He was normally so good at this sort of thing. When he’d recruited anyone to his team in the past he’d always had a meeting with them, giving them a printed list of essential equipment for field assignments and some basic instructions about wherever they were travelling.
What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he done the same for Grace?
The little voice in his head wasted no time in telling him.
None of the other recruits were naked in the shower with you
.
He took a deep breath and swung his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘We like to travel light, Grace, so there’s no waiting around at the other side.’ He gestured towards her case. ‘Sorry, I should have given you a heads up. We’ll spend most of our time in scrubs and they’ve been sent on with the rest of the equipment.’
She looked down at the huge case. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’ She glanced at the rest of team’s rucksacks. ‘It’s okay, guys. When we land you go on ahead. I’ll wait for my case and meet you there.’
Dave shook his head. ‘Oh, no, we don’t mind waiting for you, Grace.’ His voice was almost a drawl. Donovan shot him a look as the check-in girl gave him a nod.
‘Hand over your passports. We’ll get our seats allocated and head to the departure gate.’ He signed a few forms about their other equipment, as Grace rustled through her leather bag for her passport.
Her scent was drifting up around his nostrils. Something new. Not like the perfume she’d been wearing as they’d hit the shower. This smelt like vanilla. The kind of cupcakes his mother had baked when he was a boy. She smelt good enough to eat.
She finally found her passport and pulled it from her bag. ‘Sorry, Donovan.’ She looked down at her clothes. ‘I just assumed that because we were on business for the DPA it would still be office wear.’ She tilted her head to the side, giving him a view of her smooth skin and a rueful smile. ‘No matter what time of the day or night. But, hey, I guess we learn something new every day.’
She heaved her case up onto the check-in conveyer belt. There was no way this could be mistaken for carryon luggage.
He handed over the passports to the beautiful blonde desk clerk, who didn’t look too impressed that she was being ignored. ‘I guess we do,’ he replied.
She had no idea how true those words were. He was trying to work out why he hadn’t got a handle on Grace Barclay seven months ago. He’d noticed her, and had meant to find out more. But Donovan was a work first kind of guy. He didn’t like things to interfere.
Still, seeing the reactions of Dave and John had sent the hackles up at the back of his neck. He’d wanted to rip their eyes from their sockets—not exactly rational behaviour, particularly around a woman he barely knew.
Grace Barclay was an adult and a professional. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself. She didn’t need him to protect her, so why was that the way he felt around her?
He was trying not to stare at her curves. He’d already seen her naked—what more was there? But Grace wasn’t just wearing this red dress, she
va-va-voomed
it. It covered every inch that it should. But its coverage was just great. It clung to the full curve of her breasts, the swing of her hips and the smooth swell of her backside. As for the tanned legs and black stiletto heels...
‘Donovan, is something wrong? Did I forget something?’
She was staring at him, twiddling one strand of her shorter hair between her finger and thumb. Another ‘tell’ when she was nervous. It was cute. It was sexy.
He shook his head, trying to get his mind back on the job. ‘Nice hairdo.’ The words were out before he thought about them and her cheeks flushed in an instant.
‘Thanks.’ Her fingers were working overtime on that strand of hair. Any more and she would pull it clean from her head. ‘My friends thought it would be more practical for a first field assignment.’
He raised his eyebrows and couldn’t help but smile. ‘Did they think the dress would be more practical too?’
He knew it. He knew there had been a makeover team involved. Grace looked fabulous, but he kind of preferred her the way she’d appeared twenty-four hours ago. When he’d been the only one who had noticed her.
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Like I said, I wanted to look professional.’
The blonde behind the desk cleared her throat and handed over the boarding cards, her eyes drifting up and down the length of Grace’s body with disapproval. Her gaze was so blatant he cringed.
But Grace didn’t. She laughed. Out loud. And reached over and took the boarding cards from her hand. ‘Thanks honey,’ she quipped. ‘I’ll take care of these guys now.’
With a confidence Donovan hadn’t seen before she swung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk towards Security. ‘Come on, guys, let’s go.’ All eyes followed the swing of her hips and the rest of the team grabbed their bags and hurried after her.
By the time they reached Security Grace had emptied the contents of her bag, removed her gold necklace and put her shoes in the tray. She beeped as she walked through the scanner and stood patiently while the female security team scanned her with the wand. The scanner paused around her shoulder blade and she said a few quiet words to the staff member.
The woman reached up and pulled the stretchy red material out where indicated by Grace. It wasn’t enough. A few seconds later she was asked to stand in the full-body scanner. What on earth was going on?
It took less than thirty seconds. The female guard viewed the scan and had a quick discussion with her counterpart. He nodded and she indicated to Grace to come out and handed her her shoes, talking away as if they were old friends. Grace was shrugging her shoulders and smiling. Donovan was concentrating so hard on what was happening between them he felt a sharp nudge at his back. ‘Hurry up, buddy. The guard has signalled you through twice now.’
Donovan had already removed his belt, shoes, money and watch. There was no reason for him to beep. He hurried through and caught the last few words of the conversation. ‘No problem, it happens every time...’
It had to be her scar. Questions were firing in his brain. There were lots of reasons people could beep at the airport. Metal plates in their bodies, other kinds of implants or devices. But the only scar he’d seen on her entire smooth skin had been the angry–looking one on her shoulder.
It just made him all the more curious. Grace didn’t seem like the kind of girl to have had a knife wound. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it was from a car wreck? A sports accident? A skiing mishap?
But it didn’t matter how many ‘what ifs’ he planted in his brain. Donovan knew a knife wound when he saw one. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the question.
She was sliding her painted red toes into her black stiletto. ‘What next? Can we all go for a coffee somewhere and make some plans?’
Her voice jolted him. It was embarrassing. She wasn’t having any problems focusing on the job. It was only him. Why hadn’t he noticed the painted toes earlier?
‘Sure. Let’s go to the coffee shop. I’ll recheck my emails and see if we’ve got any new information.’
She moved away and started chatting with John. He noticed the glances from passers-by as they walked through the terminal. Grace seemed to chat easily with people. She had a nice friendly nature, a killer smile and she appeared to be a good listener, all things that would make her an asset to the team. It would make her good with patients and give her the ability to integrate well with staff they might meet wherever they travelled.
They joined the queue and Grace frowned at the coffee selection.
‘What’s wrong? No skinny, caramel lattes?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, yeah, they’ve got them. They just don’t have any sugar-free caramel.’
‘Is it important?’
‘My hips seem to think so. And my thighs.’
‘Not from where I’m standing.’
She met his gaze. It was only the briefest of seconds. Everything else around her seemed to fade into the background. All she could see was the cheeky twinkle in his eyes.
It panicked her. What did that mean? Was he joking with her or was he flirting with her?
Her friends may have given her a physical makeover but they hadn’t done anything to sort out her woolly brain. Academically she could rival most of her colleagues but as for being street smart or worldly wise, she was neither. Never had been—never would be.
Her shoulder was a permanent reminder of that. The tiny tip of the knife still embedded in her tissues caused havoc every time she was near an airport scanner. The ER doc had done the best he could. It had been bad night in the ER and a surgeon hadn’t been available. The tip was apparently right next to some nerves and unskilled removal could have resulted in damage. The scar was already going to be ugly, so she’d decided just to take the patch-up job, the antibiotics and go.
She tore her gaze away from Donovan’s as she felt heat spread into her cheeks. She’d already used up her day’s supply of sassiness on the desk clerk. As they moved along the line and grabbed coffee her eyes fixed on his well-worn jeans and slouchy T-shirt. Her fingers itched to touch it. It looked so soft, so comfortable—the kind of material that her pyjamas were normally made from.
She shifted on her heels. She’d felt a million dollars walking out the door tonight. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the team would travel casual. Her heart had sunk like a stone when she’d realised how inappropriately dressed she looked in comparison to everyone else. This was going to be a long flight.
They settled at a table in the airport lounge, Donovan pulling out his laptop.
‘This is what we know.’ He gave Grace a little nod. ‘Jessie Tanner, sixty-seven, reported to her physician five days ago. She had a whole range of symptoms that she claimed to have had for around three days. She was physically and mentally unwell. Dehydration, confusion, diarrhoea, and her skin was described as red and covered in bumps. Their initial diagnosis ranged from scarlet fever to measles then rubella. Her condition deteriorated very rapidly and she didn’t respond to treatment.’
‘Did we miss something with Ms Tanner? I don’t ever remember her reporting symptoms like those.’
Donovan shook his head. ‘She didn’t. Not in any of the phone calls to the DPA. We checked our records—she’s phoned us over four hundred times, for a whole variety of reasons.’
David and John let out simultaneous groans. John ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Why do we get all the crazies?’
Donovan didn’t acknowledge the comment, keeping focused on the facts. ‘Our last call from Jessie Tanner was actually seven days ago. She never reported any symptoms then, just asked a range of questions about the bats that were near her home.’ He lifted his eyes from the screen. ‘That seems to have been the norm for Ms Tanner. Unfortunately, it looks like she might not have been as crazy as it seems.’
Grace leaned forward. ‘What about the other patient—the child?’
Donovan paused, ‘Actually, as of one hour ago, it’s two patients. Since the provisional diagnosis by Frank, we sent an alert out to all medical centres. It seems that a maculopapular rash is appearing all over Northwest District in Florida. We still have the first child, an eight-year-old boy, but we also have a thirty-five-year-old woman.’
John took a deep breath. ‘An epidemic? Are we prepared for that?’
‘We’d better be.’
There was silence at the table as they all contemplated the words. It didn’t matter how much experience he had, it didn’t matter how many times he’d circled the globe to investigate some weird and deadly disease—in the DPA you were only as good as your last case. The truth here was he was investigating a disease he hadn’t encountered before, none of the team had. There was no magic cure or vaccination against Marburg virus. The sad fact was that surviving the virus could almost be down to luck. And Donovan hated it when things were left to unscientific rationales. He didn’t work like that.
Their flight number was called and Donovan stood up, grabbing his bag. The casual atmosphere in his team was gone. They were all too concerned about what they might face when they arrived.
Grace’s face was serious. He had to keep reminding himself this was her first fieldwork assignment. He had to stop thinking about what she’d looked like in the shower when the water had streamed down her soft skin and they’d been surrounded by steam...
No. Stop it. Be professional. Lots of new doctors thought they would love the fieldwork aspect of the DPA then quickly found out they hated every second. Things could be tough. Equipment wasn’t always available, local staff might not be sufficiently trained and communications back to the DPA could be sketchy.
He’d have to remember that. Once Donovan arrived on the job he tended to shut out everyone around him. His drive, single vision and extreme focus were the aspects of his character he relied on. Trouble was, he forgot about supporting those around him. He expected everyone just to do their jobs. He didn’t hand-hold. He didn’t have time for that. So Grace had better not expect it. He needed her to hit the ground running and concentrate on the task.
The flight took off smoothly. Grace sat next to John and spent the forty-five-minute flight time talking about the virus and reading up notes on her tablet. It was just as well she wasn’t next to him. He was conscious of every time she crossed and uncrossed her shapely tanned legs. At one point a black stiletto dangled from her painted toes. He had to drag his gaze away and concentrate on the strong black coffee served by the stewardess.
It was just before midnight by the time they arrived. The night was dark, hot and humid. The guys were ready to go straight off but found themselves hanging around the luggage conveyor belt, waiting for Grace’s oversized case to arrive. It would be unkind to go on without her, Donovan kept telling himself as he paced around the airport.
The finally exited the arrivals hall and he looked around for their transport. ‘Anyone see a card with DPA on it?’
John and David shook their heads. ‘What about that guy on the phone over there? Doesn’t his card say DPA?’
Grace pointed to a guy who was talking frantically on the phone, the crumpled sign in his hand. He must have thought he had missed them.