by Zoe York
But once the initial meet and greet ended, she slid Sean a quick look that was entirely different. A look that had nothing to do with work, and everything to do with anticipating the next two weeks.
He didn’t have any reason to be jealous of another man.
For the next part of the tour, the prime minister went with the medical director, and Sean let the comms officer follow them so he could go with the camera crew that joined Jenna for a walk through the maternity ward.
She introduced them to a slight woman, her face covered with a niqab, who had delivered a new baby the day before. “This is Assala, and her son. Adnan is her fifth child, and they’re both recovering well from the birth.” She paused for the translator, then continued. “Adnan has a bit of jaundice, so we’ll watch him for the next day, but he’s already feeding well, isn’t he, Assala?”
After pictures with the well-baby care package Assala would take home once Adnan was discharged, the tour continued. Jenna didn’t stop to talk with any other patients, and when she arrived in the medical office near the entrance again, she explained that Assala was the only patient who consented to be interviewed.
The reporters led her through a wide range of questions, first about Assala, then women’s health in general.
Jenna leaned in to each question, giving them clear, to-the-point answers, then adding more context and shading around that. She talked about the need for increased education around birth control, but also praised the community’s response to their outreach efforts. “When I arrived, we did maybe one or two IUD insertions a week. One of the key tasks assigned to me by the medical director was to work with the local Turkish staff to share the benefits of family planning, and we’ve worked really hard to do that in a way that makes sense to this population. Now we’re averaging a dozen insertions a week most of the time, and word is spreading. We want to support families, and we understand how they value children. Babies are our future, their future. But too many, too close together…it’s not healthy for women. You need to protect mothers if they’re going to have all the children they want, that’s what we tell them.”
“It sounds like you’re directing that message at the community at large,” one reporter noticed.
Jenna nodded. “And probably more so than in Canada, although we always start from what they want. I’m careful that the caution isn’t coming from me, but from someone who shares their culture. It’s the only way to have the conversation. I can only offer medical care they want. In Canada, the midwifery model is one of informed choice versus informed consent. I follow the same principles here. Sometimes it requires more conversations to ensure my patients are as informed as possible.”
“Can you speak to the differences in care?”
“Of course.” Jenna launched into an explanation about how she did more general emergent care here than she had previously in Canada.
The conversation wrapped up when they heard the prime minister’s group return to the front hallway of the hospital, and everyone started to pack up their stuff.
Sean casually shot Jenna a glance, and did a double take when he found her tapping her fingers together, a small smile playing across her lips.
CHAPTER FIVE
SEAN WAITED for everyone to leave, then quietly closed the door on the office as the group headed outside. He’d find them in a minute.
He stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Is everything okay? Do you need something?”
She grinned up at him. “Just wanted to have a second alone. Did that go okay?”
“More than okay. You were fantastic.”
“Oh, good.” She pinked up with pleasure. “I could talk endlessly about that stuff.”
“And they’d have listened, I’m sure. You had them wrapped around your baby finger. Me too.”
She blushed further and glanced to the side as she breathed in roughly. “So…we should discuss Spain a bit more.”
“Yes, we should do that.”
“Later?”
“Definitely.” He caught her fingers gently in his and rubbed his thumb over her skin. “See? The signal is always a good thing.”
Her pupils dilated and her lips parted. “Okay, I promise I’ll trust your instincts next time, Captain Foster.”
He leaned in. “Dangerous promise, Ms. Kowalczyk.”
Her eyes lit up. “Are your instincts…impure?”
Hell yes, they were.
He dropped his gaze to her mouth at the same moment the door handle rattled behind them, and they jumped apart.
She rubbed her cheek, now hot and red, and he stepped backwards again, staying between her and whoever just opened the door so she could compose herself.
“I’m sorry,” a not-sorry-at-all Australian accent said. He turned around to see Milly, the nurse, grinning at him. “I need Jenna.”
So did he, but his need would have to wait. “She’s all yours,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be back later.”
The rest of the day flew by. Sean saw Jenna briefly in the camp, at the clinic, and that reminded him of the spot around the corner where the children played. While the PM sat down with local staffers to hear about the refugee vetting process on the ground, Sean went hunting for road hockey sticks and a rubber ball.
Thank God for duct tape. As soon as Gavin Strong saw the gear, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and took off his tie. “Who are we playing?”
Fine. So the guy had appeal for a reason.
“I can’t take off part of my uniform,” Sean said good-naturedly as he led the PM to the playground.
“I can’t give you permission to do that?”
“Afraid not.”
“But you’ve got better footwear,” the PM said, comparing his oxfords to Sean’s combat boots.
“Fair enough.”
And his shoes did give him an advantage, but not enough of one to best the PM and his team of eager boys and girls. The game ended after twenty minutes, with Team Strong winning three goals to Team Foster’s two.
“Thanks for that,” Strong said quietly as they headed back to the media throng. “Most fun I’ve had all day.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
It was a little thing, but word spread quickly, and when Jenna found him at the end of the simple but well attended potluck dinner, she had a teasing grin on her face. “Heard you impressed the PM. It was all the talk at my end of the tent.”
“We had fun. He’s got a pretty wicked aim.”
“You’ll take athletic competition wherever you can get it, won’t you?”
He laughed. She wasn’t wrong. “I even play basketball on the base, and I hate basketball.”
“Oh?” She arched one eyebrow. “I played all the way through university.”
“In that case, it’s my favourite. We’ll have to find a chance to play one-on-one.”
She laughed before glancing around. “Is there something you need to be doing right now? Or can I take you somewhere?”
The PM would be leaving in a few minutes, and Sean had already said goodbye to the delegation. “You can take me anywhere you want.”
She touched his arm, a gentle, guiding touch, and then it was gone as she brushed past him.
He followed her out of the mess hall. The sun was setting, but he had his headlamp in the pocket of his uniform pants, and Jenna had a sweatshirt on for the night chill.
“Over here,” she said, pointing to an alley. He followed her down the narrow path, twisting left and right, until they came to a row of sea containers. From the shadows between two of the metal boxes, she pulled a ladder and leaned it against the side of one container. “Up we go.”
He stepped closer and wrapped his hand around the edge of the ladder. “Ladies first.”
She gave him a quick smile before brushing past him, scampering up the rungs. She was nimble and lean, with a narrow waist and endlessly long legs. Even in jeans and a hoodie, she was something to look at. But when his gaze got tangled up around her, it wasn’t just about bea
uty. He found himself wanting to look deeper, know more. There was something captivating about her that tugged at him deep inside.
When he pushed himself up and onto the roof, he found her standing, arms crossed, looking out across the buffer zone between the NGO compound and the refugee camp. Lights dotted the tent lines. They were lucky to have good electrical supply here, if nothing else. Two days ago, all he would have seen was a scruffy ditch between them and a world of chaos and despair. Now he saw potential and hope, too.
He knew the other side of things. The war zones that drove people away. But this was something else. This was hope and despair twisted together, a promise wrapped in barbed wire.
Literally.
From where he’d come from, though, he understood the dangers. Knew why there was barbed wire and armed guards protecting Jenna, protecting this hope.
It was damn fragile.
He’d been raised a military man. Raised jaded and sharp, ready for a fight. And for all the downsides of that childhood, it served him well. Mental resiliency, they called it. His father would call it being tough and hard.
And two days seeing this through Jenna’s eyes had given his perspective a new dimension, although not enough that he wasn’t grateful for the protections around her.
“I should have asked you earlier for the best vantage point to see everything,” he said quietly as he joined her. “That’s some view. Do you come up here a lot?”
She nodded and swayed toward him. He touched her arm, and when she slid her hand toward his, he laced their fingers together. “It’s not what I thought it would be.” She cleared her throat. “That sounds more naive than I mean it to be.”
“What were you expecting?”
“More movement. It’s a transit camp. I thought there would be…transiting. But most will wait here for years. The babies born yesterday will grow up to play soccer—and maybe road hockey—before they’re accepted somewhere else. The crawling pace is disheartening.”
“It’s one thing to hear about it on the news, and another to see it with your own eyes.”
“Was it the same for you?” she asked quietly.
“Everyone’s experiences are different.” That was the diplomatic answer. In reality, Sean had been training for this mission, specifically, his entire adult life. And more generally, since he was a child. “Your humanity is not a weakness. At all. There’s strength in how sensitive you are.”
“So it didn’t rock your confidence,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “No. But you seemed pretty confident this morning.”
“Mmm. It’s in the quiet that doubt slips in. When I’m doing the job, it’s fine.”
He knew all about that. Just because he was confident didn’t mean he didn’t have moments of vulnerability. Everyone did, it was human nature. “Three weeks after I arrived in Iraq, I experienced my first sandstorm. It was crazy watching this wall of sand roar toward you like a tsunami. I knew not to be frightened of the approaching storm. We took cover, and I was fine. Until it got dark. Not just dark. Pitch black. And suddenly I felt upside down. I wasn’t—we were hunkered down and it was fine. But I honestly couldn’t tell up from down, left from right, and it was disorienting.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I just waited. And eventually, it passed.”
She turned toward him, her entire body, and his free hand went to her hip out of both instinct and desire. She sucked in a breath as he made contact with her then pressed in closer.
“So eventually, this will pass?”
She meant what she’d shared about herself. He nodded, his head feeling thick all of a sudden. “Yeah. All storms eventually calm.”
“Good.” She gave him a faint, sweet smile. He’d barely known her two days and it felt like he’d waited a lifetime for this moment, for her to lift her face to his and her lips to part in invitation.
He lifted their tangled fingers to his mouth and kissed her there, first. His lips brushed her knuckles as he watched her expression shift and soften.
“Jenna,” he said as he released her hand and reached for her face. Every bit of her was soft and yielding.
“I didn’t lure you up here to steal a kiss,” she whispered.
He bent over until her breath puffed warm against his lips. “But now that I’m here?”
Her soft mouth pushed against his. He could feel her smile as she started to pull away, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her back in.
“You got one,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”
THE FIRST TOUCH of Sean’s mouth, when she kissed him, had been wonderful. Firm and warm. The second press of his lips against hers, when he took over and kissed her back, was something else. Wonderful times a hundred. His kiss exploded her senses and had her scrambling to touch him, pull him closer, grab on anywhere she could because his mouth promised a wicked, demanding ride.
His hand squeezed against her hip, sending a skitter of sensation up her spine. She wanted his touch under her shirt, on her waist, then higher. She wanted to touch him, too.
As he kissed her, she traced the lines of his neck. Strong tendons, flexed muscles. Even in the cool night air, his skin was warm. He radiated strength and virility, two things she hadn’t been drawn to in the past, but right now—very drawn.
She ached for more, but their position was hardly private.
“Just a few more days,” he whispered, reading her mind. “Then we can do that again.”
She chased his lips for another soft press before relaxing into his arms.
“Show me more of what we came up here for,” he whispered into her hair.
“Who’s to say it wasn’t for that kiss after all?”
He laughed then lowered himself to sit with his legs spread. Her breath caught in her chest, didn’t even make it to her throat, because while she burned for the chance to kiss him again, this was what really appealed to her about Sean. The way he looked at her, like he wanted to know her just as much as taste her. The way he offered her his body to lean on just as much as press against.
It was exactly what she didn’t know she needed.
She joined him, leaning back against his chest, his thighs bracketing her on either side. He was solid and stable, and for the first time in months, she felt like maybe she could unburden herself of the fears and doubts she’d been keeping inside. Sure, Milly saw through her, but it was just as important to Jenna that she be seen to be brave, too. Uncertainty was normal. Wallowing was not. And one’s co-workers were not the people to burden with your confessions.
Probably neither were your potential lovers, but Sean had already shown her that he understood.
“I’ve been planning this for a long time. Since my training programme, really. I thought I’d go somewhere chronically under-serviced rather than a war zone, maybe. But still, the principles are the same. We’re responding to a need. I’m needed here, and I know I’m helping.”
“But?”
Hard, unyielding sadness pushed against her chest from the inside. “It’s hard.”
He laughed. Gently, and not unkindly, but still, he laughed. “Well, yeah, no shit.”
“That’s not what you’re supposed to say.” Except the way his chest shook behind her felt good. And if he was chuckling, then he wasn’t judging her for being a whiner. She relaxed further into his embrace as he pressed his cheek against her hair.
“You knew it would be hard,” he said quietly. “You just said that much. So how is it different than what you’d expected?”
She searched the chaotic memories of the last four months, trying to tease out the points when it got overwhelming. “It’s not fair. Don’t laugh.”
He didn’t this time. He squeezed her tighter, because of course he knew just how unfair war was.
“Any of them could be me,” she finally said. “I see myself in every educated woman who comes through the clinic. In every girl who had a dream to go to school, have a career, and now she lives�
��” She gestured toward the camp. “In chaos. And it will take years for them to be resettled. Their homes have been bombed to smithereens. There’s nothing to go back to, right?”
He cleared his throat. “Eventually the war will end. The caliphate is on its last legs in Iraq. Syria has a different road ahead, but—”
“Girls don’t have time to wait for eventually.” She squeezed her jaw tight, then puffed out a frustrated breath.
Sean smoothed his hand over her hair. “You see them having babies, too?”
Her chest tightened. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Be sorry for them.”
“I am. But I’m sorry for you, too. That’s hard to see.”
“I know they’ll be fine.” She swallowed hard. It was more hope than knowledge.
“So will you.”
She blew a raspberry, and he laughed again as she sighed and dropped her head back against his shoulder.
“Can I confess something?” he asked in her ear.
“Please.”
“I see myself in them, too. It happened yesterday. I think that’s normal as long as we manage our feelings on our time.” He squeezed his arms around her.
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
Not any time. They’d have two stolen weeks together, and then they’d go their separate ways. But for now, she could lean on him—in more ways than one.
“I’m not one to make a big deal about milestones,” she said slowly, figuring out how to voice a half-formed thought. “And I’m not here because I turned thirty—that just happened to correspond. But maybe there was something about facing the end of my twenties… I don’t know. And now that I’m here, I worry it was for selfish reasons.”
He stroked her arms. His fingers were warm and a little rough, calloused from work she could hardly imagine. “There’s a school of thought that everything we do has a selfish component.” He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “We can do things for our own reasons, and still benefit others, too.”