Rose of the Desert by Roumelia Lane Page A

one of the desks. Hans, a silver- blond German she had seen waiting on tables on the club veranda, jumped up and almost clicked his heels. He spoke little English, but she gathered that Clay had set him his new duties until the staff situation in the office was eased.
    He was very young. Julie thought, probably not more than nineteen or twenty, and painfully shy. However, he proved himself an eager willing worker, and within an hour they had worked out a routine between them, with Hans sorting out the facts and figures into various trays and Julie taking it from there. It was amazing what a difference - another pair of hands made. Alan drifted in towards the end of the day and lounged across the corner of her desk, flicking indolently through sheafs of papers and half-heartedly offering assistance when Julie got stuck on a batch of figures. He gave a grin of relief when she told Hans that they were finished for the day, and he could go when he was ready.
    The young German showed a nervous smile and carried on with his sorting until Julie was ready to lock up the office, and then he disappeared.
    "How about a game of tennis?"
    Alan seemed in carefree mood. He had showered and changed and his fair hair curled up damply above his ears. There was no trace of the amorous mood she had earlier found so distasteful, in fact seeing his friendly smile now as he gazed down at her, she was prepared to swear she had imagined the whole thing.
    "All right," she laughed. "Give me half an hour to get into something suitable."
    Never before had Julie been able to take such advantage of the amenities. Being the only girl on the camp had had its restrictions, but now with Alan as escort her freedom was abounding. After tennis they had dinner at the club. She marvelled at the colourful mosaic floor and polished tables and chairs. Some of the men were playing billiards, others a kind of shove-ha'penny game. She was far too interested in her surroundings to bother about a drink, but Alan insisted she have one, downing his third before she had barely taken a sip.
    Later they went to a barbecue that was held every second night out in the desert. This seemed to be a veritable playground for golfers, with men dotted along the sands swinging their clubs in energetic abandon, and young Arabs acting as caddies. Sometimes these men walked tremendous distances to recover a ball.
    Karl Veidt, the electronics engineer, gave his ball a particularly hard whack and it soared off into the darkening sky, landing far out in the wastes of the desert. The Arab caddy resignedly put his best foot forward to retrieve it, but Alan dropped a restraining hand on his arm.
    "It's all right, old man. We'll take this one." He took Julie's hand and blithely set off in the direction of the ball. They kicked around in the sand for some time, the fire from the barbecue getting steadily smaller.
    "We'll never find it," Julie said sceptically. "Not in this light."
    She had been staring down with such intensity her head started to wobble, and the ground threatened to come up and hit her. A weariness swept over her, for hers had been a particularly long day, and she was in no mood for walking the desert. She looked up to find Alan watching her in amazed amusement.
    "You really have come out here to find the ball, haven't you?"
    She looked at him blankly.
    "That was the idea, wasn't it?"
    He threw his head back and laughed loudly, and even in her irritation Julie was struck by his Adonis good looks. The fair hair waved away from a beautifully shaped head, and the teeth were an even line of flashing whiteness. She saw his adam's apple silhouetted against the night sky and bobbing furiously in a ridiculously slender throat.
    As he came towards her, his eyes lit with derision, he had the appearance of a rakish nineteen-year-old youth.
    "Of all the girls I've ever known you take the biscuit!"
    "Well, I'm glad you find me amusing." Julie turned, her tone a little caustic. "And since it's