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
