Red-Hot Desert Docs. Carol Marinelli

      The palace was dotted with stones, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires and some diamonds too.

      Adele wanted to see it and she wanted to be there in the souqs and especially out in the desert.

      She read the comments and most agreed it was an amazing destination. There was a certain magic to it, many said, and it was perfect for a honeymoon or romantic getaway.

      Then Adele read the negative comments and they were all pretty much the same.

      Don’t get taken ill there!

      Bring your own medication!

      And one was aimed at a tour guide.

      He couldn’t even answer why the palace is called Diamond Palace and yet it is mainly coloured stones.

      Oh, she would love to go there.

      Right now, though, she needed to sleep.

      It was bad enough trying to sleep when she was working days—her flatmates liked to party hard, it didn’t matter what day of the week. Trying to sleep during the day was almost impossible—there were doors slamming, arguments breaking out. After a fitful sleep Adele woke to the sound of the television blaring and loud chatter from the kitchen as supper was being made.

      She was tired before her shift even started. It was going to be a very long night.

      * * *

      Zahir also wasn’t having the best of days.

      While he was grateful that his mother’s operation had gone smoothly, he was furious that it had to come to this.

      There was only one small hospital in his home town. Zahir had had several architects working on plans for a new one, yet his father had halted him every step of the way and in the end the project had been abandoned.

      The whole health system in Mamlakat Almas needed to be addressed and better ways implemented.

      The main reason that Zahir and his brother had chosen to study medicine had been so that they could knowledgeably implement the changes that were needed, yet they were thwarted at every turn. Their father refused to move forward and over and over he came up with reasons why the plans for the hospital could not go ahead.

      Zahir had now had enough.

      Finding out that his mother had had to travel to another country just to get suitable treatment did not sit well with him.

      He looked at his mother, drowsy from anaesthetic, and was told by Mr Oman that surgery had gone well. ‘I’m surprised she waited so long,’ the surgeon commented.

      Zahir was sure his mother had been struggling for a long time and it meant his mood was not the most pleasant as he made his way back to the emergency department after visiting her.

      And Zahir’s already dark mood did not improve when he saw a woman holding a large bouquet of flowers asking one of the nurses if they could be delivered to Adele Jenson.

      ‘She’s not on duty till tonight,’ the nurse said, taking the flower arrangement. ‘But I’ll see that she gets them.’

      Once the delivery woman had gone a debate took place as to who had sent the flowers.

      ‘She had a date with Paul on Friday,’ someone said.

      Zahir did not want to think about that but the flowers seemed to follow him everywhere.

      They were in the nurses’ station as he wrote his notes. And when, having checked on his mother again in the late afternoon, he went to make a drink, someone had moved them through to the staff kitchen.

      He went to his office to make a call to his father.

      The King.

      He sat at the desk for a long moment, thinking hard. There was a lot on his mind. Admin were demanding his signature on a new contract, as they had every right to do.

      Zahir knew, though, that he needed to go home and not just for a visit this time.

      He was thinking of going head to head with his father so that he could get the hospital under way.

      There was another reason, though, that he hadn’t signed his new contract—Adele.

      The attraction had been instant and troublesome. He could still vividly remember the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Working on a patient, usually nothing could have drawn his attention, yet for a fleeting moment she had.

      Her china-blue eyes had met his and Janet had explained that Adele was there for an interview.

      He hadn’t wanted her to get the job.

      That was how much he was attracted to her. Even before they had spoken, he would have preferred that they never had. Of course she had been given the role and two weeks later he had walked into the nurses’ station to the sound of her laughter and her fresh fragrance.

      ‘Zahir,’ Janet had said. ‘This is Adele. She is a graduate nurse...’

      ‘Adele.’ He had responded with a brief nod.

      ‘Hi!’ She had smiled.

      ‘Adele did her training here,’ Janet had explained, ‘so she’s familiar with the place.’

      Zahir had shut her out at every possibility. He’d asked for more senior staff when possible. He’d ignored her slightly wacky humour and had not rewarded it with a smile.

      He’d dated sophisticated beauties and he’d told them upfront that he was in no position to settle down.

      Currently he was dating Bella.

      That was about to end and he knew Bella sensed it. He had used the excuse of his mother being sick this weekend not to see her and now she had come up with tickets to the theatre next week.

      He would end it before then.

      Soon he would marry a bride considered suitable.

      Of course he would be consulted, but the effect of her laughter on the edge of his lips would not be taken into consideration. Neither would the fact that the mere scent of her made him want to turn around.

      There would be a more logical thought process when it came to the selection of the future Queen. Perhaps her country would have a considerable army, for it would be a marriage of countries rather than hearts. Of course Zahir was not considering Adele for such a role. Yet, on sight, his guard had gone up and he’d known he’d have to be wary of the attraction he felt.

      It was an attraction so intense that over the last year every time he had driven past her at the bus stop he had wanted to slow down and tell her to get in. Not to take her home but to take her to his bed.

      To make slow, tender love to her.

      Yes, he had slowed down the car once, but the sight of her in that short wet dress had been too much.

      She was a relentless assault to his senses and six feet three of turned-on sheikh had decided it was safer to drive on.

      It was hell to drive past her and leave her standing in the dark. It was hell to work alongside her.

      It was hell.

      And perhaps time away was needed before self-control ran out.

      Nothing could come of them, Zahir knew that. It was the reason that he kept his distance.

      His feelings for Adele were serious and that was why he held well and truly back. But it was getting harder to do so.

      And it was another reason why it might be better to return to his country.

      Zahir rang home.

      ‘I have just come from visiting the Queen.’ Zahir spoke formally with his father. ‘She is doing very well.’

      ‘How long until she can come home?’ The King asked.

      ‘Not until she is ready,’ Zahir said. ‘I have spoken