that she could be seen.
Surely any decent human being who saw a colleague standing shivering and wet at a bus stop, caught in a sudden storm, would slow down and offer them a lift home.
And when he did Adele would smile and say, ‘Thank you,’ and get into the car. Zahir would see her clinging dress and wonder how the hell he had not noticed the junior nurse in that way before.
And she would forgive him for a year of rudely ignoring her. Finally alone, they would make conversation and as they pulled up at her flat...
Adele hadn’t quite worked out that part. She loathed her flat and flatmates and couldn’t really see Zahir in there.
Maybe he would suggest a drink back at his place, Adele thought as finally, finally, her moment came and the silver car slowed down.
She actually started to walk towards it, so certain was she that their moment had come.
But then he picked up speed and drove on.
No, his car didn’t splash her with water, but she felt the drenching of his repeated rejection, just as if it had.
He must have just slowed down to turn on his radio or something, Adele soon realised, for Zahir drove straight past her.
How could she fancy someone as unfeeling as him? she wondered.
It was a conundrum she regularly wrangled with.
She couldn’t console herself that he didn’t like women.
Zahir dated.
A lot.
On too many occasions Adele had sat at the nurses’ station or in the staffroom as he’d taken a call from whoever his latest perturbed girlfriend had been.
Perturbed because it was Saturday night and they were supposed to be out and Zahir was at work. Perturbed because it was Sunday afternoon and he had said several hours ago that he was only popping in to work.
Work was his priority. That much was clear.
During Adele’s last set of night shifts he had been called in when he hadn’t been rostered on. Wherever he had come from had required him to wear a tux. He had looked divine. For once he had been utterly clean shaven and his thick black hair had been slicked back. Adele had tried to stammer out the problem with the patient that she and Janet, the nurse unit manager, had been concerned about.
It had proved to be a hard ask.
‘He was seen here this afternoon and discharged with antibiotics,’ Adele said. ‘His mother’s still concerned and has brought him back tonight. The paediatrician has seen him again and explained it’s too soon for the antibiotics to take effect.’
‘What is your concern?’ Zahir asked.
His cologne was heavy yet it could not douse the testosterone and sexual energy that was almost a visible aura to Adele. His deep, gravelly voice asked pertinent questions about the patient. She loved his rich accent and each stroke of a vowel he delivered went straight to her thighs.
‘Adele,’ he asked again, ‘what is the main reason for your concern?’
‘The mother’s very worried,’ Adele said, and closed her eyes because mothers were always very worried. ‘And so am I.’
Zahir had gone in to examine the patient when a stunning woman had walked into the department. Her long brown hair and make-up were perfect despite the late hour. Dressed in silver, she had marched up to Janet and asked in a very bossy voice exactly how long Zahir would be.
‘Bella, I said to wait in the car.’ Zahir’s curt response had made the beauty jump. Clearly she only spoke like this out of his earshot.
Janet smothered a smile as Bella stalked off. ‘Gone by morning,’ she said to Adele.
Zahir had asked that Janet send in Helene to assist him.
More experience was required.
Adele had none.
Well, not with men but it seriously irked her that even after a year of working in Accident and Emergency he seemed to treat her as if she had just started.
And she had been right to be worried about the child.
Zahir performed a lumbar puncture and viral meningitis was later confirmed. The little boy was admitted and ended up staying in hospital for five days.
Not that Zahir told her.
There was never any follow-up for Adele.
And yet, for all his faults in the communication department, Zahir was the highlight of her working day.
Of all her days.
Well, no more, she decided as his car glided past.
He was arrogant and dismissive and it had been outright mean of him not to stop and offer her a lift—she refused to fancy him any longer.
Adele’s world was small, too small, she knew that and was determined to do something about it.
The bus finally arrived.
Actually, two of them did. The one that was late and the one that was due.
Spoiled for choice, Adele thought as she climbed onto the emptier one and said hello to the driver.
There were some of the regulars on board and there were a few others.
Adele was a regular and knew she could zone out for the next half-hour. She rested her head against the window as the bus hissed and jolted its way through the rain, and as it did so she went to her favourite place in the world.
Zahir.
Her conundrum.
She had no choice in her attraction toward him, she had long since decided. She had fought it, tried to deny it, tried to do something about it and she had also tried to ignore it.
Yet it persisted.
It simply existed and she had to somehow learn to live alongside it.
Maybe it was because he was completely unobtainable, she considered as someone started to sing at the back of the bus.
Yes, she needed to get out more and she was starting to do so. On Friday night she had a first date with Paul—a paramedic who had made his interest in her clear.
Just say yes, everyone at work had told her.
Finally she had.
Except it wasn’t Paul that she wanted to go out with.
It was, and felt as if it always would be, Zahir.
His name badge read, ‘Zahir, Emergency Consultant.’
The patients did not need to know he was Crown Prince Sheikh Zahir Al Rahal, of Mamlakat
