Читать книгу The Nurse He Shouldn't Notice - Susan Carlisle - Страница 7

COURT ran a hand across his face. Swiveling his head from side to side, he worked the kinks out of his neck. He gazed into the night sky. It’d been a long, horrible day. He’d done a rotation in the largest emergency room in Boston but nothing had compared to the volume of people this primitive clinic saw each day. This hospital needed at least two more full-time physicians.

He’d expected to have to care for patients on this trip but nothing like the magnitude he’d been presented with that day. And the number of children. It was almost overwhelming. With great fortitude he’d managed to care for the first one through to the twentieth. Thankfully his training went into autopilot mode and he found some semblance of comfort, a return of a modicum of confidence. Still, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to see the day done.

Finished with the last patient, he’d headed to the mess hall for a bite to eat. Dr. Roberts had come by and asked him to assist with removing Raja’s leg. Court had explained he wasn’t qualified. Dr. Roberts responded, “Here we do it all. I’ll show you where to scrub in.”

The surgery had been short and unpleasant. He always thought an operation helped. It fixed. In this case, a life had been saved yet devastated. The only saving grace was that Maggie hadn’t been there with those big accusing eyes. She had to be thinking—if he hadn’t turned the hospital down for funds, if he could see the need for outlying clinics, if he could get the supplies they needed …

Had he been a part of making a wrong decision that had hurt someone? Guilt gnawed at him, becoming a living entity in his gut that grew stronger by feeding on his doubts. He wanted to feel good about himself again, wanted to see respect for him shinning in someone’s eyes—Maggie’s.

But why should he care what she thought? He wasn’t going to get involved with her. That would be opening a door to hurt that he didn’t need, refused to accept. He’d learned at an early age that when you cared for someone you got hurt. If you didn’t want to hurt, you kept your heart and feelings locked away. Missy Maggie wouldn’t be allowed to knock on that door. Getting involved with Miss Save the World was out of the question. He had larger things to worry about in his life than trying to please her. Like what direction his career would take when he returned to Boston.

Court trudged along the path toward his bungalow by moonlight, too wired to sleep. Something moved among the trees. Stopping, he squinted in an effort to determine if it was man or beast. He’d heard talk of animals finding their way under and over the chain-link fence at night. Maggie had even made a point of warning him to lock his door.

Stepping closer, he found Maggie, sitting in a hammock. He left the path, walking with caution over the uneven ground with its dry grass clumps. The night shade flung shadows across the earth.

Maggie glanced at him as he approached. “Hey,” she said in a low voice, but not one of real welcome.

“What’re you doing out here so late?” He eased closer, trying to get a better look at her face. “You okay?”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Yeah.”

Her flip-flop dropped from her foot. He wouldn’t have noticed the action except for the sparkle of rhinestones. Yet another contradiction to his first impression of her. Miss All Business, Give Me the Facts had a quirky side. Interesting.

Stabbing her big toe into the half dirt, half dried-up grass, she pushed backward in the hammock.

“Raja’s resting well,” Court said into the quiet night.

“Good.”

Her almost non-existent answer screamed of her distress.

“You know …” she pushed the hammock back and swung forward again “… women in this land are the family workhorses, carrying water for long distances, gathering food and building homes.”

Court spied a wooden chair beside a tree. He sat, arms resting on his knees, content to listen while she talked. Her voice had a pleasant, lyrical quality that soothed.

Maggie sighed. “A woman without a leg is dependent on the village to keep her alive. Her husband will put her out. She’s no use to him.”

She sobbed softly, her empathy for the woman almost a personal pain. Something in the sound of her sorrow suggested the grief went deep. Had someone done something similar to her?

The desire to wrap Maggie in his arms surprised him. The emotion was so foreign that he hardly recognized it for what it was. The tug was so strong he gripped the edge of the chair.

“I came here to help.” Her words were a murmur crossing the hot still air. “To make a difference. But I don’t see it happening. I told Raja what to do. Showed her how to bandage it …”

She raised her eyes to the starry heavens. “I appreciate you taking care of her.”

“You’re welcome.” He’d not felt so inadequate since that horrible night he’d failed his small patient. His jaw tightened. Caring wasn’t a feeling he would make a habit. He’d been running from his emotions since his brother had died and now he’d come smack up against them again. Heaven help him, for some reason this woman managed to pull them out of him.

She pushed into a slow swing. “So what did you think about clinic today?”

He sat up in the chair. “I’m more than impressed by the number of people seen and the vast array of medical issues needing treatment.”

Maggie dug her toe into the ground, bringing the hammock to a halt. She gave him a look he was confident would make a weaker person squirm and give up information.

“So, now you think we could use the grant?”

He put up his hand. “Ho, there. I didn’t say that. There’re many hospitals and programs needing money, a number closer to home. What I will say is I’ve been impressed with how efficiently the hospital runs with so few obvious resources.”

“Well, at least that’s something. Hopefully we’ll continue to impress you with our service, and you’ll see our need.” She scooted to the edge of the hammock.

The movement captured his attention, her hips shifting first one way then the other as she wiggled to the edge, supporting herself by holding on to the side. Not for the first time he longed to see her legs. What was the old saying? “Leave them wanting more?” Maggie had definitely perfected that objective.

She slipped her feet into the flip-flops. “It’s late.” She made an attempt to stand but fell into the hammock as it swung backward.

Court offered his hand. “Let me help you.” Her low-trilled laugh of embarrassment vibrated through him like a bow moving across the string of a bass violin.

Her hand hovered over his palm. For a second he feared she’d refuse his help. When her fingers touched his, the bolt of satisfaction stunned him.

Using him for leverage, Maggie pulled herself to her feet. She stood so close he could make out the faint wildflower smell of her shampoo. It was the most surprising thing he’d encountered in this arid land. It stood out in the surroundings like Maggie did.

What was her story? She seemed full of contradictions.

Maggie slid her hand from his, leaving him with a sense of loss. Gathering up her skirt in a hand so it no longer flowed around her legs, she headed toward their bungalows.

“I’ve been meaning to ask why the female staff wears long skirts in this heat.” He stepped over a protruding root.

She grinned over her shoulder.

The first real one he’d seen since he’d arrived.

“Wearing a skirt is cooler and more functional than you’ll ever believe. You should try one. Local men wear them all the time.”

He chuckled. “No, thanks, I’ll stick with scrubs and cargo pants.”

“The real reason we wear them …” she did an about-face and looked him straight in the eye “… is because the Mamprusi men find female thighs sexy. In America, breasts seem to be the thing, here it’s thighs.”

Court agreed with the Mamprusi.

She’d delivered the teasing bit of information like she gave a report during medical rounds. The upward curve to her lips and the slight shake of her shoulders said she wanted to laugh. “Do you have any other questions, Doctor?”

“No-o-o, I think that about sums it up.”

She giggled. A sense of rightness filled him—something he’d not felt in a long time.

They reached the spot in the path where they’d separate to go to their respective bungalows.

He touched her arm briefly to get her attention. “Hey, would you give me a crash course in Manprusi? It would sure make treating the patients easier if I learned a few basic words. Help put them at ease.”

“I guess so.” She turned, starting down the path.

In a couple of strides he caught up with her. “How about tomorrow afternoon? I understand the clinic’s closed,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d show me around the village, maybe give me a lesson then. I’d like to know more about the people. I don’t think the wild ride yesterday counted as a true visit.”

She took longer than he would have liked to answer. “I guess so. I planned to get some fruit and other items at the market anyway.”

“Aw, thanks for having compassion for the new guy in town.”

That brought a slight curve to her lips. Court watched as she walked to her door a few steps away, rubbing the spot he’d touched.

Maggie had been a little surprised when Court hadn’t balked at walking into the village when she’d suggested it. He acted like he made casual outings to a village regularly. While they moved along the crowded dusty road, she appreciated him matching his long-legged pace to her shorter one.

He hadn’t struck her as someone who routinely took time for a stroll but she couldn’t miss a chance to have him see up close how the locals lived and why they needed the Armstrong Foundation’s help. Convincing him to use his influence to give the hospital the funds they required was her primary objective. Otherwise she would’ve turned him down flat when he’d asked her to show him around. Something about having him close made her think she wouldn’t be enjoying a few relaxing hours. Court set her nerves tingling.

Court impressed her with his thoughtful and intelligent questions about the traditions and culture. Between his quizzing and her lectures on the area, they practiced simple words like “hello”, “pain”, “where”, “how long” in Mamprusi. He was a quick study, which by this time didn’t surprise her. He had a real aptitude for the difficult language. It wasn’t long before she expanded to using phases.

Maggie glanced inside the doorways of the simple square, dirt-brick buildings facing each other creating a wide main road. She pointed to one group. “These are the well-to-do businesses. Most of the locals live humbly, working daily just to stay alive.”

He seemed genuinely interested in the country’s history and the people. The closer they drew to the market, the more the number of people surrounding them increased. The sounds of bargaining filled the air, joining the ripe smell of fruit. “Stay close, I don’t want to lose you,” she said, turning a corner into a large open area filled with stalls. Colorful fruit, vegetables and a variety of meats were spread out in the open air on blankets with thin men squatting on their haunches beside their goods.

“You don’t think a tall, white man dressed in American clothing is going to stand out?”

With his piercing blue eyes, firm jaw and broad shoulders he’d stand out on the streets of New York City. The man was eye candy. “You have a point. Is there anything you’d like to look for while we’re here?”

“No, but I would like to practice what I’ve learnt when I can. I’ll just stick by your side.”

She wasn’t sure why the statement rattled her so much. “I’m not sure Where does it hurt? or Bandage it this way is going to work here.”

“I was thinking, Hello, goodbye, how are you? might, though.”

She stopped often as they made their way up and down the rows of vendors. She always gave Court a chance to speak to the merchant first. After he had done so, he seemed content to wait and listen from nearby. She couldn’t see those crystal-blue eyes for his sunglasses, but by the tilt of his head he watched what was happening intently.

The crowd thinned at one point and Court stepped beside her. “So, tell me how you came to work at the hospital?”

She bent to pick up a bunch of bananas, said a couple of words to the toothless man then handed him a coin and waited while Court said thank you. “I was working in a hospital ER. One of the traveling nurses told me about the Teligu Hospital and I was intrigued. I needed to make a change and decided to look into coming here.”

They moved on to the next vendor.

“Did you always want to work in a developing country?”

A house with children’s toys in the yard and a minivan in the drive flashed into her mind. “Not exactly.” The words were said slowly. “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, though.”

He picked up a piece of corn still in its husk from the pile she studied.

“Mealie.” Maggie supplied the word.

Court repeated the word. “I wish they were all that easy.” Putting the ear back in the pile again, he asked, “Not exactly? What does that mean?”

“Little nosy, aren’t you?” She focused on the vegetables on the ground before her.

“Little touchy, aren’t you?”

Concentrating on the produce, she tried not to let the hurt show in her eyes. “We all have dreams that don’t work out, don’t we?”

“Yes.”

Maggie glanced at him. The simple word hid more than he let on. Did the aggravating doctor have a secret?

“What’s all this for?” He pointed toward the growing amount of food items stuffed into a woven basket she’d brought along.

Relieved at his change of subject, she said, “Supplies for a meal.”

“You cook?”

She put a hand on her hip. “Yes, I cook.” She mustered as much indignation as she could but tempered the words with a smile.

“I didn’t mean to imply …”

“I know what you were implying.”

“What I meant was where do you cook?”

“I use the mess hall kitchen on Sunday afternoons. I wish I could use it more often.”

“I’m a pretty fair cook myself.”

Maggie looked sideways at him in disbelief.

“I am. I learned to make meals on a one-eyed hot plate during medical school. I found cooking an excellent way to release stress after a long day.”

With his family background he’d done his own cooking? She would have thought he’d have his own personal chef.

“So who eats these meals you prepare?” Court asked.

She looked at him. “Fishing for an invitation?”

“Could be. I haven’t been here long but I already know your cooking has to be better than the usual fare in the mess hall. I’d be willing to assist. I could be your sous chef to earn one?” His grin seemed forced as if he’d not spontaneously shared one in a long time.

Maggie’s stomach tightened, flipped and righted in one motion. On Court the grin had been the sexiest she’d ever seen. If he did that and let those incredible eyes come out to play more often, getting an invite would be a sure thing. With a mental shake of her head she said, “We’ll see.”

Court asked to make her next purchase so he could practice his newfound skill. He did look at her once when the man spoke too fast. As they started back toward the hospital, the crowd thickened again. She’d just suggested they take a longer return route when a commotion drew her attention.

“Missy Maggie, Missy Maggie.” Neetie’s high-pitched voice filled the air. He rushed at her, wrapping his arms around her legs. Neetie’s forward movement propelled her backward. She stumbled and would’ve been flat on her back if it hadn’t been for the strong arm circling her waist.

“Ho, I’ve got you.” Court’s breath fluttered warmly against her ear.

The heat of his broad chest against her back reminded her of how long it had been since she’d been held by a man. She’d missed the contact.

Neetie circled to her side and pushed against the back of her legs until he squeezed between her and Court, squealing the entire time, “Help, Missy Maggie, help.”

The crowd gave way to a man swinging his hand above his head and shouting. Maggie could understand little of what was being said but she did hear the word take.

Court stepped in front of her and assumed a formidable stance. “Stay behind me.”

Maggie considered disagreeing with his directive but didn’t believe she could take on both Court and the angry man at the same time. Instead, she remained behind and to the side of Court, close enough that she felt him tense as the man approached.

Neetie worked himself between them, half hiding behind her and continuing to chatter. She looked down at the child and said, “Hush, Neetie.” He quieted but his eyes remained huge white circles in his dark face.

“Maggie, ask him to stop there, but do not move from behind me, understand?”

She did as instructed, bringing the irate man bearing down on them to a halt.

“Ask him what the problem is,” Court said in a tone that had the man looking at him instead of her.

She translated.

“Neetie stole.” She looked around Court and Neetie peeped around her legs.

Digging into his pocket, Court brought out a couple of coins and handed them to the man. He used his newfound words of Thank you and Goodbye and the man left.

Court turned, which brought his mouth to within inches of hers. Her breath caught and held for a moment. He had nice full lips. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. His eyes darkened.

Neetie pushed against their legs, disrupting the moment.

“Let’s get out of this crowd,” Court said.

Maggie moved the basket up on her arm and took Neetie’s hand, and Court clasped her other one. She tried to pull it away but Court held it securely.

“For heaven’s sake, Maggie, I just don’t want us to get separated in this mob.”

All of a sudden she felt silly and accepted the touch of her hand in his. It was no longer necessary for Court to protect her but it still felt nice to have someone look after her for a change.

Reaching the road back to the hospital, Court led them off to the side until they found the shade of a tree. He released her hand and looked down at Neetie.

The boy’s eyes widened with fear, and he hopped from side to side.

“Someone should take this child in hand. The boy needs to know he can’t steal.”

Maggie couldn’t disagree and she hoped to be the one receiving responsibility for Neetie soon. She needed to get Neetie’s village chief to agree. Would the chief and the village accept her as Neetie’s mother? She’d promise to see that Neetie’s culture was part of his life. She gave the boy an encouraging smile. Even if she couldn’t have a child of her own, her drive to protect remained strong. The pain that had ebbed to a dulled ache over the years sharpened again.

“I’ll handle this.” She went down on her knees to be at his eye level. “Neetie, what you did was wrong. You should never take what isn’t yours.”

“But I wanted—”

“That doesn’t matter. Court paid for what you took but you’ll have to repay him by working it off. I want you to sweep out his bungalow and take out the trash until you have paid him back.”

The boy’s eyes remained large as he glanced up at Court but he nodded his agreement.

From above her Court said, “Another thing, I want you to be careful about grabbing Missy Maggie. You could’ve knocked her down. Hurt her. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”

Neetie gave an earnest negative shake of his head, but still looked terrified. Couldn’t Court tell he was scaring the boy? Where had the congenial guy gone who had been with her before Neetie had shown up?

“I’m sorry, Missy Maggie.”

She opened her arms and Neetie stepped into them. After giving him a tight hug, she stood and turned to Court. “Thanks for your help back there. I don’t know if I could have handled the situation without you.”

“I’ve no doubt you could have.” His look met hers. “Maybe I earned that meal after all.”

Court had been called in early the next morning to help with an emergency and had been assisting in surgery ever since. He’d had to hustle to get a bite of lunch before going back. He’d not seen Maggie all day. It bothered him not to know where she was and what she was doing. Calling it curiosity and unable to stand it any longer, he’d asked and been told it was her day off.

Bottom line, he missed her. A foreign concept for him. He never let someone interest him enough to miss them. That’s what most of his lady friends complained about—he never really cared. He couldn’t.

Shaking his head in an effort to remove the idea, Court returned to seeing patients and worked late into the afternoon. He was on his way back to the bungalow when he saw Neetie running up the path. Court couldn’t help but be captured by the bundle of energy the young boy presented with his arms flying and sticklike legs pumping. Neetie made him think of the childhood question, “Is that you or are you riding a chicken?”

He sobered. He’d asked Neetie on their return to the hospital from the village how old he was. Neetie had said eight. The age Court had been when his brother had died. The same age that made his heart catch when he cared for a patient. He’d become a pediatrician because of his brother and wanting to help others like him, but in many ways it had been difficult. Especially when his actions caused a child to be disabled. The burden of failure weighed on him like a sack of heavy rocks he never put down.

Neetie slid to a stop out of arm’s reach, and looked up at Court with uncertain eyes.

A stab of regret cut through Court. Had he intimidated the boy so much yesterday that he was afraid of him? Court had never meant the boy to fear him.

Neetie pointed down the path from the direction he’d come. “Missy Maggie, help.”

Court’s heart jerked in his chest and he went down on one knee, meeting the boy at eye level. “What’s wrong with Missy Maggie?” The amount of worry those words held surprised Court. When had Maggie started becoming significant enough for him to feel any anxiety over her?

“She in …” Neetie seem to search for the word. He said something in Mamprusi.

“Box?” Court translated.

Neetie gave a vigorous nod and pointed toward the back of the compound.

“A box? What box? Show me.”

Neetie scampered down the winding path, and Court followed him at a lope. They went past the bungalows, around a small group of trees and came to what looked like an outdoor storage area. Sitting on the ground were two large metal overseas shipping containers. Neetie pointed into the container with the huge doors flung open. Court looked inside the dark cavern and found the box partially full.

Squinting, he waited while his eyes adjusted from the bright light of the outside to the almost pitch dark inside. He could make out aqua fifty-five gallon plastic drums. They were stacked two high, the top of the second one well above his head. Some of the drums had fallen and were lying at odd angles.

Panic surged through him. Maggie could be seriously hurt. Court stepped into the container. “Maggie?”

“I’m back here.”

Relief washed over him, to be replaced by flaming anger. What if he hadn’t gotten here in time? What if she’d been too hurt to cry out for help? “Where?” His fear made the word sharp. With a tight chest he took a deep breath and let it out in the hope of slowing his pulse and holding off his irritation at her for being so reckless.

“Straight back.”

He turned to Neetie. “You stay here.” Court pointed to the ground outside the container, making sure his instructions were clear. Neetie nodded. Court refused to allow another person be injured because he’d failed them. He needed to know that the boy was safe.

With a grunt Court righted a fallen drum. It was heavier than he’d anticipated. What in the world was Maggie doing in here by herself? When he got to her he was tempted to put her over his knee like he would have a disobedient child for scaring him. He continued to move barrels to the side, creating a narrow aisle. “Are you hurt?”

An exasperated sigh came from a few feet in front of him. “Not really.”

What the hell did “Not really” mean? “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“No. Mostly it’s my pride that’s hurt.” Her voice became clearer as he worked his way closer. “I saw a drum marked ‘Bandages’ up on the top. I knew better than to climb up there and rock it but I did it anyway. I didn’t want to take the time to walk all the way to the hospital to get help.”

“Yeah, don’t do the smart thing. As always, handle it yourself,” Court mumbled, while he pushed at another drum with more force than necessary. She was the one everyone turned to for help at the hospital. Amazingly, she always gave it willingly.

“After the first one went they all started falling like dominos. One of the metal clips holding the top closed caught my clothes, and I went down with the barrels.”

Her chatter told him that she was more afraid than she’d first let on. Good, she should be. Maybe she’d learned a lesson. He’d reached the deepest part of the fifty-foot box that doubled as a furnace in the late-evening sun. Visibility was dismal at best but he could just make out the top of Maggie’s head. He uttered a curse under his breath when he thought of what could have happened. If he’d not seen Neetie …

Court righted the barrels and pushed them to the side, squeezing past them.

Maggie was trapped, half under a barrel. The fury he thought he had under control snapped. “Why’re you out here by yourself?” His words cut as sharply as a scalpel. “You should know better.”

With a glare, she said, “I do this all the time. It’s no big deal. I was doing it before you showed up, and I’ll be doing it when you’re gone,” she snapped.

She had him there. He had no business telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. But he still couldn’t get the gut-wrenching feeling of what could’ve happened to her out of his mind. He wiped away the sweat beading heavily on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It had to be over a hundred and ten. “How long have you been in here?”

“All together?”

“Yeah, all together.” The sarcasm snapped as bluntly as a dry twig. Yet his professional side kicked in. He needed to keep her talking until he could reach her, so she wouldn’t be afraid. She could be seriously injured and, if nothing else, she had to be dehydrated.

“I started working after lunch. A couple of the men were helping me but they got called away.”

“How long have you been pinned here?” He enunciated each word as he continued to shift barrels.

“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes.”

The temptation to shake her built within him. That fist-size ball of fear he always carried in his gut grew. She sounded so calm about it. It was a wonder she’d not passed out.

Court mumbled a word Neetie didn’t need to learn until he was much older. “Maggie, you could’ve …” He stopped himself from saying more. Getting irate and making her the same wasn’t going to help matters. Now was the time to use the cool he’d been so famous for when he’d practiced medicine. He called out the door, “Neetie, go to my bungalow. Get a jug of water and my med bag. It is by the door. Run.”

Nettie’s rapid prattle of response reached Court’s ears. Good, Maggie would need the water when he got her out of here.

Struggling with the bulk of a drum, it made a thump when it rocked on its end. He could see her well now. She sat on the floor of the container, with a drum over her legs, and thankfully one drum supported another so not all the weight rested on Maggie. Her back rested against another barrel.

She looked up at him and with a lift to her chin said, “Of all the places, in all the hospitals, in all the world …”

“Funny, Maggie, real funny.” His lips pulled into a tight line in his desire to stop himself from throttling her. Concern still knotted in his stomach for the risk she’d taken. Outside her being another human and him being a doctor, he couldn’t understand way Maggie being injured would matter so much. But it did. “You could’ve been really hurt.”

Court didn’t wait for an answer. He considered the drums above them. They looked steady in their places. “Can you hold that one away from you while I pull this one off?”

“Yes.”

“On three. One, two, three.” Court lifted the barrel, while supporting it with the edge of his foot to prevent it from sliding and falling back onto Maggie. With the drum on its end, he steadied it and moved it out of the way.

Her skirt had bunched up toward her waist, leaving a vast amount of leg exposed and a hint of bright red panties between. As he’d suspected, Maggie had fine legs. Superiorly fine ones.

She swiftly tugged the material down, making herself decent but not totally covering her thighs, before attempting to struggle to her feet. Court reached out to help her. She appeared unhurt but when she put her right foot down, she slumped into him.

“Ooh.”

His arm circled her waist, supporting her. “So you did hurt yourself.”

“Don’t sound so self-satisfied, Doctor. My ankle got caught between two of the drums on the way down, and I pulled it out. It’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“I’ll have a look at it after we get you out of here.”

Court led her through the maze of barrels, assisting the best he could, though they both had to squeeze past drums in some spots. Reaching the open area, he swung Maggie into his arms.

“What’re you doing?” she squeaked and shifted against him. “Put me down.”

Tightening his hold, he said, “Carrying you.” Her body was too hot against him. He had to get her in the shade.

“I can walk.”

“Yeah, I saw how well you stood back there. You hang on for a minute, and I’ll put you down when we get out of this third circle of hell.”

Court felt Maggie’s soft laugh against his chest before he heard it. If he hadn’t already been burning up he might have heated more in response to her mirth surrounding him like the sweet smell of spring. He wanted it to last.

He blinked a couple of times before his eyes became accustomed to the brightness of the outside. He found the nearest tree and headed for it, placing Maggie on the ground underneath it. She pushed at the damp curls that had escaped to fall around her face. “I need to fix my hair.”

“Leave it be. It looks fine.” Kneeling beside her, Court removed her thong from her foot.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to examine you.” He lifted her leg and she made a frantic movement to push her skirt down from where it had slid up her leg. “You do realize I have seen a woman’s leg before?”

“Yes, I imagine you’ve seen many.”

If he weren’t so worried she might be injured, he would’ve enjoyed the feel of her skin beneath his hand. Running his fingers over the delicate bones of her ankle and halfway up her calf, he found nothing broken.

She jerked her leg from his hand. “I appreciate your concern but I’m fine.” She rotated her ankle a couple of times, before she reached down and rubbed it gently.

Amused at the flustered way she acted, he said, “Seems so.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me, Doc?”

He sat down beside her. He’d learned that when she was ruffled or wanted to put him in his place she used his title instead of his name. “Maybe just a little bit, Nurse. Neetie should be here in a minute with some water, then we’ll get you to your bungalow.”

“I still have work to do here.”

“You’re done for the day. Doctor’s orders.”

“But we need the bandages for clinic tomorrow.”

Stubborn woman. “You do know you got off easily. You could’ve been crushed.” He wasn’t going to let her go back into the container tonight or any other day by herself ever again. She wouldn’t appreciate it but he planned to speak to Dr. Roberts about what had happened. “I’m already tempted to shake you, so don’t push me any further.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a little bit, Doctor?”

Maybe he was, but for a gut-twisting moment while in that box he’d felt that out of control, numbing fear he’d swore never to experience again. He gave her his best pointed look, which had sent many a nurse running, hoping to make it clear he would hold to his threat. Needing to get her mind on something else before they fought, he said, “What’s in all these drums anyway?”

“Bandages. Some medical supplies. The envelopes we use to dispense medicine.”

“Really?” He wondered about the simple supplies he’d seen used but hadn’t thought to ask. During clinic no one had the time to answer unrelated medical questions. “Where do they come from?”

“From the States mostly. Different groups strip old sheets and roll them. They’re what we use on the sores we see so many of. Churches send us unused offering envelopes to put meds in. A couple of ladies in Georgia ship us a container about every two years. It’s a big help to the hospital.”

“Interesting, and impressive. But why are you down here working on your day off?”

“Someone has to do it.” Before Court could comment, Neetie arrived with the water and his bag. Standing, Court took the jug, which was almost too large for the boy to handle, bent to one knee and held it to Maggie’s lips. She grasped it, guzzling the water. Court supported her back and the jug while she took a long swallow. She’d been more desperate for water than she’d let on. Did she ever complain?

“Slow and easy there. You don’t want to overdo it.”

Maggie nodded but kept drinking. Finally she’d taken her fill and released the jug. Court offered her a couple pills for pain.

“I don’t need those.”

“Take them anyway.”

She removed the medicine from his hand. In her haste to take them, water ran down her chin and across her chest to wet her thin white shirt. Court could make out the valley between Maggie’s breasts and the lacy outline of her bra.

The second she realized the direction his gaze had taken she gave a little yelp, put the jug on the ground and covered herself with her arms.

Court stood and reached for the jug in one movement. He took a long swig of the water but it did little to ease his frustration. It didn’t cool his libido. Maggie hid secrets that he’d had a sneak peek at today. No doubt she had other equally fascinating qualities. Ones he refused to let himself explore.

What was happening to him? He had no business being interested in her. Why did Maggie hold such fascination for him?

He’d always enjoyed women. Had all the women friends he wanted, more in some cases. But he never allowed himself to care. Wasn’t even sure if he knew how. But for a reason unknown to him this simply dressed, zero makeup, perspiration-soaked, workaholic woman had him wanting to find a spring pool, strip her and spend time showing her the delights between a man and a woman.

Damn. The African sun was already getting to him. Maggie began making movements to stand. Court handed the jug to Neetie and grasped her arm to steady her. She started to pull away but when her ankle gave way, she accepted his help. She hobbled a few yards beside him.

With a resigned sigh, Court leaned down and stretched his arms out in invitation.

“I can make it.”

“Yeah, right,” Court said in a gruff tone and scooped her up into his arms. “You and I both know you’re going to need to keep off that foot for tonight at least. So shut up and enjoy the ride.”

Maggie’s indignant huff fluttered his shirt as she lay stiffly in his arms.