A Sheikh To Capture Her Heart. Meredith WebberЧитать онлайн книгу.
did she see?
His regret?
Or had she heard a hint of desperation in his voice? She thought for a moment then said yes.
She seemed as startled as he’d been by the acceptance, but he couldn’t hide his pleasure, smiling as he took her elbow to walk her down the track.
His foot still pained him but he tried to hide it, then wondered if was kindness because he was limping that had made her say yes and hadn’t shaken off his hand.
Probably!
Harry’s light touch on her elbow was causing Sarah’s body all the same manifestations of attraction she’d first felt as she’d helped him out of the water the previous day.
The same manifestations that had so confused her she’d ranted at the man about his life choice!
He didn’t speak until they’d reached his island home. He walked her through the room where she’d given him first aid and out to a trellis-covered deck.
He waved his hand towards a cushioned cane chair, then sat down opposite her, looking at her, studying her as she pulled off the hat and shook out her hair—studying her as if to really look at her was the sole reason he’d brought her there.
The strange part was she didn’t mind, not when it gave her time to study him—to try to work out just what was at play here.
A subliminal link from the past—back when both their lives had been so different?
Or something more basic, even earthy … Simple attraction?
Was attraction ever simple?
And not having experienced it for so long, how could she be sure that’s what it was?
‘Cold drink? Juice?’ he finally asked, and Sarah wondered if she’d imagined that brief moment of mutual interest.
‘Cold water would be great,’ she said, then sank thankfully back into the chair as he disappeared inside.
Relief washed through her but it didn’t entirely release the inner tension she was feeling—or the strange, almost magnetic force this man exerted over her.
Saying yes to lunch—sitting staring at him—this wasn’t her. Sarah Watson was practical, organised, totally self-contained, and content with the new life she’d made for herself.
He reappeared carrying a large tray, the jug she’d just returned set in the middle of it, surrounded by platters of sliced tropical fruit, curls of finely cut meat, chunks of cheese and a cane basket filled with soft rolls and bruschetta.
‘One moment,’ he said, disappearing inside again, then reappearing with plates, glasses, cutlery, napkins and a smaller tray containing little dishes of butter and relishes.
‘Wow? You did all this in a matter of minutes?’ Sarah said, looking up at him as he checked they had everything they needed.
‘Minions,’ he said briefly, placing a plate and glass in front of her. ‘The resort staff bring me a lunch this size every day, although I keep telling them there’s only one of me and I can’t possibly eat it all.’
‘So you asked me to lunch to help you out?’ Sarah teased, looking up at him.
He held her gaze for an instant then shook his head.
‘Heaven only knows why I asked you to lunch,’ he growled, a puzzled frown drawing his dark eyebrows together. ‘It just seemed to come out of me, but as both Sam and Caroline have ripped strips off me for upsetting you, maybe my conscience made the call.’
So Sam had seen her crying as she’d left the bure, and Caroline had definitely seen she’d been upset in the ER yesterday …
But tearing strips off him?
She concentrated on the lunch, forking some sliced fruit onto her plate, taking a piece of bruschetta, some cheese—
‘You obviously know my recent history, but what happened to you?’ he asked, his voice gentler now, his eyes on hers, not on the plate already filled with meat and cheese that he was holding in his hand.
She frowned at the intrusive question, selected a piece of melon, didn’t answer.
‘You don’t have to answer, of course, but I’ve obviously upset you, and I wouldn’t knowingly do that. Not for the world.’
She had to look at him now, and she saw not only concern but empathy in his eyes.
It would be so easy to tell him, to excuse her rudeness to him by revealing why remembering the night they’d first met had caused her so much pain.
Yet still she hesitated, until he moved his chair closer, lifted the plate from her hands and set it on the table, then took one of her hands in both of his and looked deep into her eyes.
‘What happened to your ambition to practise paediatric surgery, to the child you carried? What was so terrible it sent you halfway across the world to take on the itinerant work you do?’
His words were almost hesitant, so much so she knew it wasn’t curiosity but some deeper need to know.
The same need to know that she felt about him—a need to know more of this man.
Although she left her hand where it was, she couldn’t look at him, chewing at the melon when it had already dissolved to mush in her mouth.
‘I watched you today,’ he continued, genuine interest in his voice. ‘You’re a natural surgeon, the instruments are like extensions of your fingers, and your hands move almost without messages from your brain. You were so enthusiastic about paediatric surgery—’
‘So were you!’ She shot the reminder at him. ‘Stuff happens, as well you know.’
He didn’t reply, studying her again, then gave a rough shake of his head.
‘I’m sorry, I really hadn’t meant to bring all this up, to pry into your private life. It’s none of my business what you do or why you do it and if I hurt you yesterday I’m truly sorry.’
Sarah met his eyes, and saw the apology there as well, but behind it the questions lingered, questions she didn’t want to answer—probably couldn’t.
Not right now, anyway …
Harry moved his chair away—fractionally—then picked up the plate he’d removed from Sarah’s hands and gave it back to her.
Was he out of his mind? Here he had the company of this attractive woman and he’d ruined the lunch by demanding to know why her life had changed.
He’d already upset her twice, obviously by the things he’d said about the past, so why was he pushing for answers she equally obviously didn’t want to give?
And why should she?
What business was it of his what she did or why she did it?
He was attracted to her—he’d got that far in sorting things out—but he’d rarely, or possibly never, pried into the pasts of other women to whom he’d been attracted.
He had accepted them as they were, enjoying a relationship that brought pleasure to both of them, always with the understanding that that was all it would ever be.
He knew some of the reasons it was all the women concerned wanted—their careers came first, or they’d been hurt before and just wanted the fun and companionship, and, yes, sex.
While ever conscious that for all he’d built his own life away from his family and the place of his birth, he still had obligations there—and a woman his family had pledged him to marry.
So relationships had been, well, fun, and many of the women remained his friend.
But this woman?
He pushed his plate away, his appetite gone, and looked at her.