About That Night.... Scarlet Wilson
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She was so tired right now. All she wanted to do was lean forward, bury her head in his firm chest and go to sleep. The bed in the middle of the room was practically shouting her name. But there was no way they could share a bed.
Especially after what had happened a few months ago.
The kiss had been steamy enough. But the two of them in a bed?
No. The picture that was conjuring up in her brain was too much. This fatigue was stopping any rational thoughts whatsoever.
Evan folded his arms across his chest.
“I don’t know about you, Violet, but I have no intention of sleeping on the floor.”
He was right. She knew he was right.
She glanced around at the floor. There wasn’t even as much as a rug to lie on.
Sharing a room in close proximity to Evan would be hard enough. But sharing a bed? It didn’t even bear thinking about.
There was a small table and chairs in front of the window in the room.
“How about we sleep in shifts?” She moved quickly, crossing the room in strides and jumping onto the bed. “I’ll go first.”
Her head sank instantly into the pillow. Perfect. She didn’t care what he thought. She needed to get some sleep. Now.
Evan sat down on one of the chairs, leaning forward and pulling a thick wad of papers from the zipped pocket in his case. His eyes ran over her body as she shuffled her shoes off and kicked them to the floor. Was he looking at her curves? Was he thinking about the last time he’d had his hands on her body?
That sent a whole new sensation prickling across her skin.
“Cranky when you’re tired, aren’t you? Fine. You sleep. I’ll read. I’ll wake you up in a few hours, in time for the briefing. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said instantly. There was no way she was getting off this comfortable bed.
How bad could this be? Maybe in a few hours they would be able to find someone else to share with?
Her eyes flickered shut.
She and Evan Hunter in a shared room.
Not the best start to her new life. Three years ago she’d originally applied to be part of this program but circumstances had changed and the thought of mainstream clinical work—potentially with lots of children—had been too difficult for her.
It hadn’t helped that her grieving brother hadn’t been in touch. Neither were her parents. They still hadn’t recovered from the loss of their daughter-in-law and first grandchild some years earlier. Telling them about her own circumstances would only have added to their pain. And they hadn’t needed that.
So she’d gone through everything herself.
Oh, she’d had some good friends who’d been there for her but it wasn’t the same as family, no matter how much she tried to spin it in her mind.
But life had come full circle. Time was supposed to be a great healer.
Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t.
She was ready for a change. She was a doctor. She’d spent the past three years in the epidemiology and planning department of the DPA.
It had been fine—for a desk job. But Violet was a people person.
The conflict—and incursion—with Evan Hunter had given her the impetus she needed to apply for a transfer. She wanted to have contact with patients again. She wanted to help people. She wanted to make a difference.
And out here, in Nigeria, she could certainly help to make a difference with the polio program.
It was time to get back out into the real world. And you didn’t get much more real than the heart of Africa.
She had her mind set on this. Getting involved again. Having contact with families. Having contact with mothers. Having contact with children. Having contact with babies.
Evan Hunter was nothing more than an inconvenience.
A handsome inconvenience.
She had work to do here, and he’d better not get in her way.
She snuggled further into the pillow and prayed she didn’t snore.
Evan gave her shoulder a little shake again, raising his voice just a little. “Violet. Violet. It’s time to wake up. We’ve got the briefing in half an hour.”
She stirred and mumbled something. It almost felt unfair to wake her. She was much nicer while she slept.
Less distracting. Less confrontational. Less a reminder of her brother.
He still hadn’t got over that. Matt Sawyer’s sister. Wow. He hadn’t seen that one coming. Not by a long shot.
She was mumbling again. She’d spent the past few hours doing that. Talking in her sleep. It was kind of cute. Not that he thought Violet was cute.
Not at all.
Plus, he didn’t have a single clue what she’d been saying. At one point it had almost sounded like someone’s name.
Her eyes flickered open and took a few moments to focus. At the exact moment a drip from his still-wet hair landed on her nose. He’d taken the opportunity to shower while she’d been sleeping and hadn’t got round to rubbing his hair with a towel.
“Eeeewwww!” She sat up sharply, her hand automatically rubbing her nose.
“Sorry.”
She glanced at her watch then screwed up her nose. “What time is it here? I’m still on Atlanta time.”
“It’s nearly six o’clock. You’d better get ready. I thought you might want to shower.”
She pushed herself up the bed. “Have you left any hot water?”
He shrugged. “You know what they say—if you’re not fast, you’re last.”
A pillow sailed from the bed and caught him on the side of his head. “Hey!”
Her head turned to the side, taking in the table where he’d been sitting. The papers and documentation had spilled over onto the other chair and across half the floor.
“Did you kill half a tree while I was sleeping?” She walked over and picked up some of the paperwork. “Do we really need to read all this?”
He shook his head. “You don’t. I do. You only need to read around half.”
She seemed to gulp. “Wow.”
She gave her eyes a little rub. “I think I will shower.” She tipped her case over and opened it up.
She hadn’t been joking. She really did have everything—despite having had some things removed at the airport. But what was more interesting was how everything was packed. Rolled-up tiny items, all in blocks of color. Nothing like the flat-folded items in his case. She even had her toiletries stuffed into her shoes.
She unrolled a light yellow dress, some white underwear and pulled some shampoo from a shoe. “I’ll only be five minutes.”
And she was. Her hair was still wet but pulled back into a braid that fell straight down her back.
It really was disarming how pretty she could look without even trying.
She picked up a notebook with purple flowers on the front. He squinted. “Are those violets?”
She nodded and smiled. “I have a whole boxful of these at home. Pretty, aren’t they? At least no one can steal my signature notebook.” The smile reached all the way up to her eyes.
It was nice to see a genuine smile. The past few weeks she’d had a permanent scowl on her face. But maybe that was especially for him. He liked