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She shot him a smile. He stepped closer. His chest was barely inches from her nose and she caught a whiff of pure pheromones. Oh, she could pretty it up by saying it was a combination of soap, remnants of musk antiperspirant and some subtle cologne, but from the effect it was having on her senses it felt like one hundred per cent testosterone.
He didn’t seem worried about their closeness. In fact, she could almost bet that he thrived on it. The thin fabric covering his broad chest brushed against her arm as he sat down. ‘Like I said, tell me what you need and I’m your guy.’
She pushed away the rush of thoughts that flooded her brain as she pulled forward a map. She circled areas for him. ‘We’ve done here, here and here. In the next two weeks we need to cover this area, and north of the river. We expect to see around seven hundred people a day.’
She was glad that he didn’t flinch at the volume of people who still needed to be seen.
He reached over to study the map. ‘How do you work your clinics?’
She gave a nod as the hairs on his arms brushed against her. Yip.
‘The TB regime is harsh. We split our duties. We have two nurses, a few local volunteers...’ she frowned ‘...and only one translator.’
He waved his hand. ‘Don’t worry about that. My Farsi is passable. The dialect might be a little different from where I’ve been working but I’m sure I’ll muddle through.’
Muddle through. She smiled. It was like something her grandmother used to say in private. Not quite the expression she’d expected from the muscular guy who screamed ‘army’.
‘You’re good with languages?’
He looked amused. ‘You’re surprised?’ There was a challenge in his words and a glint in his green eyes.
Her brain couldn’t quite find the words.
He gave a little nod. ‘I speak ten languages.’
She blinked. ‘Ten?’
He shrugged. ‘I was a navy brat. I moved around a lot. I picked up languages easily. It was the only way to fit in.’
She pressed her lips together then rearranged the papers.
Interesting. It was clear he’d hit a sore spot.
She got straight to the point. ‘Lucy and Estelle deal mainly with the patients who require treatment for their TB. Gretchen dispenses the medicines. The volunteers administer and read the tests.’
He raised his eyebrows and she quickly reassured him. ‘We train them ourselves.’
She opened a laptop. A spreadsheet appeared on the screen. She licked her lips. He was watching her closely. It was a little unnerving. ‘We’re estimating sixty per cent of the population have TB in one form or another. Some are active, some are latent, and some...’ she sighed ‘...are multi-resistant.’
‘How many?’
She nodded slowly. He must have read at least some of the information that Gibbs had sent to him. She let out a sigh. ‘Around twelve per cent.’
‘That high?’ He couldn’t hide his surprise. He’d known that drug resistance was rising all around the world, but the figure was higher than he expected.
‘Tell me what you need me to do.’ He was unnerved. And Sullivan Darcy wasn’t used to feeling unnerved. He was used to being the expert in the field. He was used to knowing his subject area inside out. And as Gabrielle’s rose-hinted scent wound its way around him he needed to find some focus.
Gabrielle nodded and licked those pink lips again. She pulled open a drawer next to her and pulled out some kind of cool pack. He watched as she unwrapped it and pulled out the biggest bar of chocolate he’d ever seen.
She gave him a cheeky smile. ‘I hate mushy chocolate.’ She broke off a piece and handed it to him. He automatically reached out and took it.
‘I didn’t peg you as a chocoholic.’
She shrugged, her brown eyes gleaming in the artificial light in the tent. ‘I have lots of secrets, you’ll just need to hang around to find them out.’
He almost choked on the chocolate he’d just put in his mouth. It was almost a direct invitation.
He leaned back in the chair, stretching one arm out to press the button to restart the music. ‘I can see Justin and I are going to become very good friends.’
He folded his arms across his chest and smiled.
CHAPTER TWO
GABRIELLE NORMALLY SLEPT like the dead. It was a skill she’d developed over the last six years of working for Doctors Without Borders. An essential skill. No one needed an overtired, grumpy medic.
But she’d been awake since four-thirty. She’d watched the sun rise as she’d contemplated some more chocolate, wishing she’d had a secret stash of wine.
She could swear she could almost hear him breathing in the tent next to hers. This wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be normal.
Most men she’d met in her life had fulfilled a purpose. She always chose carefully. No one who would sell stories to the press. No one who was secretly looking for a princess. Guys who were interested in relatively short-term gigs. Six months maximum. Enough time for some getting-to-know-you, some trust and some intimacy. But no promises, no intentions and no time for the petty squabbles and fights to set in. She’d always been the one in control.
She’d never actually felt that whoosh when she’d met someone. More like a flirtatious curiosity.
But with Sullivan Darcy it wasn’t just a whoosh. It was a full-blown tornado. For a woman who was always used to being in control, it was more than a little unnerving.
And she was mad with herself. Being caught dancing by him had thrown her off her usually professional stride. Gibbs hadn’t told her anything about the doctor coming to work with her and last night it had seemed too forward to pry.
He’d said he was a navy brat. What exactly did he mean? The guy could speak ten languages? Really? It kind of stuck in her throat. Languages had been one of her major failures as a royal. Mirinez bordered three countries, France, Italy and Monaco. Her native language was French. English had been instilled in her as a child and spending her university years and training time in the UK had served her well.
At a push she could stammer a few words in a few other languages. The same standard statements required by doctors. I’m a doctor, can I help? Are you in pain? What’s your name? But that was it. Languages had always been her Achilles’ heel.
She’d spent her life being top of all her other classes. Her brother, Andreas, had consistently been annoyed that his younger sister could out do him in every academic subject.
And being a doctor was kind of a strange thing. She’d worked with plenty of other doctors who were experts in their fields—just like she was in hers. But she’d never really met a guy who seemed smarter than her.
Mr Ten Languages felt like a little bit of a threat. It was making her stomach curl in all kinds of strange ways. She wasn’t quite sure if it was pure and utter attraction or a tiny bit of jealousy.
She flipped open her laptop to check the list of patients for today. Her emails blinked up. Three hundred and seventy-six. She’d read them all soon. The sixteen-hour shifts here were all-consuming. By the time they got back to camp, washed up and had some food, she didn’t have much energy left. Reviewing patient details and stock supplies was a must. Reading hundreds of emails when a large percentage of them were probably spam? That could wait.
She ran her eyes down the list. The work was never-ending. TB was a relentless disease. There was no quick fix here.
‘All set.’ Gretchen, the pharmacist, appeared at the entrance to the tent with a smile on her face. ‘I’ve just met our new doc.’ She winked at Gabrielle. ‘In some parts of Switzerland, we would call him eye candy.’
Gabrielle burst out laughing at Gretchen’s turn of phrase. They’d worked together for Doctors Without Borders for the last six years—always on the TB programmes. It had been Gabrielle’s first official
diagnosis of a patient when she’d been a medical student and had been her passion ever since.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She smiled in return. ‘I’m far too busy working to contemplate any kind of candy.’
Gretchen wagged her finger at her. ‘Don’t think I don’t know about the hidden candy.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe it’s time to contemplate another kind.’
