THE LAST TEMPTATION OF DR. DALTON by Robin Gianna Page B

time.
    A loud creak sent Trent sitting upright in bed, on high alert. Had someone broken in? Surely, lying there wide awake, he would have heard other sounds if that was the case?
    Probably Charlotte wasn’t sleeping well, either. He stared at the bedroom door, his pulse kicking up a notch at another creak that sounded like it was coming from the hall. Could she possibly be planning to come into his room?
    He swung his legs to the floor and sat there for a few minutes, his ears straining to hear if it was her, or if he should get up to see if what he’d heard was an intruder. While it seemed unlikely someone could break in without making a lot of noise, he threw on his khaki shorts and decided he had to check the place out just to be sure.
    He opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible and crept out in his bare feet, staring through the darkness of the hallway, looking for any movement. The scent of coffee touched his nose and he relaxed, since he was pretty sure no intruder would be taking a coffee break.
    Charlotte was up; he should just go back to bed. But, before he knew what he was doing, he found himself padding down the narrow staircase to the kitchen.
    “Did you have to make so much racket in here? I was sound asleep,” he lied as he stepped into the cozy room. Seeing Charlotte standing at the counter in a thin, pink robe, her hair messy, her lips parted in surprise, almost obliterated his resolve to keep his distance. Nearly had him striding across the room to pull her into his arms, and to hell with all his resolutions to the contrary. But he forced himself to lean against the doorjamb and shove his hands in his pockets.
    “I was quiet as a mouse. Your guilty conscience must be keeping you awake.”
    “Except for that ‘murdering my old girlfriend’ thing, my conscience is clean. I abandoned my vacation plans, didn’t I? Came back here to work for you?”
    She nodded and the way her gaze hovered on his bare chest for a moment reminded him why he hadn’t been able to sleep, damn it.
    “You did,” she said, turning back to the percolator. “I’m grateful, and I know Lionel’s family is grateful too. And the other patients you’ve taken care of since then.” She reached into the cupboard to grab mugs. “Coffee?”
    He should go back upstairs. Try to sleep. “Sure.”
    He settled into a chair at the table and she joined him, sliding his cup across the worn wood. His gaze slipped to the open vee of her robe. He looked at her smooth skin and hint of the lush breasts he knew were hidden there, pictured what kind of silky nightgown she might be wearing and quickly grabbed up his cup to take a swig, the burn of it on his tongue a welcome distraction.
    Time for mundane conversation. “So, tell me about what you studied in school. Didn’t you say you got an MBA?”
    “Yes. I got a hospital administration degree, then went to Georgetown for my masters. I knew I’d be coming here to get the hospital open and running again, so all that was good.” She leaned closer, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “I met a lot of people who shared their experiences with me—about how they’d improved existing facilities or started from scratch in various countries. I learned so much, hearing the things they felt they did right or would do differently.”
    He, too, leaned closer, wanting to study her, wanting to know what made this fascinating and complex woman tick. “I’ve been surprised more than once how much you know about medicine. Tell me again, why didn’t you become a doctor?”
    “Somebody needs to run this place. Create new ways to help people, to make a difference. Like I said before, I can get doctors and nurses and trained techs. I focused my training on how to do the rest of it. My parents encouraged that; they’ve trusted me and John Adams with the job of bringing this place back.”
    A surge of old and buried pain rose within him and he firmly shoved it back down. It must be nice to have