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But how many people knew it wasn’t a shockable rhythm? She opened her mouth to ask when another priority sprang to mind. Of course.
She straightened up as the logical part of her brain kicked into gear. ‘I should contact the hospital. See about making arrangements regarding Harry—speak to the consulate about contacting his relatives.’
‘I’ve taken care of things,’ he said, somewhat carefully.
She frowned. ‘Really?’
That seemed a little odd. Regulations and red tape were notorious on Temur Sapora. Who on earth was this guy? She looked at him again. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t place him at all. His accent was kind of strange. A mix of French, Italian and Spanish. He was definitely from Europe somewhere but she couldn’t quite place the rich tone in his voice. Whoever he was, he must have money. The luxury resorts here were for the rich, the very rich and, the very, very rich.
Too expensive and exclusive for anyone less than a millionaire. At some point Temur Sapora would be found by the masses, but luckily that hadn’t happened yet. She cringed every time some billionaire businessman mentioned in an interview that they’d visited a ‘luxury Malaysian island’ putting the spotlight on her home.
Part of her wanted the island to remain unspoiled and undiscovered. But part of her wanted it to share some of the distributed wealth of the rich visitors. The tourist resorts had given jobs to many of her friends. Families that had lived in poverty had started to gain a little income and independence. Healthcare had finally started to become a little more accessible. In the last ten years people around her had flourished. Before, Arissa had had to leave the island to train as a doctor. There was no university here, and the local hospitals weren’t properly equipped. But gradual improvements had happened. She was always glad to return now and give back a little to the place she’d left behind. Her last job was in Washington, specialising in paediatrics. But the plane ride back to Temur Sapora with the familiar sight of the turquoise waters and the backdrop of the volcano always made her heart leap a little in her chest. There was no place like home.
There was a crackle above them. The guy started and Arissa gave a rueful smile. She held up one hand. ‘Give it a second.’
He looked confused—his muscles tense in his neck, his hands in fists. Was he afraid? A few seconds later another noise thundered from the sky followed by a sudden torrent of rain deluging the roof above them.
A half-smile appeared on his face as he realised what the sound was, and he glanced outside at the rain thudding down on the ground. The raindrops bounced back up and the street quickly collected water. ‘It almost sounded like gunfire,’ he said softly.
It was a curious thing to say. Arissa glanced at her watch and shook her head. ‘It’s almost like clockwork.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Every day around midday we have the daily deluge.’ She moved a little closer to him, catching a sea-edged scent with a hint of musk. She could feel her senses prickle. Interesting aftershave. She shifted her feet, curious and a little irritated that she’d even noticed. The rain drummed down relentlessly outside, ricocheting off the nearby roofs like a drumbeat. He’d crossed his arms across his body, revealing the muscles in his back visible through his thin cotton T-shirt.
She dragged her eyes deliberately away but immediately found them focusing on his toned, tanned arms. Darn it. What was wrong with her?
She blinked as she took a step forward so she was slightly ahead of him. His eyes were focused firmly on the water rushing past their feet, rapidly turning a sludgy brown as it mixed with the earth from the surrounding streets.
‘Is it always like this?’
She nodded. ‘Yip. This is normal. Give it fifteen minutes and the sun will come back out.’ She took a deep breath and pointed off to the distant volcano, currently with a dark cloud hanging over it. ‘Scientists have studied it and can’t really explain the phenomenon. When I was little, my nenek used to tell me the God of Thunder was a little sad and wanted to remind us he was still there.’
She glanced sideways at him and she could see the amused look on his face. ‘And you believed that?’
Instantly she was annoyed. Her eyes went from his face to the designer emblem on the right side of the T-shirt. She recognised it. That T-shirt cost what she’d normally earn in a month. She was right. He was one of the cocky billionaires that usually frequented the local luxury resort. She’d do well to remember that instead of getting lost in a pair of deep brown eyes.
Memories flooded her brain. Someone like him would never relate to someone like her—abandoned as a baby outside a local shop. She’d been one of the lucky ones. She’d been adopted by a local couple and had a warm upbringing, only ending when they’d both died from ill health a few years ago. But she’d had to fight for everything she’d ever achieved. She loved the local stories and traditions of Temur Sapora. A man of privilege would never relate to a place like this.
She spun away and shot over her shoulder, ‘Give it fifteen minutes and it’ll be finished. Then, you’ll be able to get to wherever you’re going. If you need a taxi you’ll find one at the end of the street.’ She licked her lips, reluctantly adding, ‘Thanks for letting me know about Harry. Have a nice holiday.’
He looked a bit stunned by her sudden dismissal. But she couldn’t worry about that now. She had work to do—more, now that she knew Harry wouldn’t be joining her.
She didn’t have time to waste exchanging niceties with an anonymous stranger—no matter how nice he smelt.
* * *
One day. That was how long he’d been here and he was bored rigid.
The resort was glorious, immaculate and set on a gleaming white sandy beach. Every room had a view of the rippling turquoise ocean. The impeccable staff seemed to anticipate his every need. The beds and sheets were as luxurious as the ones he slept on in the palace. He had everything he could possibly want or need at his fingertips.
He’d picked the resort carefully. It was exactly what he’d wanted. A place he could completely relax and refocus. He knew after finishing his last job in a busy ER that he’d need a chance to reflect and change pace. His final patient in the ER had brought home to him just how important it was to spearhead the changes his country needed in healthcare. Corinez was a playground for the rich and famous. But not everyone who lived and worked there was rich and famous, and healthcare was something that frequently came bottom of the list on people’s daily expenses. After his last case his father had promised him a few weeks’ leeway before he returned to help try and develop free maternity care within Corinez.
He’d prepared for this role his whole life. He’d always known this time would come, as had his brother and sister. There was no doubt that Anthony had the hardest role—as the oldest child he was expected to take over from their father when he abdicated next year.
Philippe nodded as one of the personal concierges set a cocktail down next to him. This was his time to reflect, to plan, to take stock of what he’d learned from around the globe and apply it to the services and people in Corinez.
He had to—because paradise had changed a little over the last few years. Corinez had always been known as an island paradise. For the rich it was well known as a tax haven—the casinos flourished. Lots of celebrities had homes in Corinez. But over the last few years things had changed. The recession had hit areas of Corinez like every other country and, while the fabulously rich still existed, the people who struggled were becoming more noticeable, and those were the ones that Philippe wanted to focus on. He firmly believed that everyone was entitled to healthcare. He wanted to introduce a system in Corinez similar to the NHS in the UK. He had to start somewhere and now, more than ever, he knew that maternity care was the place to begin.
So why was he spending his time thinking about the beautiful Malaysian doctor he’d met yesterday?
Most of his dreams last night
had been haunted by her dark hair, serious brown eyes, slim frame, pink shirt and dark figure-hugging trousers. He could remember every detail.
When he’d first watched her, he’d admired her easy manner as she’d interacted with the little girl. But from the second she’d realised he was there he’d almost been able to see the shutters go down over her eyes. He’d been surprised by her instantly suspicious gaze. The truth was—he wasn’t used to it.
He’d spent his life in two roles. Prince Philippe or Dr Aronaz. Neither of which was usually met with suspicion. But he hadn’t introduced himself to Arissa as either. Which for him was unusual. He was trying hard to keep a low profile. But now he was here?
The clientele were clearly exclusive. He’d recognised an actor hiding from a scandal. An unscrupulous politician. An author who seemed to spend all day furiously typing her latest novel. And several well-known business associates who were obviously trying to take some time to relax—even though they had phones pressed permanently to their ears.
Truth was, he really didn’t want to spend time with any of these people. Particularly the blonde actress who seemed to be trying to attract his attention right now. His last experience of a relationship with an actress hadn’t gone so well. She’d relished dating a prince. She’d loved the attention. The constant media coverage. What she hadn’t loved was how dedicated Philippe was to his work. Or that his plans for the future had included even more work. When he’d refused to choose her over his day job she’d dumped him mercilessly. He wasn’t afraid to admit he’d been hurt. He might even have loved her a little, but her hour-long interview about him on prime-time TV had killed that feeling completely. He was wary now. He wasn’t ready to put his heart on the line in such an obvious way again. Here, he could just be Philippe, not a prince of Corinez. That felt surprisingly refreshing.
He looked around again. What exactly was he going to do? There was a gym—been there, done that. A business centre—no way. A beauty salon—no. A masseuse—he shuddered. He’d never been one for a stranger’s hands on his skin. As for the tennis and squash courts? It was hard to play tennis or squash solo. He stretched out his arms, feeling the sun continue to heat his skin. Arissa’s face flooded into his brain again.
He’d seen the disappointment on her face yesterday when she’d realised Dr Reacher wouldn’t be joining her. Philippe hadn’t even asked what impact that might have on her. To be honest he’d been a little stung by her sudden dismissal.
He wasn’t used to being treated like that. Sure, like any doctor he’d dealt with drunk or difficult patients. As a prince he’d dealt with arrogant or obnoxious dignitaries. But Arissa? That was something a little different. It was almost as if he’d done something to offend her—and he was sure that he hadn’t.
