“If they did, I bet Casita Verde Para Niños would rake it in!”
“You know it?” Impressive. Most people couldn’t name an orphanage in their hometown, let alone one on the other side of the world.
“Of course I know it!” She gave an embarrassed giggle. “Even if I can’t pronounce it properly.”
All tension dropped from her face and was replaced by utter engagement. Work talk, it seemed, put her at ease. Interesting. Maybe the stories floating round St. Nick’s were true. All work and no play made Harriet Monticello a delightful woman—because work was her play. The pretty blonde was a far cry from the dried-up nun he’d been picturing.
“Didn’t you single-handedly drag children’s homes in Argentina into the twenty-first century?”
“Well...” Matteo felt an unfamiliar wash of modesty come over him. “People don’t usually see what I do that way.” Particularly his socialite parents, whose business dealings saw more money change hands in a single day than he had as annual budget. “Black hole with no economic return” was the more frequently used description. “Of course, you’ll know it’s quite specialized. It’s a place pregnant teens can receive the support they might not be getting at home or are afraid—” He caught himself on the brink of speech-making and held back. “It’s nice to hear someone thinks highly of the Casitas.”
She gave him a flustered smile and looked away, sidetracking Dr. Bailey with a question about rosters. Matteo examined Harriet again. Given she didn’t look a thing like the mental image he’d conjured up, it was little wonder he hadn’t singled her out over the past couple of weeks. Particularly given the role her bosses seemed keen for her to play: The Woman Who Would Deign Him Worthy of Funding.
And now she didn’t know a thing about it? If the joint clinic meant that little to the board of St. Nicholas Hospital, he may as well turn around and go home. He’d enjoyed the two-week secondment to the high-tech hospital’s obstetrics unit, but his main aim was a clinic for his own. Then again... Harriet knew Casita Verde and the work he did without so much as a prompt. Best not to be too hasty...
He’d been prepared to go into his usual charm offensive routine. It worked a treat in Argentina’s moneyed circles. The elite of Buenos Aires rarely if ever went for earnest, over-keen do-gooders. Appearing as though he could live with or without their money always seemed the best tack. That, and a lavishing of compliments. He had yet to meet an ego that didn’t like to be fed. Something told him cocktail-party chatter and superficial compliments wouldn’t work with this woman.
She was pretty, in a completely natural way. Gamine, honey-blonde hair, a single swish of mascara on lashes overhanging a doey pair of bright blue eyes. A sweet splash of pink grew on her cheeks when she realized he was looking at her. She seemed...kind. A far cry from the dolled-up heiresses his parents wished he spent more time courting.
“You can’t expect your grandfather’s trust fund to keep Casita Verde’s doors open forever!” they warned on a regular basis—making it more than clear which way their wills wouldn’t be bent. Which was fine. He’d done all right so far. And they were family. Definitely not perfect, but they were all the family he had left.
“Great!” Dr. Bailey clapped his hands together and gave them a quick rub as if they’d all just agreed on a ground-breaking deal. “I’ll leave you two to it, shall I?”
“No!”
Matteo couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed Harriet disliked the position of the “chooser” as much as he hated being the beggar.
“I’m pretty good at being invisible, if you need to get work done.” Matteo gave her an out. The last thing a busy nurse needed was a hanger-on weighing her down.
“Sorry, Dr. Torres, I didn’t mean you. I just...” The pleading look she sent in Dr. Bailey’s direction brought another smile to his face. Harriet Monticello didn’t just wear her heart on her sleeve—what she felt was written all over her face. From the looks of things? The idea of spending time with him was pretty low on her list.
Perfect! That made two of them, then. She didn’t want someone tagging along after her and he didn’t really want a research nurse being posted in the heart of Casita Verde to see whether she deigned him worthy of funding.
But unless teenaged pregnancy became a thing of the past, there would never be a day when the center didn’t need more money. Not to mention the fact that money wasn’t printed on tears and there would be plenty of those if he didn’t get the go-ahead. Their resources were limited, and he was having to toughen his already thick exterior with each girl they were forced to turn away because of a lack of resources.
“Could you tell me just a bit more about this Argentina thing before you disappear off to your candlelit dinner?” Harriet had a hand on her boss’s arm now, her blue eyes virtually begging him not to leave.
Dr. Bailey looked like a deer caught in headlights. Matteo leaned against the nurses’ counter, trying to look casually interested instead of downright humored. If his own fate hadn’t been dangling from the threads of their conversation he would have laughed out loud.
“The board of directors thinks you need some fieldwork. After speaking with Matteo about how things stand at the casitas—the board suggested seeing how you go tonight. How you present yourself.”
“So you’ve known all along I needed to give the speech tonight?” Harriet’s eyes opened so wide she almost looked like a child.
“If—when—everything goes well...” Her boss stopped to clear his throat and throw an apologetic look Matteo’s way. “The board would like you to go out to Buenos Aires for a few weeks—maybe months—to see whether your research could be implemented at Casita Verde. If so, St. Nick’s would open a clinical outpost—in cooperation with Matteo, of course. A partnership.”
Interesting.
Matteo hid his surprise. She was the one being played. Not him. Unusual.
“You’re bartering me?”
And it sat with her as well as it sat with him. He was genuinely starting to warm to this woman. Again—unusual.
“One good turn does deserve another, Harriet,” Dr. Bailey continued with a patient smile. “You hardly ever leave the hospital, let alone Britain. I thought putting your research into practice in a different—”
“Apologies, Dr. Bailey.” Matteo stepped forward, his expression quite sober as he nodded in Harriet’s direction. “I probably shouldn’t interfere, particularly with the board’s decision pending. But I must be clear. Sister Monticello’s nursing skills would be valued at Casita Verde, but as far as her research goes? She is welcome to come, to observe and to offer suggestions. Lend a hand where necessary. But changes are down to me. In my experience, academic studies are often just that.”
“I beg your pardon?” Harriet’s hackles went straight up. “I think you’ll find my study comprehensive enough to see the changes we’ve implemented in numerous children’s homes here in the UK, including St. Nicks, are making a very, very big impact on the children’s well-being. My methods work.” She ground out the word with an imperiously arched eyebrow for emphasis.
Matteo rocked back on his heels and smiled broadly. He liked this woman. She was passionate and about as into playing politics as he was. Not at
