The Desert Surgeon's Secret Son

One thing she knew. If she’d thought meeting him again would settle her mind, she’d been catastrophically wrong.

She lowered her head to the sink and the tap turned on. Water streamed over her face, warm yet still cooling her burning skin…

“Are you okay, Doctorah Vivienne?”

She inhaled water, jackknifed up spluttering, found a pile of paper towels being shoved into her hands. She dried her watering eyes, focused on the younger woman with exquisite dark eyes and exotic features. The surgical resident whose name she’d forgotten.

God, that was all she needed. To cultivate a reputation for being a spaced-out lightweight among the people she was supposed to spend her two months in purgatory leading.

“I’m so sorry I startled you.” The woman looked contrite. “I heard you moaning and got worried.”

Viv forced a bright smile. “It’s jet lag catching up with me.”

The woman smiled back at her. “I can’t imagine how you lasted ten hours without a break, and with jet lag, too. I thought no one but Somow’ wel Ameer Ghaleb was capable of such staying power.”

At hearing Ghaleb’s name, her stomach gave a violent lurch.

She pressed a hand to it, forced another smile. “That must be hunger rearing its head, too. I’d better go and catch a bite to eat.”

“There are some of the best restaurants in Omraania here in the center. And before you go, let me tell you how great it was to see you at work. I’m now really excited about your appointment.”

Pleasure bubbled at her sincerity. Maybe today hadn’t been a total disaster after all. First successful surgeries, now an ally.

For the first time since she’d set foot in Omraania her smile turned genuine. “Thanks…uh…Dr. Ani—Anai—”

“Aneesah,” she supplied. “It means soothing companion.”

Viv’s smile widened. “I bet you are, too. Literally your name. You just made my day a hell of a lot better. Thanks again.”

Aneesah chuckled and headed farther into the ladies’ room. “Anytime, Doctorah Vivienne. See you in surgery.”

Viv watched her, her tension draining. She was soothing. Nothing seemed as bad as it had minutes ago. She was probably overreacting with exhaustion anyway. It was also normal to feel drained after a confrontation she’d been dreading for years. Sleep would cure everything. Tomorrow she’d figure out her next step.

She put on her jacket as she walked to the foyer, this time noticing every detail, marveling at the intricate patterns on the marble floor, the designs paneling the walls, the gigantic flower arrangement on the centerpiece fer forgé table. What did hotels look like here if a medical center was this luxurious? The medical facilities were a century ahead of anything she’d ever worked in, too. As for their accommodations, Sam and Anna had flipped when they’d seen where they’d spend the next two months.

Maybe she should adopt their attitude. Maybe it was the key to surviving this experience. Considering it an interlude, going with the flow, hoping for the best… Yeah, right.

Still following the patterns on the floor, she cleared the automatic doors, only for her gaze to stumble on large feet in camel-colored shoes, planted wide apart.

Without volition, her gaze traveled up the endless legs and powerful thighs attached to them, encased in superbly cut same-colored pants, hands deep in their pockets, stretching the fabric over the potency that had once…

She dragged her eyes up farther, only for them to cling to a black shirt covering an abdomen and chest forged from steel, three buttons left open to expose the mat of silky hair she’d once lost herself to the luxury of threading her fingers through, that had once settled on her breasts, chafing her into a frenzy…

She tore her gaze up to his, found him watching her.

As soon as he gauged he had her attention where he wanted it, he drawled, “I’ve designated a driver for you. He’ll be at your disposal 24/7. He’ll now escort you to your new residence. Since it’s a quarter to seven now, you should be there by a quarter past. I trust you can get ready in an hour?”

She replayed his question in her mind. It still made no sense. She swallowed, croaked, “Ready? For what?”

“For our working dinner. At eight-fifteen sharp.” Before she could say anything, he turned away. Just before he’d gone out of hearing range, he threw over his back, “Be ready.”

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