“So, what brings you by, Nurse Reston?”

Rahman asked, his voice husky. “To see what a sheik looks like? To see how the mighty have fallen?” He choked on a mirthless laugh and reached for a glass of water.

Amanda automatically handed it to him.

He wrapped his fingers around hers, and Amanda felt a shock wave race up her arm. Despite the need to remain professional, she almost dropped the glass.

He was breathing hard.

So was she.

And, standing there locked in this endless, wordless gaze with him, Amanda knew deep down that Sheik Rahman Harun was unlike any other patient she’d ever had.…

Dear Reader,

There’s no better escape than a fun, heartwarming love story from Silhouette Romance. So this August, be sure to treat yourself to all six books in our sexy, sizzling collection guaranteed to keep you glued to your beach chair.

Dive right into our fantasy-filled A TALE OF THE SEA adventure with Melissa McClone’s In Deep Waters (SR#1608). In the second installment in the series about lost royal siblings from a magical kingdom, Kayla Waterton searches for a sunken ship, and discovers real treasure in the form of dark, seductive, modern-day pirate Captain Ben Mendoza.

Speaking of dark and seductive, Carol Grace’s Falling for the Sheik (SR#1607) features the mesmerizing but demanding Sheik Rahman Harun, who is nursed back to health with TLC from his beautiful American nurse, Amanda Reston. Another royal has a heart-wrenching choice to make in The Princess Has Amnesia! (SR#1606) by award-winning author Patricia Thayer. She survived a jet crash in the mountains, but when the amnesia-stricken princess remembers her true social standing, will she—can she—forget her handsome rescuer…?

Myrna Mackenzie’s Bought by the Billionaire (SR#1610) is a Pygmalian story starring Ethan Bennington, who has only three weeks to transform commoner Maggie Todd into a lady. While Cole Sullivan, the hunky, all-American hero in Wendy Warren’s The Oldest Virgin in Oakdale (SR#1609), is coerced into teaching shy Eleanor Lippert how to seduce any man—himself included.

Then laugh a hundred laughs with Carolyn Greene’s First You Kiss 100 Men… (SR#1611), a hilarious and highly sensual read about a journalist assigned to kiss 100 men. But there’s only one man she wants to kiss.…

Happy reading—and please keep in touch!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Falling for the Sheik
Carol Grace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Nancy Savage, international nurse, world traveler

and bonne vivante, with thanks for the help,

the years of friendship, and especially for

the laughs along the way. “Isn’t life interesting?”

Books by Carol Grace

Silhouette Romance

Make Room for Nanny #690

A Taste of Heaven #751

Home Is Where the Heart Is #882

Mail-Order Male #955

The Lady Wore Spurs #1010

* Lonely Millionaire #1057

* Almost a Husband #1105

* Almost Married #1142

The Rancher and the Lost Bride #1153

† Granted: Big Sky Groom #1277

† Granted: Wild West Bride #1303

† Granted: A Family for Baby #1345

Married to the Sheik #1391

The Librarian’s Secret Wish #1473

Fit for a Sheik #1500

Taming the Sheik #1554

A Princess in Waiting #1588

Falling for the Sheik #1607

Silhouette Desire

Wife for a Night #1118

The Heiress Inherits a Cowboy #1145

Expecting… #1205

The Magnificent M.D. #1284

CAROL GRACE

has always been interested in travel and living abroad. She spent her junior year of college in France and toured the world working on the hospital ship HOPE. She and her husband spent the first year and a half of their marriage in Iran, where they both taught English. She has studied Arabic and Persian languages. Then, with their toddler daughter, they lived in Algeria for two years.

Carol says that writing is another way of making her life exciting. Her office is her mountaintop home, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean and which she shares with her inventor husband, their daughter, who just graduated college, and their teenage son.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Prologue

Sheik Rahman Harun skied the way he did everything else—expertly, wholeheartedly and a little recklessly. It was the end of a perfect day at Squaw Valley and he was making one last run. Even though the sun was setting, he hated to call it quits. He loved the rush of the wind in his face as he was doing tight stem turns. It was getting cold, but he didn’t stop. The snow, which had been slushy on the surface was now freezing into ice. He didn’t want to quit. Not yet. Sure, he was tired and not as much in control as he’d been an hour ago, but he was following a giant slalom trail, his skis one inch apart, his boots touching, carving a single track through the snow. It was pure ecstasy.

It would have been even better if he’d had someone to share the fun with. Skiing with Lisa had been exciting. They’d had a friendly competition to see who could go higher, faster and take more chances. He couldn’t quite believe she would never ski with him again. Even now, whenever he saw a woman in a bright red fitted ski jacket, her body curved gracefully as she sped down the hill, he felt the pain all over again when he realized it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. Lisa was dead.

Every time he got off the lift, he expected to see her with her goggles hanging around her neck as she reached out to grab his hand. One more run, she’d say. Come on, Rahman, just one more. But there would be no more. Lisa had taken her last run. He felt the tears sting his eyelids. He reminded himself that sheiks do not cry.

He stayed on the marked trails today. If Lisa were here she’d be leading him into deep powder in closed areas, taunting him to take a chance on getting lost or buried beneath an avalanche. When he’d try to talk her out of something risky, whether it was skiing or hang gliding or bungee jumping, she’d tell him he was no fun and she’d pout until he coaxed her out of it. One last challenge and she’d paid the price. So had he. They’d had good times, but those carefree days were over for good. Not only for Lisa, but for him, too. Nothing would ever be the same.

His twin brother Rafik would have loved the skiing today. He’d have been right there with him, every turn, every jump over every mogul. They’d learned to ski together as children on vacation in the Alps. They competed in everything—tennis, golf, racquetball and skiing. But Rahman was alone today. It was about time he got used to it. It was time to face the fact that relationships and friendships were all transitory. Nothing was permanent. Life was fragile and loneliness had a way of hitting him when he least expected it, like a sudden blast of cold wet snow.

Tomorrow a big group of his friends would arrive. That ought to help him out of his funk, but sometimes he felt even lonelier in a crowd. He missed Lisa’s laughter. He kept thinking of the things they’d planned to do together. Take a safari in East Africa, take up snowboarding, bicycle through France. He could still do those things, but what was the point of doing them alone?

His brother wasn’t available anymore, either. Rafik had recently gotten married which had left a big hole in his brother’s life. Not that he didn’t like his brother’s wife. He did. But everything was different now that Rafik had someone to share his life.

With the sun gone behind the mountain the light had changed. There were no more shadows, no way to see the dips in the snow. The landscape became featureless and indistinct. His skis clattered when they hit the frozen snow. Then they skittered. He was going too fast and he was out of control. The ground rose up to meet him and he tumbled head over heels down…down…down. The wind whistled in his ears, the snow clung to his skin. His head felt like a rubber ball banging against an icy cement floor.

When he finally came to a halt, only a few feet from a snow-covered oak tree, every bone in his body felt shattered by the impact. He lay spread-eagled, facedown in a drift of snow, waiting for the pain to subside. Rahman wondered where his skis were. His new parabolic skis that allowed him to ski better than he’d ever skied before. The skis with the excellent bindings that released so he hadn’t seriously hurt himself.

His mouth and his ears were full of snow and he ached all over, but he was okay. He was fine. Just a little sore and a little woozy. Fortunately his poles were still attached to his wrists. In a minute he’d get up and look for the skis then he’d ski down the hill and quit for the day. As soon as his head cleared and he caught his breath…He gave himself more than a minute. More than five minutes. Then he lifted his head, braced his arms against the ground and felt a spear of pain go through his chest.

Through a haze he realized he wasn’t going to ski down the hill after all. He lifted his head and tried to yell for help, but the only sound that came from his lips was a moan.

Chapter One

The Northstar Home Health Agency of Pine Grove, California, looked more like a ski chalet with its peaked roof covered in snow and interior of knotty pine. It was as warm and cheerful as the owner and manager, Rosie Dixon, who beamed at her friend Amanda from behind her desk.

“Have I got a job for you!” Rosie said.

“Already? I haven’t even unpacked my suitcase.”

“I told you this is the land of opportunity. The golden state.” Rosie spread her arms out wide. “Why else did you come?”

Why indeed? Why had Amanda quit her excellent job in Chicago and come running to this mountain community, two thousand miles away? There was only one reason. One big reason. Rosie didn’t know and Amanda didn’t plan on telling her. It was too embarrassing, too shameful, too awful.

“Because you finally came to your senses, that’s why,” Rosie said, always helpful, answering her own question. “I’ve been telling you to leave Chicago for years. I knew you’d love it here. It’s paradise.”

Love it? Paradise? Amanda looked out the window at the red-cheeked people walking down the main street wearing trendy wool caps, carrying skis over their shoulders and at the outline of the mountains in the background. Sure, she was used to snow in the winter, but not this altitude. She didn’t ski, she didn’t climb. Maybe she’d love it here, maybe she wouldn’t. At this point it didn’t matter, because she needed a change. She needed a change desperately. And Rosie had offered it to her.

We’re short on nurses, physical therapists, you name it. We’re short on all kinds of trained professionals. We’ve got plenty of waitresses and lift operators. College kids who are taking off for a year to ski, she’d said. But they’re no help. Not to me. Not to the patients.

“What is it?” Amanda asked, slipping out of her winter jacket.

“What is what? Oh, the job, the job. It’s a real challenge. Just what you said you wanted. A ski injury. Punctured lung, broken ankle, concussion, a few other complications. Still in the hospital, but champing at the bit to go home and recuperate. But home is in San Francisco so the alternative is to go to the family ski cabin. Doc says no, gotta stay in the hospital, patient says I’m outta here. I say if he agrees to the ski cabin I’ll get him a private duty nurse. Not just any private duty nurse. Somebody with years of experience in trauma and intensive care. Somebody who’s seen it all and done it all…” Rosie stood up and gestured dramatically. “My roommate and best friend from nursing school—Amanda Reston…ta da!”

Amanda admired her friend’s exuberance. How long was it since she’d been that upbeat about anything? Rosie was right about one thing. Amanda had seen it all and done it all. That was why she was here. She couldn’t do it anymore. Not there. Not with Dr. Benjamin Sandler in charge of her department. Either he had to leave or she did. She knew he wouldn’t leave. Why should he? It obviously didn’t bother him to see her every day at work the way it bothered her. And in her heart she knew it was time for her to move on. Then came Rosie’s call. The same call she made every year, twice a year or more. But this time, more urgent, more insistent.

Come to California. See what it’s like. Give it a chance. You need a change. And we need you.

So she was here. Reunited with her old friend and roommate. Despite marriage and twins, Rosie hadn’t changed much from the days when they’d been unable to study in the same room without erupting in giggles every five minutes. Rosie was just as exuberant as ever, but Amanda felt as if the fun had been drained out of her in the last year and a half. No, she wasn’t here for the skiing or the scenery or the climbing or the clear, clean air. She was here to get her self back on track. To find what she’d lost back there in Chicago’s Memorial Hospital—trust, hope, and a fresh outlook on life. Did Rosie know all that? If she did, she’d never let on.

“But if the doctor says he should be hospitalized, he must still be in pretty bad shape,” Amanda said, getting back to the subject of the patient.

“Oh, yes.” Rose looked over the papers on her desk. “I’d say so. He’s pretty much immobilized and has a chest tube insertion.”

“No wonder the doctor doesn’t want him to leave the hospital. When was the accident?” Amanda asked.

“A week ago. And it’s been chaotic in our little hospital ever since. Friends, relatives…”

“Well, that’s normal.”

“Friends, relatives flying in from all over the globe? Ignoring the posted visiting hours? Partying in the hall? Is that normal? Not here it isn’t. Not to mention catered meals, loud music coming from his room. Definitely not normal. Oh, yes, we have the occasional hot dogger who busts out of his room and tries to go back up to the slopes as soon as he’s conscious, but this is different. This guy happens to be a sheik. He has money and money talks.”

“A sheik as in desert tents, harems and camels?” Amanda asked.

“A sheik as in oil money, private school education, and stunning good looks, too, according to the nurses at the hospital. I haven’t seen him myself, just talked to him on the phone.” Rosie sighed. “That was enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the man knows what he wants and he wants to go home. He doesn’t seem to realize how sick he really is. That he’s lucky to be allowed to leave the hospital so soon. Their ski cabin is not what you or I would call a cabin. It’s a house on the lake which is big enough to house the entire extended family of sheiks and then some. According to family members, there’s a live-in housekeeper and a suite with a private entrance available for the nurse. Let’s hope the man has come to his senses and realizes he can’t go back to San Francisco with a chest tube between his ribs.”

“Do I have a choice in this?” Amanda asked. Being a private duty nurse to a guy like that could be a problem. A different kind of problem than the one she left behind, but still…

“Of course,” Rosie assured her. “You could go right into Intensive Care at the hospital. They’re always shorthanded and I’m sure they’d love to have you.”

“And the sheik?”

“I told him I’d do what I could. If I can’t find anybody, and it can’t be just anybody, he’ll have to stay in the hospital.”

Amanda nodded.

“Why don’t you go by the hospital,” Rosie suggested. “You’ll want to see it anyway. It’s nothing compared to St. Vincent’s in Chicago, but we’re proud of it. A few years ago we had to take the long drive to the hospital at the South Shore just to have a baby or an X ray. The whole town got together to raise the money to build the hospital. Pop in and take a look at our boy the sheik and see what you think. And don’t forget dinner tonight at our house.”

Amanda stood and put her jacket on. “I can’t keep imposing on you, Rosie,” she said. “You’ve already done so much.”

Rosie came around her desk and hugged her friend. “You are not imposing. I’m just so glad to have you here. Of all my friends…well, let’s just say I don’t have that many anymore what with my life these days. You’re the best. You always were. I’ve never known anybody I could talk to like you. We shared so much. I’ve missed that. You knew all my secrets and you kept them. I didn’t know how rare that was, now I do.” Rosie stepped back and wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made me get all emotional.”

“Me, too,” Amanda confessed. Her lower lip quivered. A friend as good as Rosie was hard to find. Maybe that was why she’d never found another one. Maybe that was why she was here, because everyone was only allowed one best friend. If so, was it right to keep a secret from your best friend, even now, after being apart for so long? If it was the biggest secret of your life and the most shameful, it was. It had to be.

“Six o’clock,” Rosie said firmly. “My au pair is making fondue. And don’t worry. If the sheik is obnoxious, the hell with him.”

With those words ringing in her ears, Amanda drove slowly down the main street toward the hospital, passing restaurants and motels that catered to the ski crowd, including the one where she was staying. Rosie had invited her to stay with her, but Amanda wanted her own space. Even if it was only a room. It would do until she found an apartment.

The hospital was located one mile outside of town. It was small, smaller than she’d imagined. But then she was used to the big-city atmosphere of St. Vincent’s Hospital on Chicago’s north side with its adjoining medical school. Just its parking garage was ten times the size of this whole hospital. Amanda reminded herself that the town had built the hospital because they’d wanted it so badly. She also reminded herself she was looking for a change. It looked as if she was going to get it. Had she let Rosie’s natural enthusiasm delude her into thinking she could really be happy in a small mountain town full of rabid outdoor types?

Happy? What was that? All she asked was that she not be depressed. That she stop thinking about the past. That she not cry herself to sleep at night and dream about the one person she wanted most of all to forget. If she could achieve that much then she’d be content. Contentment was her goal. Only that. She had a long way to go just to get there.

As she walked into the lobby she noted a few patients in wheelchairs who glanced at her with curiosity and a lady in a hospital gown demanding something from the receptionist. The familiar smell of disinfectant was in the air causing her to feel apprehensive. Amanda had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. While she had never considered escaping from caregiving, from doctors and nurses, or from the gossip and the back biting in a hospital, she had thought she could possibly escape from her own fears and her own mistakes. She’d needed a change, but maybe this was not the place for the change. She had to get away from Chicago, but maybe she’d come too far. Or not far enough. She tried to imagine working here, but she couldn’t.

Instead of joining the hospital staff, maybe this sheik business was the way to go. It was a short-term job, no breach of contract if this wasn’t the right place for her. No obligations. The more she thought of it, the better it sounded.

Amanda told the receptionist whose name tag said Carrie who she was.

“You’re the nurse from Chicago,” Carrie said with a friendly smile. “How do you like it here?”

“It’s…it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen the Sierras before.”

“People call it paradise,” she said modestly. “You gonna take the job with the sheik?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s a handful. Cute, though. He doesn’t like being laid up, I can tell you. No patience. None whatsoever.” Carrie turned to the nurse’s aide who stopped to say hello and be introduced to the new nurse. “Am I right, Amy? The sheik in 34C. Isn’t he something else? Phone calls, visitors, flowers, people coming and going. But nothing seems to cheer him up. He’s got everything money can buy, but that’s not what he wants. He wants to walk out of here and he wants to leave today. Determined, wouldn’t you say, Amy?”

Amy agreed wholeheartedly. Amanda had had all kinds of patients, passive and easygoing, rich or indigent, willful, determined and obstinate. Some had visitors, some got flowers. Some were ignored. Those were the sad cases. It seemed to her the determined, stubborn types got well the fastest. It wasn’t based on anything scientific, it was just her observation. Someday she’d do a study on personality types and healing.

“You won’t believe this guy,” Carrie continued enthusiastically. “I don’t think I’ve seen him smile once. ’Course maybe I wouldn’t be smiling, either, with a tube between my ribs and a broken ankle. I felt so sorry for him I let him talk me into driving into town to get him the San Francisco newspaper and a pizza after I finished my shift. Says he can’t stand hospital food. I asked him, Well, who can? So he shrugs and says then buy enough for the whole floor. So I did after I checked with Dietary to see if it was okay. What could I say when he looked at me with those big brown eyes? Oh, he’s irresistible, if you like the long-suffering, rich, handsome type who use their charm to get their own way.” She giggled and waved her hand toward the hallway to her right. “Room 34C. Right down the hall.”

The more Amanda heard about the sheik the more she was sure he was just the type she’d have no trouble resisting at all. The type who used his money and influence to get more attention from an overworked staff. Not that Carrie seemed to mind, still…

Room 34C was almost dark. Only a small amount of late-afternoon sun filtered through the slanted blinds. A small table lamp glowed softly. Amanda didn’t expect anyone stuck in the hospital with multiple injuries to radiate happiness, but she didn’t expect such sadness. The somber expression on the face of the man in the bed and the sorrow in his deep dark eyes gave no hint of the man she’d heard about—the man possessed with only one thought, to get out of there or the extravagant rich guy who’d sent out for pizza for the whole floor.

She stood there in the doorway of his private room for a long moment studying him before he noticed her. He had a bandage around his forehead that contrasted with his dark hair. One large bandaged foot was propped up at the end of his bed. There were no visitors, no blaring TV as from the other rooms, no music, nothing. He was sitting up in bed staring straight ahead, lost in thought or perhaps semiconscious or in pain. Where were the visitors, the family, the friends?

At last he turned his head and saw her. He stared at her for at least as long as she’d stared at him. Steadily, unblinking. She wasn’t prepared for this. She was there to evaluate him, but she had the feeling he’d turned the tables on her. She balled her hands into fists. Her fingers were icy. What was he thinking? What was going on behind that bandaged forehead, what emotion lurked in the depths of those eyes?

She ought to say something. Introduce herself. Ask how he was. But she couldn’t speak. Her lips wouldn’t move, her throat was clogged. She told herself he was just a patient like every other patient she’d seen before. If she took him on he’d be just another patient to assess, evaluate, change bandages, check blood pressure, breathing, etc., etc. But standing there locked in this endless, wordless gaze with him, she knew deep down he was not like any other patient she’d ever had.

He was the one who finally broke the silence.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was deep and uneven. In the silence of the room it reverberated and struck a chord in her soul. His eyes narrowed. Before she could answer, he continued. “Don’t just stand there. Get in here. Open the blinds so I can see you.”

Like a mindless robot, she walked to the window and opened the blinds just slightly. He had the manner of one who gave orders and was used to having them obeyed. But she was not used to taking orders from patients and she wasn’t about to start now. She straightened her shoulders and found her voice. Not only her voice but her professional demeanor.

“I’m Amanda Reston. I’m a nurse.”

“Rahman Harun,” he said. “Forgive me for not getting up. May I say without insulting you or your profession that you don’t look like a nurse. Much too young. Much too beautiful.”

There it was. The so-called charm she’d expected. Next he’d tell her he was ready to go home and would she call a cab. If not, then he’d ask her to run into town for a six-pack and a hamburger. If he did, he’d soon find out she was not a messenger girl.

“I’m not on duty,” she said stiffly. If she was going to work for him, which was not at all certain at this point, she’d have to establish that she was in charge. That she could not be used or manipulated. That if he wanted to get well, he’d do what she said. She was a professional and she was accustomed to respect. At least from her patients.

“So what brings you by, Nurse Reston?” he said, his voice husky and breathless. “To see what a sheik looks like? To watch how the mighty have fallen?” He choked on a mirthless laugh and reached for a glass of water. She automatically handed it to him. He wrapped his blunt fingers around hers. Amanda felt a shock travel up her arm. Despite the need to remain professional, she almost dropped the glass. He was breathing hard. So was she.

“Are you okay?” she asked, setting the glass firmly in his hand. She should have asked herself the same question.

“I’m fine. Just great.” He gulped some water and pointed to the foot of his bed. “Read my chart there if you don’t believe me. Don’t be fooled by this bandage on my head, or the torn ligament in my ankle or that tube between my ribs. I’m really fine. So fine I’m going home as soon as I can get a…hey, that’s you, isn’t it? You’re the hotshot nurse who’s going to go home with me.

“I heard all about you. They thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. Ten years in ICU as a trauma nurse. I thought you’d be about fifty pounds heavier, have gray hair and thick ankles.” He tilted his head to one side to get a better look at her. His gaze lingered on the contours of her lower body under her stretch pants. It was so intense Amanda felt her knees shake. She blushed and shifted her weight from one leg to the other, wishing she’d never come.

She didn’t want to take on a patient who affected her this way. She told herself he was just checking her out the way she was evaluating him. After all, he was the one who’d be hiring her. He had a right to pick someone older with more experience and thicker ankles if that’s what he wanted. Why she was reacting like a juvenile instead of a mature woman, she didn’t know.

“From what I can see, I’ve lucked out, for once. So let’s go, Amanda Reston.” He swung his good leg over the side of the bed and reached for the buzzer to summon the nurse.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Amanda said, lifting his leg back onto the bed. “You haven’t been discharged yet and I haven’t said I’d take the job. I’m new here in town. I just got here and I don’t know what my options are. And I’m not sure I’d be right for you.”

She was not going to let the sheik call the shots or make her feel like a sex object any more than she’d let an arrogant surgeon do those things. She had not jumped out of the frying pan in Chicago into the fire in this mountain paradise. If she took the job, it would be her decision. She wouldn’t be pressured or charmed. Sure, he was handsome and determined, but that wasn’t enough to sell her on the idea of taking him on. Just the reverse. She didn’t need to be around a man who affected her like this one did without even trying.

He glared at her. “Options. You’ve got options. Good for you. I had options a few days ago, but as of now, I’m fresh out What’s all this about being right for me? It’s just a job, Nurse Reston. I can’t afford to be choosy. If I don’t get a private-duty nurse, I have to stay here.” He gazed around at the walls as if the room were a prison. To him, it probably was.

Rather than debate the merits of hospital accommodations, she changed the subject. “How did it happen?” she asked.

“The accident? The usual. I was taking a last run and I lost control and rolled down the hill. Do you ski?”

Amanda shook her head.

“It’s a great sport. There’s nothing like it. The speed, the wind in your face, the mountains…” For a brief moment there was a half smile on his craggy face. She caught a glimpse of what he might have been before the accident, only a short time ago. She felt a pang of sympathy mingled with curiosity. This wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all. She had to keep her professional distance. But she couldn’t help wondering, what was he like before it happened? She’d never know.

“Until you fall and puncture your lung,” she concluded dryly.

“Do you believe in accidents?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t. I believe you get what you deserve. I was pushing the envelope. I was asking for it, just like…” He took a shallow breath, leaned forward and pinned her with his gaze. “It was my fault. Whatever happened was because of what I did. I was careless. So I’m paying the price for my so-called accident. That’s the way it should be. This accident did not happen by chance. It happened for a reason.” He put so much emphasis on every word of that last sentence, it seemed to exhaust him. He let his head fall back on the pillow and closed his eyes. His forehead was furrowed.

Concerned, Amanda sat on a stool by the bed and took his pulse. It was fast but strong. Before she could remove her hand, Rahman grabbed it with his other hand. For someone so badly injured, he had surprising strength.

“Cold hands,” he murmured, his eyes drifting open and then shut again. “We have a saying in Arabic, ‘Cold hands mean warm heart.”’ His voice faded to a whisper. “Is that true? Is your heart warm, Amanda?”

Had he really said that, or had she just imagined it? In any case, it was fortunate the question didn’t require an answer, because she couldn’t have articulated one. For the second time this afternoon she was speechless. Luckily no one was taking her pulse because she felt it speed up uncontrollably. What on earth was wrong with her? It must be the altitude. That was it. Some people got dizzy, others got breathless or had an increased heart rate. Although she’d been in the mountains for two days with no ill effects, she was suddenly in the throes of some kind of altitude sickness. Or…

In any case, whether she had a warm heart or not was none of the sheik’s business. Amanda knew she ought to leave. She’d seen enough and heard enough. More than enough. But though he appeared to have dropped off into semiconsciousness, he was still holding her hand so tightly that she couldn’t pull it away. Couldn’t or wouldn’t? She sat there for a long moment, mesmerized by the scent of spring flowers from the bouquets in vases, the pattern of sunlight on the bed, the warmth of his hand in hers. A current of energy seemed to flow from her to him and back again. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to leave. But of course she had to.

No. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be his nurse. Couldn’t take care of him twenty-four hours a day. Couldn’t live in his ski cabin. She’d come here for a break. She could not afford one bit of emotional involvement with anyone. Not with a doctor, not with a patient. All she wanted was to live quietly and simply. Alone. To leave her work at the end of the day and not take it home with her. Underneath the scent of freesias and hyacinths, she smelled danger in this room. A threat to her new life and the serenity she was looking for. Inside her chest she felt her heart bang against her ribs. It felt like fear. She’d tell Rosie tonight she couldn’t do it. Rosie would understand.

When Amanda finally pulled her hand loose from Rahman’s grasp, he gave a ragged sigh and mumbled something she couldn’t understand about being sorry. Glancing back toward him as she tiptoed to the door, she nearly ran into the tall figure standing in the doorway. She gasped in surprise. The man was the mirror image of the sheik in the bed. Or what Rahman would look like if he was healthy. Had she gone crazy? Was she seeing double?

“You must be the nurse,” he said. “I’m Rafik, Rahman’s brother. Can I have a word with you?”

“Of course,” she said softly and they walked down the hall to the lounge together while she practiced what she would say to him.

I’m not going to take the job. I can’t take care of your brother. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I’m in recovery, too. Some things I can handle. Some things I can’t. A man like your brother falls into the latter category. I’m sorry, but I’m not the right person for the job.

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