In the Enemy's Arms

“‘Help out’? Is that all you think it is? He deals with all the fundraising. He brings in new money, and he updates the regular donors on what their donations are doing and keeps them happy enough to continue sending money. He does all the PR, arranges events for the girls and coordinates all the volunteers from the U.S. It’s a full-time job for which he receives a room to sleep in and free meals, as long as he does some of the cooking or the cleaning.”

Her first thought was to argue. That sounded like a do-gooder, which Trent certainly was not. Doing good was something he did for himself, not underprivileged kids in another country.

But he said he loved Susanna, and he said it with far more sincerity than he’d ever given Cate. People could change for love, could become better and kinder. She had to consider it was possible. Rather, she had to consider it might be permanent. She had to admit, every time she heard from him or Susanna, she expected it to be the time she heard that he’d gotten bored and said goodbye to Susanna, the school and the girls to return to his thrill-seeking, globe-trotting life. After all, he’d committed to her, and how long had it been before he’d left?

Could Susanna be different? Could the love he claimed for her be so much more substantive than the undying love he’d pledged to Cate? Could Susanna hold him when Cate couldn’t? And would Cate mind if she did?

“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s say Trent has transformed into Saint Trent of La Casa para Nuestras Hijas.”

Justin’s jaw tightened at her supposition, but she didn’t let it stop her. His jaw had tightened, his brow had furrowed or his eyes had gone hard every time she’d ever seen him. It was part of the animosity that he usually managed to cover with sarcasm, faked good humor or mocking.