Falling For The Sheik. Carol Grace

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.