THE LAST TEMPTATION OF DR. DALTON (11 page)

“Which would be your idea of having really made it, right?” Concentrating on suturing Murvee, disappointment jabbed at him that she apparently felt that way. He’d been there and done the Beverly Hills-type vanity plastic surgery and rejected it for a reason. A reason nobody understood or cared about.

“Is that a real question?” Charlotte asked, her expression one of annoyed disbelief. “If my idea of ‘making it’ was a Beverly Hills lifestyle, I’d have set my sights on a big hospital in the States after I got my degrees or gone to work on Wall Street. Not come to Liberia.”

He looked back up at her. He should have realized her comment had just been intended as a light-hearted compliment. She was as far from a New York City or Beverly Hills socialite as a woman could be. “I know you haven’t exactly chosen glamour over substance here. Except those pretty, polished toenails of yours could be considered pretty glamorous.”

“Does that mean you like them? I changed the color last night.” She smiled as their eyes met again and lingered.

“Yeah. I like them.” He looked back down and continued the detailed suturing of Murvee’s wound, trying to focus on only his work and not her lethal combo of femininity and toughness.

“Do you mind if I take a photograph of your injury, Murvee?” Charlotte asked.

When he agreed, she snapped a number of pictures and Trent wondered what she planned to use them for. Probably to put in a portfolio of the plastic surgery wing. Except it wasn’t open yet.

Trent gave the young man some antibiotic tablets and instructions on how to take care of the wound.

“I know the hospital’s a long way off. Any way you can get there in a week? I probably won’t be there anymore, but there are several great techs who can remove your stitches. I’d also like you to have a tetanus shot.”

“My family has a scooter, so I can come. Thank you again for everything.” He pumped Trent’s hand then reached for Charlotte’s too, a smile so wide on his face you’d never have known the injury he’d just suffered if you hadn’t seen the bandage on his head.

“You’re very welcome. Like I said, I’m glad we were here today.”

The young man headed back down the beach. Charlotte looked at Trent and the expression in her eyes made his breath hitch. He reached for her hand. “Ready, Miss Edwards?”

“Yes. I’m ready to head back.”

He was pretty sure she knew that heading back to the compound wasn’t what he’d been asking.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

D
ARKNESS
HAD
NEARLY
enfolded the hospital compound as Charlie pulled the car up to her house. When she’d dropped Trent off at his quarters, the look he’d given her before he’d walked away was sizzling enough practically to set her hair on fire.

Both excited and nervous, her insides felt all twisted around, thinking about her subterfuge with his release papers, the new doctor and all the things she was trying to manipulate. But all that worry wasn’t quite enough to douse cold water on her plans. To keep her from wanting to relive, one more time, the passionate thrill of the night they’d spent locked in one another’s arms the previous week.

Still sitting in her car with the engine off, she stared at a small impediment to that plan, all too clearly apparent in the lights that were currently burning in her house. Her dad was staying with her and wasn’t leaving for another day or two.

Which meant that her house as a rendezvous for Trent and her to make love all night was out. Her mind spun with ideas of where else they might meet, though it couldn’t be from now into the morning. The various possibilities, and the memories of their past love-making, had her ready to leap out of the car to run and pound on the man’s door, despite the fact that she’d dropped him off only minutes ago.

Had she suddenly become a sex maniac? The thought made her laugh at herself, at the same time her anticipation ratcheted higher. For whatever reason, the secretiveness added a certain allure; why that was, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to fight the excitement she felt, because she knew she’d only get to enjoy it one more time.

The real question was, should she go inside and have dinner with her dad, take a shower to wash off the beach then find an excuse to leave again? Or just not come back until later? Her dad had encouraged her to take time off today, after all. Maybe he’d just assume they’d made a long day of it in Robertsport.

Except he’d know that wasn’t true, because Patience had been with them and would be ready for bed very soon.

She shook her head at her ambivalence, reminding herself that she was twenty-seven years old and a grown woman. Her father wasn’t naive or judgmental. Shoving open the car door, she decided she’d just go in and say hello, then tell him she had dinner plans with Trent; never mind that there couldn’t be a candlelit dinner in a restaurant, just leftovers in the hospital kitchen.

The sound of her father’s favorite jazz music met her as she opened the front door. He sat in one of the upholstered chairs she’d bought when she’d moved here, since little of the original furniture had survived the pillaging during the wars. The hospital files were open on his lap and he looked up with a smile as she entered the room.

“Did my girl get in the water today?”

“I did. I even rode a wave all the way in to shore. How about that?”

He clapped his hands. “Bravo! I’m proud of you. And not just for swimming today. For all you’ve done here.” He gestured to the files. “I’m so impressed with what you’ve accomplished with the funding you have. You’re making huge headway, especially considering the shambles you were left to work with.”

“Thanks, Dad. That means a lot to me.” When her parents had trusted her to bring the hospital and school back to life, it had been scary and admittedly daunting. But, with John Adams’s help, they’d done a lot. And she had to admit she felt pretty proud of what they’d accomplished too.

“I know the plastic surgery wing is important to you, and of course I understand why.” His expression was filled with both sympathy and pain. “You had to deal with a lot as a little girl.”

“Things happen for a reason, Dad. You know that as well as anyone. I hope that experiencing what it feels like to look abnormal will end up helping people who have to deal with things a whole lot worse than my childhood embarrassment.”

“I do know. And I’m excited about your project. But I have to ask some hard questions now, not as a father, but as a businessman. And this has to be treated like a business.”

Uh-oh. She gulped, afraid she knew what was coming next. “What are your hard questions?”

“What happens if, by some stroke of bad luck, the Gilchrist Foundation money doesn’t come through? Do you have a backup plan?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she should answer. Should she tell him she’d known all along that it was a risk? That maybe it was a risk she shouldn’t have taken? She forced herself to open her eyes and tell him the truth. “Honestly? No. I don’t. If the foundation money doesn’t come through, we’re in serious trouble. I’m trying to solicit other sources of income, but none of it is for sure until we have it in our hands.”

He nodded. “All right. So when will you know about the foundation money?”

“Soon. They’re sending their rep here in the next few days to see if we meet their requirements.”

“And I see that you’ve met all those requirements except for one: a plastic surgeon on site.”

“I
do
have a plastic surgeon on site—Trent. I just need for him to stay until their representative gives us the green light. Then we’ll have the Gilchrist check and it’ll all be good.”

He looked at her steadily. “Except that something tells me Trent doesn’t know about all this.”

For once, she wished her dad wasn’t so darned intuitive. “No. He doesn’t. I don’t see any reason for him to know.”

“Why not? Seems to me he’s an important part of the equation.”

“Only for a short time. He performed a brilliant plastic surgery on a boy here in the hospital and another today on the beach that I can show pictures of.” She sucked in a fortifying breath so she could continue. “He doesn’t want to be involved, Dad. For some reason, he doesn’t want to perform plastic surgeries. But I’m still hoping he’ll agree to help a few patients with serious problems before he leaves.”

“He seems like a good man. You should tell him the truth.”

The truth? Her dad didn’t know about the lies she’d told and her stomach twisted around when she thought about what his reaction would be if he did. If he’d still be as proud of her as he said he was. “I’m handling it, Dad. It will turn out okay; we’ll get the funding.” And she prayed that would really happen and every problem would be solved.

“I hope you’re right. Now, there’s something else we need to talk about, Charlie.” Her father threaded his fingers together in his lap and looked at her. “Your goals are worthy goals. Your hard work is to be commended. But have you ever asked yourself if there’s more you need to consider?”

“Such as?”

“Your own life.” He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Have you thought about exploring a relationship with a man who lives here? Or one of the single doctors coming through? Trent has impressed me, and I’ve met Perry Cantwell—who’s coming soon, I think you said. He’s nice enough, and good-looking to boot. I know it’s damned difficult to meet someone when you live and work where there aren’t too many folks around. I don’t want to see you give everything of yourself for this place until there’s nothing left of you to share with anyone else. I’ve seen it happen and I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“It won’t. I promise. I just need to get that wing open and the place running smoothly then I’ll think of other things besides work. I will.”

And that was the truth. Even in the midst of this serious conversation with her dad, and all the stress over the hospital’s finances, thoughts of Trent were foremost in her mind, thoughts of meeting with him and finishing what they’d started this afternoon. All those thoughts sent her breathing haywire and her pulse skipping and she just wanted to end this conversation and be with him.

“In fact, Dad, Trent and I are going to have a late dinner over in the hospital. Are you okay here eating leftovers on your own?”

His serious and worried expression gave way to a big smile. “Of course. Leftovers are my favorite.”

“Good.” She kissed his cheek then gave him a fierce hug. She wouldn’t tell her dad that the thought of giving up her freedom forever, her ability to live as she wanted and do as she wanted and run the hospital as she wanted, sent a cold chill down her spine. Or that one more wonderful night with Trent just might be enough to satisfy her relationship needs for a long, long time. “Thanks for the advice, Dad.”

“Okay.” He hugged her back just as fiercely. “Go on, now.”

* * *

The night air embraced Charlie with a close, sultry warmth as she walked toward the hospital quarters. A huge gibbous moon hung in the sky, casting a glow of white light across the earth. Her feet moved in slow, measured steps, her dad’s words echoing in her head.

Could there possibly ever be anything between her and Trent other than physical pleasure and friendship, a friendship based on both of their experiences working in developing nations and an appreciation of the tremendous need there?

No. She shook her head in fervent denial. What the two of them had experienced during their one night together was what anyone would feel after being focused on only work for months and months. What Trent no doubt felt for all the various women in his life, which if rumor was to be believed were many. He was famous in the GPC community for enjoying short and no doubt very sweet interludes until he moved on to his next job.

She could deal with that. After all, hadn’t she known it from the start? Enjoying one more night of fantastic sex with a special man would be wonderful, just as it had been last week, without thoughts of tomorrows and futures and what any of it might mean.

The employee quarters loomed gray in the darkness, its roof lit by moonlight, and her steps faltered, along with her confidence. He’d said he wanted to be with her just one more time, hadn’t he? She could only hope, now that they were on dry land and no longer only half-dressed, a knock on his door wouldn’t bring the cool Trent who sometimes appeared. The one who had shown very clearly how little he wanted to be stuck with her in this little, forgotten place in Liberia.

A shadowy figure suddenly became visible in front of her and she nearly let out a small shriek at the apparition.

“Charlotte? Is that you?”

“Yes.” She exhaled at the sound of Trent’s low voice, blaming the surprise of his sudden appearance for her weak and breathy reply. “I was...coming to see if you wanted to find some dinner in the kitchen.”

“Now there’s a surprise—you being hungry again. Let’s see what we can do about that.” Through the darkness, she saw the gleam of his eyes for what seemed like barely a second before he moved fast and was there, right in front of her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. Before she could barely blink, he was kissing her.

And kissing her. His mouth possessed hers in a thorough exploration that stole her breath. Not rushed, but intense and deep, giving and taking, completely different from his teasing, playful kisses of before. Every hard inch of him seemed to be touching her at once, his chest pressing against her breasts, his thighs to her hips, his taut arms against her back.

A small moan sounded in her throat as his mouth devoured hers. She wanted this: wanted this sensory explosion; wanted his kisses and touch and the heat that crawled and burned across her skin.

His mouth left hers, softly touching her eyelids, her nose, her lips, stealing her breath. “You taste so good to me, Charlotte. Way better than any food, though I have a feeling that the more I taste you, the hungrier I’m going to get.”

“Me too. Food is overrated.” He tasted so delicious, so wonderful, so right. His lips and tongue returned to her mouth with an expertise that dazzled, so mind-blowing that her skin tingled, her knees got wobbly and, if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, they might have simply crumpled beneath her.

She flattened her palms against the firm contours of his chest, up to his thick, dark hair that was getting a little long, and the feel of its softness within her fingers was as sensual as the feel of his body pressed to hers.

The little moan she heard this time came from him, and he pulled his mouth from hers, his heartbeat heavy against her breasts. “Charlotte.” His hands roamed across her back and down to her bottom, pulling her so close that his erection pressing against her stomach nearly hurt. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to keep my distance this week? Not to come into your office and lock the door and make love to you right on top of your desk?”

She might have had some idea, since the thought of knocking on the door of his quarters had crossed her mind more than once when she’d been sitting alone in her house, lying alone in her bed. “On top of my desk? It’s a little small, don’t you think?”

“Probably.” She could see the adorable, perpetual gleam of humor behind the sexual glint in his eyes. “And the examination table is too narrow. My bed is small, too, and pretty squeaky at that. Which leaves us with finding a soft place on the ground beneath the stars tonight.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of making love in the mud. That sounds a little....messy.”

He kissed her again, his hands moving to her waist, up her ribs, stopping for a breathless moment just beneath her breasts before moving up to cup them both. They tightened and swelled within his palms, and she wanted to be done with the talking and drag him to the ground.

“I have the place already picked out, with a thick blanket already unfolded on the ground. After I make love to you, we’ll take a shower together.” His lips moved to her ear, his voice a hot whisper that sent shivers skating across her flesh. “I want to taste the sea on you, lick the salt from your skin. Wash every inch of you and start all over again.”

Her heart pounded so hard in her ears, she thought he just might be able to feel the vibration on his tongue as he traced it over the shell of her ear. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and she was burning up inside, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“What about dinner?” Goodness, she could barely talk. “You must be hungry.”

“For you. Most definitely hungry for you.” The expression in his eyes told her he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him, and she loved that she could make him feel that way. “But I know about that stomach of yours. I have a picnic dinner all ready in my room. For later.”