Sheikh, Children's Doctor...Husband

The cry came from the man behind the pilot and Alex peered forward, shocked by what had caused his cry. From the air it looked as if large white blocks had been tumbled down a hill but, as they drew closer, Alex realised they were houses.

‘It is a narrow ravine,’ Azzam explained, his bleary voice suggesting he had slept at least for a short time. ‘It was a guard point on an ancient trade route—the frankincense trade, in fact. It was settled because of the oasis there at the bottom, the houses built on the sides of the hills because the wadi—the river bed—floods after rain.’

His voice faded from her earphones but not before Alex had heard shock and deep sadness in it.

Now Alex could see where the mountain looked as if it had sheared in two—as if some giant with a mighty sword had sliced through it. She was trying to make sense of it when the helicopter lifted in the air, turning away from the shattered remains of the town and heading back along the narrow valley.

‘We could cause more disruption with the noise so we will winch down further along the valley,’ Azzam said to her. He had climbed into the back cabin and looked directly into Alex’s face.

‘There is no need for you to do this,’ he said, the dark eyes so intent on hers she felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

‘I didn’t come along for the ride,’ she told him, unbuckling her seat belt and standing as steadily as she could. ‘Which backpack do you want me to take?’

His eyes studied her again, assessing her.

‘The medical supplies and stretchers can drop safely, but I would appreciate it if you would take the defibrillator. I don’t anticipate needing it but the monitor could be handy. The pilot will drop us in, lower what gear he can, then return to the capital to bring back more personnel and supplies. He will find a safe place to land further down the valley and the rescuers can walk in. For now I—we—need to assess the damage and get word out about the amount of damage done and the kind of help we will need.’

Alex took the small backpack he passed her.

‘Strap it on your front,’ Azzam told her. ‘We will be winched down together.’

Alex stared at him.

‘I’ve been winched down before, I know the routine!’

‘Together,’ the infuriating man repeated, while Alex added ‘bossy and obstinate’ to the meanings of his name.

It was an exercise drop, nothing more, she told herself as Azzam’s strong arms closed around her. And she was only annoyed because he didn’t trust her to do it on her own!

More annoyed because she felt uncomfortable about the way he was holding her, as if dangling on a line above an earthquake-wrecked valley was some kind of romantic foreplay!

Yet annoyance couldn’t mask the responses of her body, which, through clothes and backpack straps and webbing, still felt the hardness of the man who held her clamped against him.

Still reacted to it, warming so inappropriately she wondered if she was blushing.

Would she have felt this reaction with David holding her? Or was it because she’d known him so well she’d never felt these tingling, tightening sensations along her nerves, or a strange heaviness in her muscles, when he’d held her in his arms.

David had only ever kissed her, nothing more. Anything extra was what he’d kept for the string of other women who, unbeknownst to Alex at the time, had drifted in and out of her fiancé’s life.

‘Ready to roll if we need to?’ Azzam asked, his chin brushing her ear, the words so close she felt as well as heard them. She drew up her knees, unconsciously pressing closer to him so they’d roll together as they hit the ground. But the roll wasn’t needed, the helicopter pilot holding the craft steady and the winchman easing them onto the ground so they stepped from the loop in the cable without even the slightest jar.