PARADISE COVE (PARADISE SERIES Book 1) by Patrice Wilton

Taylor looked it up and she told me the services include housing, employment, medical care and finding a school for the children."
    "I didn't know that, but I'm glad. You won't have to worry about taking care of them and neither will I."
    "True. But while I was taking my shower my head was spinning. I started thinking about how I need a handyman to paint all the cottages before fall. And we need a housekeeper. And I sure could use a hand with the weeding."
    He chuckled. "Looks like you already have plans."
    "Well, maybe.” Kayla was the type to fix things. Organize them. Make everybody happy. “They might be better off taking the help through this refugee program, but while they’re waiting for all this to kick in, I could use Miguel's services and pay him instead of someone else. I'm sure they could use a little money. They've lost everything."
    "I have something to tell you later," he whispered with a quick glance at her face.
    His eyes looked worried, and she was instantly afraid. What did he know that she didn't? What could possibly go wrong at this point?
    "Now what?"
    "We need to discuss this alone." He shifted in his seat and glanced at the family behind him. "How're you feeling, Juanita?"
    Her eyes were closed, but she opened them and cracked a small smile. "Good."
    "Won't be long now," he said in a reassuring manner. "You are safe."
    They fell silent for some time after that, but she could hear Miguel pointing out things to his son, and the excitement in their voices as they drove toward freedom.
    "There it is," Kayla gesturing toward a big building ahead. “The Lower Keys Medical Center." She turned her head and glanced at Juanita. "Your American baby will be born right here."

CHAPTER NINE
    Kayla dropped them all out front of the main hospital doors, then went to find a place to park. When she joined them in the admissions reception area, an official looking man was already speaking with the family.
    "Someone from the department of Homeland Security," Sean told her, looking very efficient in his khakis and dress shirt. "They just have to ask them a few questions. I told him that after rescuing the three of them from the sea there was no time to call the Coast Guard, determining that they needed medical attention at once. I played the doctor card. It seemed less complicated that way."
    Kayla's eyes met his. "Yes. I'm glad you did." She watched nervously as the gray-haired man spoke with Miguel. "They will admit Juanita, won't they? They can't deport them now."
    "I'm sure that's not an issue. They just have protocol to follow. I mentioned that I'm a cardiac surgeon on leave from Massachusetts General Hospital, and will take responsibility for this family’s needs. I'm sure that will help remedy any potential problems." He rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money.
    "You're a good man, Dr. Sean." Warmth spread inside of her, and she was glad for the cool air conditioning.
    They were sitting in two wooden chairs next to each other, and he patted her knee. "You're not so bad yourself, Miss Kayla Holmes."
    A moment later, another man rushed up to the couple, and they heard him say he was with the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, and offered his services to help. Then he started speaking in Spanish.
    Sean put an arm behind her chair, looking relaxed. Completely opposite of how she felt. "Not sure what's all going on," he said in a low voice, "but I think it's a little out of our control at the moment."
    She loved the fact his arm was at her back, and leaned slightly in his direction. "You don't say."
    He looked surprised at her comment and then gave her a lazy smile. "Great job you did picking them up those snazzy T-shirts, by the way. How did you find the time?"
    "I didn't. That was Brittany's idea. Sweet, wasn't it?"
    "Very. Love the colors," he said dryly.
    "I was a little uncomfortable with Juanita's. What must she think?"
    "Probably that you're very kind."
    "Wasn't me. It was my sister."
    "Well,