Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) (12 page)

“I’m not entirely sure myself.”

“You have that beautiful house,” Betty reminded him.

“And like you, I feel guilty being the only one walking around in it.” For the first time since he’d had it built it felt too big and too empty. Trent pushed out of his chair. “You two talk it over and let me know what you decide. I’ll have Jason make a couple of calls about changing locations if you want. Just say the word.”

They said their good-byes and Trent made his way to his car. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since late morning. He had a few more reserves than most, but he too would run out of food eventually. The government had set up soup kitchens for the
locals, but as much as Trent liked to call Jamaica home, he wasn’t a local, and he wasn’t without means.

He didn’t have to stay.

Ginger greeted him and followed him around the house.

He set out to make a sandwich for a simple dinner. One sniff of the bread had it in the trash. “Looks like a can of chili and crackers,” he told the dog.

Ginger ate her food with a wag of her tail.

He ate on the back patio and kept looking at the empty chair to his side.

He’d blown it. He could be easing at least one person’s suffering while they gave of themselves, but no, Trent let memories swallow him and shut him down.

Monica had made it clear that she didn’t want him to return.

What was she eating?

Was
she eating?

He’d heard of at least one nurse returning to the States with a critical patient. Was it Monica?

The chili sat in Trent’s stomach like a stone.

“I don’t know her last name.” How would he know if she returned home safe?

His cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

Caller ID told him Jason was on the line.

“Hey, Jason.” Trent tried to sound upbeat.

“I thought you were going to call, keep us up to date.”

“I’m fine,” Trent interrupted his oldest brother’s rant. “Thanks for asking.”

“Dammit, Trent. Mom and Dad aren’t around to worry about you, which leaves me to do the job.”

Trent shivered picturing his parents. “I’m good. Things are—” Things were completely FUBAR. “Messy. But I’m glad you called.”

Jason released a long breath. “Finally come to your senses and ready to come home?”

The words “I am home” sat at the top of his lips but didn’t slip out. “I needed to talk to you about Alex and Betty,” he said instead. He went on to ask Jason to look into options for his faithful employees.

“It sounds like you’ll be leaving soon after.”

“I haven’t packed my bags,” Trent told him. “The clinics are full and people need help.”

“And what? You’re playing nursemaid to them?”

Well actually…

He thought of the day before when he walked beside Monica as she called out orders as if he was her personal aide. He hadn’t minded. She knew what she was doing and couldn’t possibly do it all alone.

“It’s obvious you can’t stay there much longer,” Jason continued with a softer voice. “Living the hermit life isn’t going to bring them back, Trent.”

Trent’s skin heated, his gaze turned red. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing here?”

“What do you want me to think? Right after the crash you left. We barely said good-bye to our parents and you left, too. It’s like Glen and I lost our brother as well as our parents.”

Old hurt settled in his chest. He hadn’t thought about that. “They would never have been in the air if I didn’t push Dad to take her home.”

It was supposed to be the weekend when Connie could get to know his family. She was a flight attendant for a commercial airline. They’d met in an airport when bad weather had grounded air traffic and the two of them were waiting for a cab during a snowstorm in New York. They’d shared a cab, a late dinner, and a bed. She lived in Chicago and Trent lived in a Connecticut suburb.

When he thought of her now, years after her death, he saw who she really was as clear as the moon in the night sky. At the time he only saw her laughing smile and zest for life.

They met in exotic locations, or stopovers in nowhere places. They talked about their futures, and after a short time, Trent wanted to find a way to combine their lives.

He’d surprised her by flying his father’s midsize Lear 60 to pick her up for the weekend. When they landed in Connecticut, she thought it would be a cozy weekend with just the two of them. But his parents, Beverly and Marcus, wanted to meet the woman Trent wanted to make a permanent fixture in his life.

Connie didn’t hide her surprise or discontent when Trent took her to a restaurant and met his parents inside. Dinner had been strained. Halfway through Connie excused herself and Trent followed.

She turned so fast he hadn’t seen it coming.

What the hell was he doing?

They were just having a good time and why did he have to go and make it complicated?

She’d always left his side saying how much she’d miss him and how much she’d like their relationship to be different. But when pushed to the wall, she didn’t want a relationship at all. Then she broadsided him with another half truth.

There was someone else in Chicago.

Trent was numb.

They’d returned to the table and shortly after Trent asked his father to fly Connie home.

Marcus, being the man he was, was happy to help, and Beverly didn’t want him flying back alone so she went along.

The plane never made it to Chicago.

And Connie’s
someone
was her husband.

So yeah, Trent was hiding from life. Licking his wounds and what of it? He’d lost two of the most important people in his life because of his inability to see the truth.

Jason was talking and it took a minute for Trent to focus on his brother’s words. “They wouldn’t want you to piss your life away. And they sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed you.”

He hated that his brother was right.

Somewhere between the last time he’d talked to his brother about all this and now, something had changed. Something inside Trent had thawed.

“Come home,” Jason encouraged him.

“I don’t know if that’s home anymore.”

“Maybe it’s not. But you won’t know if you stay there.”

Maybe it was time to move on. But he couldn’t abandon Jamaica… not yet. “I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Jason sounded hopeful.

“Yeah.” They said their good-byes and Trent tried to relax.

It didn’t last long.

He took a last look at the empty chair next to him and jumped to his feet. “Come on, Ginger. Let’s take a drive.”

Chapter Nine

A child laughed, and the happy sound caught Monica by surprise. There had been so little laughter in her life in the past few days. She glanced up and noticed Ginger licking the hand of a small girl sitting beside her mother’s bed.

Trent?

He stood in the doorway, his attention directed at her, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

Why is he here?

He walked toward her, leaving Ginger to entertain the child and another teenager who slid off his chair to pet the dog.

As Trent drew closer, Monica looked around to see if anyone else noticed his direct stance. The thin line of his lips. She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or happy. She shifted in her chair as he approached.

“Hey?” she managed when he was close enough to hear her.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She sighed, not trusting herself. “Uhm.”

“Just for a minute.”

Monica swallowed and stood. She dropped the chart on the table and wrapped her stethoscope around her neck.

Trent turned toward his dog. “Stay!”

Ginger sat on her haunches and watched them as Monica led him out the back door.

The light outside was growing dim. Before they cleared the door, Monica tried to put distance between them. “I thought I said you didn’t need to come back.”

The door closed behind him and Monica turned around. He removed his sunglasses, hung them on his shirt. “I had to come back,” he said.

He stood over her, looming with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Why?”

He moved forward, and before she could step back, his arm was around her waist and he was pulling her close. Monica couldn’t breathe and Trent didn’t give her time to think.

His lips took hers so swiftly and so completely, Monica’s world exploded. She’d thought of him all day. About his body close to hers, the soft touch of his fingers on her arm, and how much she wished she’d at least sampled his kiss, and here he was folding her into his arms. There was no hesitation on his part. He acted as if he’d kissed her a hundred times and had a right to do so whenever, wherever he pleased. Trent’s confident possession of her lips, his tongue mating with hers, wasn’t sloppy or poorly executed.

It was heaven.

Monica closed her eyes, reached up, and touched his shoulders, his neck, before she fanned her fingers in his hair. She was alive, whole, and completely aware of every cell in her body reaching for the man in her arms.

His sunglasses bit into her chest. Before she could protest about their barrier, Trent slid a hand between the two of them and tossed the glasses to his feet.

She giggled under his kiss and attempted to get closer.

He kissed her breathless, until her breasts felt heavy with need and her body softened. Until he hardened.

It was Trent who started this madness and Trent who eased his lips from hers minutes later.

She sighed as he kissed her softly then moved his lips to her temples.

They stood there, holding each other and catching their breath.

“I couldn’t let you leave without tasting you,” he whispered in her ear.

She heard the pain in his voice. “I’m not leaving yet.”

He didn’t offer a comment about that. Instead, he asked, “What’s your last name?”

His hand was rubbing up and down her back. “Mann. Monica Mann.”

“When are they sending you back home?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He leaned back, placed one hand on each side of her face, and kissed her again, briefly. “Can you get away?”

She shook her head. “No.” There was too much to do and only one other nurse there.

His eyes searched hers. “Don’t leave without telling me.”

“One kiss and you’re telling me what to do?” she asked with a smile on her face.

“Please.”

Her skin broke out in gooseflesh, despite the warm temperature.

His thumb traced her lips and slid from her face, down her neck, and off her shoulder. He stepped away as if it was painful for him to do. Trent opened the back door and whistled. Ginger bounded to her feet and followed him to his car.

All Monica could do was watch him go.

She lifted her fingers to her lips and felt the sting of his kiss linger long after he sped away.

Trent winced at the taste of the coffee in the pilots’ lounge the next morning.

“That bad?” The pilot who asked the question was off a private jet that had landed thirty minutes earlier. His hand hovered over the carafe filled with coffee.

“It needs CPR,” Trent told him.

The pilot let his hand drop.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who flies the chopper, would you?” the pilot asked.

Trent pushed his coffee away. “You’re looking at him.”

“My boss needs to get around the island. We’re told the roads are passable but slow.”

Trent eyed the jet on the runway. “Do you have coffee on board?”

The pilot laughed. “Yeah. We have everything.”

Trent stood, put out his hand. “I’m Trent.”

“Roy. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to my boss.”

Trent followed Roy across the tarmac and up the steps into the luxury jet. He knew money when he saw it, and this Gulfstream was dripping in money. Leather seats, a couch, a door leading to what Trent assumed was a bedroom.
Nice!

At a table sat a man close in age to Trent and wearing a cowboy hat and jeans.

“Jack?” Roy called as they stepped inside. “I found your pilot.”

Jack stood and offered a hand to Trent. “Jack Morrison.”

“Trent Fairchild.”

Jack’s handshake was firm, confident. You could tell a lot from a man’s handshake. “I’m not sure what Roy told you.”