by Robin Gianna
“Yes. I got a hospital administration degree, then went to Georgetown for my masters. I knew I’d be coming here to get the hospital open and running again, so all that was good.” She leaned closer, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “I met a lot of people who shared their experiences with me—about how they’d improved existing facilities or started from scratch in various countries. I learned so much, hearing the things they felt they did right or would do differently.”
He, too, leaned closer, wanting to study her, wanting to know what made this fascinating and complex woman tick. “I’ve been surprised more than once how much you know about medicine. Tell me again, why didn’t you become a doctor?”
“Somebody needs to run this place. Create new ways to help people, to make a difference. Like I said before, I can get doctors and nurses and trained techs. I focused my training on how to do the rest of it. My parents encouraged that; they’ve trusted me and John Adams with the job of bringing this place back.”
A surge of old and buried pain rose within him and he firmly shoved it back down. It must be nice to have someone in your life who believed in you, who cared what you wanted. It must be nice to have someone in your life who didn’t say one thing, all the while betraying you, betraying your blind trust, with a deep stab in your back.
“I’ve worked at a lot of hospitals in the world. That experience might come in handy if you have any questions.”
“Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
Her beautiful eyes shone, her mouth curved in a pleased smile, and the urge to grab her up and kiss her breathless was nearly irresistible. Abruptly, he stood and downed the last of his coffee, knowing that between the caffeine and her close proximity there’d be no sleep for him tonight.
“I’m going to hit the hay. Try not to make a bunch of noise again and wake me up. I don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of a surgery tomorrow.”
She stood too and the twist of her lips told him she knew exactly why he was awake. “Don’t worry. The last thing I want to do is disturb your sleep.”
“Liar.” He had to smile, enjoying the pink that stained her cheeks at the word. “Anyway, you’ve already done that, so you owe me. Maybe you should disturb my sleep for a few more hours; help me relax.”
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?”
“Less coffee in the middle of the night? Maybe a hammer to the head? I’ve got one in the toolbox in the closet.”
He reached for her and 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. He touched them softly to her cheek, beneath her ear. “Any other ideas?”
Her warm hands flattened against his chest. When they didn’t push, he drew her close, her curves perfectly fitted to his body. 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 having experienced before.
Her head tipped back as he moved his mouth to the hollow of her throat and could feel her pulse hammering beneath his lips. “We have morphine in the drug cupboard at the hospital,” she said, her voice breathy, sexy. “A big dose of that might help.”
“You’re a much more powerful drug than morphine, much more addictive, and you know it.” Her green eyes filled his vision before he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. He drew her warm tongue into his mouth, and the taste of her robbed him of any thoughts of taking it slow. Of kissing her then backing off.
Her hands roamed over his chest, sending heat racing across his flesh, and he sank deeper into the kiss, tasting the hint of coffee, cream and sweet sugar on his tongue. Her fingers continued on a shivery path down his ribs, to his sides and back, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, the swell of her breasts rising and falling against him.
His thigh nudged between her legs and, as she rocked against him, he let one hand drift to her rear, increasing the pressure, loving the gasp that left her mouth and swirled into his.
The rattling sound of a doorknob cut through the sensual fog in his brain and Trent pulled his mouth from Charlotte’s. They stared at one another, little panting breaths between them, before her gaze cut toward the living room.
“What the hell? Are you expecting someone?”
Her eyes widened and she pulled away from him. “No,” she whispered. “Darn, I left my gun upstairs. I’ll have to go through the living room to get it. Should I run up there? If he—or they—get in you could punch them or something till I get back down with it. Or maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe they have a gun.”
Metal scratched against metal then a creaking sound indicated the door had been opened, and Charlotte’s hands flung to her chest as she stared out of the kitchen then swung her gaze back to Trent.
“The door was locked, wasn’t it? Does someone have a key?” It hadn’t sounded like forced entry to him. Maybe it was somebody she knew. And the thought that it could be a boyfriend twisted his gut in a way it shouldn’t twist for a sweet but short interlude.
“No. The only other key is in my office at the hospital.”
Her whisper grew louder, likely because she was afraid. He touched his finger to her lips and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Is there really a hammer in the closet?”
She nodded and silently padded to it in her bare feet, wincing as the door shuddered open creakily. She grabbed the head of a hammer and handed it to him, then pulled out a heavy wrench and lifted it in the air, ready to follow him.
What would she have done if he hadn’t been here with her tonight? The thought brought a surge of the same protective anger he’d felt when he’d heard about the first break-in, which had made him more than ready to bust somebody’s head.
“Stay here,” he whispered. He slipped to the doorway and could see a shadowy figure with a bag standing near the base of the stairs.
CHAPTER NINE
HEART POUNDING, CHARLIE stepped close behind Trent, peeking around him as he stood poised to strike the intruder. Never would she have thought that the burglars would come back, especially at night when she was home. Thank goodness Trent was here. Much as she said she could look after herself—and she could; she was sure she could—having a big, strong man in the house definitely made her glad she wasn’t alone as someone was breaking in.
She looked up to see Trent’s jaw was taut, his eyes narrowed, his biceps flexed as he raised the hammer. He looked down at her, gave a quick nod, then burst across the room with a speed sure to surprise and overwhelm whoever had broken in.
The man was shorter than Trent, who slammed his shoulder into the intruder’s chest like he was an American football linebacker. The intruder landed hard, flat on his back, and Trent stepped over him, one leg on either side of the man’s prone figure. With one hand curled in a menacing fist, Trent’s other held the hammer high.
“Who the hell are you? And you better answer fast before you can’t answer at all,” Trent growled.
&nbs
p; “What the heck? Who are you? Charlie?” Her father’s voice sounded scared and trembly and she tore across the room in a rush.
“Oh, heavens! Stop, Trent! It’s okay. It’s my dad.” The wrench in her hand suddenly seemed to weigh twenty pounds and she nearly dropped it as she shook all over in shock and relief. She fell to her knees next to her father, placing the wrench on the floor so she could touch his chest and arms. “Dad, are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“I...I’m not sure.” He stared up at Trent, who stepped off him to one side and lowered the hammer. “Next time I’ll know to knock, seeing as you have a bodyguard.”
“Sorry, sir.” Trent crouched down and slipped his arm beneath her dad’s shoulders, helping him to a sitting position. “You okay?”
“I think so. Except for the hell of a bruise I’m going to have in the morning.” He stood with the help of Trent and Charlie and rubbed his hand across his chest, then offered it to Trent. “I’m Joseph Edwards. Thanks for looking out for my daughter.”
“Uh, you’re welcome. I guess. Though I think this is the first time I’ve been thanked for beating somebody up. I’m Trent Dalton.”
Charlie glanced at Trent to see that charming, lopsided smile of his as he shook her dad’s hand. The shock of it all, and the worry of whether her dad was okay or not, had worn off and left her with a hot annoyance throbbing in her head. “What are you doing here, Dad? I thought you weren’t coming for a couple more nights. Why didn’t you call? You’re lucky you don’t have a big lump on your head. Or a gunshot through your chest.”
“I tried to call but couldn’t get any cell service. After I met with Bob in Monrovia, I decided not to stay at his house like I’d planned, because his wife’s not feeling well. Then I got the key from the hospital so I wouldn’t wake you—though that obviously wasn’t a problem.” He raised his eyebrows. “I won’t ask what you’re doing up in the middle of the night.”
“That wouldn’t be any of your business,” Charlie said, glaring at Trent as his smile grew wider. His grin definitely implied something it shouldn’t, and it sure didn’t help that the man had no shirt on. Though, as she thought back to what exactly they were doing when her dad had arrived, it wasn’t too far off. It had, in fact, been quickly heading in the direction of hot and sweaty sex and she felt her cheeks warm. “But if you must know, Trent is doing surgeries at the hospital for a few days and, um, needed a place to stay. We were just talking about the hospital and stuff.”
“She obviously doesn’t want you to know, but that’s not entirely the truth,” Trent said.
She stared at him. Surely the man wasn’t going to share the details of their relationship—or whatever you’d call their memorable night together—to her father?
“What is the truth?” her dad asked.
“The reason I’m spending the night here is because someone broke into the house yesterday. I didn’t think she should be alone until it seemed unlikely the guy was coming back. Which is why I knocked you down first and asked questions later.”
“Ah.” Her father frowned. “I have to say, it’s concerned me from the start that you were living here by yourself. Maybe we should rethink that—have a few hospital employees live here with you.”
“I’ve been here two years, Dad, and nothing like this has happened before. I’m sure it’s an isolated incident. I like living alone and don’t want that to change.”
“Maybe you should get a dog, then—one with a big, loud bark that would scare somebody off.”
A dog? Hmm. It might be nice to have a dog around and she had to admit she might feel a touch safer. “If it will ease your mind, I’ll consider it.”
“We’ll talk more about this later.” Her dad lowered himself into a chair and rubbed his chest again, poor man. Though she felt he’d brought it on himself by sneaking in. “I’m looking forward to hearing about how the new wing is coming along. Must be about finished, isn’t it? When is the first plastic surgeon supposed to get here?”
“Um, soon.” She glanced at Trent and saw his brows twitch together. This was her chance to ask him to stay until the Gilchrist rep got here, to do a few plastic surgery procedures, since the subject had come up. Maybe, with her dad there, he wouldn’t be so quick to say no. She pulled the ties of her robe closer together, trying not to give off any vibes that said, I’m desperate here.
“Trent. Ever since I saw what a wonderful job you did on Lionel’s eye, I’ve been meaning to ask.” She licked her lips and forged on. “There are a few patients who’ve been waiting a long time to have a plastic surgery procedure done. Would you consider doing one or two before you leave?”
“You know, I’m not actually a board-certified plastic surgeon.” His eyes were unusually flat and emotionless. “Better for you to wait until you have your whole setup ready and a permanent surgeon in place.”
“You do plastic surgery?” Her father’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I assumed you were a general surgeon, like the ones who usually rotate through the GPC-staffed hospitals.”
“I am.”
“Come on, Trent.” Charlie tried for a cajoling tone that might soften him up. “I saw what you did for Lionel’s eye. You told me, when you wanted to do it, that I didn’t know who I was dealing with, remember? And you were right.”
He looked at her silently for a moment before he spoke. “I’m leaving here any day now, Charlotte. It wouldn’t make sense for me to perform any complex plastics procedures on patients, then take off before I could follow up with them.”
“Please, Trent.” Her hands grew cold. “Maybe you could even stay a few extra days, to help these patients who so desperately need it. When you see some of them, I think you’ll want to.”
“I can’t stay longer. And it’s not good medical practice for me to do a surgery like that, then leave. I’m sorry.” He turned to her dad, the conversation clearly over by the tone of his voice. “Since you’re here tonight, sir, I’m going to grab my things and head back to my quarters.”
Charlie watched him disappear up the steps and listened to his footsteps fade away down the hall. Why was he so adamant about this? And what could she possibly do to convince him?
* * *
Trent managed to avoid Charlotte the entire following day. He took dinner to his room, and if she noticed she didn’t say anything. When his phone rang and he saw it was Chase, a strange feeling came over him before he answered. A feeling that told him he’d miss this place when he left, whether it was tomorrow or days from now.
“So, I’m sorry, man, but it’s just not going to work out,” Chase said in his ear. “Wish I could sub for you. I’d love to head back to Africa for a week or so. But I’m pretty busy at work here and, like I said, Dani’s not feeling great this month. Says she didn’t have morning sickness with Drew, but she sure does now.”
“Maybe it’s you that’s making her sick this time, and not her pregnancy,” Trent said. “Which I could fully appreciate.”
“Yeah, that could well be true.” Chase chuckled. “Any chance you’ll be coming to the States some time? Dani and I go to the occasional conference here. It would be great to catch up.”
“No plans for that right now. I’ll let you know if I do.” He wouldn’t mind a visit back to the States, so long as it wasn’t New York City. It would be nice to see Chase and Dani, and maybe even cute little Drew and his new baby sibling. He hadn’t been back for quite a while. “Who knows, maybe we can temp at the same time in Honduras when I’m between jobs. Let’s see if we can make that happen.”
“That would be great. Stay in touch, will you?
“Will do. Take care, and give your family a hug for me.”
Well, damn. He shoved his phone in his pocket. So much for that great idea. But he’d known it was a long shot that Chase would be able to fill in for him here in Liberia until the new doctor
arrived.
The uneasy feelings he had about being stuck here were peculiar and annoying. It wasn’t like it was a big deal if he went on his vacation all by his lonesome tomorrow or a couple weeks from now. The GPC was used to delays like this, so they probably had a temp lined up for him in the Philippines until he got there.
But this tug and push he kept feeling around Charlotte was damned uncomfortable. One minute all he wanted was to kiss her breathless, knowing that was a bad idea for all kinds of reasons; the next, she was bugging him about doing plastic surgery that he plain didn’t want to do, which put the distance between them he knew they should keep in place. That he knew he should welcome.
There had been a number of times his plastics skills had come in handy over the years, doing surgeries on a cleft palate, or a hemangioma like Lionel’s, that were important to how the patient could function every day. But actually working in a plastic surgery hospital? One dedicated to procedures that mostly improve someone’s looks? No, thank you. He’d rather keep people alive than just make them look better to the world.
He sat at the tiny desk in his room and went through the mail that had arrived this week. One was from the GPC and he tore it open, wondering if it was finally his release papers, or if they’d had to relocate his next job to somewhere other than the Philippines because of this delay.
Perplexed, he read through the letter twice. Clearly, there was some mess-up here. How come the director, Mike Hardy, thought the new doctor was already at the Edwards Hospital? Mike’s letter advised him that, because of the imminent arrival of this doctor in Liberia, a temp filling in at his new job wouldn’t be necessary and he could still take his full three weeks off. His revised arrival date in the Philippines was exactly three weeks from today.
He picked up his phone to call Mike, but figured it would make sense to talk to Charlotte first. Maybe she knew something he didn’t.
He left his room and strode down the long hallway from the residence quarters into the hospital. Dinner had been over an hour ago, so she very well might be back at home. And he wasn’t about to follow her over there. If she’d already left, he’d forget about talking to her and just call Mike.
