noted how she relaxed and cradled it to her chest, avoided his eye. ‘It was my father’s. He was a well-known photojournalist who covered conflicts all over the world.’
Salim tensed as unwelcome images automatically came to mind. ‘Who was he?’
She looked at him. ‘Bruce Jordan.’
Salim’s body went still. ‘Bruce Jordan?’
She nodded. Salim reeled. He knew of her father. He shook his head, ‘Incroyable.’
She frowned, ‘What is?’
Salim felt as if he was losing his footing. ‘You…here. This.’ He could see that she got what he meant. This bizarre and palpable chemistry between them. ‘How long are you staying here?’
Her face flushed again, eyes widening imperceptibly. ‘I leave tomorrow to go home to New York.’
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