The Last Temptation of Dr. Dalton. Robin Gianna
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