Kam came toward her and took her hand, leading her onto the flat rock, then exerting gentle pressure as he said, âSit.â
Jen sat, as much to escape the touch of his hand as from obedience. Memories of the kiss fluttered uneasily in her body.
âNow, breathe the cooling night air and watch the sunset,â Kam ordered.
I donât want the beauty of the desert creeping in, she wanted to say. It is too seductive, too all-encompassing.
But his was the name that trembled on her lips as he lifted his head, the better to see her face in the dusk light; his the name she whispered as she leaned into him and raised her mouth to his again.
JEN lifted the almost weightless child onto her hip and turned towards the car approaching them, hoping the driver would stop before he reached the tents so the cloud of gritty sand the vehicle was kicking up would settle outside rather than inside her makeshift hospital.
He did stop. The battered four-wheel-drive pulled up some twenty metres from where she stood, but a perverse drift of wind lifted the trailing red cloud and carried it in her direction, so she had to step backwards in order not to be engulfed in its dust. She put her hand over the little girlâs nose and mouth, and scowled at the man stepping out from behind the wheel.
Unexpected visitors usually meant trouble. Most of the small states in this area had moved quickly into the twentieth century and then the twenty-first, with modern cities, wonderful facilities and the best of medical care, but in Zaheer, the ruling sheikh did not agree with modern ways and though he himself was rarely seen, his minions made the presence of even essential aid services uncomfortable.
The man who disembarked wore rather tattered jeans and a T-shirt, not the flowing robes of the usual official sent to ask what they were doing and to be shown around, suspicion of the organisationâs aims bristling in the air.
This man was very different, though why Jen had that impression she couldnât say.
Was he a traveller lost in the desert, or something else?
Some instinct sheâd never felt before warned her to be wary but she dismissed this vague unease with a sharp, unspoken Nonsense! Beneath the dust on the vehicle there appeared to be some kind of logo, so maybe he was an official, or an aid worker from another organisation.
She wanted to ignore him, to turn away, tired of the battles she fought with red tape, but with more refugees arriving at the camp every day she needed all the help she could get, and he might just be helpful to her.
She stood her ground.
But she didnât smile.
Which was probably just as well, she realised as the man stepped out of his dust cloud and she caught her first good look at the tall, well-built figure, the tanned skin, the dark, dark hair andâsurely not green eyes?
She looked again as he came closerâthey were green, pale, translucent almost, and so compelling she knew she was staring.
But all in all he was a man women would stare at automatically, and smile at as wellâprobably to cover the fluttering in the region of their hearts.
Not that she did heart flutters over menânot since Davidâ¦
âDr Stapleton?â
The visitorâs voice was deep, but with a huskiness that suggested he might have a cold or sore throat, or that he might have cultivated itâa bedroom voice, practised for seductionâ¦
Seduction? Where had that thought sprung from?
âYes!â she managed, nodding to reinforce the spoken confirmation, knowing the fleeting thought of danger was nonsensical.
âIâm Kam Rahman,â the stranger said, stepping closer and offering his hand. âHead office of Aid for All heard you were in troubleâtrying to look after the medical needs of the people in the camp as well as run the TB programmeâand sent me along to look into setting up a medical clinic here and to investigate the needs of the refugees.â
âYouâre a doctor?â Jen asked, taking in the threadbare jeans and the T-shirt that looked older than she was, once again trying not to be distracted by the blatant maleness of the body inside them.
âTrained in London,â he said, bowing deeply. âBut my father was an official of sorts in this country so I grew up here and speak the language, which is why Aid for All thought Iâd be more useful here than in South America, where my language skills would be useless. Although, given the way the world works, itâs a wonder I didnât end up there.â