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Laurel grinned as she made her way to the rocks to change. The need to skip almost took over. She hadn’t missed Tariq’s physical reaction. Female satisfaction filled her. She’d actually caused that response in such a virile man. After years of feeling inadequate it was empowering to know she wielded such influence.
She quickly changed clothes, but was tempted the entire time to watch Tariq do the same where he stood out in the open. Only she didn’t want to get caught doing so. Pulling the band from her hair, she rubbed it dry. After rolling her nothing of a swimsuit in the towel, she headed for the car. Tariq waited.
“Your hair is down.” His words were almost reverent.
Laurel pushed it over her shoulder. “It needs to dry. I’ll put it up again when it does.”
“I like it this way.” He picked up a damp strand and let it glide over his fingers. “I’ve wondered more than once what you would look like with it loose. All freed and uninhibited.”
“You’ve wondered about my hair?”
He appeared mesmerized by the threads he held. “And more than that.”
Warmth crept through her that had nothing to do with the sun beating down.
Tariq’s gaze met hers. “You do something to me, Laurel.”
She did? Was he just putting her on? A man like Tariq didn’t go for women like her. If they did it was to win a bet. “You don’t sound glad about that.”
“I’m not. I hadn’t expected to feel about you the way I do.” He studied her a moment then leaned toward her, only to abruptly straighten and back away. “We need to go.”
Laurel blinked. Had he been about to kiss her? She almost staggered. That kiss she wanted. Could taste. Her body begged for it. “Okay.”
He opened the door of the car.
“May I drive?” she teased, sure he was too alpha male to let a woman drive him around.
“Sure. Pull out into the road so I can get in without twisting myself into a knot.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re actually going to let me drive?”
He shrugged. “Why not? You are a good driver, are you not?”
She shrugged. “I like to think so.”
“Then there should not be a problem.” Tariq handed her the keys.
Laurel looked at them a second then took them. She couldn’t believe he trusted her enough to let her behind the wheel. She started the car and revved the engine. Sports cars had always appealed to her but she was too practical to buy one of her own. Then, too, as a research scientist she didn’t make the money to own one. She grinned at Tariq. He smiled back, obviously enjoying her having fun. Other than her father, she had never known a man who liked to see others happy as much as Tariq did. Most of the men she knew were more concerned with themselves.
She made a tight turn to the other side of the road. “Hey, handsome, you interested in riding with me?”
Tariq released a full-bodied laugh and jogged to the passenger door. “I think I might have agreed to a speed demon getting behind the wheel.” He climbed in. “Please be kind to me and my car.”
“I plan to be.” She gave him her best suggestive grin. Who was this risqué woman she was turning into?
As she drove off Tariq said in an odd tone, “I may hold you to that.”
The car was as sweet to drive as it was in looks. Tariq appeared relaxed. He had shifted so he sat turned toward her with one arm along the door and the other resting across the back of their seats, his fingertips touching her shoulder.
“This is fun.” Laurel glanced at him. He watched her and not the road. What was he thinking behind those dark glasses?
“I’m glad you like it.” His voice held pleasure, as if he was enjoying hers.
“A car like this, if I could afford it, isn’t practical where I live. Too much snow and wind.” She could imagine what she would look like driving a low-slung car in three feet of snow.
“You live here now. You are welcome to drive mine anytime you wish. A husband should share with his wife.”
That sounded too generous. “You would do that?”
“Of course. Or we could get you your own.”
“I won’t be here long enough to justify having a car like this.”
“So you are still intending to return to the States when we are both satisfied the lab is running as it should?” Tariq straightened and took his arm down from behind her.
“Or until I receive new funding.”
“What I remember is that you said that but I didn’t agree. You are needed here.”
* * *
Laurel glanced Tariq’s direction. His mouth was drawn into a tight line. “There are others that can do what you need as well as I can.”
“I am not sure that is true.” The words were sharper than she had heard from him in some time.
“If you could locate a replacement, I could train him or her. It would also assure that when I leave you won’t be left without someone to fill the position.” She couldn’t stay here forever. This wasn’t her home and she was becoming far too attached to Tariq. That couldn’t continue. He’d made it clear today that he didn’t plan to marry or have children, both of which were important to her.
Tariq said nothing more.
Laurel concentrated on the road, but then stomped on the brakes. A man dressed in a well-worn full shirt and baggy pants stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms above his head, yelling something in Arabic. Before she could pull off the road Tariq was out of the car and running toward the man. They spoke rapidly. The man started up a path.
Tariq moved to follow while calling over his shoulder, “Bring my medical bag. It is behind the driver’s seat.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer and started after the man.
Laurel pulled off the road as far as the shoulder would allow. She climbed out and found the bag. With it in her hand, she made her way up the narrow, steep and rocky trail with grass growing knee-high on the sides. Tariq and the man were nowhere in sight but she kept moving as fast as she could. The way was clearly visible but difficult to maneuver.
She reached a small, level pasture. From there Laurel could see Tariq’s back in the distance as he ran under some mushroom-shaped trees. She picked up her pace and kept moving. Soo
n she entered the olive grove and moments later she came out into a small opening.
There stood a small single-level white house with a red clay tile roof. Beside it was a pen with a goat in it. Tariq ducked his head to enter a door in the middle of the building. She headed that way. At the entrance she paused, not wanting to barge into someone’s home. After giving the door a quick knock, she continued into the dim interior.
It was a one-room house with a kitchen area to one side and on the other a sitting and bedroom space. The place was neat and smelled slightly of smoke. Tariq and the man spoke rapidly in Arabic in the far corner where the bed was located. A colorful blanket hung from the ceiling as a room divider. Laurel joined them, placing the bag on the end of the bed.
When there was a pause in the conversation Laurel asked Tariq, “What’s wrong?”
“His wife has not felt good for a few days. She passed out. He moved her to the bed before he went for help. He was walking to the nearest neighbor.” Tariq opened the bag and pulled out a stethoscope.
“I’ll check her temperature and blood pressure.” Laurel found the thermometer and BP cuff.
Tariq spoke to the man again and he stepped back, giving Lauren and Tariq room to work.
Laurel stood beside Tariq. “Temperature one hundred and three point seven.” Lifting the woman’s arm, Laurel positioned the blood-pressure cuff. Tariq handed her the stethoscope, which she placed in her ears and found the woman’s pulse. “BP is one-eighty over ninety.”
Tariq continued to examine the woman as he said, “She should be taken to the hospital but there is no phone service. Since we can’t, we should give her a thorough exam and see what we can find.”
“Agreed.” Laurel looked around. The one small window on that side of the room offered little help. “The light is bad.”
He said something to the man, who nodded and hurried to the kitchen. “I asked if he had any candles.” Tariq pushed the curtain against the wall as far as it would go. “You will need to do most of the examination. These older people consider their privacy and especially that of their women important. Husbands do not allow other men to touch their wife.”
