Falling For Her Reluctant Sheikh. Amalie Berlin

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СКАЧАТЬ instructions, you’ll be fine.”

      “I can follow instructions.” That probably wasn’t the correct word for it, considering he was more giving orders than helpful instructions. But she could follow orders, too, when it suited her to do so.

      “Get the doors. Then catch up.” He jumped down, ushering the worried father with him off in the direction of the nearby camp.

      Adalyn climbed into the truck, closed the trunks and flipped latches, then jumped down and did the same with the double doors at the back. Without the prospect of the vehicle moving, it lost its ability to scare her. Just having the chance to move and focus on something aside from imminent death let her compose herself. By the time she rounded the truck Khalil had reached a tent and she barely caught sight of him ducking to enter through the flap. Five more seconds and she might not have even known which tent he’d gone to.

      As she hurried across the sandy expanse, the sun heated her dark hair to temperatures it never saw outside styling appliances. The long, thick, chestnut fall of hair carried that heat down her back so that by the time she reached the tent and called a greeting, she wished she’d pulled it up. Or cut it. Or maybe that she’d just let him head off into the desert on his own, rather than fighting to come with him. The man hadn’t been wrong in warning her that she wasn’t built for this kind of adventure. New Orleans heat was a different creature entirely.

      “Zain?” She said his fake name, not knowing what the protocol was to enter someone’s tent. You couldn’t exactly knock or ring the bell.

      “Come.” He had that autocratic edge to his voice again.

      She pulled open the flap and stepped inside. It smelled like a sick ward, but it was somewhat cooler than the air outside, something she was thankful for.

      In the center of the tent a woman covered in layers of undoubtedly uncomfortable cloth held a small child in her lap. From the sweat matting his short hair and the color of his face, Adalyn could tell his fever had reached worrisome levels. Without asking any other questions, she stepped over and knelt with Khalil.

      “Rotavirus,” he said. “I need to set up an IV and get some fluids into him.”

      Khalil hadn’t had much time to diagnose or examine before she’d gotten there, and that meant no time to sort out his supplies. When she opened the satchel and pulled out a bag of saline, she looked at him. “You expected rotavirus?”

      “They had an outbreak of it a few weeks ago, and that’s actually the vaccines I’d intended to give.”

      Rotavirus … What did she remember about this? Not usually deadly, but it could be. Poor drinking water and sanitation usually caused outbreaks.

      “Are any other children ill?” While she quietly asked for updates—just making sure that her rusty information wasn’t going to cause tetanus—she fished out other supplies. The IV kit. Alcohol preps. Tourniquet.

      “Not right now. But we’re not going to be able to give the vaccine to him for a couple of days, just to make sure.” The more he talked, the longer he was within the small tent, the more like a regular man he seemed … and less like an angry dictator. “They should be healthy before it’s given.”

      Though he looked somewhat severe still, tension no longer stood out in cords down his neck. No matter what kind of edge he had in his voice when he spoke to her, when he spoke to these people … his people … Khalil’s voice became much gentler. She didn’t even need to understand the words to know what he was doing. Comforting. Reassuring. Explaining treatment. The things a good doctor did. Was this the man that Jamison called his best friend?

      Adalyn waited for a lull in the conversation to ask, “How can we keep the other children from getting it?”

      “My medics have a new purification system they’ll set up when they get here. And we’ll see what we can do for other interventions.” He looked at her, his honey-brown eyes taking on the quality of examination, and before he even said anything she knew what he was looking at. Inside the tent, sheltered from the sun, her skin still burned. She was going pink. Her sunburn had already started. And she’d probably have freckles before they got back to the palace.

      “I didn’t swim in sunblock before I left this morning, which I should have done. I will remedy that when they get here with my bag.” It still shocked her that he’d given in on that. She kind of wished she’d been nicer to him in the truck, and she hadn’t thanked him yet … “I misunderstood. When you said ‘Fine,’ I thought you just meant you weren’t going to quarrel with me, but you meant the bag, right?”

      He nodded and tied the band around the unconscious boy’s arm, then began prodding for a vein.

      “Thank you … Doctor.” She’d almost called him Khalil, it had been on the tip of her tongue. She should probably stop thinking of him as Khalil if she wanted to maintain his cover. Which she did. He’d done something kind for her in getting her bag, maybe she could turn this situation around and still get him to let her help him. Maybe tomorrow after he’d had a night of sleep he’d be more reasonable about it. Maybe she could win him over, get his cooperation … and shorten the length of time she’d need to stay there, away from home.

      Despite feeling and feeling for a vein, he still hadn’t picked up the needle or alcohol prep.

      “It’s hard to find a vein when they’re very dehydrated,” Adalyn said. This was actually something she was good at.

      “I know.”

      “Of course you do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate you didn’t. I was thinking out loud. But, as rusty as most of my clinical skills are, I’m actually really good at IVs.” He looked at her, the weight of his gaze settling on her, considering. He’d let her do it if she convinced him. “I can hit it. If you like. It’s actually something that I do regularly for an elderly neighbor. She’s not a child, but she’s got tiny veins.”

      “Your neighbor needs you to set up an IV for her?”

      “I do blood draws for her weekly to take with her to her anticoagulation appointment. I draw in the morning when I get in from work, we put it into a thermos and she takes it with her. They can never hit the vein without several stabs, so she prefers it if I do it.” Rather than give a fuller recitation of her most recent IVs, she figured she’d said enough for him to decide and quieted to let him work it out.

      “I appreciate the offer.”

      The woman who held her child hadn’t said anything, and Adalyn didn’t know how much English she understood, if any. So she did what she could and smiled, reaching over to pat the woman’s arm. “It’ll be okay. We’re going to help him.” And then asked Khalil, “What’s his name?”

      “I don’t know,” he answered, but ignored her offer in favor of palpating the tiny arm for a vein.

      “Upper arm might be better. I’d say leg, but they can kick those out pretty easy.”

      He flipped off the tourniquet and moved to the boy’s other arm, starting over again.

      Her keys …

      Adalyn patted the many pockets on her pants, unsnapped a thigh pocket and fished out the set, then snatched the little laser she played with her neighbor’s cat with.

      “What are СКАЧАТЬ