The Sheikh Surgeon's Proposal

“You don’t need to hope too hard. It probably is.”

His look as he led her out of the building was mystery itself. But it was the lines of tiredness that stamped his heart-stopping beauty that made her heart, and hands, itch, wanting to soothe them away.

She barely noticed they were approaching his convoy. She only felt his gentleness as he once again seated her in his car, in the blessed welcome of cool darkness and his proximity.

He didn’t order his driver to drive, only adjusted his position to face her. “So, what do you think of GAO Central?”

“Besides ‘holy cow’, you mean …?” She stopped, groaned. “That probably isn’t the right exclamation to make around here …”

A powerful finger stemmed her mumbling. “What have I told you about never apologizing?” She couldn’t hold back the shudder the feel of his finger on her lips, his words, his voice wrenched from her. “Before you tell me you’re not, I want you to promise me never to watch what you say around me.” Yeah, sure. For the whole of the next hour. She could do that. “I have no cultural or religious sensitivities to step on. Even if I did, I think political correctness is becoming reverse persecution and I for one am never contributing to it. ‘Holy cow’ summed up your opinion beautifully.”

Not only a god, but deeply sane with it too. Whoa.

She cleared her throat, groped for something half-coherent to say. “Not that my opinion counts for much, but this place is awesome—as you know. But what, and why, is it? I didn’t know GAO had anywhere near these resources or, if they did, that they’d use them to establish a single mammoth of a center like this.”

He smile was all indulgence. “You’re right. GAO wouldn’t splurge on one place like that. This is all built by Damhoorian funds, providing GAO with a site to pool resources, human and otherwise, to engineer emergency and long-term operations, to equip, man and deploy them, as well as a destination for those in need of help, medical or otherwise, who GAO can’t help with any reliability or continuity under the conditions in their countries.”

She chewed her lip. “Put that way, this place is the answer to the prayers of all the people I know who work with GAO. They always moan about how prosperous nations can do far more to help them in their humanitarian endeavors and aren’t. But this place says that one of those nations is. And doing it right.”

He gave a dismissive gesture. “We haven’t done much yet.”

“You’ve done plenty and laid the foundations for doing a lot more. And in such economy. That’s one of the things that most impressed me here—the total lack of opulence.”

He huffed in what looked like genuine surprise. “Excuse me, but you’re the first to comment favorably on that. Everyone took me to task about what was described as the barrenness of the place.”

“It’s not barren!” she protested. “It has great ambiance and it’s streamlined. Guess everyone’s been brainwashed by the five-star medical complexes sprouting up all over the world. It makes my blood boil to think of all the people who could have been helped with all the money that went to their zillion-dollar internal decoration. But this place is simple and efficient and its size is purely functional. It’s clear every cent was well spent.”

His smile widened. “You have issues with misspent money, don’t you?”

She frowned. “Any sane human being has those.”

“You’d be surprised how many insane human beings litter the planet, then. But GAO’s positive influence goes beyond cost-effectiveness. This establishment is as near perfection as it gets in terms of therapeutic environment, sanitation, circulation, expandability, safety, security and sustainability and I’ve already commissioned them to design a major health center in Al Areesha, our major coastal city.”

She nodded slowly. “Um—I’m still not clear why GAO is basing itself here, in one of a handful of countries in the world where its presence isn’t needed. Why not take your donations and build many mini-centers in their target regions?”

“Because being here.” He spread those expressive hands of his. “ … on Damhoorian soil, gives GAO a stable base of operations and the vast resources to reach out to the chaotic and impoverished countries in the region. Damhoor also has fringe communities that need their awareness raised in order to provide them with effective healthcare, to stop them from abusing their health in the name of tradition. We’ve learned that wealth and resources have no impact on such deep-rooted problems. So, yes, even Damhoor needs GAO for their unsurpassed experience in dealing with every cultural and mass health dilemma known to man.”

Just what she’d been thinking before the accident. Before she’d met him, a lifetime ago. And he was admitting it, so freely, so eloquently. Not at all the attitude she’d expected. But, then, what preconception of hers hadn’t he pulverized?

And she was spending the last minutes in his company. Now he’d take her back to her hotel. She doubted she’d ever see him again.

A fist convulsed around her heart. Which was just silly.

But, silly or not, after the soaring of the last hours she felt like she was on a roller-coaster. Meeting him had been one hell of a ride. Now she was on the last drop before she got off.

Just get it over with.

“So, uh, I get the picture now,” she croaked. “And it looks great. You were, too—helping me with my driver, taking me around the base, going above and beyond in debriefing me.” She rummaged in her bag for her hotel address and handed it to him.

He scowled down at it.

“Is this an attempt at subtlety?” he drawled, slow and nerve-racking. “Demanding I take you to your hotel without actually saying so?”

She gave an awkward shrug. “I must get points for not blurting out the demand like before. And you notice I’m no longer asking to get out to take a taxi.”

“Only because you’re too intelligent to try the same thing again and expect a different result.”

“That doesn’t take intelligence, just common sense.” She stopped, her heart slamming against her ribs until she felt he must see them throbbing through her top. “I—I hope you’ll let one of your men update me about my driver’s condition.”

“He’s our patient. My patient.” That had an edge of harshness, of arrogance, betraying another side of him. The side no one would want to cross. It seemed he couldn’t abide her allusion that he’d relegate the responsibility. “I’ll follow him up and update you.”