Almost Paradise

Almost Paradise

Isabella Ashe

STARFISH PRESS

Copyright © 2012 Isabella Ashe

Other contemporary romances by Isabella Ashe:

Into the Arms of a Cowboy

The Candidate’s Wife

Under Her Spell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

She was all alone in a foreign country.

Sabrina Chandler tucked a damp strand of pale blond hair behind one ear. The faint breeze, weighted with tropical humidity, felt like a hot, wet breath on the back of her neck.

She couldn’t believe her host family had abandoned her.

Sabrina waited -- with her small mountain of designer luggage – outside a tiny airport terminal, a one-room cement block building at the edge of the tarmac. From where she sat she could see verdant hills and an endless forest of coconut palm and banana trees, but few signs of civilization. Sabrina’s flight had arrived a half an hour ago, and the bustling airport crowd had thinned. Business people, young families, returning relatives laden with gifts -- all of the passengers had someone to greet them and whisk them off. All but Sabrina.

A Filipino man approached her. Taxi, ma’am? Taxi?

No. Sabrina shook her head firmly. No, thank you.

She would have gladly traded her expensive leather handbag for a cool shower and air-conditioned room, but Sabrina hadn’t yet changed her dollars to Philippine pesos.

After her 16-hour flight from Los Angeles to Manila, she’d transferred to the domestic airport. She had dozed during the hour-long trip to the island of Leyte. Her hosts, Vicente and AdelfaNovida, had promised to meet her flight. They were supposed to take care of everything.

Apparently, they’d decided not to show.

What was I thinking? Sabrina muttered under her breath. She almost found herself agreeing with her father that the whole trip was insane. If only she had let her father have his way, Sabrina would be sipping margaritas at an exclusive beach resort. Instead, she had decided to spend her vacation working at a health clinic in the poor, rural, very isolated town of Libertad.

Sabrina sighed and brushed at her shell-pink silk skirt in a futile attempt to rid it of wrinkles. In all of 29 years, Sabrina had never felt so hot, exhausted, or frightened. She struggled to relax. She needed a clear head now. Maybe one of the drivers would accept American dollars for a ride to a hotel. She would settle for any place that would take one of her credit cards. After that, she could try to call the Novidas.

Dr. Sabrina Chandler? The voice was deep and male, the accent American.

Startled, Sabrina spun around. Yes?

I’m Max Donovan. I’m your ride to Libertad.

It was his height – he towered over her -- that struck Sabrina first. His shoulders and arms strained the fabric of a clean, but faded, T-shirt. Well-washed denim jeans encased long, lean thighs. He gave Sabrina a guarded smile, his teeth white against the sun-bronzed planes of his face, and extended his hand. Sabrina took it. His callused fingers seemed to swallow hers.

Sabrina’s pulse quickened at his touch, and she felt a dizzying rush of sensation she hadn’t experienced in years. She frowned, angered by her body’s unexpected betrayal. You’re late, she snapped, as she snatched her hand away. The plane arrived at three o’clock sharp. I’ve hardly slept, it’s unbearably humid, and you obviously took your sweet time getting here.

He arched his dark brows. I apologize, Dr. Chandler. I came as fast as I could. Max’s insolent gaze swept over her body, and Sabrina knew he was taking note of her white eyelet blouse, silk skirt, and delicate wedge-heeled sandals. A mocking smile tugged at the corners of his undeniably sensual mouth. Maybe, if you’re uncomfortable, you should change into something more practical.

Sabrina didn’t much like the hint of disdain in his slate-gray eyes. She’d had the same thought herself, once she stepped out into the day’s heat, but now she spoke through clenched teeth. My wardrobe is my own business, thank you very much.

He shrugged and ran his fingers through unruly curls --curls the deep, rich brown of polished mahogany. Fine. Let’s get moving, then. It’s a three-hour drive, and the roads aren’t great, so it’s easier if we get back before dark. He hefted her suitcase and one of the smaller bags, and Sabrina noticed the power in his arms and shoulders, and the raw strength and vitality with which he moved. He swung her bags into the back of a silver Jeep parked half on, half off the paved road just a few feet away. Sabrina had been so caught up by her fears that she hadn’t noticed when he pulled up next to her.

He returned for a second load. What’ve you got in those bags? Feels like rocks.

Medical reference books. Sabrina hoisted the last duffel bag and lugged it to the Jeep. She staggered slightly under the burden. Max took it from her and tossed it into the back of the Jeep as if it weighed nothing at all. Also medical supplies, along with some clothes and shoes.

He uttered a short, sharp bark of laughter. Some? It looks like you brought along half of Rodeo Drive, sweetheart.

Sabrina pressed her lips together and swallowed a caustic retort. She couldn’t afford to antagonize this man, not while she still needed his help. Still, his arrogance grated on her already threadbare nerves. Once they arrived in Libertad, she would give him a piece of her mind. She hiked her skirt a few inches and climbed into the passenger seat, then glanced over at Max as he got behind the wheel.

Perhaps she wouldn’t tell him off after all. Sabrina shivered a little despite the heat. It wasn’t just his size or his physical strength that gave Max his aura of power. She sensed a hint of darkness in him, too, and saw a certain dangerous gleam in his icy gray eyes. He looked like the kind of man who wasn’t afraid of anything, a man used to issuing orders and watching others obey.

His arrogance set her teeth on edge. Sabrina narrowed her eyes and stared him down. Max? Why exactly did Mr. and Mrs. Novida send you? I thought they were coming for me themselves.

Your door’s not shut. He leaned over her to latch the door. His sudden proximity took Sabrina by surprise. His arm brushed against her ribs, just under her breasts, and his shoulder nudged hers. She felt the heat of his body through the lacy blouse. He smelled of smoke and salt water and something else she couldn’t identify, some definitively masculine scent. Now put on your seat belt.

Sabrina obeyed automatically as Max started the engine and pulled out onto the narrow asphalt road. Sabrina forgot her fatigue as the scenery unfolded around her and a welcome rush of air cooled her face.

As they sped south, Sabrina saw lush greenery broken by occasional ramshackle houses with thatched roofs. Sabrina caught a glimpse of a huge black pig rooting in the dirt, and of a dog so thin its skin sank between its ribs. On the left crouched a child who wore only a grubby T-shirt as he drew in the mud with a stick. Buses, cars, and passenger-packed jeepneys sped by on the opposite side of the road. Sabrina knew about jeepneys from her guidebook. A popular form of transportation in the Philippines, the vehicles boasted long chrome bodies plastered with bright neon decals. Sabrina read the names of the towns painted on their sides -- Tacloban, Palo, Tanauan, San Miguel, and dozens of other destinations.

Suddenly, Max laid a heavy hand on his horn and swerved into the opposite lane to pass a lumbering bus up ahead. Sabrina clutched at the bar attached to the Jeep’s dashboard and watched with horror as a truck barreled toward them. She cried out just as Max swung his Jeep back into the right lane, just ahead of the bus. The abrupt motion threw Sabrina against her seat belt. She gasped for breath. My God, you’ll kill us both!

Max fixed her with a glare of disgust that seemed all out of proportion to Sabrina’s anxious words. Hell, that wasn’t even close. Why don’t you just take it easy, sweetheart, and let me do the driving?

The fierce glint in his eyes reminded Sabrina that Max hadn’t answered her earlier question. He could be a kidnapper, or worse, and she had hopped into the Jeep with him like a trusting little fool. She should have known better. She’d grown up in Los Angeles, after all.

Why exactly did you come to meet me? she asked again.

The set of Max’s jaw softened, and as he glanced at her Sabrina read real concern in his dark eyes. Mr. Novida had a stroke the day before yesterday. They took him to Manila, and his wife went with him. In the chaos, she completely forgot about your arrival. She called me about one o’clock, in a panic. The Novidas are good friends of mine. Mana Adelfa knew I’d help out. He used the Filipino term of respect for an older person.

One o’clock? Sabrina did a little quick math. But you said it takes three hours -- She flushed as she remembered how she’d accused him of standing her up.

He chuckled. I make better time without screaming tourists in the passenger seat.

I’m a volunteer, not a tourist. Anyway, I’m so sorry to hear about Mr. Novida. Sabrina had seen a photo of the elderly couple, and noticed how, even in the studio portrait, Mrs. Novida’s eyes lingered adoringly on her husband’s face. Will he recover?

They’re not sure yet. Mana Adelfa will stay with him in Manila, so they made other arrangements for your visit. You’re here for about a month, is that right? His glance this time revealed frank curiosity.

Three and a half weeks. I know it’s not much, but it’s all the time I could take off from work. My return flight’s on July 15.

And you’re here because. . . ?

I want to re-open the clinic, and offer immunizations, prenatal care, all the medical services people in Libertad have done without since the last doctor left town. Just talking about her plans, she felt a surge of excitement. This was her chance to do something truly meaningful with her education.

That’s commendable. Max kept his eyes glued to the road. His profile grew impassive and cold, as if it were set in stone.

Sabrina couldn’t imagine what she had said to offend him. You don’t sound pleased. I thought Libertad was desperately in need of a doctor --

When he turned to look at her she saw that anger simmered in his smoky eyes. So here’s Miss Beverly Hills, waltzing in to save us all with her good intentions. Then you’ll run home again three and a half weeks from now and tell all your friends how brave you were in this dreadful place, and how you’re sure the natives will be eternally grateful. You’ll go back to your sports car and fancy lunches, and probably your rich doctor boyfriend, and meanwhile Libertad still won’t have decent medical care. We’ll have to drive an hour to the nearest health clinic -- three to the provincial hospital -- and people will keep on dying because of the delay.

Sabrina listened to this speech in disbelief. Max might as well have slapped her in the face. She sputtered and stammered as she strained to summon an appropriate reply. First of all, I’m from Santa Monica, not Beverly Hills. And -- and furthermore, I’m here because I know I can help people. I didn’t have to come. I wanted -- needed -- to do this. She felt heat stain her cheeks. I apologize if that’s not enough for you. Maybe if that’s the way you feel you should turn right around and take me back to the airport.

When he spoke again, his voice still held a bitter note, but he no longer sounded angry. It’s nothing personal, Sabrina. It’s just that I’ve lived in Libertad long enough to see a legion of do-gooders come and go. I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you look like the least likely of the bunch. His glance took in Sabrina’s petite frame, expensively tailored clothes, and long, silky blond hair. Frankly, I doubt you’ll last out the week.

Oh! How dare you! Sabrina curled her fingers into fists in her lap. She had been thinking much the same thing herself, back at the airport, but Max’s words made her entire body tremble with anger. Now she had to stay. She wouldn’t give Max the satisfaction of seeing her quit. Besides, she suspected she possessed a strength that had yet to be tested. Away from her father and everyone else who wanted to keep her safely wrapped in cotton wool, she was determined to discover the limits of that strength.

She scowled at Max. You can’t scare me, no matter what you say. I’m here and I’m staying.

All right, all right! Max laughed at her fierceness and made a gesture of surrender with his right hand. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Horn blaring, he swerved to pass a jeepney, and passed shockingly close to a motorcycle with a sidecar that carried a schoolgirl in a white blouse and navy skirt. Sabrina bit her lip to stifle a cry of dismay. She clutched at the seat, her palms wet and her heart racing, but she refused to let Max see her fear.

So, Sabrina, Max said, in a more conciliatory tone, how long have you been practicing medicine?

Sabrina swallowed hard. The question seemed like an innocent attempt at conversation, Max’s peace offering. Unfortunately, it touched on a sensitive issue. She hedged a bit. I graduated from medical school four years ago.

Do you work in a hospital, or private practice?

Umm, Sabrina said, stalling. They passed through a small town, and Sabrina pretended fascination with the tiny sari-sari stores that sold jumbled, faded assortments of items -- shampoo, candy, canned food, ice cream, Coca-Cola, laundry soap -- all stacked in booth-like structures. Sabrina rummaged in her handbag, extracted her camera, and snapped several photos.

Max refused to let Sabrina evade the question, however. Well, which is it? Hospital or private practice?

I’m -- I do research for a pharmaceutical company.

His brows met as he gave Sabrina an ominous frown. Do you work with patients?

Well, I have. She caught the defensive note in her voice, and struggled to continue in a more normal tone. I mean, I did do an internship at a major hospital. I’m licensed to practice medicine, if you’re wondering. She hadn’t seen patients for years, but Sabrina wasn’t about to admit it.

Max slowed the Jeep to inch over a weathered plank bridge that creaked and groaned in protest. I don’t believe it. He chuckled. Are you saying that you spend your days with test tubes and microscopes? You’ve hardly got any practical experience at all?

Sabrina rewarded his mocking words with an icy stare. I’ve got my books, and my laptop if I need to get in touch with colleagues for help. I can assure you that I’ll manage just fine.

I’ll bet you don’t speak a word of Waray. He laughed again.

That’s -- that’s the local dialect, right? I was told that almost everyone spoke English.

Unbelievable.

The single, dismissive word conveyed Max’s contempt. Sabrina bristled. So maybe she wasn't the most qualified doctor in the world, but she meant to work hard and learn fast. Max had no idea how desperately she wanted to make her weeks at the clinic a success. She had so much to prove, not only to her father but also to herself. Sabrina opened her mouth to tell Max as much, and then snapped it shut again. She didn’t owe him any explanations or apologies.

A tense silence followed. The road curved through neatly sectioned rice paddies. Flat, open fields sprawled at the base of distant purple-shadowed mountains. Sabrina brooded as the Jeep jounced over another bridge. She let her gaze wander down a swollen river as it snaked east