Date with a Surgeon Prince Read online

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Not because I doubted your good intentions, but to see who it was willing to put herself out for a child she did not know.’

  The smile this time was the full effort, its effect so electrifying in Marni’s body she hoped he’d go away—disappear in a puff of smoke if necessary—so she could sort herself out before she tried standing up.

  ‘And now that I do know,’ he continued, oblivious of the effect he was having on her, ‘I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me, a kind of welcome to Ablezia and thank you for being kind to Safi combined. There is a very good restaurant on the top floor of the administration building right here in the hospital. We could eat there.’

  So it would seem like colleagues eating together if your wife or girlfriend found about it? Marni wondered. Or because you have rooms here and it would be convenient for seduction? Well, the seduction part would be all right—after all, wasn’t that one of the reasons she was here?

  Although annoyed by her totally absurd thoughts, Marni realised her first question had been plausible enough—a man this gorgeous was sure to be taken!

  Taking a deep breath, she put the whole ridiculous seduction scenario firmly out of her head.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said, and was surprised to find her voice sounded remarkably calm. ‘That must be a part of the building I haven’t explored yet. My friend Jawa and I usually go to the staff canteen on the ground floor.’

  Shouldn’t you check whether he’s married before you get too involved? Marni thought.

  Having dinner with a colleague was hardly getting involved!

  Or so she told herself!

  Until he took her elbow to guide her out of the room.

  She knew immediately there was a whole lot wrong with it. She’d made a serious mistake. It was utter madness. That, oh, so casual touch made her flesh heat, her skin tingle and her heart race.

  Although wasn’t that all good if—

  She had to stop thinking about seduction!

  He dropped her elbow—thankfully—as they walked back up the corridor to the big foyer in the middle of the building, which, again thankfully, gave Marni something to use as conversation.

  ‘It’s been beautifully designed, this building,’ she said—well, prattled really. ‘I love the way this atrium goes all the way up, seemingly right to the roof.

  ‘You’ll see the top of some of the taller palms from the restaurant,’ Gaz said. ‘In arid countries we long for greenery so when there’s an opportunity to provide some, either indoors or out, we make the most of it.’

  The pride in his voice was unmistakeable and although Marni knew from Jawa that the locals didn’t encourage personal conversation, she couldn’t help but say, ‘So, you’re a local, are you?’

  The lift arrived and as he ushered her in he smiled at her.

  ‘Very much so.’

  The slightly strained smile that accompanied the words told Marni not to pursue the matter, so she talked instead of her delight in the markets, the colours, the people, the aromas.

  Still prattling, she knew, but the man made her nervous in ways she’d never been before.

  The lift doors slid open, and they stepped out into a glass-sheathed corridor, the inner wall displaying, as Gaz had said, the tops of the palm trees in the atrium.

  Drawn to the glass, Marni peered down.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, turning to him to share her delight.

  He was staring at her, a small frown on his face, as if something about the sight of her bothered him.

  ‘What?’ she asked, and he shook his head, before again, with another light touch on her elbow, guiding her forward, around the atrium to the far side, where a restaurant spread across the corridor so the atrium was indeed visible from the tables.

  The place was dimly lit and quiet, only a few tables occupied.

  ‘Are we too early or too late for the usual dinner hour?’ Marni asked, desperate to talk about something—anything—to distract herself from the effect this man was having on her, especially with his casual touches and watchful dark eyes.

  ‘Early for the diners coming off late shift, late for those going on night duty,’ Gaz told her as the young man on the reception desk greeted Gaz in his own language then bowed them towards a table close to the atrium.

  Gaz held up a hand and said something, and the young man bowed again and led them in a new direction so they crossed the room.

  ‘You have seen the tops of the palms in the atrium,’ Gaz explained, ‘but possibly not the desert in the moonlight.’

  The table was beside a wall of glass, so Marni felt she was seated in space above the long waves of dunes. The moon silvered the slopes it touched, and threw black shadows in between, so the desert seemingly stretched away for ever with a patterned beauty that took her breath away.

  ‘I hadn’t known—hadn’t realised…’

  ‘That it could be so beautiful?’ Gaz asked as her words stumbled to a halt.

  She smiled at him, but the smile was an effort because something in the way he said the word ‘beautiful’ made it seem personal—although that could hardly be true. The women she’d met here were so stunningly attractive she felt like a pale shadow among them, a small daisy among vibrant dark roses.

  Answer the man, her head suggested, and she struggled to get back into the conversation—to at least act normal in spite of the chaos going on in her body.

  ‘Yes, that,’ she said, ‘definitely that, but I hadn’t realised the hospital was so close to the desert. I’ve always come to it from the direction of the city, from the sea side, but the desert’s right there—so close you could touch it—and so immense.’

  ‘And dangerous, remember that,’ Gaz said.

  ‘Dangerous?’ Marni repeated, because once again there seemed to be an underlying message in his words.

  It’s the accent, you idiot, she told herself. Why should there be some sensual sub-text when the man barely knows you?

  ‘You have deserts in Australia—inhospitable places where a man without water or transport could perish in a few days.’

  ‘Of course. I hadn’t thought about it but it would be the same in any desert, I imagine.’

  She’d caught up with the conversation, but it hadn’t mattered for Gaz was now conferring with a waiter, apparently discussing the menu. He turned to her to ask if she’d like to try some local dishes, and if so, would she prefer meat, fish or vegetarian.

  ‘Meat, please, and yes to local dishes. I’ve tried some samples of the local cooking in the souks. There’s a delicious dish that seems to be meat, with dates and apricots.’

  ‘And to drink? You would like a glass of wine?’

  And have it go straight to my head and confuse me even further?

  ‘No, thank you, just a fruit juice.’

  Her voice was strained with the effort of making polite conversation. Her nerves were strung more tightly than the strings of a violin, while questions she couldn’t answer tumbled in her head.

  Was the attraction she felt mutual?

  Could this be the man—not for a lifetime, it was far too early to be considering that—for a fling, an affair?

  Worse, could she go through with it if by some remote chance he was interested?

  The waiter disappeared and Marni took a deep breath, knowing she somehow had to keep pretending a composure she was far from feeling. But how to start a conversation in a place where personal conversations just didn’t seem to happen?

  Gaz saved her.

  ‘You mentioned the souks. You have had time to see something of my country?’

  She rushed into speech, describing her delight in all she’d seen and done, the beauty she’d discovered all around her, the smiling, helpful people she’d encountered.

  Gaz watched her face light up as she spoke, and her hands move through the air as she described a decorated earthen urn she’d seen, or the tiny, multicoloured fish swimming through the coral forests. He saw
the sparkle in her pale, grey-blue eyes and the gleam where the lights caught her silvery-blonde hair, and knew this woman could ensnare him.

  Actually, he’d known it from the moment he’d seen her—well, seen her pale eyes framed by the white mask and lavender cap on her first day in Theatre.

  There’d been something in those eyes—something that had caught at, not his attention but his inner self—a subliminal connection he couldn’t put into words.

  At the time he’d dismissed the idea as fanciful—the product of a mind overburdened by the changes in his life, but now?

  Impossible, of course! He had so much on his plate at the moment he sometimes doubted he’d ever get his head above water.

  He groaned inwardly at the mess of clichés and mixed metaphors, but that’s how his life seemed right now. He’d stolen tonight from the schedule from hell, and by the time he had his new life sorted, this woman would be gone.

  There’ll be other women, he reminded himself, then groaned again.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The pale eyes showed genuine concern, and a tiny line of worry creased the creamy skin between her dark eyebrows.

  ‘I will be,’ he answered. ‘There are some massive changes happening in my life right now, which, as far as I’m concerned, is really bad timing.’

  He reached across the table and touched her hand, which was wrapped around the glass of pomegranate and apple juice the waiter had set in front of her.

  ‘Bad timing?’ she repeated.

  ‘Very bad timing,’ he confirmed, and said no more, because he knew that although an attraction as strong as the one he was feeling couldn’t possibly be one-sided, there was nothing to be gained from bringing it out into the open. He simply had no time! No time for them to get to know each other properly.

  No time to woo her.

  Instead, he asked how much diving she’d done, and listened as her quiet, slightly husky voice talked about the Great Barrier Reef, a holiday she’d had in the Seychelles, and compared other dives she’d done with the Ablezian Sea.

  Was he listening? Marni had no idea, but she was happy to have something to talk about and as she spoke she relived some of her underwater adventures, and remembering the joy and fun she’d experienced eased the tension in her body so talking now was easy, her companion prompting her to keep going if she lagged.

  The meal arrived—a covered earthenware dish set in the middle of the table, another dish of rice set beside it. The waiter added small plates of cut-up salad vegetables and a platter of the flat bread that she was beginning to realise was part of every meal in this country.

  ‘Traditionally, I would serve you, but perhaps you would prefer to help yourself,’ Gaz said, lifting the lid of the earthenware pot and releasing the mouthwatering aroma of the dish. ‘I would not like to give you too much or too little.’

  Ordinary words—common-sense words—so why was she all atingle again?

  It was his voice, she decided as she helped herself to rice then added a scoop of the meat dish, before putting a little tomato salad on her plate and taking a piece of bread. His voice sneaked inside her skin and played havoc with her nerves, but when she’d finished her selection and looked across at him, his eyes, intent on her again, caused even more havoc.

  Totally distracted now, she picked up her glass of juice and took too big a gulp.

  At least half choking to death brought her back to her senses. Marni finished coughing and, flushed with embarrassment, bent her head to tackle her meal.

  Fortunately, Gaz seemed to sense her total disarray and took over the conversation, talking about the hospital, built within the last two years, and with the charge of looking after not only local children but those from nearby countries that did not have the facilities this hospital had.

  ‘We have a big oncology department, keeping children here during their treatment so they don’t have to travel to and fro. With those children, we try to make sure they have someone from their family travel with them—sometimes, it seems, the entire family.’

  His rueful smile at this confession undid all the good concentrating on her food had done for Marni, mainly because it softened his face and somehow turned him from the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on to a real, caring human being.

  All you’re wanting is an affair, not to fall in love, she reminded herself.

  But at least hospital talk got them through the meal and when they’d finished, Marni sat back in her chair.

  ‘Thank you, that was utterly delicious. Wonderful. Perhaps I could pay the bill as thanks to you for introducing me to this place? Is that allowed in Ablezia?’

  She offered what she knew must be a pathetic smile, but now they’d finished eating she had no idea how to get away—which she needed to do—or what was the polite thing to do next.

  Say goodbye and leave?

  Wait for him to see her back down to the ground floor?

  And if he offered to walk her back to the quarters—through the gardens and lemon orchard, the scented air, the moonlight…

  It was too soon even to think about what might happen and the man had already said he had no time.

  ‘You definitely will not pay when I invited you to dinner,’ Gaz was saying as she ran these increasingly panicked thoughts through her head. ‘It is taken care of but, come, you must see the desert from outside, where you can really appreciate its beauty.’

  He rose and came to stand beside her, drawing out her chair, which meant his entire body was far too close to hers when she stood up.

  Turning to face him, this time with thanks for the courtesy of the chair thing, brought her even closer—to lips that twitched just slightly with a smile, and eyes that not only reflected the smile but held a glint of laughter.

  The wretch knows the effect he’s having on me, Marni realised, and found a little anger stirring in the mess of emotions flooding through her body.

  Good!

  Anger was good—not argumentative anger but something to hold onto. The man was a born flirt and though he obviously couldn’t help being the sexiest man alive, he didn’t need to use it to snare unwary females.

  Wasn’t wanting to be snared one of the reasons she’d come here?

  Marni ignored the query and allowed Gaz to lead her out of the restaurant and along another corridor that led to a balcony overlooking the desert—the magic sea of black and silver.

  She sniffed the air, then breathed it in more deeply.

  ‘It’s strange,’ she said, turning to her companion, her reaction to him almost forgotten as she considered the puzzle the desert air presented. ‘I know the sea is just over there, but there’s no smell of salt in the air, no smell of the spices escaping from the restaurant or the lemon blossom that I know is out in the gardens down below us. No smell at all, really.’

  He smiled again—a genuine smile this time, not a teasing one—but this one made Marni’s heart flutter.

  ‘The desert is a great cleanser. Over the centuries much blood has been spilled on the sands, and civilisations have risen and collapsed, their ruins buried by the sand. For people like me, with Bedouin blood, the desert is as necessary as water, for it is where we replenish our souls.’

  He was serious, the words so graphically beautiful Marni could only shake her head.

  And smile.

  A small smile but a genuine one.

  A smile that for some reason prompted him to inch a little closer and bend his head, dropping the lightest of kisses on her parted lips.

  Had she started, so that he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her?

  Marni had no idea, too lost in the feel of his lips on hers to think straight.

  So when he started talking again, she missed the first bit, catching up as he said, ‘You are like a wraith from the stories of my childhood, a beautiful silver-haired, blueeyed, pale-limbed being sent to tempt men away from their duties.’

  She was still catching up when he kissed her again.

 
Properly this time so she melted against him, parted her lips to his demanding tongue, and kissed him back, setting free all the frustration of the lust infection in that one kiss.

  It burned through her body in such unfamiliar ways she knew she’d never been properly kissed before—or maybe had never responded properly—which might explain—

  It sent heat spearing downwards, more heat shimmering along her nerves, tightening her stomach but melting her bones.

  Her head spun and her senses came alive to the smoothness of his lips, the taste of spice on his tongue, the faint perfume that might be aftershave—even the texture of his shirt, a nubby cotton, pressed against the light cotton tunic top she wore, was sending flaring awareness through her nipples.

  A kiss could do all this…

  Gaz eased away, shaken that he’d been so lost to propriety as to be kissing this woman, even more shaken by the way she’d reacted to the kiss and the effect it had had on him. Heat, desire, a hardening, thickening, burning need….

  For one crazy moment he considered taking things further, dallying with the nurse called Marni, seeing where it went.

  Certainly beyond dallying, he knew that much.

  Al’ana! Where is your brain? his head demanded. Yes, I thought so! it added as if he’d answered.

  He looked at the flushed face in front of him, glimpsed the nipples peaked beneath the fine cotton tunic, the glow of desire in her eyes.

  Yes, it would definitely have gone further than dalliance…

  ‘I had no right to do that. I have no time. None! No time at all!’ He spoke abruptly—too abruptly—the words harshly urgent because he was denying his desires and angry with himself for—

  For kissing her?

  No, he couldn’t regret that.

  Angry at the impossible situation.

  This time when he turned to lead her back inside, he didn’t touch her elbow and guide her steps but stayed resolutely apart from the seductive siren who’d appeared, not from the sky but in full theatre garb, then jumped like a kangaroo right inside his skin…

  Obviously married, Marni told herself. Serves you right, kissing on what wasn’t even a first date.

  But she was too shaken by the kiss to care what the sensible part of her brain was telling her. Too shaken to think, let alone speak.