Danger in the Desert. Merline Lovelace

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Danger in the Desert - Merline Lovelace Mills & Boon Intrigue

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show doesn’t start until dusk,” he said in a slow, easy voice that hinted at Southwestern roots. “That’s a good three hours yet.”

      Three hours to sit in her hotel room with an ice pack on her knee. What a way to spend her evening! Jaci tried not to let her disappointment show while her rescuer continued.

      “The wife of one of my business contacts here in Cairo is a physician. She operates a clinic just across the river. I could drive you there, have her check you out and bring you back to your group in time for the show.”

      “I couldn’t ask you to do that! You have business to take care of.”

      A look she couldn’t quite interpret flickered in his slate-gray eyes.

      “My plans are nothing if not flexible. Hold on. Let me call my friend.”

      Like she could do anything else? Wobbling on one leg like a tipsy stork, she clung to his arm while he flipped up a cell phone. The fact that he had his business contact on speed dial told Jaci he dealt with the man on a regular basis.

      “Kahil. It’s Deke. Is Fahranna holding clinic today?”

      His glance cut to Jaci. Smiling, he nodded.

      “Good. How about giving her a heads-up to let her know I’m bringing in a patient?” He paused a moment, listening, and his smile took a wry tilt. “I’ll explain later.”

      “I don’t feel right about this,” Jaci protested after he hung up. “You have other things to do besides chauffeur me around Cairo. If you’ll give me the address of the clinic, I’ll take a taxi.”

      “It’s your call. But …” Her rescuer shrugged. “You might find yourself taking the long way into town. Cairo taxi drivers have elevated milking tourists to a fine art.”

      Jaci hesitated. During her day and a half in Egypt’s capital, she’d found the people to be warm and friendly. Falling prey to a wily camel driver hadn’t changed that opinion but it had made her a little more cautious.

      Mrs. Grimes, too. Hands on hips, the silver-haired grandmother demanded some identification. “How do we know you’re who you say you are and not some white slaver?”

      “You don’t,” he replied with a nod of approval for her caution. “Here’s my card. If it’ll reassure you, we can give my operations center a call. I have someone on duty 24/7.”

      Jaci hovered on her good leg and peered at the card with Mrs. Grimes. The embossed lettering identified Deke Griffin as CEO of Griffin Aeronautical Consultants, based in Arlington, Texas.

      “Aeronautical?” Mrs. Grimes read aloud. “Are you a pilot?”

      “You bet,” he replied, his mouth curving.

      Later, much later, Jaci would kick herself for letting that cocky grin erase all doubts about driving off with a stranger. At that particular moment, though, all she saw were a pair of glinting gray eyes and an impossibly sexy smile.

      “If you’re sure it’s no trouble?” she said a little breathlessly.

      “No trouble at all.”

      “Then I’ll take you up on your kind offer.”

      “Good. Keep the card,” he told Mrs. Grimes as he scooped Jaci up in his arms again. “Have your tour guide call me in a half hour or so, and I’ll let y’all know what the doc says.”

      The address on the card and that easy “y’all” confirmed Jaci’s initial guess. The man sprang from Western stock.

      Unlike her. Born and raised in Illinois, she’d followed her high school sweetheart’s lead and applied to the University of Florida. Unfortunately, Bobby had used the year between his graduation and hers to dramatically expand his sexual horizons. Worse, he hadn’t bothered to tell Jaci he wanted to continue his extracurricular activities until after she’d shown up for her first semester.

      She’d endured a miserable four months while he strutted around campus with a variety of different women. Then his partying and late nights caused him to flunk out at the end of the semester. Jaci considered that sweet justice, but his abrupt departure from her life didn’t lessen the sting.

      She’d pressed on and completed her degree in library science. A subsequent job offer at the university’s Architecture and Fine Arts Library had kept her in Florida after graduation. She’d never joined the lively on-campus party crowd, though—or the beach bunnies who headed for white sands and green waters every weekend. Her values were still solidly Midwestern, and her interests were more academic than social. Work filled her days, and an assortment of study groups took up several evenings a week.

      It was one of those groups that had hooked her on ancient cultures—especially Egypt. Since joining the group, Jaci had dreamed of visiting this cradle of modern civilization. Three years of watching her pennies had made the trip a reality. She refused to let a fall from a camel ruin it!

      She confided as much to her knight errant once he’d deposited her in the passenger seat of his rental car and had taken the wheel.

      “I really, really appreciate you doing this. I can’t afford to waste a minute of my time in Egypt.”

      He slanted her a quick look. “Have a full schedule laid out, do you?”

      “Like you wouldn’t believe! I’ve been planning this trip for ages.”

      She settled back in the seat, thinking of the months of study and preparation that had gone into her trip. Thank goodness for the Thursday-night group. One of the members had been born in Egypt. A former adjunct professor at the Health Science Center, Dr. Abdouh had retired from medicine years ago. He’d been a great help to Jaci in preparing for her great adventure.

      She would have to email him about her near disastrous camel ride and send him a digital picture of the little scarab now tucked in her tote bag. Maybe he could interpret the markings on the beetle’s back. He’d probably tell her the inscription read “Made in China,” she thought ruefully. She didn’t care. It was …

      A shrill horn and the screech of tires cut into her musing. Gasping, she thrust out an arm to brace herself as a taxi shot into their lane. Her self-appointed chauffeur stood on the brakes and let loose with some Arabic. When Cairo’s unbelievable snarl of exhaust-spitting traffic had sorted out a little, Jaci gave him a sideways glance.

      “You must spend a lot of time in Egypt if you’ve learned to speak the language.”

      “I’ve picked up a few phrases. Not anything you’d want me to translate, though.”

      There it was again—that quicksilver grin. Jaci felt its impact all the way down to her toes. She curled them inside her sneakers and barely cringed when Deke had to swerve into another lane to avoid a donkey cart filled with cabbages piled to an impossible height.

      Jaci twisted around for a better look. This was Cairo at its most vivid, she thought on a rush of pure delight. Donkeys were vying for road space with exhaust-spewing vehicles. Multistory concrete buildings were decorated with Arabic arches. Old men were fishing in canals dug by their ancestors millennia ago.

      “So

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