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‘Hey.’ He moved in front of her, his fingertips connecting with her arm. As she breathed she inhaled his sea-edged aftershave. ‘That didn’t quite come out the way it should.’
For a few seconds she didn’t move, conscious of the expanse of his chest moving up and down under the pale blue shirt right in front of her face. She hadn’t realised she was quite so short compared to him. She tipped her head upwards. Now she was this close, she could see the emerging stubble on his jawline—apparent after a night spent in the hospital. It rankled that he still managed to look this good with no real sleep or a change of clothes. It suddenly made her conscious of her own appearance.
His dark brown eyes smiled down at her apologetically. ‘Sometimes things just come out a little awkwardly,’ he said.
‘They didn’t seem to earlier. You had all the hospital staff practically sitting in the palm of your hand. Charm seemed like your main offensive.’
‘Ouch.’ He laughed, then ran his fingers through his dark hair. He hadn’t moved. He was still only a few inches from her. ‘I guess when I’m tired then the charm slips.’ He held out both hands. ‘What I meant to say is that I’m impressed. I’ve only been here two days and I’m impressed already. By the clinic, by the safe haven project. You’re making me think about things. Work I could do back home.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be on holiday?’
‘What can I say? I got bored.’ The percolator started to bubble and this time he did step back.
It was the oddest sensation. She was almost sorry that he did.
She blinked and turned away, feeling instantly self-conscious. She fumbled in her trouser pocket to find a ponytail band, then tried to capture the errant curls that had escaped around her face. She pulled her hair upwards, then stared down at her wrinkled pink shirt. ‘Maybe I should take five minutes and go home and change.’
He handed her a cup of steaming coffee. ‘Why? You look fine. Gorgeous as ever.’
Her stomach clenched. The man who’d displaced Hugh Jackman from her ‘if only’ list had just called her gorgeous. As soon as the thought appeared in her head she pushed it away. She didn’t have time to think like that. There was too much work to be done. Too many other things to sort out. He might be a doctor, but he was still a tourist. Temur Sapora would be just a fleeting visit to him. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She pulled herself back to the conversation from earlier. ‘If I came back here permanently, then I’d have to work as a generalist. I’ve spent the last year specialising in Paediatric Oncology. It’s where my heart lies. But because there’s a smaller population on Temur Sapora there wouldn’t be that opportunity to specialise.’ The aroma of coffee was drifting around her, overpowering the teasing smell of his aftershave and allowing her to concentrate again. ‘It’s the same for the rest of my colleagues who volunteer here. One is a surgeon, another a cardiologist, another an endocrinologist. In fact—’ she gave a little smile ‘—we probably cover just about every speciality that there is—and that has its benefits too.’
She glanced through the glass-panelled door to the waiting room outside. It was the first time in days there hadn’t been a number of patients waiting to be seen—partly because Philippe was proving so useful. She gave a little nod and sat down on the comfortable sofa in the staff room. ‘There’s a few children whose cases I can review and treatment plans I can look over while I’m here.’
Philippe settled onto the sofa beside her, his thigh brushing against hers. ‘They don’t go to the mainland for treatment?’
She shook her head. ‘The mainland is a four-hour flight away. The truth is it’s expensive, and it’s not just the flights. It’s the hospital treatment once you get there, and room and board for the families. It all adds up.’
He took a sip of the coffee, sighed and rested back on the sofa, closing his eyes for a second. ‘You’re right, it does. I guess none of us has really mastered the healthcare system yet of our countries.’
It seemed an odd thing to say. She let out a little laugh. ‘And why would that be our job? We just have to work in the system. Not design it.’
It was as if she’d just given him a sharp jab. His eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright again. ‘What? Oh, of course, yeah. You’re right.’
She frowned. ‘Dr Aronaz? Are you okay? Do you want to get some sleep?’
He shook his head. For the briefest of seconds he’d had that rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights kind of look. But he seemed to shake it off as quickly as it had appeared. This guy had a real talent for smoothing things over.
Something prickled in the back of her brain. Something vaguely familiar that she just couldn’t place. But before she could think about it any more, Philippe had turned to face her. ‘Hey, we haven’t had a chance to discuss the research project on wound healing yet. Why don’t you run me through it and tell me what you need me to do to assist?’
Of course. For the last few days there hadn’t really been a chance to keep things as up to date as she wanted. The project was proving really successful and it was vital she made sure the research was recorded accurately. If things worked out, it could eventually lead to better funding for the clinic. She had to keep the long-term goal in mind. She set down her coffee and pulled over a laptop from the nearby counter. ‘Sure, let me show you what we’re doing...’
CHAPTER FOUR
HE WAS TIRED. He was more than tired. But being around Arissa was keeping him on his toes. She seemed to be the adrenaline shot that he needed to keep going.
She’d checked his references—of course she had. But he’d been lucky that a quick call to the palace had resulted in them arranging an emergency visa for him to work in Malaysia—so all his credentials had been in order.
The research here was fascinating. The locally made, natural ointment was producing worthy results. He predicted as soon as this research was published there would be a variety of manufacturers vying for their attention.
Leg ulcers were a worldwide problem. Generally a product of old age, a deteriorating circulatory system and lack of mobility, they were one of the most chronic, slow-healing wounds to deal with. Philippe had encountered patients before who’d had leg ulcers for years that sometimes showed a few signs of healing, then broke down all over again. So far the ointment they were using on Temur Sapora was showing remarkable results.
The data collection was meticulous. He’d reviewed six of the patients using the ointment today, and another six patients who were being treated with an alternative ointment. Photographing the wounds, documenting the treatment plans and recording the patients’ observations had actually been kind of fun. It had been years since he’d been involved in
any kind of research study, and this one had real promise.
He stretched his arms above his head as Arissa came into the room. ‘Are you done?’
She put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded. ‘Just finished. It’s taken me back to my student days, and I forgot how much I love all this stuff.’
She gave a tired smile. ‘I just wanted to say thanks. You doing this has given me a chance to review the kids I wanted to.’
He could see the tiny lines around her eyes. ‘All good?’
She pressed her lips together. ‘One is sicker than I hoped and doesn’t seem to have responded well to treatment. I’ve made some recommendations for changes.’
‘Would the kid have done better on the mainland?’
He could see her muscles tense. ‘Maybe. Who knows? But the rest of the family wouldn’t. There’s only Mum. And she has four children. If she’d taken her son to the mainland, she would likely have had to leave the others behind.’
He gave a slow nod. He knew exactly what she didn’t want to say. Although many child blood disorders were now curable—not everyone had the same outcome. He could tell this case was bothering her.
He stood up. ‘Come on,’ he said.
She looked confused. ‘What?’
He leaned over and grabbed his jacket, shutting down the computer quickly. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m going to shout you dinner.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, I do. Come on.’
She shook her head again. ‘No. It’s late, you must be tired. You’ve already given up your holiday.’
He extended his hand out towards her. ‘As have you.’
He wasn’t going to listen to any of those half-hearted excuses. He’d only had a glimpse of the type of person that she was—and it was enough. She’d had to move away to study. Her long-term career path couldn’t be here—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to give up all her holidays in order to pay back a little to the place she called home.
