Chapter Five
Shameless flirt! Monica shook her head and chastised herself as she exited Trent’s helicopter for the second time. She had to admit, this flight had been much better than the first. Maybe the key to kicking her fear of heights was sexual tension. That and talk of handcuffs. Oh, she’d read her share of those books, but never once acted on them. The penetrating stare coming from the pilot’s seat had been worth the snark and innuendo. The stress of the past thirty hours didn’t weigh on her nearly as much as it had before she’d gone to sleep the night before, well, the morning before. She hadn’t fallen into her cot until after one.
She followed Trent off the helicopter pad and toward a parking lot. His confident strides and sexy li’l smile made her wish she knew what was going on inside his head.
Monica matched his stride and kept up her side of the conversation. “So after your joyriding youth you decided to fly helicopters for a living?”
“You could say that.”
His two-door Jeep had one of those half tops on it that covered your head but left the back open to the air. Trent tossed her bag in the backseat and opened her door.
He waited for her to climb in before shutting her in. Yeah, his mother taught him well. “Did you ever consider a different line of work?” she asked once he was inside.
“I worked in business administration for a while.”
“I can’t see you wearing a suit, tie, and dress shoes.”
His shoulders buckled in with a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“My older brother, Jason, says he has a hard time picturing me wearing shorts and flip-flops every day.” He started the engine and put the car in gear with the same finesse as he did his helicopter. He waved at a group of people standing by what looked like a guard shack before pulling onto the road.
“Are you and your brother close?”
“We watch out for each other.”
Monica thought of Jessie. She and her sister had been inseparable before Jessie married Jack. Jessie lived in Texas but still flew out all the time to visit. Easily accomplished when your husband owned his own plane.
Except Jack didn’t fly it. He had pilots to do that.
“What about you? Siblings?”
“My sister, Jessie. She was worried when I told her I was coming here.”
The small road leading from the airport was hardly large enough for one car, let alone two. Yet a few compact models hugged the edges as they passed.
“It takes a lot of courage to dive into this mess.”
Monica shrugged. “Sometimes leaving your personal life behind for a heavy dose of reality reminds us of the important things.” Damn, where had that come from? She settled into the words that had come from her lips and realized how true they were.
“Most people come to the island to escape their lives.”
Was that him? Was Trent hiding from real life?
“Not this week.”
Another small car passed them. “Good God this is a narrow road.”
“You get used to it.”
Where they were on the island was free of any flood damage left behind from the tsunami. A few rocks had obviously come loose and Trent swerved between them. “How was the damage from the quake here?”
“Many lost their homes. I think once everyone is accounted for, the reality of what it’s going to take to rebuild will be enormous.”
“What about your home? Did it fall?”
He shook his head. “New construction. Almost makes me feel guilty for having a home when so many don’t.”
She watched the passing trees while rain started to fall again. “A version of survivor’s guilt. That’s normal.”
“So, what? You’re a psychiatrist and a nurse?” The question could have been sarcastic, but it sounded a lot like admiration.
“Half my job is psychological, calming patients, families. Keeping a cool head when everything is going bat-shit crazy.” Some of the staff back home called her the Ice Queen, or Queenie. At first, it had to do with how she’d turned down the guys in the department when they asked her out. But now she liked to think it was because she kept an icy grip on her emotions when everything exploded.
Monica noticed Trent watching her from behind his glasses. “Do you ever lose it?”
“No.” Her answer was quick. After a deep breath, she said, “But this place is already testing me.”
“Oh?”
She considered what she was driving into. It would be worse than the day before. At least in the main hospital there were other doctors and nurses she could grab to help. Donald had asked her to go into a war zone virtually empty-handed. “I don’t know what I’m headed into and I’m doing it without coffee on board or even a shower. The lack of sleep doesn’t even need to be mentioned.”
“Isn’t there a doctor following you out here?”
“Not right away.”
“Damn.”
“I know, right? I have two hands and one brain. I can only do so much.” The more she thought about it the less she liked the idea of being at Port Lucia without a doctor.
Trent pulled off the main road and wound his way through an even narrower street. This one was better maintained but didn’t leave any room at all for passing cars.
Trent slowed the Jeep as they rounded a curve, and out the window Monica saw a sprawling single story home.
“Where are we?”
Trent pulled the car to a stop and shoved his sunglasses into the center compartment. “Twenty minutes will take care of your need for coffee and a shower.”
“But Port Lucia?”
“Can wait twenty minutes. They may not even have running water there. I do. I’ll fire up the generator and make us coffee.”
Monica sat staring at him with her mouth half-open. “This is your home?”
He nodded and opened his door. “C’mon, Monica. I have a feeling this will be your last shower for a few days. Might as well grab it while you can.”
She swung her gaze to his house again. An open beamed porch wrapped around the outside. Beyond the roof, she could see a glimpse of the ocean. The thought of a shower… coffee… heaven. “I don’t even know you.”
Trent chuckled. “I didn’t kill you in the air, and I don’t own a pair of handcuffs.”
Monica squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the heat filling her cheeks. “Oh, what the hell.”
Trent stepped out of the car and from nowhere sprang a large red dog. “Ginger, down,” he yelled when the dog jumped up in greeting. “Say hello to our guest.”
Ginger barked with a happy wag of her tail.
“Her manners aren’t the best, but she won’t bite.”
Monica put her hand out for Ginger to sniff. “She’s beautiful.”
“Spoiled, too. C’mon in. The shower has a point-of-use water heater. It should take less than five minutes to heat up once I turn over the generator.”
Monica followed Trent inside. The front door wasn’t locked. Inside there were several household items scattered on the floor. She stepped over a pile of glass.
“I haven’t had time to clean up since the quake hit.” He clicked a light switch and nothing happened.
“I take it the power’s been off since, too.”
Ginger nudged her hand asking for a pet.
Monica obliged.
“I don’t know why I bother checking. Lines are down everywhere.”
She followed him into a great room that opened to his kitchen. Bay windows framed a breathtaking view of the ocean. Lucky for Trent, the water was well below his home. In fact, from where she stood, Monica didn’t see the damage of the tsunami, just endless vistas of turquoise blue and green. Well, gray at this point, but on a clear day she imagined the view would provide hours of serenity. “What an amazing view.”
“We like it. Don’t we, Ginger?”
Hearing her name, Ginger barked again.
“You can stay here. I’ll get the generator going.” Trent opened the French doors to the back patio.
“Trent?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. “No problem.”
The road to good intentions was apparently paved in rubble; at least it was this week in Jamaica.
With a cup of strong coffee in hand, Monica relaxed in the passenger seat of Trent’s Jeep feeling a slight bit of guilt for taking the twenty-minute refresher. Only slightly. Even Donald said to take her breaks when she could manage them.
“The main road around the island was severely damaged from the water. It’s only a twenty-minute drive down the hill,” Trent told her as they hit yet another pothole in the road.
“I can see why you own a four-wheel drive,” she said. “Are all the roads on the island this messed up?”
“Those around the tourist areas are nice. Well, most anyway. Up here, and in the backcountry, they’re awful.”
“I guess if you’re flying over them all the time it doesn’t matter.” One plus on the side of being the pilot.
The Jeep lurched to the right again, and then abruptly to the left. When Monica peered out the window, the road didn’t look to be the cause of the bumpy ride. “Slow down,” she told him.
“My driving scaring you?”
She shook her head. She’d grown up in Southern California, earthquake central in the States. When an earthquake rattles you in your home, or in a building, you often hear the buildings move long before the earth bumps you around. When you’re driving a car, it’s silent and feels like you’ve got a flat tire. “No, stop the car.”
Trent lowered his speed while Monica glanced out the window. They were surrounded by trees and a power line that followed the road. There wasn’t a high-rise to crumble on top of them.
Sure enough, when Trent stopped the car it still felt like they were moving. Monica held her coffee in front of her to avoid it spilling. The rolling lasted only a few seconds longer, but it reminded her why she was there. “That was probably in the fours,” she said.
Trent looked out his window before narrowing his eyes on her. “That doesn’t bother you at all?”
“The earthquake?”
“Yeah.”
“No. That was a baby quake, not even enough to make me get out of bed in the middle of the night.”
He visibly shivered and started down the road again.
“So, you can guess the magnitude? No need for a seismograph?”
She chuckled. “You really don’t feel anything under a three. Well, unless it’s close to the surface and you’re right on top of it. Then maybe…” She sipped her coffee and went on. “Upper threes and lower fours… you roll over and go back to sleep. Now when you start getting up into the fives you start to wonder if it’s going to get worse. The sixes, the jolty ones, those make you move… if it’s a rolly one you still move, but not as fast. Over six and a half, you’re moving. And look at all the damage after a seven and a half. Makes you wonder what a nine, or God forbid, a ten, would do.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
She shrugged. “I’m a Southern California native. Goes with the territory.”
They rounded a corner and found the road blocked by a landslide. There were a couple of cars ahead of them with the passengers already out and attempting to remove the debris.
“Well I guess I can stop feeling guilty for taking the twenty-minute breather at your house,” she said.
Trent rolled to a stop and cut the engine. “You stay here. I’ll help.”
Monica finished her coffee and leaned her seat back. Trent and a half dozen locals pushed, kicked, and carried rocks to the side of the road for nearly an hour. At one point Trent removed his shirt to beat the heat. Taut muscles stretched over his broad chest and tapered to a slim waist and tight butt. Monica couldn’t help but enjoy the attraction.
The fact that any mutual attraction would have to be temporary didn’t push her away.
Monica Mann was used to temporary. Less messy that way. No one to depend on, and no one depending on her.
Perfect.