It’s a race against time—and a fatal outbreak—in this thriller of a debut

In one passionate night Special Agent James Reynolds and scientist Kelly Jarvis went from friends to lovers. Then Kelly walked away with only an apology. Now James is charged with solving a bioterrorist attack—and Dr. Jarvis works at the suspected lab.

Is Kelly an accomplice or a victim? Just what are her secrets that drove her from James’s bed? Soon one thing becomes clear: The ghosts of her past have nothing on the terrorists targeting her and Washington, D.C. Another threat bathes the city in red alert, and now there are lives at stake, in addition to hearts….

“You could have gotten killed.”

There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. Kelly reacted immediately. “Don’t expect me to fall in line when you bark an order. I’m not some damsel in distress to feed your knight-errant complex. I—”

The words stuck in her throat as he loomed over her, big and dangerous. His hands landed on either side of her head, bracketing her body and trapping her in the bed.

“I’m bigger than you,” James whispered, his breath warm on her cheek. “And stronger.” His fingertips traced her arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “It’s my job to protect you. And if I have to, I’ll use my body.”

She saw the intensity in his eyes and felt the emotional currents swirling around them.

Did he care about her? After everything that happened, did he still harbor feelings for her?

There was only one way to find out….

Dear Reader,

This is my first book, and I couldn’t be more excited!

As a science nerd, I spent a lot of time in school. While I enjoyed it, I also needed a break from the dry, factual world of science, so I turned to romance novels as my escape. What started out as a hobby quickly turned into a (mild) obsession, and I decided to try writing romance, as well.

Fast-forward a few years, and here we are. I had a blast working on this book, as it combines my two loves: science and romance (they’re not as incompatible as you might think). I hope you enjoy James and Kelly’s story—they have a lot to overcome, but if anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s this pair.

If you get a chance, please stop by my blog and say hi. You can find me at laralacombe.blogspot.com, as well as on Facebook and Twitter. I’d love to hear from you!

Take care, and happy reading!

Lara

Deadly Contact

Lara Lacombe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LARA LACOMBE

I earned my Ph.D. in microbiology and immunology and worked in several labs across the country before moving into the classroom. My day job as a college science professor gives me time to pursue my other love—writing fast-paced romantic suspense, with smart, nerdy heroines and dangerously attractive heroes. I love to hear from readers! Find me on the web, or contact me at laralacombewriter@gmail.com.

MILLS & BOON

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For my family, of course.

Special thanks also to Rachel Burkot, Patience Bloom, Jessica Alvarez, the members of the CompuServe Books and Writers Community, and the members of the North Texas chapter of RWA.

Last but not least, thanks to Sarah, Tara, Jacqui, Adrienne, Jill and Laura. You saw the early draft, and you didn’t run away screaming. You guys are the best!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

Washington, D.C.

April

Where is she?

James nursed his beer as he kept one eye on the television mounted on the wall behind the bar. His spot at the corner table afforded him a view of the entire place, and although he wasn’t a huge fan of golf, the highlight reel from the Masters Tournament was the most interesting thing going on at the moment.

He glanced at his watch as he set the bottle down and reached for a handful of peanuts. Kelly wasn’t usually late, but maybe she’d had a long day or had gotten stuck in traffic. It was raining, and D.C. drivers tended to lose their minds when any kind of precipitation fell from the sky. Whatever the reason, if she didn’t get there soon, he’d start drinking the beer he’d ordered for her. He’d be doing her a favor, he decided, as no one liked warm beer.

“Ready for another, James?” Danny called out, pausing in his obsessive wipe down of the already clean bar.

He shook his head. “Not yet, thanks. I’ll work on Kelly’s first.”

“Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

As if on cue, the door opened with a blast of humid air and Kelly dashed in, wearing a frown as she brushed the raindrops off her jacket. She waved at Danny as she walked over to the table, then sat with a sigh and reached for her beer. James raised a brow as she gulped down the brew, draining the bottle in one go. She set it on the table and turned to gesture for another, but Danny was already there, handing her a fresh one and wearing an expression of amused surprise.

“Want me to keep them coming?” Danny offered. Kelly nodded, and Danny shot James a meaningful look before he returned to the bar. Keep an eye on her tonight.

James nodded. I will.

They had been meeting at this bar every Friday night for the past six months, a tradition that had started after they’d met at a friend’s party. She had looked strangely familiar to him, so he’d struck up a conversation. It turned out they had gone to the same college and had even shared some mutual friends, but by some quirk of fate they hadn’t officially met back then. After finding out she lived in a nearby neighborhood, he had suggested they meet up for drinks sometime. She’d taken him up on the offer, and they’d quickly developed a solid friendship.

Normally, Kelly was fun and easygoing when they got together, having only one or two drinks each time. He’d never seen her drunk, but if her current mood was any indication, he would tonight.

She set the bottle down with a loud thunk, then wriggled out of her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. Facing him again, she smoothed a hand over her auburn hair and tucked the stray strands behind her ear.

“You are not gonna believe the week I’ve had,” she said, her hazel eyes flashing as she reached for the bottle. He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, not missing a beat. “My boss is driving me crazy.”

“I figured as much,” he said, sensing a rant in his future. “What’s he done now?”

Kelly rolled her eyes and took a sip. “What hasn’t he done is the better question. Remember that project I was telling you about?”

He closed his eyes and tried to recall the conversation. “Vaguely,” he said slowly as the details came back to him. “But I didn’t really understand what you were saying. You got a little jargon-y on me there, and you know I didn’t take any biology in college.”

She grinned at him, amused as always by his lack of scientific knowledge. “Yeah, sorry about that. Anyway, I’m not getting the results he expected, so he pulled me into his office today and reamed me out. Said I was a bad scientist, and if I couldn’t do the job he paid me to do, he’d find someone else.”

“Can he do that?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah. Technically he’d have to show cause, but since his grant is paying my salary, the university won’t really ask too many questions if he decides to fire me. It’s his lab, and the investigators have total authority over their labs. But you know what the worst part is?” She leaned forward, and he caught a whiff of her honeysuckle perfume as she moved. “The data are correct, and he’s wrong. He just won’t admit it.”

“What’s he wrong about?” James was genuinely curious, but he didn’t hold out hope that he’d understand her project or results. He’d never been very good at science in school. Philosophy and law fascinated him much more. He’d take a criminal over a lab report any day.

She launched into an explanation of her experiments, and to her credit, she did try to dumb it down for him. He listened intently, occasionally interjecting an “uh-huh” or a nod to encourage her. He loved watching her talk, the way she gestured and moved, her body language communicating just as much as her words. With her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, she was a sight to behold.

She finished her beer and signaled to Danny for another. “Anyway, it’s a big mess and it all kind of came to a head today. Sorry to vent to you.”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “It’s no problem—that’s what I’m here for.”

She smiled at him as he pulled back, then cleared her throat. “Enough about me and my crappy day. How are you? What’s new with you this week?”

“Not much to tell,” he said, nodding at Danny as the bartender set down fresh bottles. “I’m still working on the pipe-bomb case, and Carmichael is breathing down my neck for results.”

She winced in sympathy. “Any leads?”

“Yeah, a few.” He shrugged, wanting to tell her more but knowing he shouldn’t really talk about the details of the case. “I think it’s going to turn out to be one of the kids.”

Her eyes widened as she sipped her beer. “Why would a kid bring a pipe bomb to school?”

“To show off. To scare someone. Because they thought it would be cool. Why do teenage boys do anything?”

“Good point.”

“I’m just glad it didn’t explode,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “The last thing we need right now is more tension, and you know an explosion at a local school would freak people out.”

Kelly shook her head as she watched him. “Why did they bring you guys in on this in the first place? Shouldn’t the D.C. cops have handled it?”

He sighed, suddenly tired. “It all comes down to appearances. The police don’t want to be accused of not taking the threat seriously, so they ask the FBI to join the investigation, to make sure they’re not missing anything. Since we don’t want to be accused of the same thing, we conduct a full investigation, even though this really is a matter better left to the locals.” He shook his head. “It’s all very circular, and at the end of the day, I’m not sure it really makes a difference.”

Kelly studied him a moment, her head cocked to the side. “Are you saying you’re tired of working for the bureau?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” He shrugged, raising his bottle to his lips for another swallow. “Some days I feel like I’m really making a difference, and then other days I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels.”

“Not to be a Debbie Downer, but I’m pretty sure everybody feels that way at one point or another, regardless of their job. I know I do.”

He nodded, picking at the label on his bottle. She was right, of course, but lately he’d had a string of bad days, making him question if he was really doing any good at all. He should probably take a vacation, get away for a few days and clear his head.

Kelly clapped her hands, jerking him out of his thoughts. “You know what we need? Irish car bombs.”

He shuddered in mock horror. “Please don’t say bomb too loudly.”

She grinned back at him. “We’re in a bar. I’m pretty sure Danny isn’t going to call the police when I place this order.”

A moment later, Danny appeared at the table with the requisite ingredients. James stifled a groan. Irish car bombs were a sneaky drink—they tasted like a chocolate milk shake, and more than once he’d been seduced into drinking several of them. It was only after he stood up that he realized how much of a wallop they packed.

“Ready?” Kelly asked, holding up her shot and reaching across the table to clink glasses with him.

Her expectant grin had him smiling in return. One car bomb couldn’t hurt, and it was a good way to celebrate the end of the week. “Ready.”

The dual thump of the shot glasses hitting the bottom of the pint glasses signaled the start of the race, and they both chugged the frothy mixture. He set his glass down first, wiping the bubbly residue off his lip with the back of his hand. An instant later, Kelly set her glass down as well, saying that she’d let him win.

“Not likely, princess,” he said, grinning at her. “I’m a car-bomb champion from way back.”

She laughed, her tongue darting out to lick the foam off her lips. The action sent a zing of awareness through his system, and an unbidden thought popped into his mind: God, she’s beautiful.

He’d found her attractive from the start, but since he’d been buried in work and she had been, too, he hadn’t tried to strike up anything more than a friendship with her. By the time his schedule had cleared up, they’d been friends for so long he didn’t think she’d be interested in anything more, and he wasn’t willing to risk ruining that friendship by telling her he wanted to take things to the next level.

He wasn’t pining for her, exactly, but he hadn’t been on a date since they’d met. He probably should find someone in order to get over these less-than-platonic feelings. The trouble was, he wasn’t interested in anyone else.

“I demand a rematch!” she said, her eyes shining and her heart-shaped face pink from laughter and alcohol. He smiled at the sight, enjoying the view. “Are you ready to take me on again?” she demanded with a giggle.

He shook his head. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. I don’t want to risk losing my title.”

“Next week, then,” she declared with a regal nod. “You’d better be ready.”

“Next week,” he said, reaching out a hand to seal the deal. “It’s on.”

She grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake, then picked up her bottle and drained the last of her beer. After signaling Danny for another round, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re tuckered out already,” he teased. “It’s not that late yet.”

She opened one eye and shot him a grin. “I’m old—I can’t help it.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

They fell into an easy conversation, teasing affection underlying their exchanges. James felt a flush of pleasure every time he made Kelly laugh, loving the uninhibited sound of her giggle. He always enjoyed their time together, the way he could let down his guard and talk about anything with her without fear of being judged. She made him laugh, she made him think, but most important, she made their time together fun, something that was in short supply in his life.

After two more drinks, she let out a loud sigh, reaching back for her purse and pulling out her wallet.

“It’s been fun, as always, but I’m gonna head home.” She dropped several bills on the table, then stood and grabbed her jacket.

James hurried to stand, as well. “Let me walk you to the Metro,” he said, digging out his wallet and dropping some money on the table. He caught Danny’s eye and gestured to the money on the table before hurrying to catch up with Kelly.

She stopped by the door and blew the bartender a kiss. “’Night, Danny. See you next week.”

“Good night, Kelly.” He waved at her. “You stay close to James, now, you hear?”

She whirled around, almost bumping into his chest, and reached out to link her arm through his. “Is this close enough?” she asked.

Danny nodded. “That’ll work. You two be careful.”

“We will,” James said, escorting Kelly out the door.

The rain had stopped sometime earlier, and the streetlights reflected off the puddles, making the sidewalk glow. The air was clean and crisp with the scent of rain, and he hoped the walk combined with the fresh air would help sober her up.

She stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, jerking on his arm to stay upright. “Guess I’m a little tipsier than I thought,” she said with a giggle.

“That’s what happens when you drink car bombs,” he replied. “Here, let me help.” He placed an arm over her shoulder to steady her, meaning to keep the gesture as platonic as possible. His good intentions flew out the window, though, when she snaked an arm around his waist, fitting her body snugly against his side and hooking a finger into his belt loop.

She was warm and soft, and he liked the feel of her pressed against him. Her fingers on the waistband of his pants had his thoughts going off in an entirely inappropriate direction, and he tried to rein them back in to safer territory.

He spent the rest of the walk mentally reciting FBI rules and regulations to keep from fantasizing about the woman under his arm. It wasn’t a foolproof method, but it did prevent his thoughts from getting too far out of line. He nearly sighed with relief when the lighted Metro sign came into view, signaling an end to this most exquisite torture.

They paused at the top of the escalators, and she turned to smile up at him. “Well, James, I hope you have a good night.” She stood on tiptoe to press a smacking kiss against his lips.

It was too much. He had behaved himself during the walk, but the feel of her lips against his caused him to lose his tenuous grip on self-control. Before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed her by the waist and lowered his mouth to hers.

She let out a little “Oh!” of surprise, and he had a split second of doubt before she relaxed against him. Her lips moved under his, and he felt her tongue swipe across his bottom lip; the sensation made his knees wobble.

He deepened the kiss, tasting Guinness and whiskey, reveling in the silky smoothness of her mouth. She pressed closer and he tightened his hold, his hands traveling from her hips to her back, anchoring her into place.

Her hands skimmed down his back, one of them reaching around to squeeze his butt. His hips arched forward in response, and she made a purring sound low in her throat when she felt his erection.

A rude shove forward, accompanied by a muttered “Move!” had him pulling back. A steady stream of people was pouring out of the Metro station, darting around them with various degrees of success. Keeping his hand on her back, James stepped to the side, pulling Kelly with him to take them out of the pedestrian traffic. He had forgotten they were in public, and given her sound of protest and dazed eyes, he’d bet Kelly had forgotten, too.

“My place?” he said, the words flying out of his mouth like bullets from a gun, unstoppable and just as dangerous.

She nodded enthusiastically, with no hint of hesitation or reluctance. Her eyes were clear and bright, her mouth curved up in a sexy smile that made him want to lean in for another kiss.

His condo was about two miles away—too far to walk, especially given the state he was in. He grabbed her hand, leading her toward the curb, and flagged down a taxi.

Kelly reached for his hand after they’d settled in the backseat and the car started to move, pulling it into her lap and turning it over to trace patterns in his palm with her fingertip. He leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of her touch. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, and he hadn’t realized until now just how much he missed being touched. Not necessarily in a sexual way—he just missed feeling someone else’s body against his, missed the comfort that only came when skin touched skin. He’d read somewhere that babies who weren’t touched regularly failed to thrive, and he understood all too well how that could happen.

Moments later, the car pulled to a stop in front of his building. He fished out a bill for the cabby and helped Kelly to her feet, placing a hand at the small of her back to guide her into the building.

She stood close to him in the elevator, the faint scent of her perfume making him want to bury his nose in her neck to get a better whiff. Honeysuckle and something else warm and subtle. Whatever it was, it was deeply appealing, and he couldn’t wait to run his nose over her body to find where exactly she had applied it.

He ushered her into his condo, their progress momentarily halted by the two cats sitting at the end of the foyer, wearing identical expressions of bored superiority. They mewed at him, then turned and headed for the kitchen, confident he would follow along to feed them.

“You have cats,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Why didn’t I know this?”

He shrugged, at a loss. “It never came up?”

“That’s true. I certainly never expected the big, bad FBI agent to have cats. A dog, maybe, but cats? I’m impressed. What are their names?”

“The black one is Edgar, and the orange one is Eliot. They’re brothers, believe it or not.”

She stared at him for a beat, then threw back her head and laughed. The rich, throaty sound had warmth spreading through his chest, and he reached out to touch her again.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Eliot Ness and J. Edgar Hoover?”

He nodded with a grin, leaning down to kiss her. She stood on tiptoe to bring her mouth closer, but she stopped when she heard another meow from the direction of the kitchen, this time louder and more insistent. “I think they’re hungry,” she said.

He cast her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I feed them real quick? They’ll leave us alone if they’re full....” He trailed off, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“No problem. I grew up with cats, so I understand. I’ll just take the opportunity to use your bathroom.”

“Down the hall, to your right,” he said. He watched her disappear into the bathroom, then turned and headed for the kitchen.

He wrenched open the cabinet door, grabbing two bowls with one hand as he pulled open the drawer and reached for a spoon with another. After hastily pulling out two cans of food from the pantry, he pulled the tops off and dumped the food with a splat, the cats winding around his legs as if to urge him along.

He set the bowls down and stroked each cat once, then left them to their dinner and headed into the living room to wait. He sat on the couch, then stood to pace the room.

I can’t believe this is really happening. His stomach fluttered with anticipation, his fingertips tingling with the desire to touch her smooth skin again. Just the thought of running his hands and lips over her body had his heart pounding double time. It was a wonder she hadn’t heard it in the elevator.

Was he doing the right thing? She seemed to want this, too, if her earlier responses were any indication. She’d returned his kisses eagerly, her hands roaming his body with abandon. Warmth flooded his system as he recalled the feel of her gripping him, pulling his hips against her, arching into him and rubbing against the bulge in his pants. She’d been refreshingly direct in her response, and he couldn’t wait to pick up where they’d left off.

Was it because she was drunk though? He frowned at the intrusive thought, but he couldn’t dismiss it out of hand. He wanted to take things to the next level, but only if she was fully on board. He wouldn’t take advantage of her intoxication to sleep with her, no matter how badly he wanted her. All the signs were there, but could a woman who had consumed six drinks really consent? He’d worked enough cases in his days as a police officer to know that alcohol and sex were a dangerous combination. He glanced down at his crotch with a sigh, willing his arousal to recede. He should probably set her up in the guest bedroom and go to sleep alone, after taking a cold shower. It would be a disappointing end to the evening, but probably best for all involved.

Resigned to his fate, he walked back to the couch and sat down. It would be okay. They could laugh, blame their kisses on alcohol and go back to the way things were. Safe. Easy. It was the right thing to do, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Now that he knew how she felt in his arms, what she tasted like, it would be hard to go back to being just friends.

I’ll do it, though, he thought with a sigh, stretching out his legs in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Better to have Kelly as a friend than not at all.

* * *

Kelly stared at her reflection in the mirror, amazed that her heart hadn’t pounded right out of her chest. What was she doing? James was her friend—was she really about to have sex with her friend? Yes, the man was gorgeous, with his dark brown hair, bedroom eyes and strong, square jaw, but he was her friend. It had been so long since she’d been friends with a man that she didn’t want to risk jeopardizing their relationship just so she could scratch an itch.

But...he had kissed her. Technically, she supposed she had started it. She hadn’t meant to take things that far—she’d just wanted to feel his lips against hers, and if he’d pulled away she could have blamed it on the alcohol. She’d been shocked by his reaction, to say the least.

She blushed as she recalled where her hands had been, how she’d reacted when she’d felt his response to her. It had been so long since she’d felt desirable and beautiful, and the attention of this attractive man had gone straight to her head. Even more amazing was the effect she seemed to have on him, as well. She ran her hand down to her belly, rubbing the spot where he had pressed firmly against her. He wants me, she marveled, a shiver dancing over her skin at the thought.

She drew her hand up, running the palm over her ribs. Her injuries had long since healed, but the ghost of the pain was never far away. All it took was a look, an accidental touch or a whiff of cologne and she was back to that awful night, broken and bleeding and oh-so-scared.

She frowned at her reflection, not liking the direction of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on something pleasant, stuffing the memories and insecurities back into the box where they belonged.

“James is not Gary,” she said softly. “He won’t hurt me.”

Neither did Gary at first.

She shook her head at the errant thought, firmly dismissing it. No. James was not Gary. James was a decent man, her friend—nothing like Gary. She had to start trusting people again, and James was a good place to start.

Her mind was made up, but despite her resolve, she couldn’t ignore the tight ball of nervous energy in her stomach. She pressed her hand there, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. Her lips curved up in anticipation as she imagined kissing him again, running her hands over his chest and lower....

After one last look in the mirror, she walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. He stood when she entered and offered her a seat on the couch, then resumed his place as she settled onto the cushion.

He was warm, and this close she could smell the spicy citrus of his cologne. She inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to press her nose into his neck to get closer to the source. She’d always loved his smell, and soon it would be all over her. Goose bumps broke out on her skin at the thought, and she rubbed her arms absently.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “No. Just thinking.”

“Thinking gives you goose bumps?” he asked, smiling.

“Some thoughts do.”

He swallowed with an audible gulp, and she felt her lips twitch as she fought to contain a grin.

“Kelly, are you sure?” His voice was husky and deep and danced along her skin like a touch.

This was it. This was her chance to back down. She could say No, I was just kidding, and they’d laugh it off and go back to being friends. And she’d go back to feeling damaged and alone.

No. Not this time. Gary was gone, and she wasn’t going to let him affect her anymore.

“I’m sure,” she said, leaning forward to press her lips to his.

He was still for an endless moment, as if giving her one more chance to change her mind. Then he pulled her to him with a groan, deepening the kiss as he ran one hand down her back in a caress.

It was several minutes, or maybe hours, later when he rose, pulling her to her feet and tucking her hand into the fold of his elbow. They walked down the hall, past the bathroom and into a large bedroom. Her gaze tracked around the room, her eyes landing on the huge, mission-style bed that took up the center space; the spread and pillows were in shades of dark brown and hunter-green. A matching bedside table, corner chair and dresser completed the room. It was neat and composed, a perfect reflection of James.

He led her to the bed, then pressed her gently down as he kissed her. She was so caught up in the delicious sensation of his mouth against hers that it wasn’t until she felt the warmth of his hands on her bare shoulders that she realized he had undone the buttons of her blouse and was sliding it off her body.

She pulled away from the kiss, breathing hard. He moved closer, but she put a hand on his chest to forestall him. “Wait. There’s something you should know.” It was now or never—she needed to tell him. Her mouth dried up at the thought, but he deserved to know.

He sat back, looking at her with an indulgent expression. “What’s that?” he asked, leaning in to press small kisses along her collarbone. She helpfully lifted her chin to provide him with easier access, shivering as his lips feathered across her skin.

I was attacked by my boyfriend. She wanted so badly to say it, but the words stuck in her throat. How would he react once he knew? She couldn’t handle it if he pushed her away, not right now. She was so tired of feeling damaged.

Chickening out, she said, “It’s been a long time for me, and...”

“And?” he asked, trailing his tongue up the side of her neck.

“And I’m probably a little rusty,” she finished, gripping his shoulders with a moan as he found a sweet spot.

He pulled away to look down at her, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. “Would you believe it’s been a while for me, too?”

Her gaze traveled over his strong jaw, broad shoulders and trim waist. “No,” she drawled. “I have a hard time believing that.”

A flush rose on his cheeks and he flung himself down next to her, lying on his back with his head pillowed on his hands. “It’s true,” he said, looking up at her, sincerity in his eyes and voice. “I haven’t slept with anyone in about a year.”

“Really? You look like a guy who would have no trouble finding a willing lady.” She lay down next to him and propped her head on one hand, facing him.

“Not so much,” he replied. “Besides, I’ve been so crazy with work, I just haven’t really had time for a relationship.”

“I can understand that,” she said, and he laughed.

“I know you can,” he said, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re just as big of a workaholic as I am.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He reached for her, and she moved willingly until they were pressed flush together. “I’m off duty now,” he whispered, using his teeth to slide her bra strap off her shoulder.

She gasped, her fingers moving to his hair. “So am I,” she said, ending on a moan when his hand found her breast.

“What a coincidence,” he said, rolling her onto her back and rising over her. “Now, no more talking, Doctor.”

She reached up to his shirt, making quick work of the buttons and pushing it off him. The feel of his bare chest against hers sent sparks of tingling warmth shooting through her limbs, and she fumbled to get her bra off, wanting nothing between them.

He stood for a moment to shuck off his pants, and she took the opportunity to wiggle out of hers. She reached for him as he came back, but he gently moved her hands above her head. “It’s my turn now. You can have a go later.”

“Promise?” she whispered as his hands and mouth did delightfully wicked things to her body.

He made a sound of assent, not bothering to pause in his ministrations. He worked his way back up to her mouth, ending with a smacking kiss. “Yes. Just lie back and enjoy yourself.”

She did.

* * *

The tree branches outside James’s bedroom window cast moving shadows across the ceiling in the pale gray light of approaching dawn. Kelly watched them flicker and move in the wind, swaying back and forth in a hypnotizing dance that was oddly soothing.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake—long enough for the sky to fade from inky-black to smoky-pearl—but James slept soundly by her side. His breathing was deep and rhythmic as he slept the sleep of the satisfied, and she smiled knowing she’d been a part of that.

Last night had been wonderful. James was a considerate and skilled lover, and her skin still tingled in remembrance of his touches. She turned her head to look at him; his outline was fuzzy in the dim light. He slept on his stomach, arms stretched out, his face relaxed and so beautiful. Despite her presence in his bed, he’d had no problem dropping off to sleep. She envied him that, his trust in her, his surrender in her presence. She had been like that once, too, until Gary had changed everything.

No, she thought firmly. I will not let him ruin this moment for me.

Too late, though. As usual, the thought of her ex-boyfriend made her heart beat a little faster, and her stomach tightened. She focused on her breathing in an effort to keep from drowning in panic. In...out...over and over, she counted her inhalations until the fluttering in her chest subsided and she felt somewhat normal again.

James stirred, turning and stretching out a hand in her direction. She moved away carefully, not wanting his touch right now but not wanting to wake him, either. His hand landed on the mattress next to her and curled gently before relaxing again. His skin was dark against the pale sheets, the color of it warming as the light improved.

Such beautiful hands, she mused, tracing the long, graceful fingers with her eyes. Strong and capable but still elegant, with dark hair trailing from his forearm to dust across the back. Would they ever fist in anger or be used to hurt? She didn’t think so, but she’d been wrong before.

Gary’s hands were much different. Wide-palmed with thick, blunt-ended fingers, she’d always thought his hands were the ultimate example of practicality. Still, they had brought her pleasure, at least at first. Eventually, sex with Gary had become more like a race to the finish, a contest she had rarely won. He’d never put her pleasure before his own, never watched her fall apart with warm, focused eyes and a smile of male satisfaction. Never held her close and stroked her gently, whispering dark, seductive words in her ear as she came back down to earth.

She knew now that Gary had never truly cared about her. He had been her first, though, and she’d been too naive and unsure to really stand up for herself. You control your orgasms, babe, not me, he’d pointed out. I can’t make you come—only you can do that. Maybe he was right. After all, hadn’t she read the headlines of women’s magazines in the grocery store checkout line? Take Charge of Your Sex Life! Lose Your Inhibitions and Take Back Your Pleasure! There had to be some truth to that. She just needed to work harder, that was all.

Still, she couldn’t deny there was a little voice inside her head that said, This isn’t how it should be.

She’d tried to rationalize that voice away, with varying degrees of success. Passionate, no-holds-barred love affairs made for great movies, but how often did that happen in real life? Never, as far as she could tell. So she convinced herself that things were all right, that real adult relationships weren’t perfect and this was about as good as it was going to get.

But then the abuse started.

He’d never left visible bruises—he was too smart for that. No, he preferred to target her elsewhere. A pinch here, a sharp poke there. It had begun slowly, small events that could be explained away. I’m so sorry, baby. I just don’t know my own strength, he’d say after a particularly forceful slap on her bottom. Or You’re just too sensitive. Maybe you should see your doctor, make sure you don’t have a clotting problem or something after she’d pointed out the bruise left behind from one of his pinches. He always had an excuse at the ready, always turned it back around on her. He was so convincing that she had started to think the problem was her, not him.

After months of these “love taps,” he’d graduated to outright hitting. The first time, he’d slapped her face during an argument over holiday plans. The shock of it had kept her frozen in place, and he’d taken advantage of it by pulling her close. I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry, he’d soothed, running a hand down her back. I’m just really stressed at work, and I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.

It had escalated quickly. A few weeks later, Gary had come home drunk and randy. Exhausted, she’d begged off, which had sent him into a rage. Two broken ribs and multiple bruises later, she’d gotten a restraining order and cut him completely out of her life.

That had been almost a year ago. For the first several months, she’d looked over her shoulder constantly, always expecting Gary to turn up and hurt her again. It was only after meeting James that she’d begun to relax a little. He was a strong, calm presence, and he made her feel secure. He’d offered friendship, with no pressure or expectation of something more.

Until now.

The shadows on the ceiling blurred as she blinked back tears. She couldn’t do this. Sleeping with James had been a mistake. He would want more from her than she could give now that they had taken this step. She wasn’t ready for that—given her history with men, she didn’t think she was capable of having a normal relationship, whatever that was.

She had to leave now, before he woke up. She didn’t want to tell him face-to-face, because then he’d ask questions and want an explanation, one that she wasn’t able to give. A lump of shame formed in her throat at the thought of telling him about her past. She’d told only one other person about Gary, and her friend’s look of pity and disgust was burned in her memory. She did not want to see that expression on James’s face.

Moving cautiously, she eased out of the bed and began to gather her clothes. It was still early; the birds had only just begun to greet the new day with sporadic chirps. James would probably sleep in after last night’s activities, but she still tried to be as quiet as possible as she moved around the room. After spotting her socks over by the doorway, she retrieved them and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on.

She felt a twinge of guilt as she tied her shoes, but she ruthlessly pushed it down. Leaving was the best thing she could do, both for her and for James. She was damaged goods, and he deserved better. In fact, he’d probably thank her for this later. No one wanted to be saddled with an emotionally unavailable woman with trust issues. Better to make a clean break now, before things got complicated.

Her heart couldn’t take another blow.

* * *

James woke in stages, rubbing his eyes against the pale pink light of dawn that flooded his bedroom. His jaw cracked in a yawn as he stretched, reaching across the bed to pull Kelly into his arms so he could bury his nose in her hair.

His hands came up empty.

Awake now, he sat up in the rumpled bed to find her sitting on the edge, tying her shoes.

“Kelly?” Her name came out as a croak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Everything okay?”

He reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at the contact, so he withdrew, alarmed at her reaction. What was wrong? Had he hurt her last night? He quickly reviewed his memories of their encounter, but came up blank. She had been an eager participant, and he had made sure she was satisfied before seeing to his own pleasure. Surely she would have told him if he had done something wrong?

His stomach dropped as another thought dawned. Did she regret sleeping with him?

She finished tying her shoes and sat for a moment, not looking at him. The silence between them grew heavy as he took in her appearance—hair pulled back, fully dressed, shoes on. She was leaving, and he was certain she would have left without a word had he not woken up in time to catch her.

She stood, turning to face him with a heavy sigh. “James, I was just—”

“Leaving. Yes, I can see that.” Not wanting to have this conversation while naked and lying down, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his hips as he stood. “Any reason you were sneaking out?”

She looked down, her cheeks flushing a pretty rose. “I wasn’t sneaking out. I was just leaving quietly.”

“Uh-huh.” He ran his hand through his hair, wincing inwardly as he felt the bed-head spikes. Putting his awkward appearance firmly out of his mind, he summoned his best interrogation voice. “Why are you leaving?”

She was silent for several seconds, then spoke in a near whisper. “I just think it’s best if I go.”

He took a step forward but stopped as she took a small step back. “Kelly,” he said gently, “I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry if I’ve said or done anything to give you that impression.”

She looked down at the floor again, chewing her lower lip.

“Last night was special to me,” he continued, slowly moving to stand in front of her. He reached out and tilted her chin up with a finger, and his gut twisted when he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. She was clearly upset, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done.

“James, please,” she pleaded in a choked voice. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He frowned down at her in confusion. “What’s going on here? I thought we had a great time last night.”

She nodded, dashing away tears with the back of her hand. “We did. Last night was—it was amazing. I just have to go now.” She moved to walk past him, but he grabbed her arms to keep her in place. She didn’t resist his hold, but she wouldn’t look at him, directing her gaze at his belly button.

“Kelly, what is this about? Have I done something?” Exasperation crept into his voice as she shook her head mutely. “Then why are you running away? Do you regret sleeping with me? Because if that’s the problem, we can go back to being just friends.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips before she shook her head again. “I don’t regret it,” she said softly. “Please understand that I need to go. It’s nothing you did.” She met his eyes then, holding his gaze as she repeated her assurance. “You were wonderful. But I can’t stay, and please don’t ask me why.”

He held her a moment longer, searching her face for a sign or any expression or gesture that would explain her desire to leave so suddenly. She bore his gaze with a neutral expression, as if simply waiting for him to give up his scrutiny. Seeing that she wasn’t going to tell him anything, he released her with a sigh.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you this morning, but you clearly don’t trust me enough to tell me.”

She bit her lip at that, and he knew his words had hit home. He studied her for another moment, hoping she’d fill the silence and tell him her reasons for running away, but she remained quiet.

He stepped back, giving her space to move. She waited until he sat on the edge of the bed before walking to the doorway. She paused at the threshold, and a flutter of hope flared to life in his chest. Had she changed her mind?

“I’m sorry, James,” she said, her voice wavering. “You’re a great guy, and—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard before continuing, “And you deserve better than me.”

Then she was gone, leaving him staring after her in silent confusion.

Chapter 2

September

Professor George Collins strode through the parking garage toward his car, whistling cheerfully as he fished for his keys. He was looking forward to the promise of the weekend, ready to spend some quality time with his wife. Ruth’s oncologist had given them the good news about her remission on Monday, and they were going to a B and B in Annapolis to celebrate. The doctor’s words had lifted a weight off his shoulders, and for the first time in months, George felt as if he could breathe again.

He stopped next to his car, fingers still searching for the keys. Damn things must have slipped to the bottom of the bag again. He really should just keep them in his pocket so—

“Evening, Professor.”

He froze at the smooth voice behind him. Fear skittered across his skin like ants on parade, and his bag fell from his shoulder, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed convulsively a few times as he turned to face the man he had hoped to never see again.

His visitor cut a dashing figure in black slacks and a tan overcoat, a newspaper folded under his arm. His blond curls were perfectly tousled, and his wire-rimmed glasses lent him an academic air. No one would give this man a second look, much less think of him as evil. George, however, had come to think of him as the devil.

And it seemed the devil had come to collect.

“I thought we had a deal,” the man said calmly.

George forced himself to make eye contact. “What do you mean?”

“Did you see the headline this morning, Professor?”

George shook his head mutely in response, not trusting his voice a second time. He knew the man already thought him weak, and his quavering voice would only add to that impression.

The man unfolded the newspaper with a snap as he stepped forward. George resisted the urge to step back, instead fixing his gaze on the print in front of him.

Food Poisoning at Local Restaurant Kills One, Sickens Ten.

He looked up to find the man staring down at him, blue eyes blazing. “I don’t see the problem—it clearly worked.”

The man let out a sigh. “Not well enough. You told us it would sicken hundreds, not just ten people. Furthermore, the mortality rate is unacceptable.”

“Wait just a minute,” George began, the affront to his professional pride getting the better of his fear. “How can you say this is my fault? Maybe you guys didn’t distribute it properly or store it correctly. I told you after I supplied you with the bug that it was your show. It’s not my fault if you didn’t follow my instructions.”

The man took another step forward, forcing George back against his car. His bravado drained from his body like air from a balloon as the man leaned over him.

“We followed your instructions to the letter, Professor,” he hissed, his breath warm on George’s cheek. “We did everything you said, and yet it did not work.”

“But it did,” George protested weakly. “People got sick.”

He jumped as a gloved fist landed next to his head.

“As I said, not enough people were affected. We cannot use this as a weapon if it will be thought of as a natural outbreak.” The man pulled back slightly and reached into his coat.

George let out a sob as his knees gave out, and he fell to the ground. Gulping for air, he tried to focus on Ruth, but he couldn’t conjure up her face. All he could think was that he was going to die here, in the parking garage, shot by the devil.

The man rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand, holding out a business card. “I knew we shouldn’t have used you,” he muttered, reaching down and pulling George roughly to his feet. George leaned back against the car, not trusting his legs to hold him. He silently agreed with the man—he was not cut out for this. He had agreed to provide the bacteria in exchange for money to pay for Ruth’s treatments, but as soon as he had made the deal, he’d regretted it.

“Here’s how it’s going to work, Professor. You’re going to give us another sample. I want you to call this number when it’s ready for pickup.” He pressed the card into George’s sweaty hand and continued, “You’re also going to come with us, so that there are no mistakes this time.”

“What? No, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. And you will.” He reached into his jacket again, this time pulling out a photograph. “She’s looking much better, your wife.” He turned the photo around, and George blinked in shock as he recognized Ruth emerging from her doctor’s office, holding his hand. The picture had been taken as they’d left her appointment on Monday. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to her.”

George crumpled at the threat, knowing this man wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Ruth. “I’ll do it,” he whispered, hating himself for the weakness that had made him agree to the deal in the first place. “But I need time to modify the bacteria.”

The man stepped back with a satisfied smile. “I thought as much. Enjoy your weekend in Annapolis with your wife, but don’t keep me waiting. You have five days to deliver my product, or I will take it out on her.”

George watched him walk away, despair settling over him with every breath he took. He dropped to his knees and dry heaved, then leaned back against the car, gasping lungfuls of exhaust-scented air like a landed fish. There had to be a way out of this. His thoughts raced as he tried to come up with a solution. Maybe he could take Ruth and leave, flee the city and never come back. But no, they knew about the B and B, which meant they probably had him under surveillance.

They’ll find me. Of that he was certain.

He briefly considered going to the police but quickly dismissed the thought. He was an accomplice. Even though he had modified the bacteria to be less lethal, he was still involved. At times, the guilt of that knowledge was overwhelming, but he wasn’t willing to leave Ruth. She was still so fragile, and he knew the authorities would not hesitate to put him in jail, away from his wife.

Picking up his bag, George struggled to his feet, feeling every one of his fifty-five years. For Ruth’s sake, he was going to have to cooperate with the monster. He pulled out his keys and climbed into the car. His hands shook so badly that it took him three tries to get the key into the ignition, but he finally started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

This will be the last time, he promised himself as he drove, merging onto the freeway as he headed home to his wife. The absolute last time, he repeated.

But no matter how many times he said it, he didn’t believe it.

* * *

Caleb stood in the shadows, watching as Dr. Collins slowly picked himself up off the ground. The man was obviously flustered, and the pinched expression on his face communicated his distress as clearly as any words.

“Thank God he didn’t piss himself,” Caleb muttered, shifting slightly from side to side and shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

Collins had looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and in a way, he had. Caleb prided himself on staying behind the scenes, away from prying eyes. To be visible was to make yourself a target, and he had no intention of painting a bull’s-eye on his back. The fact that he’d had to make this little visit today was a nuisance but not a huge risk. Besides, some messages had to be delivered in person.

Given the fear that had entered Collins’s eyes at the mention of his wife, Caleb figured he’d made his point.

He waited for Collins to speed out of the garage before heading to his own car. He hadn’t bothered to forge a university parking pass—there were no guards or security cameras monitoring the area, so he wasn’t worried about being seen. Besides, there were so many students coming and going every day, no one was likely to notice or remember the nondescript black sedan he drove.

He slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh. Someday, he promised himself, I’m going to upgrade this POS. He glanced up at the dog-eared picture taped to the sun visor. The sporty, sleek roadster winked back at him, taunting him with the promise of speed. It was a beautiful car, all curvy, graceful lines and paint so glossy that it looked wet. A car he deserved, and one he would have—just as soon as he retired. A car like that was for a man who wasn’t afraid to show off, not one who had to live in the shadows.

His cell phone buzzed against his chest. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced down at the display, gritting his teeth as he recognized the glowing white number. Damn him!

“I told you not to contact me.”

There was a pause, as if his caller hadn’t expected such a harsh greeting. He heard the man suck in a breath.

“I don’t think this is working out.”

Caleb took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. God save me from whiny CEOs....

“And why is that?” he asked, working to keep his voice calm and even.

Dr. Glen Wilkins, CEO and heir extraordinaire of Wilkins Pharmaceuticals, lowered his voice. “Because I don’t think—”

“Are you alone?” Caleb snapped, his patience running thin. Customer or not, Wilkins shouldn’t be calling if he had company.

“What? Yes, of course I am.”

“Then speak up,” Caleb commanded. “I can’t hear you when you whisper like that.”

Wilkins cleared his throat. “I was saying I don’t think your methods are acceptable.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Did you see the paper today?”

Caleb glanced over at the newspaper lying in the passenger seat. “I did. What’s your point?”

“People are dying,” Wilkins said. “Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. The old man was such a hypocrite. “You hired me to do a job, did you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“And you knew my reputation, and the reputation of my organization, when you contacted me.” It wasn’t a question. Wilkins had received their information from another satisfied customer, a regular practice in his line of work. There was no way he hadn’t known the score when he’d picked up the phone that first time.

“Well, yes.”

“So why are you getting cold feet now?”

“It doesn’t seem to be working,” Wilkins said, his voice taking on a whiny edge that made Caleb’s fillings ache. “Drug sales haven’t improved in the wake of the outbreaks. I thought you said people would be clamoring for our medication!”

“I did say that,” Caleb replied, not liking the man’s petulant tone. “Do you remember what else I said?”

There was a pause, as if Wilkins was trying to recall their conversation. “I don’t know.”

“I told you to be patient. This isn’t going to happen overnight.”

Undeterred, Wilkins tried another tack. “I thought we were just going to make people sick. I didn’t know people were going to die!”

“Oh, please,” Caleb retorted. “Enough with the false concern for your fellow man. The only reason you’re upset is because dead people don’t buy antibiotics.”

Wilkins sputtered at that, but Caleb ignored him. “You need to give this time to work. An outbreak here, an outbreak there—soon the authorities will piece it together and then it will be national news. People will be clamoring for your antibiotic, just like everyone stockpiled Cipro after the anthrax mailings.”

“And you’re sure this won’t be traced back to me?”

“As sure as I can be. It would help if you would follow my instructions and didn’t contact me again.”

Wilkins ignored the warning. “How much longer? We need to start turning a profit quickly, or the company will have to fold. I can’t let that happen—my grandfather built this company, and I’ll be damned if I let it die on my watch. We’re the largest employer in town. If we have to close, the town will collapse.”

Caleb sighed, his fingers itching to reach through the phone and strangle the old man. He was probably sitting in his mahogany-paneled office, swirling his fifty-year-old Chivas Regal and pondering how to spend his next bonus check. If the company did go under, there was no way he was going down with the ship, and his “concern for the employees” act was wearing a bit thin.

“I’m putting the final pieces in place now,” Caleb said, his thoughts drifting back to Collins. “I can’t give you an exact schedule, but soon.”

Wilkins harrumphed, evidently displeased with such a vague answer. That was just too bad. There was no way Caleb was going to share sensitive information, especially with someone as hotheaded as Wilkins.

“Let me remind you that I am in charge of this operation,” he said coolly. “I am speaking to you now as a courtesy, but I do not report to you.”

“You listen to me, you little snot,” Wilkins shot back, anger making him brave. “I paid for your services, and I want to know what’s going on. Do you know what I can do to you if you don’t cooperate with me?”

Caleb laughed. “Nothing. You can do nothing to me.”

Wilkins sputtered. “Now, see here—”

“What would you do, Mr. Wilkins? Turn me in? I doubt it—you know if you did, I’d sell you out before the lock clicked into place on the cell door. Do you think you can kill me? You can try, but I should warn you, I’m very well connected. What does that leave you?”

“You must have family,” Wilkins said, his voice now low and threatening.

Caleb felt a dull throb in his chest at the mention of family, but he ignored it. “Sorry to disappoint, but they’re all dead.”

“You’re not as untouchable as you think. I can come up with something.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Caleb agreed. “In the meantime, let me do my job and stay out of my way.”

Wilkins paused, clearly weighing his options. “Don’t try to double-cross me, boy.”

Caleb ignored the insult, knowing a careless tone would get under the man’s skin more than any verbal retort. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t call me again.”

He hung up before Wilkins could respond, feeling a small, childish spurt of satisfaction at having gotten the last word. The man was a dinosaur, a throwback to the days of the three-martini lunch, when deals were sealed with cigars and handshakes. He was used to being in charge, accustomed to having his minions defer to his every word, but Caleb refused to play the game. Wilkins might be the customer, but that didn’t mean he was right.

He leaned over and pulled a D.C. city map out of the glove compartment, unfolding it across the steering wheel. Time to pick out the next target....

* * *

“Reynolds!” Kevin Carmichael stood in the doorway of his office, his summons a loud bark that carried over the hum of activity in the room. James made eye contact and held up his hand, silently asking for a few minutes. Carmichael narrowed his eyes at the delay but nodded and turned back into his office, allowing James a chance to finish up his conversation.

“Uh-huh. Yes. Well, I appreciate the call, and we will definitely keep an eye open....You, too. Have a nice day.” He hung up with a sigh and rubbed his eyes, taking a moment before heading into Carmichael’s office. It was only noon, and already the day was dragging.

“Any new leads?” Thomas asked, looking up from some paperwork.

James shook his head. “Mrs. Gerard was just telling me that she remembered a suspicious-looking young man hanging around by the salad bar that night and asked if we had checked him out yet. Based on her description, it sounds like she’s talking about the busboy who maintained the salad bar.”

“And he’s already been cleared.”

“Yeah.” James sighed. “The kid is a straight-arrow honor student, and there’s nothing to suggest he knew anything about the tampering. She’s just being a drama queen.”

“Were the surveillance tapes helpful at all?” Thomas held out the dish of jelly beans on his desk, and James took a few, popping them into his mouth before answering. As far as lunches went, it wasn’t the greatest, but it would do in a pinch.

He shook his head, swallowing the fruity glob of sugar and reaching for a few more. “No. Unfortunately, the angle of the camera didn’t cover all of the salad bar, so we can’t see the end with the cottage-cheese bin. No one remembers anything out of the ordinary or anyone behaving strangely, so we really don’t have any good leads.”

“Sounds like these guys are pros.”

“Well, they did their homework, that’s for sure.” James grabbed a notebook and pen and stood, knowing he couldn’t put off Carmichael’s summons any longer. “Thanks for lunch.”

Thomas grinned up at him. “Anytime, man.”

He wended his way through the maze of desks and rapped lightly on Carmichael’s partially closed door, then pushed it open after the other man beckoned him in.

“Any news?”

James sat in the metal-framed chair in front of Carmichael’s desk, stretching out his legs in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. “Just Mrs. Gerard turning in the busboy.”

“Sanders? Was that his name?” At James’s nod, Carmichael snorted. “That kid is as innocent as they come.”

“I know, but in her mind, any young man who wears a hat indoors is clearly suspect.”

“Doesn’t she know that’s part of the uniform?”

James jerked his shoulder up in a shrug. “Probably not, and I wasn’t about to waste time trying to explain it to her.”

“Good. I have more important things for you to do.”

James leaned forward and uncapped his pen. “What’s up?”

Carmichael pulled a folder off the top of a precariously balanced stack of papers on the corner of his desk. “We got the lab report back from the science guys. They’ve identified the bacteria and have started characterizing the modifications.”

“Tell me we have something,” James said, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the possibility. He’d been working this case for weeks without a break, and he was exhausted and out of leads.

Carmichael’s smile was pure satisfaction. “We do.”

James grinned, his annoyance with Mrs. Gerard fading in the face of this good news. This could be the information he needed to break the case wide open.

Carmichael passed the lab report across his desk, and James took a moment to skim the printout. It was full of scientific jargon, which immediately made him think of Kelly. She’d know just how to translate these findings into plain English. He felt a pang of longing and regret, and firmly pushed thoughts of her out of his mind.

He had tried to get in touch with her a few days after their encounter, but she’d never returned his calls. It was clear she wanted nothing to do with him, so he’d left her alone. He wasn’t going to chase her down and demand an explanation, but he couldn’t deny her actions had stung. This was not the time to think of her, though, not when things were finally starting to look up.

“There are only four labs in the country that work with this particular strain of bacteria,” Carmichael said, his voice interrupting James’s musings.

“Three of them are on the West Coast,” James murmured. “But the last one...this one is local,” he said, looking up at Carmichael. “Do we think this is a neighborhood job?”

“Yes. The guy who runs the lab has been conveniently out of town for the past couple of weeks, which is pretty suspicious. We’ve sent field agents in California to check out the other labs, but I think this is our guy. I want you to head over there this afternoon.”

“Since the guy is out of town, is there anyone in particular we need to talk to?”

Carmichael nodded. “Yeah, there’s a postdoctoral fellow in the lab who seems to run things. A doctor.” He shuffled through some more papers, pulling out a Post-it note and squinting at the writing. “Dr. Jarvis. Bring him in for questioning.”

James sucked in a breath, his stomach dropping. “Dr. Jarvis? Dr. Kelly Jarvis?”

Carmichael frowned and checked the note again. “Don’t know about the Kelly part, but yeah, Dr. K. Jarvis. Do you know her?” He raised narrowed eyes, and James fought to keep a neutral expression on his face.

“If it’s Kelly Jarvis, then yes, I know her. We used to be friends.” What the hell had she gotten herself into? The Kelly he knew would never participate in something like this, but maybe she’d changed in the past few months.

He sucked in a breath as a new thought hit him. Was that why she’d left? So he wouldn’t discover her involvement? He gritted his teeth as he reevaluated their encounter in a new, ugly light. You deserve better than me, she had said before leaving. Was that her guilt talking?

“Used to be? What happened?” Carmichael’s question snapped him back to the present.

James deliberately relaxed his jaw, hoping the other man hadn’t noticed his agitation. If Carmichael thought there was something personal between him and Kelly, he’d yank him from the case. He hadn’t worked this long and hard to be benched in the final stages of the investigation.

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “We just fell out of touch,” he explained, hoping Carmichael wouldn’t press for more details. It was mostly true—after that night, they hadn’t spoken again.

“At this time, she doesn’t appear to be involved.”

James felt a swell of relief, and some of his anger faded. It must have showed on his face, because Carmichael studied him intently for a beat. “If there is a conflict of interest here, I need to know about it now.”

James shook his head before the other man had finished talking. “No. No conflict at all. Like I said, we used to be friends, but we’re not now. Hell, that may even help us. Since she knows me already, she’ll probably be more likely to talk to me.”

Carmichael nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. But if something comes up, I want to know about it. I won’t have this investigation put in jeopardy.”

“I understand.” James stood, wanting to leave and compose his thoughts before bringing Kelly in for questioning.

“Reynolds.”

He stopped at the door and turned back.

“You’ve done a great job on this investigation so far,” Carmichael began, sounding a little uncertain.

James frowned. What was he trying to say?

“Thank you, sir.”

Carmichael nodded. “You’re a great agent, and I know part of what drives you is your...family history,” he finished delicately.

James drew up his shoulders, waiting to see where Carmichael was going with this. Why the hell was his boss bringing up the subject of his father?

“What I’m saying is, if you have to withdraw from this investigation for personal reasons, I’ll understand. You’ve already proven yourself to me, and I don’t want to risk this case in any way.”

James met his gaze, resisting the urge to tell the other man to go to hell. Bobby Reynolds had tarnished the family name by taking bribes and botching investigations for the highest bidder, but James would never risk a case—he wasn’t his father. “I understand, sir,” James said stiffly. “I’ll be back with Dr. Jarvis in about an hour.”

Carmichael looked as if he wanted to say more, but he settled for a nod. “I’ll let the rest of the team know.”

James left the office and walked to the men’s room, which was blessedly empty. He splashed water on his face and swallowed a handful; the cool liquid relaxed the tight muscles of his throat. What kind of mess was Kelly in? And more important, did she even know, or was she truly innocent in all of it?

He blotted his face dry with a square of paper towel. Up until five minutes ago, he would have sworn Kelly didn’t have it in her to fall in league with a terrorist group. But if history had taught him anything, it was that people weren’t always who they seemed to be. His father, his friend Steve...both of them seemingly good people who had made all the wrong choices. Was he going to have to add Kelly to that list?

He glanced in the mirror and straightened his tie, then brushed his hair back into place. He looked calm and professional, his outer image at odds with the emotional turmoil this new lead had created. He had worked hard to put his disappointment and anger toward his father behind him, and he hated that it had popped up again after a few words from his boss. Get it together.

He was too close to breaking open the case to let his emotions get the better of him now.

* * *

Kelly pushed away from the microscope and stretched, arching her back as she reached up to massage her aching neck. She had been looking at slides most of the day, and although it was only two in the afternoon, she was heading home early. Two weeks of burning the candle at both ends had caught up with her, and she was exhausted.

She switched off the microscope and began gathering up her slides as thoughts of a hot bubble bath and a glass of wine danced in her head. It wouldn’t be the same as drinks with James, but it would do in a pinch.

She shook her head as a pang of longing hit, the way it always did when she thought of James. She missed him, missed their regular Friday night conversations. More than that, though, she missed his friendship.

Not for the first time, she regretted walking out on him five months ago. The irony of it all was that in the months since she’d left, she’d come to realize that not all men were Gary in disguise, just waiting to hurt her. James especially didn’t deserve that kind of suspicion. She’d obsessively gone back over their interactions, looking for any sign that she’d been right to leave, but in the end, she could only conclude that he was a genuinely kind and decent man.

Yes, she had been scared of what their night together had meant, but she had ruined things by running away. She had treated him badly, and she carried the regret with her on a daily basis.

Lost in her thoughts, she moved on autopilot as she placed the glass slides in their cardboard folder, paying little attention to the order in which they were stowed. After the last slide went in, she snapped the folder shut and grabbed her notebook.

She stepped into the hall, eager to get everything put away and to duck out before someone asked her a question. With Dr. Collins, the lab head, on vacation for the past couple weeks, Kelly was the de facto group leader. Normally she didn’t mind helping out the other lab techs and graduate students, but today she was tired and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. She moved quickly and kept her head down as she walked, trying hard to look unapproachable as she entered the main lab.

She noticed the shoes first. A pair of brown men’s dress loafers, to be exact, right in the middle of the aisle. Shoes that nice were never found in a research lab, and she frowned as she raised her gaze up suit-clad legs, a trim waist and broad shoulders. Her eyes finally landed on a face she never thought she’d see again.

Her body flushed hot then cold as she stared at James in openmouthed shock. She took a half step forward, wanting to touch him, to hug him, but his stern expression stopped her. With his mouth pressed into a thin line and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked rather forbidding and not at all happy to see her.

They stared at each other for a few seconds until she shook herself free of the moment. She had to take control of the situation. Faking a confidence she didn’t feel, she asked “Can I help you?” in what she hoped was a professional tone. What the hell was he doing here? Why, after all these months, had he come to find her?

He arched a brow, disbelief plain on his face. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Can I help you?’ Are you kidding me?”

She tried to keep her voice aloof, wanting to seem unaffected by his presence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He took a step toward her and she reflexively stepped back, her shoulder bumping into the door frame.

Dammit, she thought. Act normal.

It had been over a year since she’d been hit, but whenever she felt anxious or upset, her nerves got the better of her.

While her mind knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, her body was taking no chances. He was a powerful presence when he was angry, his eyes bright and his body tense as he stood in front of her, staring at her with his angular features arranged into a fierce scowl. Her heart thumped in her chest and nausea gripped her stomach in a sickening fist. He won’t hit me. She wiped a slick palm down her thigh. He’s not Gary.

After what seemed like ages, James’s expression changed. His eyes grew considering as he stared down at her, and she had the sneaking suspicion he knew. Not all the details of her past, but enough to suspect something. He took a step back to give her more room, and she slowly exhaled, trying not to look too relieved at the return of some personal space.

He held her eyes for a moment, then looked down with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. He turned away, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. Oh, God, he still smells the same....

“So, why are you here?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Just business, is that it, Kelly?” For a split second, he dropped his guard and she watched as confusion, hurt and anger danced across his face. The weight of guilt settled on her shoulders and she swallowed hard, hating herself in this moment for having hurt him.

“I—I thought after what happened...” she stammered. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

“You know, I could have forgiven you for running away,” he said slowly. “But when you didn’t return my calls...” He shook his head and looked down. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Pushing down her regret, she repeated her earlier question. “What are you doing here?”

The question roused him from his introspection. He drew himself up, his professional mask back in place. “I’m working a case, and I need your help.”

He needed her? What could she possibly do to help him? She didn’t know anything about the law. Although, given the way things had ended between them, he probably wouldn’t have turned up here unless it was absolutely necessary. “What do you need from me?”

“I need you to come to the office with me, and we’ll talk there.”

“But...I have plans,” she sputtered, thinking longingly of the bubble bath and wine. After this shock, she’d need to add some chocolate, too. It was only fair.

“Going out for a drink?”

Ouch. She supposed she deserved that, but it still stung. “No,” she said, struggling to keep the hurt out of her voice.

A quick flash of what may have been guilt passed over his face, but before he could say anything, she held up her hand. “Just let me get my bag.” At his nod, she turned and walked over to her alcove of an office, taking a moment to shut down her computer. She stood with her back to him while the machine powered down, trying to arrange her features into a neutral expression. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her confusion and the attraction she still felt for him. First things first—figure out why the FBI wanted to talk to her, then deal with the shreds of her relationship with James.

She put the laptop in her desk drawer and grabbed her bag. “Let’s go,” she said, walking over to stand next to him.

They moved down the corridors in awkward silence, and he led her to a black sedan parked by the front door.

“How did you get this spot?” she asked, wanting to say something, anything, to break the tension. “I’m surprised security didn’t tow your car.”

“Being an FBI agent has its privileges,” he commented, waiting for her to slide into the passenger seat, then shutting the door firmly. He was careful not to touch her, and given the set of his jaw, she supposed he was still angry, but whether at her or the situation, she didn’t yet know. Probably a combination of both.

She was hyperaware of him as he drove, all her senses tuned in to the man sitting next to her. She thought back to the last time they had been in a car together, how she’d taken his hand in hers and stroked his palm. She doubted he would welcome such a gesture now.

“So why do you want to talk to me?” she said, hoping she could get him to open up a little.

He took the next exit and slowed as they approached a red light. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he replied, glancing over at her after the car stopped. “Just standard procedure.”

“Standard procedure for what?” she pressed.

“We’ll be there soon,” he replied, accelerating away from the intersection. “All your questions will be answered shortly.”

She sat back in the seat, dissatisfied with his response. Her stomach felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice, and she tasted the coffee she’d had at lunch. Why would the FBI want to talk to her? She wiped damp palms on her pants as she considered what James had told her, which wasn’t much. Standard procedure was vague and gave her no clue as to what they wanted with her. Of course, given the way their reunion had gone, he probably wasn’t interested in easing her mind.

She stared out the window at the downtown buildings, absently watching the people walking past. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so it was unlikely the FBI was investigating her. As far as she knew, she didn’t know any criminals, but who could really say these days? She watched enough late-night TV to know that people weren’t always who they seemed to be. Wouldn’t there be some sign of trouble, though? Her thoughts tumbled around and around, spinning like a centrifuge, getting her nowhere.

“Don’t worry.” She glanced over to see James watching her, his dark brown eyes looking like pools of melted chocolate. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I know,” she said, her voice ringing with a confidence she didn’t feel.

He didn’t bother to mask the sarcasm in his tone. “Right. That’s why I can practically hear you worrying.”

She dropped the act with a sigh. “Can you blame me? I’ve never been questioned by the authorities before, and you’ve got the cloak-and-dagger act going on.”

“Fair enough. It’s just easier to explain everything back at headquarters, so you don’t have to repeat yourself over and over again to the different members of the team.” His voice was deep and soothing, and she let the comforting words wash over her. She wanted so badly to touch him, to apologize with her body for the hurt she’d caused him. Even now, after messing things up so badly, he was still kind to her. Her stomach sank as she realized once again what a good guy he was and what a huge mistake she’d made when she’d left and turned her back on him.

He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine, then turned to face her. She refused to look at him, not wanting him to see the guilt and regret she was sure were written on her face. “We’re here,” he said softly.

He unbuckled his seat belt and moved to get out of the car, but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “James,” she began, then paused to swallow the lump in her throat. “I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered.

“I’m not going to lie,” he said softly. “Waking up to find you leaving was a disappointment. But...” He drifted off, staring out the windshield as if fascinated by the sight of the other parked cars. “But I think I know why you did it.”

She nodded, not wanting to correct whatever assumptions he’d made about her motivations for leaving. She wasn’t ready to have that conversation with him, and she especially didn’t want to tell him about Gary while sitting in a car in the FBI parking garage.

“Is there anything you want to tell me before we go in, Kelly? Anything at all?”

His tone was resigned, as if he knew he was about to hear bad news. What was going on?

“No,” she said, frowning at him. “What’s this about, James? I thought you said I wasn’t in any trouble.”

He sighed, the sound of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You’re not. Come on. Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”

* * *

James climbed out of the car and took his time adjusting his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the wrinkles out and reaching up to straighten his tie. Seeing her again had thrown him for a loop, and he needed to get his equilibrium back.

He’d been angry after she’d left, the sting of rejection quickly piercing the morning-after glow. He had thought their encounter was something special, the beginning of something new and exciting, but she clearly hadn’t felt the same way. It hurt to know she hadn’t cared about him the way he had about her, but more than that, he missed her friendship. He’d thought he was over it by now, but seeing her again had brought all those feelings rushing back.

It seemed his heart didn’t care that she might be involved with terrorists.

The sound of the car door slamming behind him shook him from his musings, and he turned to find Kelly standing with her arms wrapped around her waist, her eyes on the ground. A lock of auburn hair had slipped from her ponytail, making him want to push it behind her ear to keep it out of her face. Despite the brave front she tried to present, she looked so small and scared standing there alone. An ember of protectiveness flared to life inside his chest, along with the urge to tuck her against his side and comfort her with a hug. He squashed the desire like he would an invading bug—he had a job to do, and he had neither the energy nor the time to worry about what she was feeling. He’d made that mistake before.

“This way, Dr. Jarvis.” He gestured with his arm as he rounded the front of the car, indicating the bank of elevators to the far right. She waited for him to reach her side before falling into step with him. They walked to the elevators in silence, the only sound the echo of their footsteps in the garage. James fished his ID badge out of his jacket pocket, scanned it in front of the card reader and pushed the button to call the elevator.

While they waited, he glanced at Kelly out of the corner of his eye. She stood ramrod straight, her shoulders set and her jaw clenched. It seemed his earlier reassurances in the car hadn’t relaxed her for long.

“There’s no need to worry,” he said, turning to look at her fully. She glanced up at him, brows drawn together in a slight frown. Again he felt the urge to comfort her, to reach up and run his finger over the wrinkle between her eyebrows, to smooth away the line. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets with a bit more force than necessary.

“I can’t help it,” she said a little sheepishly. “I’m a worrier—it’s what I do.”

They stepped onto the empty elevator car in unison, and he swiped his badge again before pressing the button for the eighth floor. “We’re just going to ask you some questions as part of our investigation. You’re not under any suspicion, and this isn’t going to be an interrogation.”

“No bright lamps shined into my face and a ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine, then?” she asked with a weak smile.

He appreciated her attempt at humor in the face of her fear. “You watch too much TV,” he replied and was rewarded with a quick grin before her lips returned to a thin line.

“Sometimes my imagination gets the better of me,” she admitted, her voice trailing off as the elevator doors opened and he guided her out of the car.

She hesitated, seemingly taken aback by the activity in front of her. The floor had an open configuration, making it one large room with the desks arranged in rows, forming a maze of sorts. The space buzzed with life as agents spoke on the phone, typed or moved about the room. Afternoon light streamed in from the wall of windows on the right, while the left wall was dominated by a map of the greater D.C. area and posters of the FBI’s most wanted.

James directed Kelly to the back of the room, walking her through the maze of desks and agents. Her head swiveled from side to side as they moved, and he could tell she was taking it all in. For the most part, the agents ignored them, a few raising their hands in a wave or acknowledging him with a quick nod. He returned their greetings with a nod of his own and steered Kelly into one of the conference rooms lining the back wall.

“Have a seat.” He pulled out a chair and she sat down, folding her hands and placing them on the table.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Do you have Coke? I could use the caffeine.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the room and turned right, snagging a Coke from the group fridge in the corner of the room. On his way back to the conference room, he stopped at Kevin Carmichael’s office and rapped on the door.

“Yeah?”

James stuck his head in and found his boss behind his desk, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up, wearing a sour expression, as if he had just taken a sip of bad coffee. His salt-and-pepper hair stuck out in multiple directions, and he was even now reaching up to run his hand through it for what had to be the millionth time today.

“Dr. Jarvis is here,” he said, and Kevin’s expression morphed from disgusted to pleased.

“Excellent,” he said, standing up and rolling his sleeves out. “She’s in the conference room?”

“Yes. She’s a little nervous, too,” James added.

Kevin paused in the act of putting on his jacket. “Why do you think that is?” he asked, slowly sliding the suit coat into place. “Think she has something to hide?”

James shook his head. Although he wasn’t convinced she was completely innocent, going after her with guns blazing was not the way to get her to cooperate. “I think she’s just worried about being here. She’s not used to dealing with the law, and I don’t think she has any idea of what’s going on.”

“We’ll see about that,” Kevin muttered, moving toward the door.

James held up a hand. “Um, Kevin?” The older man stopped, a puzzled look on his face. James gestured to his own hair, moving his hand around to pantomime the frazzled mess sitting atop the other man’s head. Kevin reached up and winced, then spun around and grabbed a comb from his desk drawer.

“Thanks,” he said.

James nodded. “Meet you in there?”

“Yep. I’ll just be a few seconds.”

James returned to the conference room and placed the can in front of Kelly. She looked up with a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she said quietly as she reached for the can and popped it open. She took a swig, closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “Perfect,” she breathed.

James swallowed hard and took a seat across from her, trying not to stare at the smooth column of her neck as she took another sip of her drink. She had a small freckle at the base of her throat, right where her neck met the arch of her collarbone, and he had the sudden, vivid memory of pressing his lips to that spot.

He shifted slightly in his chair, dropping his gaze to the tabletop. He hadn’t slept with anyone since their encounter, had been too busy and exhausted with work. His body remembered their night together, though, and was flaring to life at being so close to her again.

He glanced back up in time to see her lick her lips as she set the can down, and he almost groaned. Where the hell was Kevin? He didn’t need this distraction in the middle of a case. He absolutely, positively could not get involved with this woman again, with her silky hair, hazel eyes and delicate features. No. He refused.

“Well,” she began, her voice quiet. “Are we waiting for someone?”

As soon as the words left her lips, Kevin breezed into the room carrying a manila folder, his earlier disheveled appearance transformed into that of a polished professional. He pulled out a chair at the head of the table and sat, then scooted forward and rested his arms on the tabletop. Other people streamed into the room as he got settled, taking the remaining seats around the conference table. Kevin shot Kelly a dazzling smile, and she smiled in return, the expression freezing on her face as he fired his opening shot.

“So tell me, Dr. Jarvis. How long have you known your boss is a terrorist?”

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