LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TWO

      GABRIELLE NORMALLY SLEPT like the dead. It was a skill she’d developed over the last six years of working for Doctors Without Borders. An essential skill. No one needed an overtired, grumpy medic.

      But she’d been awake since four-thirty. She’d watched the sun rise as she’d contemplated some more chocolate, wishing she’d had a secret stash of wine.

      She could swear she could almost hear him breathing in the tent next to hers. This wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be normal.

      Most men she’d met in her life had fulfilled a purpose. She always chose carefully. No one who would sell stories to the press. No one who was secretly looking for a princess. Guys who were interested in relatively short-term gigs. Six months maximum. Enough time for some getting-to-know-you, some trust and some intimacy. But no promises, no intentions and no time for the petty squabbles and fights to set in. She’d always been the one in control.

      She’d never actually felt that whoosh when she’d met someone. More like a flirtatious curiosity.

      But with Sullivan Darcy it wasn’t just a whoosh. It was a full-blown tornado. For a woman who was always used to being in control, it was more than a little unnerving.

      And she was mad with herself. Being caught dancing by him had thrown her off her usually professional stride. Gibbs hadn’t told her anything about the doctor coming to work with her and last night it had seemed too forward to pry.

      He’d said he was a navy brat. What exactly did he mean? The guy could speak ten languages? Really? It kind of stuck in her throat. Languages had been one of her major failures as a royal. Mirinez bordered three countries, France, Italy and Monaco. Her native language was French. English had been instilled in her as a child and spending her university years and training time in the UK had served her well.

      At a push she could stammer a few words in a few other languages. The same standard statements required by doctors. I’m a doctor, can I help? Are you in pain? What’s your name? But that was it. Languages had always been her Achilles’ heel.

      She’d spent her life being top of all her other classes. Her brother, Andreas, had consistently been annoyed that his younger sister could out do him in every academic subject.

      And being a doctor was kind of a strange thing. She’d worked with plenty of other doctors who were experts in their fields—just like she was in hers. But she’d never really met a guy who seemed smarter than her.

      Mr Ten Languages felt like a little bit of a threat. It was making her stomach curl in all kinds of strange ways. She wasn’t quite sure if it was pure and utter attraction or a tiny bit of jealousy.

      She flipped open her laptop to check the list of patients for today. Her emails blinked up. Three hundred and seventy-six. She’d read them all soon. The sixteen-hour shifts here were all-consuming. By the time they got back to camp, washed up and had some food, she didn’t have much energy left. Reviewing patient details and stock supplies was a must. Reading hundreds of emails when a large percentage of them were probably spam? That could wait.

      She ran her eyes down the list. The work was never-ending. TB was a relentless disease. There was no quick fix here.

      ‘All set.’ Gretchen, the pharmacist, appeared at the entrance to the tent with a smile on her face. ‘I’ve just met our new doc.’ She winked at Gabrielle. ‘In some parts of Switzerland, we would call him eye candy.’

      Gabrielle burst out laughing at Gretchen’s turn of phrase. They’d worked together for Doctors Without Borders for the last six years—always on the TB programmes. It had been Gabrielle’s first official diagnosis of a patient when she’d been a medical student and had been her passion ever since.

      ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She smiled in return. ‘I’m far too busy working to contemplate any kind of candy.’

      Gretchen wagged her finger at her. ‘Don’t think I don’t know about the hidden candy.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe it’s time to contemplate another kind.’

      ‘Gretchen!’ The woman ducked as Gabrielle flung a ball of paper at her.

      There was a deep laugh and Sullivan appeared with the crushed ball in his hand. ‘Anything I should know about?’

      She could feel the heat rush into her cheeks. It was like being a teenager all over again. She stood up quickly, grabbing the laptop and her backpack. ‘Not at all. Let’s go, Dr Darcy, time to learn some new skills.’

      She was baiting him and she could tell he knew it. He shook his head and slung his own backpack over his shoulder. ‘I like to learn something new every day.’

      * * *

      He wasn’t joking. And Gabrielle took him at his word.

      As soon as they’d travelled to their first stop and set up, she took him aside. ‘You know the drill. Ordinary TB is horrible enough. It kills one point four million people every year with another nine million suffering from the disease, mainly in developing countries like Narumba. Along with malaria and HIV it’s one of the three main killer infectious diseases. Drug resistance and multi-drug-resistant TB numbers are increasing all the time. Because it’s spread through the air when people cough and sneeze, it’s virtually impossible to stop the spread. One third of the world’s population is infected with mycobacterium tuberculosis but it’s dormant in their bodies. Ten per cent of these people will develop active TB at some point in their life.’

      There was passion and enthusiasm in her voice. There was also a hint of anger. She was angry at what this disease was being allowed to do to people all around the world. He liked that about her.

      ‘We’ve been using the same archaic test for the last one

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