your fine little one while I’m here?”

The woman’s stern expression softened slightly, and after a moment she inclined her head. Charlie had a hard time suppressing a smile. Trust Trent to turn it around to make Charlie look like the bad guy, and to know exactly how to twist it so his being there was no reflection on the older woman’s treatments.

Trent crouched down and looked back at the woman. “Is this Prince hiding under the blanket? May I look at him?”

She nodded again, and Trent reached to pull the blanket from the small, huddled shape. He quickly jerked back when he saw the exposed child.

“What the...?” Trent’s face swung towards Charlie, his eyebrows practically reaching his hair.


CHAPTER FIVE

THE LITTLE BOY looked like a ghost. Literally. He’d been covered head to toe in white paint. In all Trent’s years of seeing crazy and unusual things around the world, he’d never seen this.

Charlotte covered a small smile with her fingertips, and he could tell she wanted to laugh at whatever the hell his expression was. Could he help it if it startled him to see the little guy looking like that?

“It’s a common home remedy here for malaria. The sick person is painted white as part of the cure.”

“Ah.” Trent schooled his features into normal professionalism and turned back to the boy. He touched his knuckles to the sleeping child’s cheeks, then pressed the child’s throat, both of which were hot and sweaty. The boy barely opened his eyes to stare at him before becoming wracked by a prolonged, dry cough. When the cough finally died down, Trent leaned close to him with a smile he hoped would reassure him. “Hi, Prince. I’m Dr Dalton. How do you feel? Anything hurting?”

Prince didn’t answer, just slid his gaze towards his sister. She knelt down next to him and touched her hand to the boy’s thin shoulder. “It’s okay, Prince. Dr Dalton is here to help you get better.”

“Have you had belly pain or diarrhea?” The boy still just stared at him, looking scared, as though Trent was the one who looked like a ghost. Maybe the child was delirious. “Anna, do you know about any belly pain? Has he been confused or acting strange?”

She nodded. “He did complain about his tummy hurting. And he has been saying silly things. I think he seems the same as when I had the malaria—shaking and feeling very hot and cold.”

“Trent, how about I drive back to the compound and get the malaria medicine?” Even through the low light, he could see the green of Charlotte’s eyes focused intently on his. “I’ll bring it back here; maybe we won’t have to scare him by taking him to the hospital.”

He shook his head, not at all sure this was malaria. “If he has belly pain, it might be typhoid, which requires a different kind of antibiotic. Hard to tell with a child who’s sick and obtunded like he is. The only way to know for sure is if we take him back to the hospital and get a blood test—see if it shows the parasites or not.”

“No hospital.” The older woman’s lips thinned. “If de boy go, he will never come back.”

Obviously, the poor woman had lost someone she loved. “I’ll watch over him myself,” Trent said. “I promise to keep him safe.”

“Mama Grand, no boys are kidnapped any more. For true. The war is over a long time now.”

Damn, so that was what she was worried about. He could barely fathom that boys this young had been kidnapped to be soldiers, but knew it had happened so often that some parents sent their children out of the country to be safe, never to see them again.

He stood and reached for the woman’s rough and gnarled hand. “I understand your worries. But it’s important that Prince have a test done that we can only do at the hospital. I promise you that I will care for Prince and look after him like I would if he were my own child, and return him to you when he’s well. Will you trust me to do that?”

The suspicious look didn’t completely leave the woman’s face, but she finally nodded. Trent didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind and quickly gathered Prince in his arms, wrapping the blanket around him as best he could.

“You want to come with us, Anna? You don’t have to, but it might make Prince feel more comfortable,” Charlotte said.

“Yes. I will come.”

“Are you going to hold Prince so I can drive, or do you want to take the wheel?” he asked Charlotte as they approached the car.

“You know the answer to that.” Her gorgeous eyes glinted at him. “You’re in the passenger seat, Dr. Dalton.”

He had to grin. “You really should address this little controlling streak of yours, Ms. Edwards. Find out why relinquishing power scares you so much.”

“It doesn’t scare me. I just trust my own driving over anyone else’s.”

“Mm-hm. One of these days, trying to control the direction the world spins is going to weigh heavy on those pretty shoulders of yours. Drive on, boss lady.”

* * *

Tests proved that Prince did indeed have typhoid, and after a couple days he’d recovered enough to return home. Charlie was glad that Trent’s expertise had led him to insist the child be tested, instead of just assuming it was malaria, as she had.

She was also glad that, in the days that had passed since Trent had come back, she’d managed to stop thinking about him for hours at a time. Well, maybe not hours. Occasionally, the man sneaked into her thoughts. Not her fault, since she wasn’t deaf and blind—okay, a little hard of hearing in that one ear of hers she was grateful to have it at all.

His voice, teasing and joking with the nurses and techs, sometimes drifted down the hall to her office. His distinctively tall form would occasionally stride in front of her office on his way from the clinic to the hospital ward until she decided just to shut the darn door.

She’d made a conscious effort to stay away from the hospital ward where she might run into him. She got dinner alone at home, or ate lunch at her desk so she wouldn’t end up sitting with him in the kitchen. She spent time at the school instead of here, where thoughts of him kept invading her brain, knowing he was somewhere nearby.

It helped that Trent had kept their few interactions since the brief kiss in the rain short and professional. When the man said goodbye, he sure meant it, never mind that she felt the same way. Thank heavens he’d be leaving again in the next few days so she wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of thinking about all they’d done in their single night together.

Her door opened and her heart gave an irritating little kick of anticipation that it just might be his blue eyes she’d see when she looked up.

But it was John Adams standing there. “Any word yet on the funding for another teacher?”

She smiled and waved a paper. “Got the green light. I’m sending the final forms today, and they said we should get a check in about a month. Is the woman you’ve been training going to work out?”

“Yes, most definitely.” He dramatically slapped a hand to his barrel chest. “She is smart and beautiful and I am in love with her. Thanks to God I can officially offer her a job.”

“You’re starting to remind me of ladies’ man Dr Dalton. No mixing business with pleasure.” A flush filled her cheeks as soon as the words were out of her mouth, since she’d done exactly that, and the pleasure had been all too spectacular.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “Anyway, I also stopped to tell you to come look at our little patient this morning.”

“What little patient?”

“Lionel. The one with appendicitis and the hemangioma—or who used to have a hemangioma. You won’t believe what Trent’s done with it.”

Alarm made Charlie’s heart jerk in her chest. She’d worried from the moment she’d agreed to let Trent take care of such a delicate procedure. Had he messed it up? She’d checked on the child a couple of times, but a patch had still covered his eye. “What do you mean? Is it going to have to be redone when we get a plastic surgeon in here?”




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