One Night, Twin Consequences. Annie O'Neil
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 all.
But if Harriet were to come to Buenos Aires, she would need to toughen up to deal with his “every day”. St. Nick’s had amenities. Lots of them. He watched as the set of her jaw tightened enough for a muscle twitch. Then again...maybe a stint on his patch would be good for her. And him.
“Shall I leave you two to the ward tour, then? It’s Harriet’s showcase!” Dr. Bailey had already turned to go, not leaving them much of a choice. Harriet nodded curtly, just the tiniest hint of “don’t leave me” left in her eyes as he and Dr. Bailey shook hands.
“Sister?”
Matteo couldn’t help grinning as she unclenched her lips and forced on a “guess we’re stuck with each other” smile.
His amusement increased as Harriet excused herself for a moment to fiddle round with some charts in faux preparation for his tour. She obviously wasn’t happy about the avalanche of information she’d just been handed. Not to say he was ready to click his heels up in the air in a fit of glee, but none of this was of her making. An unfamiliar urge to make sure Harriet came out of this unscathed niggled away at his conscience. If anything, she was the biggest pawn in the scenario. No point in dumping all of his reservations onto her plate. She tugged her form-fitting uniform down a notch, accenting the perfect swoosh of waist to hip ratio.
Hmm... Perhaps this whole palaver would be easier if she had been a nun.
Nuns? He could deal with nuns. Unlike most of his childhood friends, he’d enjoyed Catholic boarding school—the structure had suited him. A nice contrast to his parent’s whirlwind, round-the-globe lifestyle. He’d take a nun over a Buenos Aires socialite any day of the week. Not literally, of course. He shuddered away the thought. Nuns and socialites. Ugh. He stopped another shudder. He’d rather a night of romance with Harriet than—
Uh... Que paso? One second he was keeping Harriet at arm’s length, the next he...?
No. He didn’t. Casita Verde kept him busy. Incredibly busy. Not to mention his “no children” policy that sent most Argentinian women flying out the door. “What kind of man doesn’t want children of his own?” they all asked.
One whose sister had died in childbirth. That’s who. One who worked with scores of orphans no one wanted to adopt every day. One who’d vowed to be a doctor and nothing more to said orphans, the teens who gave birth to them and anyone else who crossed the threshold into the casita. That’s who. Not that he had issues. He had facts. And perspective. Children of his own? Not an option.
He looked across at Harriet, still engaged in her chart-juggling. From what he heard, she spent as many hours at St. Nick’s as he did at the casita. Birds of a feather? He watched her face break into a smile as a sock puppet fell out of one of the record folders.
He doubted it.
She was a wisp of a thing, slight. Complete with flushed cheeks, an untidy swish of honey-blonde hair and clear blue eyes that didn’t seem able to lie. Real. He liked her. And, coming from him, that was saying a lot. He didn’t “do” personal. Couldn’t broach “real”. Cool, calm reserve. It served him well. And yet...
“Should I go out then come in again?” Matteo offered, pointing to the swing doors.
“Why would you do that?”
“So we could start over. Or—at the very least—it would buy you some time to pretend being forced to have a puppy dog follow you round all day wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t allow dogs in the hospital,” Harriet blurted, covering her mouth with both hands in horror after the words flew out.
Matteo laughed and put what was meant to be a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her shoulders instantly shot up to her ears, briefly trapping his fingers between them. He only just managed to stop himself from running a finger along her jawline as he withdrew his hand, taking a mental note as he did so: Argentine ways were too tactile. This woman needed her space. And he found himself wanting to respect that.
Winning Harriet Monticello’s confidence seemed like something of genuine value. He totted up a notch in the pro-Harriet camp and another in the watch-it category to check himself. Being emotional about things—about people—didn’t get you very far.
“Let’s say we get this tour underway.”
“AND NOW FOR one of my favorite places...”
Harriet smiled broadly but widened the gap between them as they made their way to a glass-fronted ward. She definitely liked to keep him at arm’s length. He dipped for a surreptitious sniff of his shirt. He was certain he’d showered