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'No! I'm sorry, Peter, but I'm simply not prepared to take Samantha Warren along on this trip. You'll have to find someone else.'

Prince Khalid, youngest son of the ruler of the Kingdom of Azad, glared at his old friend, Peter Thompson. He took a deep breath, struggling to moderate his tone when he saw the surprise on Peter's face. His response had been over the top but he couldn't help that. It might be six years since he had seen Sam Warren but the memory of their last meeting was as clear as though it had happened only the previous day.

'How about Liv?' he suggested, refusing to dwell on the thought. He had done what he'd had to do and there was no point regretting it. He couldn't have taken Sam to his bed, not when he had known that it could never lead anywhere. It would have gone against everything he believed in, made a mockery of the moral code he lived by. Sam had deserved so much more than a night in his arms.

'Liv's gone back home to Stockholm.'

Peter shrugged, his thin face still mirroring surprise at the strength of Khalid's outburst. Although they had been friends since Cambridge, Khalid realised that Peter had no idea what had happened between him and Sam. He had never told Peter and neither had Sam, it seemed.

It was a small sop to his feelings to discover that nobody knew what had happened that night. He still felt guilty about it, still felt that he should never have allowed things to reach that point. The problem was he had wanted to spend as much time as possible with Sam, to enjoy her company with all that it had entailed. If truth be told, he had never known a woman he had wanted as much as he had wanted Samantha Warren.

It was unsettling to admit it. Khalid forced his mind back to their current problem. 'Phone Liv and see if she's willing to change her plans.'

'I doubt she'll do that. Apparently, her mother's ill and she's gone home to look after her,' Peter explained.

'I see.'

Khalid bit down on the oath that threatened to escape as he crossed to the window. It was the middle of May and the trees in Green Park were awash with fresh new leaves. He had flown to London straight from Azad and the contrast between the barrenness of the desert he had left behind and the lushness of the view from the hotel suite seemed to overwhelm his senses. His mind was suddenly swamped by images he'd thought he had put behind him ages ago: Sam's face smiling up at him; the way her dove-grey eyes had darkened as he had bent to kiss her…

He turned away from the view, unable to cope with thoughts like that. They needed to resolve this problem and they needed to do so soon otherwise they could forget about this venture. It had been his idea to take a team of medics into the desert. Although the Kingdom of Azad had made huge advances in the past few years and now boasted a comprehensive healthcare system that supported the needs of most of its citizens, the nomadic tribes still had little access to any proper medical facilities. TB and other such diseases were rife amongst the desert tribesmen, whilst infant mortality rates were higher than anywhere else in the world. They urgently needed help, which was why Khalid had set up this project. The thought of how much effort and planning had gone into it focused his mind as nothing else could have done.

'There must be someone else. Come on, Peter—think!'

'I've done nothing but wrack my brain ever since Abby phoned and said she couldn't go,' Peter told him. 'However, the fact is that there isn't anyone else. Or, at least, nobody experienced enough. We need a top-notch female obstetrician and there are very few willing to take a couple of months off from their careers to go with us.'

'So, basically, what you're saying is that it's Sam or nobody,' Khalid said darkly, trying to control the sudden tightening in his chest. He took a deep breath, realising that he was beaten. If Sam didn't go along then they would have to call off the trip and it would be madness to do that, unforgivable to allow people to suffer because he couldn't handle the thought of working with her. He shrugged, his handsome face betraying little of what he was feeling. Maybe he did feel raw inside but nobody would guess that; he'd make sure they didn't.

'All right. If it's got to be Sam then I'll have to accept it. Give her a call and tell her to meet us here tomorrow morning at eight a.m. prompt.'

'There's no need to do that. I'm already here.'

Khalid spun round when he recognised the cool clear voice issuing from the doorway. Just for a moment his vision blurred as the blood pounded through his veins before it suddenly cleared. He took rapid stock of the petite blonde-haired woman standing in the doorway and felt his heart sink as he was hit by a raft of emotions he had hoped never to experience again. It might be six years since he had last seen Samantha Warren but she still had the power to affect him, it seemed.

Sam fixed a smile to her lips as Peter came hurrying over to her. He kissed her on both cheeks and she responded but she was merely going through the motions. Her attention was focused on the tall dark-haired man standing by the window, not that she was surprised. From the moment she had first seen Khalid, sitting with Peter in the hospital's crowded canteen when they had all been doing their rotations, he had commanded her attention.

She and Peter had become good friends by then and she hadn't hesitated when he had invited her to sit with them. He had introduced her, explaining that he and Khalid had been at Cambridge together studying medicine and it was a stroke of luck that they had both ended up working at St Gabriel's in Central London. Sam had listened to what Peter was saying but she had been aware that he could have been speaking double Dutch for all she had cared. Her attention had seemed to be wholly captured by the man sitting beside her, and it had stayed that way throughout the time she had known Khalid. When Khalid had been around, she had found it impossible to think about anything except him.

Now her eyes ran over him with lightning speed, almost as though she was afraid that if she allowed them to linger she would never be able to drag them away. He looked little changed from what she could tell, his jet-black hair as crisp as ever, his olive skin gleaming with good health. Her eyes skimmed down the powerful length of his body, taking stock of the hard, flat muscles in his chest, the trimness of his waist, the narrowness of his hips.

He was dressed as always in clothes that bore all the hallmarks of his wealth and status yet it wasn't the clothing that made him appear so imposing: it was Khalid himself. He possessed a natural arrogance and assurance that came from his position. As the younger son of one of the richest men in the world, Khalid had no reason to doubt himself. He knew who he was, appreciated his own worth, and didn't apologise for it either. No wonder he had rejected her that night.

The thought made her flinch and she looked away, afraid that Khalid would notice. She had thought long and hard after Peter had phoned and asked her if she would go with them. Although her initial reaction had been to refuse, Peter had been so persuasive that she had found herself agreeing to think about it. She had spent the whole week doing so, in fact. She knew that in other circumstances she would have leapt at the chance to be part of this venture. It would be good experience for her, a definite plus point to put on her CV when she applied for a consultant's post, as she was hoping to do very shortly. However, the fact that Khalid would be going too put a very different slant on things.

How did she feel about working with him after what had happened between them? Would she be able to work with him? As the days had passed and she'd still not made up her mind, she had realised that the only way she could do so was by seeing him. If she could see Khalid and speak to him without it causing a problem then she would go along. That was why she had travelled down from Manchester that morning. Peter had told her that Khalid was staying at the Ritz so she had decided to see for herself if they would be able to get along. If they could, fine, and if they couldn't…? Well!

'How about some tea? Or coffee perhaps?' Peter bustled around, opening cupboards to find the kettle. Sam could tell that he was nervous and couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Peter was a natural peacemaker. He hated discord and wanted everyone to be happy. However, in this instance it simply wasn't possible.

'Phone room service and tell them to bring up a tray.'

Sam looked up when Khalid spoke, feeling a little knot of resentment twist her guts. Did he have to speak to Peter that way, treat him like a lackey? It was on the tip of her tongue to say something but she managed to hold back. If she did agree to go along then there must be no emotions involved, neither anger nor anything else. She had to treat Khalid as he had treated her that night, coldly, distantly, dismissively.

'Ah, right. Yes. Good idea.' Peter picked up the phone, frowning when he failed to get a dial tone. 'Hmm, that's odd. It doesn't seem to be working. I'll just pop downstairs and ask Reception to sort something out.'

He hurried out of the room before Sam could say anything, not that it was her place to tell him to stay. It was Khalid's suite, his decision what to do. Walking over to the sofa, she sat down and crossed her legs neatly at the ankles, glad that she had opted to wear something stylish. Maybe her clothes weren't made by a top couturier like Khalid's were, but the black cashmere suit and pale grey silk blouse she'd chosen to wear with it were good quality, as were all her clothes these days. Nobody looking at her would guess that she came from such a humble background.

'So, you decided to come and see me?' Khalid dropped into a chair, stretching out his legs under the ornate glass and brass coffee table.

'That's right.' Sam deliberately moved her feet out of the way, making it clear that she wanted to avoid any contact with him. She had thought about how she intended to go about this on the train and had decided that the only way was to be honest. No way was she going to prevaricate, to lie; she would come straight out and tell him how she felt. She gave a little shrug, feeling a spurt of pleasure run through her when she saw his eyes darken in annoyance. Obviously, Khalid didn't appreciate her taking avoiding action. Good!

'There's no point me agreeing to go along if we can't work together, Khalid. It would be a waste of both our time.'

'I agree.' He steepled his fingers and regarded her steadily over the top. 'If we have personal issues to contend with, we won't be able to give our full attention to our patients. That is something I wish to avoid.'

'So do I.' Sam smiled politely although inside she was seething. Personal issues, he called them. Maybe she wasn't as experienced as him, but leading someone on, almost sleeping with them before rejecting them in the cruellest way possible, seemed rather more than mere personal issues to her.

'What happened between us that night is in the past and I hope that you have put it behind you as I have done.' He shrugged. 'If you haven't then I would appreciate it if you'd say so. Hopefully, we can talk it all through and put what happened into perspective.'

Oh, he must be desperate. Desperate to retain her services as a medic if not to possess her body. Sam's smile became even more brittle. 'There's no need to talk anything through, I assure you. What happened that night is history, Khalid. It doesn't have any bearing whatsoever on my life these days.'

'Good. In that case, I can't see that we shall have a problem working together.' He stood up and held out his hand. 'Welcome aboard, Sam. It's good to have you with us.'

Sam stood up, feeling her breath catch as she placed her hand in his. His fingers felt so cool as they closed around hers, cool and strong and so achingly familiar that she had to fight the urge to drag her hand away. She took a deep breath, forcing down the momentary panic. She wasn't in love with Khalid anymore, if, indeed, she had ever been in love with him. She had thought about it a lot over the years, examined her feelings, gone over them time and time again, and gradually realised the truth.

She had been dazzled by him—by his charm, by his sophistication, by his good looks—but love? No. It hadn't been love. It couldn't have been. Maybe she would have slept with him that night but that didn't mean it would have been out of love. Men and women slept together all the time and for all sorts of reasons too. Desire, loneliness, physical need—they were all grounds for intimacy. But love was rare, love was special, love was what everyone sought and very few found. Including her.

She hadn't been in love with Khalid and he hadn't been in love with her, so why was her heart racing, aching? Why did she feel so churned up inside? Why did she suddenly not believe all the reasoned arguments she had put together because she was standing here holding Khalid's hand?

As her eyes rose to his face, Sam realised with a sick feeling in her stomach that she had no idea. What she did know was that holding Khalid's hand, touching him and having him touch her, made her feel all sorts of things she had never wanted to feel again.