‘Arun?’
His name escaped in a sigh so soft Arun was sure she hadn’t meant to say it, but he responded anyway, bending over her again to brush the honey-tasting lips with his. To brush her name, ‘Melissa’, on them.
The chemistry that had worked between them from their first meeting flared back to life. Arun’s hand slid around the back of her head, his fingers weaving into her hair, holding her captive.
The kiss deepened. Arun felt the power of it as desire shuddered through his body, tightening his muscles and heating his blood.
This was madness.
The baby—
They should stop—
She broke away from the kiss—but not before he’d felt enough of her response to know the chemistry still worked for her as well.
DESERT DOCTORS
Two sheikh brothers claim their brides
Twin brothers Kamid and Arun Rahman
al’Kawali, heirs to the throne of Zaheer, are
using their exceptional medical skills to help
their people. Devoted to duty, these proud
and passionate princes of the desert are
determined not to lose their hearts.
But two strong yet vulnerable women
are about to steal them away…
THE SHEIKH SURGEON’S BABY
BY
MEREDITH WEBBER
Meredith Webber says of herself, ‘Some ten years ago, I read an article which suggested that Mills and Boon were looking for new medical authors. I had one of those “I can do that” moments, and gave it a try. What began as a challenge has become an obsession—though I do temper the “butt on seat” career of writing with dirty but healthy outdoor pursuits, fossicking through the Australian Outback in search of gold or opals. Having had some success in all of these endeavours, I now consider I’ve found the perfect lifestyle.’
Recent titles by the same author:
DESERT DOCTOR, SECRET SHEIKH**
A PREGNANT NURSE’S CHRISTMAS WISH
THE NURSE HE’S BEEN WAITING FOR*
HIS RUNAWAY NURSE
THE SPANISH DOCTOR’S CONVENIENT BRIDE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
MELISSA peered out the window as the plane touched down. The late afternoon sun made mirrors of the sides of new, glass-fronted, high-rise towers so here and there square, earth coloured, flat-roofed dwellings were reflected in them, marrying old and new.
Zaheer! The country that had only been an exotic name to her was about to become a reality. Land of red desert sands and sweet oases, camels resting in the shade of stumpy date palms; land of desert warriors who’d once guarded travellers along the trade routes from west to east, some of their descendants still living a nomadic life.
‘I would love to show you the desert,’ Arun had said to her. They’d been lying in bed, watching the sun rise over the sea, knowing they were soon to part for ever, the magic they’d discovered together in the fortnight of the huge heart symposium in Hawaii already becoming a memory.
Now here she was, about to see the desert, though whether Arun would be the one showing it to her she didn’t know. True, she’d be seeing him. After all, her best friend was about to marry his twin, but how would he treat her?
Politely, for sure—he was a very polite man.
Formally?
Probably, for this was his country and he had a certain position to uphold.
But the Arun she’d known had been a strong and generous lover, not a polite and formal sheikh.
The Arun she’d known…
She pressed her hand against the small bulge beneath the all-concealing caftan she was wearing. How he’d treat her wasn’t really the issue—how he’d react was!
A feeling, so akin to panic her palms sweated, gripped her body.
She should have told him earlier.
But how, when she’d been so uncertain herself? When, even now, she was in a total muddle over the baby she was carrying. How ironic that she, the strong, efficient leader of a paediatric surgical team, a woman who could make split-second decisions that could mean life or death, should be reduced to a numb-brained blob of ectoplasm when she tried to sort out her thoughts about something as normal and natural as a pregnancy.
But she should have told him…
Arun stood inside the glass partition and watched the front door on the plane open, the stairs roll into place. In a couple of months the new airport would be operational and passengers would emerge into a tunnel, to be disgorged into the airport proper. But for now they had to clamber down the stairs.
He and Kam, his twin, on the rare occasions they’d returned from England for school holidays, had been met at the bottom of those stairs, the big cars lined up waiting for them to be whisked away to the family compound by their father’s minions. Progress had stopped this practice but he had been allowed into the customs area the better to help the parents of the soon-to-be consort of the ruling sheikh, through the red tape of arrival in a foreign country.
All these thoughts flitted through his head as the stairs were secured. Were they a diversion—distracting him from thinking of the woman he was also meeting? The coincidence wasn’t all that strange. After all, Melissa, hearing he was from Zaheer, had approached him at the heart symposium they’d both attended four months ago. She’d been eager to learn something of the country where her best friend was working.
He’d been struck first by her smile—by the way it had lit up her face—and the red-gold hair that had sprung with such vibrant life around her head. Then somehow the magic of attraction had worked between them, two people who hadn’t wanted commitment drawn into a brief but heated and very satisfying affair.
That Melissa’s best friend was now about to marry Arun’s brother was the coincidence.
Or was it fate?
His desert ancestors may have believed their lives had been governed by the capricious whims of fate, but he, a modern man of science, refused to go along with it. Although it was certainly strange to think he’d be meeting Melissa again.
Strange and exciting, his body suggested. But continuing what they’d both agreed would begin and end at the symposium would surely be impossible. She was here for Jenny and Kam’s wedding—her free time would be spent with her friend.
Or would it? Once he’d known she was coming, he had emailed her to ask if she’d mind doing some advisory work for him at the hospital. Perhaps fate did exist, he conceded. Just as he was about to set up a paediatric surgical ward at the hospital, an expert in paediatric surgery was arriving on his doorstop. Melissa would be able to tell him, from practical experience, what was needed in the way of equipment, how best the various services should be located, and what staffing levels he would require from the beginning.
Had he had an ulterior motive in asking this? Had he hoped she might prolong her stay? So they could renew their affair?
Surely not, when the non-hospital, non-work part of his mind should be focussed on the promise he’d made to Jenny and Kam—on finding a wife and beginning a family.
Melissa’s reply had been brief and to the point—she would be happy to advise him. But she hadn’t said how long she could remain in Zaheer, and he hadn’t wanted to question Jenny about Melissa’s plans in case he revealed their brief relationship had gone further than that of chance-met acquaintances.
The first passenger emerged from the pla
ne, a woman, turning to speak to the older couple coming behind her. His body recognised her before his eyes did, stirring as it had stirred in heated dreams over the last four months.
The madly curling red-gold hair was covered by a blue shawl, but bits were escaping, springing with vibrant life around her face, and even from a distance he could see the wide smile that turned her regular, even unremarkable features into warm, irresistible beauty.
Melissa!
He straightened his shoulders, tightened his gut, told his body to behave, and stepped forward, ready to greet the threesome as a bowing steward led them across the tarmac towards a private door into the customs area.
Excitement vied with apprehension as Mel came down the steps from the plane. Here she was, arriving in the country Arun had talked of with such deep passion she had smelt the dry desert air and seen images of oases, although they’d been in waterlocked Hawaii. Here she was, about to be reunited with her best friend, for the joyous occasion of Jenny’s wedding.
Here she was, four months pregnant, and no one in the world other than herself knew…
Well, to be honest, her specialist knew…
She accompanied Jenny’s parents across the tarmac, Jane Stapleton chattering, probably from nerves, about the first-class plane trip, the wonder of Jenny finally falling in love again—speculating about the man who’d healed her daughter’s broken heart.
Mel could have told her something about the man—about his looks anyway—for Arun and Kam were identical twins. But the twins were obviously not identical in character, Kam about to commit to marriage, while Arun, by his own admission, had no intention of ever marrying again—or ever entering a long-term relationship.
‘Two commitment-phobes,’ Mel had teased when he’d told her this in Hawaii. ‘The perfect match!’
How could a commitment-phobe commit to bringing up a baby? How would she, who knew nothing of motherhood, handle it? That was her biggest worry. Her constant worry!
One of many, to be honest. Childbirth was another, though she knew intellectually that was nonsense—something she had to get past—and how she’d juggle a baby and a job was a real concern.
Then there was the very real issue of single motherhood. Didn’t a baby deserve two parents—if not as a baby, then certainly as a child, and for sure come the teenage years?
Arun had been adamant children weren’t in his future.
Any more than they’d been in hers…
Oh, dear!
She saw movement beyond the glass in the terminal building and, pleased by the distraction, peered in that direction.
‘It’s Kam’s brother, his twin—you’ve met him, haven’t you? He’s come to meet us because Kam’s away.’ Jane was positively bubbling with excitement. ‘I didn’t really expect the white robes, did you?’
Mel wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Certainly not to feel her chest tighten and her heart rate zoom into dangerous arrhythmia. It must be because of the baby—it couldn’t be the thought of seeing Arun.
Meeting him again…
Touching him…
Useless blob time again!
Numb brain!
She resisted the urge to slide her hand across her stomach as Jane and Bob Stapleton were bowed through a glass door into the terminal, the man in the snowy white robes—so regally erect, so noble looking, so like a desert-fantasy sheikh, Mel’s knees felt weak—coming forward to introduce himself, shaking hands.
‘Dr and Dr Stapleton, I am Arun Rahman al’Kawali.’
Mel stared at him—at the stranger in the white robe, barely aware of the Stapletons offering their first names and adding polite greetings.
‘And, Melissa, we meet again.’
The pale green eyes she’d thought never to see again looked steadily into hers.
Would the baby have those pale, translucent-jade eyes?
‘It is my great pleasure to welcome you to my country.’
He took her hand and clasped it for a moment, his warmth finding its way into her blood—heating it. Then he smiled and she knew he’d felt her reaction—not only felt it but had taken pleasure from it, seeing it as confirmation that the magic still worked between them.
And, no doubt, supposing their affair could be resumed…
Oh, dear!
Again she had to stop herself touching the barely there bulge, while her thoughts whirled uselessly through her head. I’m still attracted to him. I should have told him about the baby. What will he think—say?
Oh, dear!
‘I hope while you are here I will be able to show you the beauty of the desert.’
He was watching her closely as he spoke, and Mel wondered how much of her confusion was obvious. But, whatever he read in her face, she could read nothing in his, and now he turned back to the Stapletons.
‘When we met in Hawaii with water everywhere, Melissa told me of her love of the ocean. I tried to describe the desert as something similar, but I know it is too hard for those who have not seen it to understand the similarities.’
He sounded so casual, so silky smooth, so in control—but why wouldn’t he? This was his country, he was the king—or half-king, sharing, Jen had said in an email, rule with his twin.
But it was the message implicit in the ‘show you the desert’ remark that was making Mel’s anxiety levels spiral upwards—the message that now fate had brought them back together there was no reason for their affair not to resume.
To make matters worse, her body had not only received the message but had responded to it, getting hot and bothered and jittery right on cue.
Oh, dear!
She had to stop thinking like that. It was so negative, so weak, so utterly useless!
But what else could she think, with a brain like curdled blancmange?
For one mad instant she considered running back towards the plane. To escape to somewhere—anywhere—until she’d worked out once and for all just how to tackle the task that lay ahead.
But to run was cowardice and she’d never been a coward, so she stiffened her body and with it her resolve, and met his silky smoothness with her own.
‘I would love to see the desert,’ she responded, albeit a little late. ‘And I’m sure Bob and Jane are looking forward to it, too.’
His gaze slid towards her and a small smile twisted his lips. He nodded, as if to acknowledge her point, but she doubted he’d conceded it.
Not this man! Even as she’d met him in Hawaii, in Western clothes, another specialist among many, he’d exuded an aura of power, an otherness that set him apart. Quietly spoken, yet he’d been able to command attention, waiters falling over themselves to serve him before others were served, hotel staff happy to provide any service for him, people deferring to him purely because of his presence.
So, would he act as desert tour guide for all three of them?
Probably, because he was also scrupulously polite.
But would that be all Mel saw of the desert in his company?
She didn’t think so.
Although she could refuse to go—refuse to accompany him anywhere. That way she’d be safe from the riot his presence was causing in her senses, the long robes he wore no barrier to attraction.
But how could they discuss the baby if she wasn’t ever alone with him?
Oh, damn and blast…
‘If you come this way,’ he was saying, leading Bob Stapleton towards a waiting customs official. ‘Your luggage will be checked here and we can go out to the car. It’s parked at the side door so you can avoid the crowds.’
Crowds might have helped, Mel thought. I could have disappeared into them, never to be seen again.
Leaving Jenny short one bridesmaid?
Not possible.
So she just had to hide the surge of renewed attraction rattling her body and numbing her brain, hide a small matter of a pregnancy—thank heaven she’d dressed in deference to the country’s traditions—until she had time to talk privately to him. In the meantime she
would have to carry on as if Arun really was nothing more than a chance-met colleague at a medical conference.
If he could do it, so could she.
This resolve faltered as he ushered the Stapletons towards the customs official and slid close to her side.
‘You are well? I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you are here in my country. There is so much I can show you, so much we can enjoy.’
The husky voice with its patent delight and suggestive undertones further weakened her resolve, but she refused to be seduced by husky voices or suggestive undertones—or by the pathetic behaviour of her body.
‘You don’t have to put yourself out for me,’ she said. ‘I know how busy you must be, with all the changes happening at the hospital. I know we’ll be seeing each other from time to time, but—’
‘Ah, you do not wish our affair to be resumed? Is that what you’re telling me?’
No huskiness in his voice now, although a strand of steel ran through the words.
Mel tried for a really, really casual shrug and hoped she’d pulled it off.
‘I’m not here long, so really there’s no point.’
‘Ah!’ he said again, but this time there was more understanding in it. ‘If that is how you feel, Melissa…’
If only he hadn’t said her name. If only the word hadn’t brought back such memories. Arun whispering it, softly sibilant, as he caressed her body, or shouting it, triumphant, in the throes of love-making.
She could feel the coolness as he drew away from her, all his attention back on the Stapletons.
So what was this? Arun pondered as he watched the customs officer open the first suitcase. Oh, he got the literal meaning—their affair would not be resumed—but surely there was a subtext here, hidden from him the way her luscious, ripe, curvaceous body was hidden behind the soft folds of the all-concealing gown she wore.
Maybe she was embarrassed by the proximity of the Stapletons—unable to respond to him because of their presence.
But, no, she’d spoken plainly—there’d be no point…
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