by Robin Gianna
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.”
“Ar
e 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.