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.