Chameleon

by Ashe Barker

  Back out in the courtyard, he dropped into a low outdoor seat. He propped his feet on the edge of the water feature and took a long drink. He let his gaze range around the peaceful space and, not for the first time, marveled at what his friend had managed to create here.

  James’ instruction to his architects had been very specific. He wanted a hotel that would transcend what was normally expected of the five-star trade. Elegance, efficiency, luxury would be taken as read. The finest standards in service and cuisine went without saying also. But the Marrakesh Totally Five Star’s uniqueness was rooted in the architecture and design of the place. James had set out to meet and exceed the demands of even the most exacting guest, whilst sacrificing nothing in terms of local tradition. His hotel captured the very essence of the Moroccan lifestyle and showcased the finest local craftsmanship. Although Ethan’s own expertise was far more concerned with what lay under the foundations than above the ground, he knew that this was quite simply a beautiful place.

  The entire resort was designed around a central courtyard that served as a reception area. The various restaurants, souks, a massive internationally stocked library, bars, a theater, a health spa and other entertainment facilities led off from that, and all were totally enclosed within a perimeter wall. Access was closely controlled—only guests could gain entry—so peace and tranquility were guaranteed—as were privacy and anonymity, should those be required.

  The guest accommodation consisted entirely of a number of riads, the traditional Moroccan design for private residences, each rising to two or three floors and arranged around private and absolutely secluded open-air courtyards. The design provided a cool interior space in which to relax and enjoy the Moroccan climate, shielded from the heat of the sun and from any external intrusion. Only hotel staff had access to the riads, so guests could rely on not being disturbed. It suited Ethan admirably.

  His pounding headache began to settle and he could at last bear to contemplate further exertion. He stood and strolled back inside, heading up one flight of stairs to his bedroom, one of three in this suite. Traveling and working alone, he had no need for such spacious surroundings, but James would hear of nothing less, so Ethan left the spare rooms undisturbed. In the master bedroom, he quickly shed his sweat-soaked white T-shirt and faded jeans. He tossed them in the hotel’s laundry basket to be followed by his boxer shorts and socks. He hated wearing socks in such a climate, but they were needed for his desert boots, a requirement for tramping across rough terrain.

  Naked, he stepped into his adjoining wet room and jabbed the switch to set the jets off. Hot water hit him from all sides. He adjusted the temperature downward slightly before bracing his arms against the tiled wall and leaning in. The steaming water ran across his back and buttocks in warm rivulets, and for long minutes he just stood there and let it wash over him, swilling the desert dust away. At last he straightened, reached for the shampoo and quickly lathered his hair. Maybe a little on the long side, it was a rich, dark brown in color and slightly wavy. The informal cut suited his globetrotting lifestyle, requiring nothing in the way of fuss. Wash it. Comb it. Forget it. That suited him. He had other things to concentrate on.

  Like strange little Moroccan doctors who masqueraded as Berber peasants. He wondered if he would see her again, but felt certain that he would. If nothing else, her sense of duty seemed to require that she examine him thoroughly to convince herself he was not about to expire. He looked forward to that.

  Ethan killed the water jets and stepped naked from the wet room back into his huge sleeping area. He grabbed a bath towel from the stack in his wardrobe and wrapped it loosely around his hips, not bothering to dry himself more thoroughly. The sun would quickly accomplish that. He was soon back in the courtyard, this time collecting a bottle of the local Casablanca beer on the way.

  It was perhaps ten minutes and half a bottle of beer later that he heard the discreet, understated tinkle of the doorbell. He hadn’t ordered anything from room service, and the daily maid service had already been to turn down his sheets. That only left…

  Ethan got to his feet and strolled to the outer door. He opened it to find the gorgeous Doctor Fleur Mansouri on his doorstep. Gone were the peasant cloak and headdress. She stood before him now, the very epitome of professional correctness. She’d caught her long dark hair back in a severe chignon, and she wore a pair of glasses. He thought those quite adorable, especially as her luminous eyes appeared even larger behind them. Her tight-fitting medical jacket buttoned right up to her throat. Beneath that, her slacks were plain black. A medical bag completed the ensemble, her stethoscope looped around her neck.

  Ethan smiled pleasantly at her, leaning against his doorjamb. He did not invite her in.

  “Fleur, how nice. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  She took in his near-enough naked form and stepped back. “I am sorry. Have I caught you at a bad time? I would be happy to return later.”

  “Not at all. How can I help you, Doctor Mansouri?”

  “I am here to find out how you are, Mr. Savage.” She kept her tone cool and polite. She was clearly not rising to his bait.

  “I’m fine. And you?” He still didn’t move to allow her in. She would have to ask him. Nicely.

  “I need to examine you, Mr. Savage. May I come inside, please?”

  Result!

  “As you’ve asked so nicely, please do.” Ethan stepped to the side and gestured her to pass him.

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment… Please help yourself to a drink if you’d like one.” He slipped past her and up to his bedroom to drag on a pair of jeans. He was all for discomfiting attractive women, but tended to find that he had better results if he were clothed and she was not. He was entertaining no false optimism regarding the likelihood of getting beneath the good doctor’s cool professional façade to the delectable body underneath, at least not at this visit. But he had to start his campaign somewhere. He zipped the jeans, dark gray denim this time, but didn’t bother with the button. He grabbed a dark gray T-shirt and took that with him as he strolled back downstairs.

  He found her in his courtyard, staring into the raised pool. He would have given a lot to know her thoughts in that moment as he watched her from the dimness of his lobby. Perhaps feeling his gaze on her, she turned to look directly at him.

  “Would you prefer me to check you over inside? It might be a little cooler.” She grabbed her bag from the paved area at her feet and started toward him.

  “I don’t mind. There’s no need. Really. I am fine.” He walked across the courtyard to retrieve his beer, noting her scowl of disapproval as he finished the bottle in one long swig.

  “Let me be the judge of that, Mr. Savage. I am a doctor, and while you are here in the Totally Five Star, you are my responsibility. You really shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury. And you should put that shirt on while outside. The sun is very hot.”

  You don’t say.

  Ethan shrugged. She was probably right—about the beer and the shirt—but in his dealings with beautiful women, he preferred to be the one barking out orders. Still, he let it pass, and decided that letting her do the physical she seemed so set upon might not be such an onerous chore. If nothing else, she could no doubt supply him with some pain relief for his nagging headache.

  “Right. What do you need to do?” He turned to her, his smile open and, he hoped, guileless.

  “I just need to check your heart, breathing, blood pressure. The usual routine. I will dress that head wound too.”

  He lifted his hand to probe the sore lump on his head with his fingers. “It stopped bleeding ages ago.”

  “Yes, I will just clean it and apply some antiseptic. If you would sit, please, either out here or inside. Your choice.” All cool efficiency, she appeared unperturbed by his bare-chested male presence. Ethan quite liked that about her, marveling yet again at the transformation from when he’d first set eyes on her.

  He sat on the seat alongside the water fea
ture. “Here then. Do your worst, Doctor.”

  No words were exchanged as Fleur went about her checks quickly and efficiently. She listened to his breathing, his heart, pronounced his blood pressure fine, his temperature normal. Minutes later, she announced that he’d been very lucky, though she really would prefer him to be X-rayed, just to make absolutely certain. Ethan just smiled and shook his head, and she abandoned that notion finally.

  “Tilt your head to the side. Let me have a proper look at this.” She came up close, leaning in to examine his head wound properly. Her fingers were cool and gentle as she positioned his face to catch the light. “Does it hurt much?”

  “No, not really. I have a headache, though. Do you have anything for that?”

  “Yes, sir, I can leave you some analgesics. But no alcohol while you are taking those. You have to promise me that.”

  Ethan grinned, preferring the slightly pleading tone to her earlier imperiousness. “Yes, Fleur. If you say so. And it’s Ethan.” He wasn’t that fond of alcohol in any case. It would be no real hardship. He did like to hear her asking him nicely, though. And he really didn’t object to her calling him sir, but he’d rather she properly understood the significance of it.

  He wasn’t sure at just what point his intentions toward Fleur had shifted, but they definitely had. He wanted her. More specifically, he wanted her naked, tied to his bed and orgasming on command. He hoped that prospect would be one she could find herself drawn to, and instinctively he felt she would. Her manner, her gestures all screamed submission to him.

  He wanted to test the waters, but it was too soon. And this was neither the time nor the place. She was in clinical, professional mode. Ethan could be persuasive, quite compelling when he set his mind to it, but he somehow did not see the seductive doctor coming to his room to treat his injuries, and agreeing to strip for him and suck his cock in the same visit. And he wouldn’t want her to. He liked that she took her work seriously, as he did his own.

  He needed her to be off duty. Receptive. Free to respond.

  “So, tell me, Doctor, how long have you been a hotel medic?”

  “Not long. I’m a locum, just filling in while the permanent hotel doctor is on a sabbatical.”

  “Do you work here full-time?”

  “There are two of us and we split the week.”

  “I see. When do you have some time off?”

  “Not for a while. Why would you ask that, Mr. Savage? Please be assured I will be here if you need me, or my colleague will. He is very good too.”

  Not for what I have in mind, sweetheart.

  “I don’t want you to bandage me up. I want you to have dinner with me.”

  He was gratified by her start of surprise. He would have expected nothing else. And he was ready for her quick refusal too.

  “I cannot. I am sorry.”

  “Cannot? Can’t?” He kept his tone deliberately light. He needed her to explain, intended to push her to justify her reaction. Either she’d talk herself into agreeing to meet him, or he’d find out what he was up against. Either was good.

  “No, I am afraid that is impossible. I do not socialize with hotel guests. It would be unprofessional.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. No. It is enough. I just cannot. Do not.”

  “Do you live here? At the hotel?”

  She dabbed at his head with antiseptic-soaked cotton wool. “Yes, mostly. I have a staff apartment.”

  “Do Totally Five Star staff apartments include a nice space to tether your donkey then? Plenty of grass?”

  “Do not be ridiculous. Agwmar is not my donkey.”

  Ah, now I’m getting somewhere. “Agwmar? Is that his name?”

  “Yes. It means stallion in the Berber language.”

  Now Ethan did grin. She was really opening up. “Stallion? Sounds about right. Whose donkey is he, then?”

  Fleur glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. She knew full well she was being drawn out but didn’t seem to mind. He sensed no withdrawal from her.

  “He belongs to my grandmother. She lives on a farm close to where I met you.”

  “I see.” He let that lie, enjoying the silence between them for a few moments. She seemed relaxed just now and he was taking care not to push too hard or too fast. He waited to see if she might volunteer more, but when she did not after a few minutes, he ventured a little further.

  “Agwmar looks like a fine beast, but I can’t really imagine you were intending to come all the way here on that donkey, stallion or not…”

  He caught her small smile and noted the uncomfortable effect it had on his cock. He really should have been less casual about his attire. He might live to regret not fastening that top button on his jeans. As he shifted slightly in an attempt to redistribute his swelling length, she murmured her reply.

  “No. I was not on my way here. Today is my day off—or it should have been. My co-worker is ill, so I am working an extra day.”

  “So, where were you going when I saw you out there on the road?”

  “I was delivering that carpet for my grandmother and exercising Agwmar. He’s lazy and getting fat in his old age. He needs to get out more. I will drop the carpet off later.”

  “But you did come here. And back there in the entrance courtyard, you were expected. Another guest was ill…”

  “Yes. I had a text. It arrived just after I phoned my cousin to ask him to collect Agwmar.”

  Ethan thought back and remembered. She had received a text message, though he’d assumed it was nothing significant. But if she was the doctor on call…

  Enough on that, though. He had other questions, lots of them. But his main mission was to get her to agree to have dinner with him. He returned to the fray.

  “So, no socializing with the guests. What about the staff?”

  “Staff? I beg your pardon, Mr. Savage?”

  “Ethan. Yes, staff. Do you eat with colleagues? With people who work for the hotel?”

  “I… Well, yes. Sometimes.”

  “Would you have a meal with me if I wasn’t a guest? If I was staff too?”

  “But you are not.” She gestured around them at the superb courtyard and beautiful riad suite he enjoyed. “This is not staff accommodation, Mr. Savage.”

  He didn’t correct her use of his name, though he was starting to be of the mind to firm up his expectations of her. But first…

  “Would you?”

  The moment of truth—the acid test. Fleur dropped her gaze from his and crouched at his feet on the pretext of searching in her bag for some additional piece of gauze or other irrelevance. Ethan was not about to relent. He reached for her, placed his fingertips under her chin and tilted her face back up to his.

  “Would you?” His voice was little more than a whisper as he leaned down to her, his lips now just inches from hers. He caught her gaze, held it. And waited.

  “Yes.” Her reply was faint, more a breath than spoken. But he heard it, and he knew he had her—or he would.

  “I work for James Conroy. He’s a friend of mine, which is why I get the star treatment. But I’m here on business for the hotel, like you. So now, Doctor Mansouri, I’ll ask you again. Will you have dinner with me?”

  Her eyes widened and she looked apprehensive. Rather late in the day, in Ethan’s view. Much too late, in fact.

  “I-I cannot. Not tonight. I am working.”

  Yes!

  “It doesn’t have to be tonight. Tomorrow, then.”

  She just gazed at him, not answering. But not refusing, either.

  Ethan pressed his advantage. “Tomorrow, in Le Jardin Français. Eight o’clock. I’ll book a table.” He smiled. Then, on impulse, lowered his head farther and brushed his lips across hers. Not quite a kiss, but the gesture was both intimate and sensual—and sufficiently suggestive that his cock took on a life of its own. He had to end this now and make for his rooftop and the plunge pool before something extremely unfortunate happened to undermine his otherwise ster
ling efforts.

  “Have you finished disinfecting my head?”

  “I… Yes. Yes, you are fine now.”

  “Thank you. Until tomorrow evening, then. Can you see yourself out?” Ethan didn’t wait for her to reply. He released her chin, smiled at her once more and stood. She might have spotted his erection as he rose to his feet. She was, after all, a doctor. But neither of them saw fit to remark on it as he strode away from her and back into the cool lobby to make his way up to the roof.

  Chapter Three

  Fleur watched Ethan Savage’s retreating back and wondered what had just happened. Did that rude Englishman just kiss me? Was that a proper kiss or just…?

  It had been a long time since anyone had not quite kissed her. In fact, Fleur could not readily recall another such instance and she was convinced that such an event would not have slipped her mind. Not if the wetness in her knickers was anything to go by. He had been affected too. She could see that. And she knew exactly where he was headed off to in such a hurry. Pity she couldn’t just take off and sink into a cool plunge pool whenever she felt like it.

  It was all right for him. He might not be a guest, but he seemed to enjoy all the privileges of one. Whereas she, she had to work. Fleur closed her eyes, lifting the glasses from her nose to press her thumb and forefinger to her eye sockets. What had she done? What had she agreed to?

  Not a guest, he had said. Well, that was easily checked. A personal friend of the CEO. Less straightforward to check that claim, but it might be wise not to antagonize him, even so. That was not why she had agreed to have a meal with him, though. In truth, she was not at all sure why she had agreed. Now that he’d gone, now that his commanding, intimidating presence no longer loomed over her, she had no inkling at all what had compelled her to say yes.