The Sheikh Surgeon's Proposal

Jay was barely conscious of the people in the background or those who were lining up like a welcoming committee ahead. She only had eyes for Malek as she hurried to keep up with his far longer strides. What she couldn’t keep up with was the dizzying succession of expressions on his face. One second he’d looked elated, the next pensive, then harsh, then upset and now, though he was back to being plain overwhelming, she could feel his … conflict. There was no other way to describe what was coming off him in waves. What was going on inside that mind of his?

As if she’d ever find out. Or should want to. He was probably only regretting his behavior, which he’d explained the reason for. Lack of sleep made people do and say things they didn’t mean. Now he’d rush her on a tour because he’d committed himself to it then he’d drop her in GAO’s lap and head to his bed at last.

This explanation somehow put her at ease. Confusion agitated her. But knowing the whys and wherefores of all this, that it would be over soon, made her equilibrium, and another form of spontaneity, resurface. She felt she could allow herself the luxury of basking in his presence for as long as it lasted.

She looked up at him, fighting the urge to reach up and brush back the lock of hair that had slipped down his forehead, to run her palm over the darkness roughening the satin of his chiseled cheeks and jaw, and smiled her pleasure at just being near him. “And how are the staffing efforts going?”

Tension and weariness drained from his eyes as his smile widened to match hers. “With you here? Spectacularly.”

She giggled. Why not let herself feel good about the incredible things that kept spilling from his spectacular lips?

He chuckled, too, gave her a conspiratorial glance. “Don’t look now, but it seems all existing staff have come out in force to welcome you.”

Her lips twisted. “Yeah, right. They’re standing on attention for their commander-in-chief’s surprise inspection. Quaking in their shoes, no doubt.”

His mock-hurt look was simply delicious. “You don’t think it possible they’re just thrilled to see me?”

“You know what? From their smiles, I bet they are.” And who wouldn’t be? she added inwardly.

“Tell you what …” A gentle tug turned her to face their reception party. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way so they get back to their work and we get on with our tour.”

For the next fifteen minutes they did just that. Jay counted fourteen different nationalities among the GAO volunteers, in addition to the Damhoorians, in every medical and administrative position, about a hundred in all. But a place that size would need thirty times more personnel to run it. Not that she was sure just what this place was supposed to be.

After a gracious command from Malek made everybody rush to leave them alone, Jay fell into step with him as he took her on a thorough tour of the premises and facilities.

And if she’d been impressed by its sheer size from the outside, she was flabbergasted now. She’dnever seen anything this comprehensive. It was far more than a medical complex. The diagnostic and treatment sectors, once staffed, could easily deal with mass casualty situations. Supplies, warehousing, food services andhouse-keeping could keep up with an army’s logistics and supply chain in a year-long war. The teaching and training facilities in all fields could spawn legions of highest caliber medical and administrative professionals. The research sector had all the promise of being at the cutting edge in science and healthcare. The administrative and managerial sectors could probably run a country, and so could the seamless mechanical, electronic and telecommunications systems. This place was a mind-boggling triumph of ambition and efficiency.

It was only confusing that GAO had built it in Damhoor, where the average citizen had an income to rival that of the richest countries in the world and a comprehensive medical insurance.

They were now in the last section, diagnostics, and he gave her another comprehensive summation of its capabilities. Then he spread his formidable arms, stretching his black shirt across his expansive chest, like a magician inviting applause.

Stunned hunger at his power-laden grace was probably what stopped her from clapping. She couldn’t believe how entertaining he’d made the technical data he’d inundated her with.

His grin, this amalgam of teasing and enjoyment wrapped up around a core of unadulterated maleness, flashed at her. “I hope I haven’t overloaded and crashed your system.”

“So this was your plan, huh? To make me sorry for insisting on getting down to business by immersing me in a vat of it.”

He pouted. “I’d never want to make you sorry. But you’re such an informed listener that I got carried away. The desire to brag was also something I couldn’t apply brakes to.” He stopped before they reached the exit doors. “But seriously, have I bored you?”

Jay didn’t think it wise to inform him he was probably genetically incapable of being boring. That she’d be an avid listener to him reciting the Yellow Pages.

Instead she smirked. “As if I’d tell you if you had.”

“Oh, you would. I believe that you of all people would whack me over the head with your candid opinion, no matter what.”

“Gee—I was that rude earlier, huh?”

“You only said what you thought. And then you were rattled from the accident, you were fighting for your driver’s life, and you were maybe a little frightened you’d fallen into some depraved man’s clutches.”

“Two out of three there, pal.” One of his eyebrows went up and her heat shot in the same direction. She was really forgetting who he was. Who she was. Somebody gag and sedate her.

“Care to elaborate?” he prompted.

“Uh—just that I wasn’t scared of you for a second.” His eyes flared at that, with something akin to—pride? Satisfaction? Giving up on trying to interpret his expression, she went on, “Maybe stupid, but there you go. And listen—about that last crack. I have this social deficiency syndrome and it’s complicated by a severe case of verbal communication atrophy.”

“Don’t apologize,” he admonished. “I loved it. Even if I didn’t, you still shouldn’t apologize. Never apologize, Janaan.”

Oh, God—the way he said her name!

“Uh, I’m not apologizing, actually,” she mumbled, feeling a strange elasticity in her knees. “Just confessing my condition.”

His eyes crinkled. “I hope it’s incurable.”