Her helper—she refused to think of him as rescuer; it wasn’t really an appropriate term for a man who’d mostly retrieved her underwear—crouched down in the confined space of the gangway, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him. The sensation was so intense it robbed her of her breath. However, any attempt to move away would result in her going for the swim he’d joked about. Even if, right now, it was almost tempting.
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m sure there are other places you need to be.’
‘There are, but I’m pretty sure none of them are quite as entertaining.’
She glanced up at him and again there was that odd frisson running down her spine. She shoved the remaining clothes into her suitcase and almost immediately realised if she tried to close it, first, she would have to sit on it on the steep gangway and, second, even if she did get it closed there was every chance it would burst open again before she could reach her cabin.
It appeared as if the same thought had struck him. He picked up her suitcase, snapped it shut with a single easy movement and tucked it under his arm. ‘Deck and cabin number?’ he asked. ‘At least, I’m assuming you are joining the ship as staff?’
Cassie studied him for a moment. He was tall, almost six-four, she guessed, with sun-lightened brown hair and a wide, full mouth that turned up more at one side than the other. But it was his eyes, an unusual shade of green that drew her. She had the uncanny feeling he could see right into her, see all her secrets, and the sensation wasn’t a welcome one.
She became aware that he was waiting for her response with a quizzical smile on his face. ‘Dr Ross. Cassie Ross,’ she said, holding out her hand.
His smile widened. ‘Dr Leith Ballantyne. Welcome to the African Mercy Ship.’
Damn—he was one of the doctors. That would make him difficult to avoid. But, with a bit of luck, he himself would be leaving soon. Cassie had been told that although the nurses tended to stay for a minimum of three months, most of the doctors held permanent jobs elsewhere and, like her, only usually managed to give a few weeks of their time in any one year.
At the top of the gangway she reached for her suitcase. ‘I’ll take it now, if you don’t mind.’
‘No. I insist. You must be tired from travelling.’ He raised an eyebrow in question. ‘London?’
‘Yes,’ she responded tersely. Then, realising she was being rude, she added, ‘Seems days since I left England. I must have experienced every form of transport Africa has to offer over the last forty-eight hours. It’s great to finally be here.’
‘It’s an excellent ship with an excellent team.’
‘And I’m looking forward to getting stuck in this afternoon.’
‘There’ll be no work for you until tomorrow.’ Without waiting for her reply, he headed off down a narrow corridor, still holding her suitcase, and she was forced to follow him.
‘I’ll be fine once I have a shower,’ she said to his back.
He turned round. ‘Believe me, you’ll have enough to do while you’re here. How long are you staying anyway?’
‘Just over two weeks.’
‘Then take the rest while you can. You’re going to need it.’ When he gave her a lopsided smile she had the crazy sensation of not being able to breathe. She dragged her eyes away from his, hoping he would put the heat in her cheeks down to the sun.
‘Perhaps we could have dinner later and I could explain how it works around here?’ he continued.
She hadn’t been here five minutes and already he was hitting on her. Normally that wouldn’t bother her—she’d dealt with men like him plenty of times before, usually brushing them off with a light-hearted quip—but there was something about Leith that disturbed her usual composure.
‘I’d like to get to work straight away,’ she replied stiffly.
Immediately the laconic manner was gone. ‘It’s not going to happen. A tired doctor is a dangerous doctor. You are forbidden from working until you’ve had a good night’s sleep.’ Then he smiled again. ‘So, dinner? It’s not haute cuisine, I’m afraid, but it serves its purpose.’
Just who did he think he was, telling her what she could and could not do? She was about to open her mouth to say as much when he swung round and carried on walking. He opened the door to her tiny cabin and dropped her bag on the narrow bunk. There was barely room to swing a cat and she was acutely aware of him standing just a few feet from her.
‘I can take it from here,’ she said quickly. ‘If I can’t work, I think I’ll skip dinner and have an early night. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I should find the showers.’
‘They’re at the end of the corridor.’ As he stepped towards her she backed away. She didn’t want to be any closer to him than she was already. Annoyingly her pulse was still beating a tattoo in her temples. It had to be the heat.
He grinned again, amusement glinting in his deep green eyes as if he’d noticed her instant reaction to him and it hadn’t surprised him. ‘If you change your mind about dinner, I’ll be in the canteen about seven.’
When he left, Cassie closed the door of her cabin and sank down on the bed. If at all possible, she was going to avoid Dr Leith Ballantyne.
Leith was whistling as he made his way to his cabin. From the moment he’d first clapped eyes on her, he’d known that life was going to get way more interesting. He normally preferred women with long hair but Cassie’s short silky black bob suited her heart-shaped, delicate features, making her eyes appear almost too large for her face.
Up until her suitcase had spewed her belongings over the gangway she’d looked impossibly cool and sexy in her white blouse and light cotton trousers that clung to her curvy figure. And as for those eyes! The icy look she’d given him when he’d caught her staring could have destroyed a lesser man, so the way she’d blushed when he’d retrieved her underwear had been a surprise—a good one.
She intrigued the hell out of him. Cool, almost shy one minute—and in Leith’s experience women who looked like Cassie weren’t in the least bit shy—sparky and determined the next.
Pity she was only here for a couple of weeks. He would have liked to take his time getting to know Dr Cassie Ross and, if she was only here for a couple of weeks, time was one thing he didn’t have.
Cassie wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm and looked down at her line of patients, stretching along the dusty road and way into the distance. There wasn’t room on the Mercy Ship to see outpatients, all the space being needed for the wards and theatres.
She’d seen more kids already than she could count and there were more still to be seen—most waiting patiently with their mothers, some playing in the dust and others tucked up in shawls on their mothers’ backs.
It was the quiet ones you had to worry about most. Children who cried or played had to be fit enough to react to their environment. Those who lay limply in their mothers’ arms were almost always the most in need of urgent attention.
On her first morning, she’d been allocated her duties by the medical officer in charge and she’d had her nose to the grindstone ever since. As the only paediatrician, Cassie was responsible for all the children the nurses referred to her at the daily morning outpatient clinic. She also had charge of the small but well-equipped children’s ward and special-care facility on board and, in addition, she would assist with paediatric cases in Theatre whenever her help was required.
None of it fazed her in the slightest. She’d done a year as a surgical resident as part of her paediatric training and