About the Baby
Tracy Wolff
Kara Steward and Lucas Montgomery have always been the best of friends. As doctors, they're too busy saving the world to commit to anything more. Still, Kara knows exactly who to go to when she needs a little support. But one night she turns to Lucas and…everything changes. And once they've crossed that line to more than friends, it's impossible to go back.Their situation is even more tangled when Kara's job calls her away for several weeks. How can they talk about the new "them" when she's half a world away? She can't put off this discussion too long, however. Not after she discovers there's a baby to consider….
After this, nothing is the same!
Kara Steward and Lucas Montgomery have always been the best of friends. As doctors, they’re too busy saving the world to commit to anything more. Still, Kara knows exactly who to go to when she needs a little support. But one night she turns to Lucas and…everything changes. And once they’ve crossed that line to more than friends, it’s impossible to go back.
Their situation is even more tangled when Kara’s job calls her away for several weeks. How can they talk about the new “them” when she’s half a world away? She can’t put off this discussion too long, however. Not after she discovers there’s a baby to consider….
Kara’s breath hitched in her throat
Sitting there, Lucas looked dark, sexy and a little bit rumpled. He looked gorgeous, really, and despite all of her best intentions, her heart kicked into high gear. Her stomach fluttered even as her mouth went desert dry. Trying to get some moisture back, she rubbed her lips together. Licked them. And felt Lucas stiffen against her even as a deep, rumbling growl started in his chest.
“Kara.” It was a warning, and a blatant one at that, and she felt it sizzle along every nerve ending she had. Drowning now in the scent and sight and sound of him, she reached up and rested her hand against his cut-glass jaw. Stroked her thumb over his dark stubble and lost herself in the dark pools of his eyes.
“Kara.” He whispered her name this time, his hand coming up to cup her own face. “What are you doing?”
Dear Reader,
Every once in a while, if she’s very lucky, an author gets the chance to write a series of books that really speaks to her. For me, these three Harlequin Superromance books about doctors who work in Africa—From the Beginning, February 2012, Healing Dr. Alexander, May 2012 and this one—is that series. About the Baby was the most difficult of the three to write, I have to say. Partly because my hero, Dr. Lucas Montgomery, is an all-around great guy (I usually specialize in writing bad boys) and partly because I have to say good-bye to six characters who I really like and admire.
When I was in college, I always thought I would graduate then join the Peace Corps or another such group that did humanitarian work in places that desperately need help. Though I knew my parents would not be overly excited to let me go off to a part of the world that was constantly war and disaster torn, I never doubted that one day I would do it.
Well, life has a way of taking paths you never intend. When I left college I went straight into grad school where I fell in love with a wonderful man (from Africa, by the way), got married and had a baby all before I finished my master’s degree. Needless to say, I’ve never made it to Africa for more than a three-week visit. And while I have since volunteered my time here in America for numerous women’s and children’s organizations, there’s a part of me that still feels like I should have gone to Africa, should have tried to help. It is this part of myself that I tapped into when I wrote About the Baby, and when I conceived of this trilogy.
Thanks so much for giving About the Baby a try. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love hearing from my readers either at my email tracy@tracywolff.com or at my blog, www.tracywolff.blogspot.com (http://www.tracywolff.blogspot.com). If you get the chance, please stop by and say hello!
Happy reading!
Tracy Wolff
About the Baby
Tracy Wolff
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tracy Wolff collects books, English degrees and lipsticks, and has been known to forget where—and sometimes who—she is when immersed in a great novel. At six, she wrote her first short story—something with a rainbow and a prince—and at seven, she ventured into the wonderful world of girls’ lit with her first Judy Blume novel. By ten, she’d read everything in the young-adult and classics sections of her local bookstore, so in desperation her mom started her on romance novels. And from the first page of the first book, Tracy knew she’d found her lifelong love. Tracy lives in Texas with her husband and three sons, where she pens romance novels and teaches writing at her local community college.
Books by Tracy Wolff
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1529—A CHRISTMAS WEDDING
1568—FROM FRIEND TO FATHER
1607—THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT
1649—BEGINNING WITH THEIR BABY
1676—UNGUARDED
1703—DESERVING OF LUKE
1760—FROM THE BEGINNING
1781—HEALING DR. ALEXANDER
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
To my mom, the most amazing woman I know.
Acknowledgement
Thank you, Wanda, for your never-ending patience with me as I struggle to get things right, usually at the last possible minute. I really appreciate your support.
Contents
Chapter One (#u8e5bfcaf-d22e-550d-ba28-3898751e8d10)
Chapter Two (#u04219f8e-a1a9-5b5c-b496-fab5e86c2096)
Chapter Three (#uc171df42-9911-5085-80f0-efbe261d30d7)
Chapter Four (#u155ca5b8-0f8b-5e61-83b6-54958cfe6115)
Chapter Five (#u83a22c76-6d9e-54fa-8813-cba9e0803307)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
April
“CAN I BUYYOUADRINK?”
Dr. Lucas Montgomery turned with a frown, annoyed at having his few minutes of hard-won solitude disturbed. The annoyance turned to something else entirely, however, at his first glimpse of the leggy redhead with the killer curves and impish smile. She was holding out a glass of champagne, her green eyes twinkling in the dim courtyard lights of the hotel terrace.
“The champagne’s free,” he told her.
“And yet you’re not drinking any.” She gestured slightly with the glass. “Come on. Live a little.”
Raising an eyebrow at her teasing, he reached for the champagne flute and kept his gaze locked with hers as he downed the effervescent liquid in one swig.
“Shall I get you another?” she asked dryly as he set the glass on top of a stone ledge.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?”
“Perhaps, but I haven’t finished my drink yet.” She held up the nearly full glass for his inspection.
“I won’t hold that against you,” he answered with a smile. He couldn’t help it—he really liked looking at her. Clasping her free hand in his, he murmured, “Dance with me.”
Her lips twisted in contemplation and when she didn’t immediately answer, he slipped the glass of champagne from her hand and set it next to his empty one.
“Come on,” he urged. Wrapping his right arm around her waist, he pulled her against him and started to glide over the redbrick patio.
“You want to dance here?” She paused for a moment, refusing to budge as she considered.
“What’s wrong with here? Live a little,” he mimicked, certain the dare would get to her.
She laughed then, a husky, full-bodied sound that made him laugh along with her. “Nothing’s wrong with here. I just didn’t realize terrace dancing was one of your specialties.”
It wasn’t, but he had a feeling it was right up her alley. And when she stopped resisting and allowed him to propel her out of the shadows and into the small pool of light cast by the old-fashioned globe lantern, he knew he was right.
They were close enough to the ballroom to hear the music, and for long seconds neither of them talked as they moved together under the heavy branches of a centuries-old magnolia tree. With her heels on, she was only a couple inches shorter than his own height of six foot four.
He liked the way she fit against him. When the song ended, she tried to step away, but he held on. She indulged him for a moment, eyes closed and head resting against his shoulder. Then, with a sigh, she stepped away. He let her go, but when she tugged a little in an effort to free her hand, he refused to relinquish it. “How was Africa?” he asked softly.
“Same as always.” While the reply was flippant, the sadness that moved behind her eyes was anything but. “Beautiful, but nightmarish.”
“Did you get everything taken care of?”
“As much as we could. Cholera isn’t something to play around with. We managed to vaccinate nine refugee camps as well as educate them on prevention measures and the handling of blood and tissue samples. It’s not enough, but at least this outbreak is under control. But I’m sure it will pop up again soon and then we’ll be right back where we were two months ago.”
His stomach clenched a little at the thought of Kara going up against such a miserable illness¸ but he made himself ignore it. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d taken on a deadly disease and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. She was an epidemiologist for the Center for Disease Control. Traveling to hot spots around the world and figuring out where and how the outbreak happened was her job—and her calling.
Concern about his best friend’s safety might keep him up some nights, but he was the only one. An adventurer through and through, Kara rarely worried about herself. She relished the thrill of running a virus to ground, as well as helping the people who so much of the world preferred to forget.
He understood her drive, her need to make the world a better place. He’d done his stint in For the Children, one of the leading organizations that brought doctors into developing nations, and in doing so had seen just how desperately people needed help.
But, unlike Kara, he hadn’t been able to hack it long-term. He’d gotten out early, had chosen to start a low-income clinic in the poorest area of Atlanta instead. Not because he didn’t believe in helping those who couldn’t help themselves, but because he knew that staying in Africa, witnessing the soul-deep suffering, would eventually kill him—as it nearly had his clinic partners, Amanda Hart and Jack Alexander.
Together the three of them dealt with everything at their clinic, from gunshot wounds to diagnosing cancer. And while there never seemed to be enough time, enough money, enough anything, at least here he could see that he was making a difference. When he’d been in Ethiopia it had felt like everything he’d done had been barely a drop in a leaky bucket.
Though he knew Kara didn’t feel the same way about her time in Africa, he couldn’t help asking, “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. A little tired is all,” she admitted with a grimace. “I got in late last night and my body’s clock is all messed up.”
“So what are you doing here? You should be home sleeping.”
“Well, that was the plan. But earlier, I called the clinic to see if you could do lunch today but you had scheduled appointments right through your lunch hour, as usual. Your receptionist told me about this benefit event. And since I know how much you love these things, I figured it was my duty as your oldest and dearest friend to dust off my dancing shoes and suffer right along with you.”
“Have I mentioned lately that you are a terrific best friend?”
“A time or two.” She pretended to buff her nails on her dress. “But it’s a sentiment that bears repeating.”
“No doubt.” He draped an arm around her shoulders, gave her a quick squeeze. “And I very much appreciate your sacrifice.”
“And well you should. I’ve been in Somalia for the last seven weeks, running around in hiking boots and tennis shoes. Squeezing my feet into these heels—” she held up one slender foot encased in a pair of red-sequined stilettos “—has been absolute torture.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he said with a grin.
“Well, that’s obvious. But since you’ve got me, at least until the next crisis rears its ugly head, what do you say we blow this pop stand and go find something more interesting to do—after I sit down for five minutes.”
“I can’t leave. I’m one of the hosts,” he said as he cupped a hand around her elbow and escorted her to the closest stone bench.
She sat, gratefully, and kicked off her right shoe so she could rub her toes. “Which is why you’re hiding out on the patio? Because you’re so concerned about your hosting duties?”
“I’m taking a break. I wanted a breather before I had to start making the rounds to say good-night to everyone.”
“So take a longer break. I was just in the ballroom. It’s well after midnight and the party has already started to break up. Amanda, Jack and your mother have everything under control.”
“No doubt. But Amanda threatened me with many, many painful things if I stepped out of line tonight. Not to mention what my mother said she would do if I embarrassed her. Somehow I think ducking out right before I’m supposed to position myself near the door and thank everyone for the copious amounts of money they’ve spent here tonight definitely falls into both categories.”
“Okay, I can understand your fear of your mother’s wrath. She can be scary when she gets going. But don’t tell me you’re afraid of a pregnant woman?”
“Damn right I am. Amanda’s mean,” he said with affection, so Kara would know he was teasing.
“I have to admit, I wondered how she got you here. Normally it’s impossible to get you to attend a big charity event, even if it is for your own clinic.”
Lucas shook his head. “I’m not even sure how we ended up having a big charity event, to be honest with you. One second I’m complaining about how hard it’s been to pry funding out of the government and our regular donors—at a time when we need it most. The next thing I know Amanda’s dialing her husband to see if his cable news network might like to sponsor a ball to raise money. She got Jack’s girlfriend, Sophie, involved along with my mom and sisters, and here we are.”
“Nobody throws a party like your mom and sisters.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” He heard the harsh edge of sarcasm in his voice, and tried to smooth it out. “They throw magnificent parties.”
The knowing look Kara sent him told him he hadn’t quite managed it. That was the problem with best friends—they’d been around long enough to know your dirty family laundry whether you liked it or not.
“I think they’ve done a wonderful job,” she told him. “The ballroom looks gorgeous and the turnout is huge. You guys are going to make a bundle for the clinic.”
“I hope so. Amanda’s worked so hard on it that I’d hate to see it fail.” Especially since she’d spent all her free time organizing the benefit when she should have been concentrating on her new marriage to Simon and impending motherhood.
“It won’t fail,” Kara reassured him. “You guys are amazing, and everyone here—especially the ones with deep pockets—has figured that out.”
She reached for her champagne and quickly downed it. Then shot him the mischievous look that had first gotten his attention all those years ago. “Last chance to duck out before we head back into the ballroom and get swallowed by the legion of Dr. Montgomery fans. And, as extra incentive, if you leave with me now, I promise to buy you the biggest and best piece of apple pie in Atlanta. There’s this great diner right down the street, but they close at one, so if we’re going to go, we need to hustle.”
Thinking she was joking, he started to refuse a second time. But when he looked at her, really looked at her, he saw. There was something wrong, something in her eyes that said she needed a shoulder to cry on. His had been her shoulder of choice since they’d met in the freshman dorms seventeen years before—and vice versa. It wasn’t like he could turn her away and he didn’t want to. Kara so rarely needed comforting, or anything else, from him. The fact that she needed it now—that she had so obviously sought him out—worried him enough to have him shifting his priorities.
“So, if we were to attempt an escape,” he said, kneeling down to slide her shoe back onto her foot, “what do you think our best way out of here is?”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? You want to leave?”
“Darlin’, I’ve wanted to break out of here since two seconds after I arrived. You’re just the impetus I’ve been waiting for.”
Obviously afraid he’d change his mind if she let him think about it too long, Kara jumped to her feet. “Let’s go, then. I’ve got the escape route all planned out. Simon has Amanda resting at a table near the ballroom entrance where they can bid everyone good-night. They’re dealing with a steady stream of doctors, socialites and news people alike and they’re fielding questions about the baby, so they should be occupied for quite some time.
“Jack and Sophie are dancing—he can’t keep his eyes—or his hands—off her. And your mom and sisters, along with their dates, are still holding court in the center of the room.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the edge of the terrace. “And can I just say, go Mom! She’s with Nicholas Vega, newsman extraordinaire. He’s hanging on her every word.”
“Of course he is. She’s laying on the famous Montgomery charm. Her latest lover got wise and dropped her a couple of weeks ago so she’s on the prowl for a new bank account. This benefit is a perfect opportunity for her to close the deal.”
Kara laid a hand on his shoulder, and for a second he tensed, expecting her to say the same things his sisters did. That he was being too tough on Candy. That he needed to try to be more understanding. That he should cut her a break once in a while.
But this was Kara, who knew him better than anybody, and all she said was, “Rough couple of months with your mom, huh?”
He snorted. “More like a rough couple of decades, don’t you think?”
He knew he sounded cynical, but it was hard to be anything else when it came to his mother. In the years since his dad had died, she’d run through the very significant portfolio he’d left for her and now counted on Lucas or whatever man she was currently dating to take care of her.
After ten years and twice as many rich lovers, he’d given up expecting her to change. Of course, he’d also given up “cutting her a break.” If that made him a bastard, then he was willing to live with it—even if his sisters couldn’t.
Turning to Kara, he switched the focus back where it belonged. “So, how exactly does this escape plan of yours begin?”
* * *
KARAWATCHEDAS LUCAS’S eyes went cold and hard at the mention of his mother. Not that she blamed him. Most of the time, she wanted to shake some sense into Candy Montgomery herself and she wasn’t even related to the woman. She could only imagine how bad it was for Lucas, control freak extraordinaire and the most dependable man she’d ever met, to be saddled with a mother who not only wouldn’t be controlled, but who was completely undependable.
As they scooted around the terrace, she glanced through the ballroom windows and saw his mother doing what she did best—telling an animated story to a gaggle of admirers. She was beautiful and glittery and obviously in her element as the center of attention at a benefit that should be all about her son. Not that anyone who knew her would be surprised.
What was surprising, at least to Kara, was how two people who looked so alike could be such different people. Both Lucas and his mother were absolutely stunning, with classically beautiful faces, piercing blue eyes and dark ebony hair. Lucas wore it too long and his mom wore it in a short, gamine cut that showed off her gorgeous bone structure and ageless skin. And though Lucas, at six foot four, stood about eight inches taller than his mother, they both had long, lean bodies and an innate sense of grace that drew gazes to them wherever they went.
Yet that was where the resemblance ended. Candy Montgomery was simpering, flighty and completely irresponsible. Oh, she was sweet—and as charming as the rest of Lucas’s family—but she lived in a dream world. Which would be fine, except for the fact that Lucas’s father had taught his son at an early age that he was the responsible one, the one whose job it was to take care of his mom and sisters if anything happened to Lucas, Sr. It was a responsibility he’d taken seriously for the ten years since his father had died, one that required he bail his mom and sisters out of whatever trouble they got themselves into. Which was a significant amount of trouble.
Lucas never complained, and she never brought it up, but after seventeen years of watching his mother and sisters taking financial and emotional advantage of him, Kara wanted to tell them all to grow up. They were adults and it was no longer his job to take care of them. But she refused to give Lucas her opinion on it unless he asked—the last thing she wanted to do was cause him more stress.
Kara saw Candy start to scan the crowd, as if she was looking for someone. It was probably time to show off her son. Kara reached out and shoved Lucas, hard. Completely unprepared for the push, he stumbled back a few steps—just enough to be hidden from view by a giant column, exactly as she’d intended.
“What the hell was that for?” he demanded.
She ducked behind the column with him. “I had to think fast. We were about to be spotted.”
“I didn’t realize we were actually hiding.”
“Of course we’re hiding. How else are we supposed to get out of here?” She stuck her head out, looked around. Candy had turned and was walking toward the front of the ballroom—straight for Amanda and Jack but with her back to the window. She grabbed Lucas’s hand and tugged him into the shadows of the patio.
“Come on, now’s our chance to escape.”
Lucas reached out and snagged her hand, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “You do realize that we aren’t mounting a prison break, don’t you? We’re simply leaving a fundraiser a few minutes early.”
She shot him a pitying look. “I will have you know, this is much more complicated than a prison break. After all, in prison, all they do is toss you back in your cell. Here, if we get caught, they might actually kick you out of high society completely.”
He snorted. “I couldn’t get that lucky.”
“Still, why risk it?” Grabbing his hand, she began skulking along the edges of the terrace, sticking to the shadows so that no one could see them.
“You’re completely insane,” he told her, but he played along, anyway, which was exactly as she’d intended. After all, if he was wrapped up in humoring her, he wasn’t brooding about his mommy issues.
Which was a good thing. He was far too good a man to spend his life worrying about things he’d never be able to change. She’d spent too much of the last decade stuck in that catch-22 herself, and there was no way she was going to let her closest friend fall into the same trap.
Finally, they ran out of fence and building to skulk against and reached an open spot on the terrace. After stepping out of the shadows, she chanced another look in the ballroom and realized that they must have been spotted, because his sisters were headed directly for them.
“Duck,” she whispered, bending down so that she was partially hidden by the hedge in front of them. When Lucas just stood there, eyebrows raised incredulously, she grabbed his hand and tugged until he bent down, too.
“What are we doing?” he asked again.
“Hiding from your sisters. I think they spotted us.”
“It’d be hard to miss us, seeing as how we’re acting like maniacs.” Despite his words, he didn’t seem particularly put out by their actions. “Is there some reason I can’t just say good-night to them like a normal person would?”
“No, of course not. Where’s the fun in that?”
“Oh, is that what this escape is supposed to be about? Fun?”
“Ha-ha.” She elbowed him in the stomach. “We can stand up and go say good-night. But I’ve got to tell you, your sisters look like women on a mission. If we go talk to them, I don’t think we’re getting out of here anytime soon.”
She watched as he poked his head above the hedge and checked out the way his sisters were storming the terrace. And though the guests had been trickling home for the past half an hour or so, there were still enough people around that they had gathered quite an entourage behind them.
“I think you’re right,” he finally said.
“So what do you want to do? Stay and talk to them or make a run for it?” She braced herself for the first answer—after all, Lucas didn’t know how to shirk responsibility. And though she was disappointed their little game would end, she was just pleased he’d played along with her this long. Lucas didn’t have enough fun in his life, and lately, neither had she.
She was so convinced that their little game of hide-and-seek was over that when he said, “Let’s make a run for it,” it took a few seconds for the words to register.
“Seriously?” she asked him after she managed to close her mouth.
He grinned. “Last one to the lobby is a rotten egg.”
CHAPTER TWO
KARADIDN’TANSWERHIS challenge right away, though Lucas did see her relax a little in relief. Instead, she crept forward to the edge of the bushes, one small step at a time. But the second she reached the pathway that circled around to the front of the hotel, she was off and running, sprinting down the trail to the hotel’s front door.
He was hot on her heels, could have beaten her easily—she was in four-inch stilettos, after all. But he was enjoying the view of her long legs and curvy ass in her short, tight red dress too much to rush ahead. She might be his best friend, and off-limits because of it, but he was still a man and it was a hell of a view. Besides, Kara was laughing, the melancholy exhaustion of earlier long gone, and he was definitely willing to finish second if it meant keeping the smile on her face.
“I won!” she exclaimed the second he turned the corner to the valet parking area.
“I noticed.”
“So what’s my prize?”
“A ride home?” he asked, fishing in his pocket for his valet ticket.
She made a disparaging sound. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
“It kind of is.”
“Careful, Lucas, you’re getting staid in your old age.”
“You are aware that we’re exactly the same age,” he reminded her, reaching out to yank on one of her flame-red curls.
She kicked off her shoes, scooped them up. “Yeah, but I’m not an old fuddy-duddy.”
“I’m not boring.” He knew she was just joking, but the accusation stung a little. It hit too close to home, he supposed. It was too similar to what his family told him regularly.
“I never said you were boring,” she said, snatching his keys out of his hand and dropping them into her red-beaded clutch. “But I figure we can do better than a ride home. That diner with the apple pie is just up the street. I say we go for it.”
She started walking and he found himself following along behind her. That apple pie did sound good—and maybe the chance to relax over dessert would get Kara talking. Because as much as he’d enjoyed being a part of her absurd little getaway, Kara was only ever this crazy when something was very wrong. Through the years, he’d learned there was an inverse correlation between the two. The more upset Kara was, the more lighthearted and silly she’d act. And while he was happy to go along for the ride, at some point she was going to run out of gas and he had every intention of being there for her when she did.
As they walked, Kara bombarded him with questions. How’s the clinic? How’s life? How’s your family? He let her get away with the inane small talk, though he knew it was more about keeping the focus on him and off herself than it was about stuff they’d already covered. But sometimes keeping the peace was more important than getting to the bottom of things right away. Life with a histrionic mother and two high-maintenance sisters had taught him that.
Besides, this was Kara. She’d never been able to keep a secret from him in her life and he had no intention of letting her do so now. If he didn’t push, she’d eventually loosen up and it would all come spilling out. And if it didn’t…well, then he’d push.
Still, though they’d walked together a million times—through the deserted midnight streets of downtown Atlanta as well as a hundred other places—something felt off tonight. Like there was something between them and they weren’t quite connecting, though the rhythm of their speech was as relaxed as always.
It made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t been able to count on much in his life—more often than not the clinic was one short budget cut away from extinction and since his father had died, he was the one his family turned to for just about everything. But Kara was different. She was the one person he could always count on to be there for him and to be straight with him. He couldn’t stand the idea that there was something she wasn’t sharing with him, something that was bothering her that she wasn’t letting him help with. He’d just made up his mind to ask her what was going on when she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked up at the pocket of midnight sky that wasn’t blocked by buildings.
“It’s a beautiful night—not too hot or humid yet,” she said.
“Seriously?” he asked. “Now we’re going to talk about the weather?”
“Not really. I was just making conversation.” She never took her eyes from the sky, and finally he glanced up, too, trying to figure out what she found so interesting. But it was the same sky they always saw. “You can’t see any stars from here,” he finally told her. “The lights are too bright.”
She sighed. “I know. I kind of like that.”
“Since when? You’ve been into stargazing as long as I’ve known you. God knows, we did enough of it in college.”
“We did do a lot of it. I used to love driving out to the middle of nowhere with you, staring up at that infinite sky, bursting with possibilities.”
“So what’s changed?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “Or everything. You know, in Somalia, the sky is so wide-open. It goes on for miles and miles. When I was there, looking at it and feeling completely insignificant, it occurred to me that there’s something comforting about only being able to see this little bit of sky. You know what I mean?”
No, he really didn’t. He found the whole concept behind her explanation pretty damned depressing, actually. Not to mention it sounded nothing like the take-life-by-the-tail adventurer he knew her to be.
Trying to think over the clang of warning bells going off in the back of his mind, he decided delicacy be damned. He was getting to the bottom of this. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Kara?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You seem…troubled.”
She dropped her eyes back to his and smiled stiffly. “I told you, it’s the jet lag. I’m just a little off.”
If this was a little, he’d hate to see a lot. “Do you want to go home?”
“No!” she answered forcefully, panic flashing before she tamped it down. “The diner’s up ahead.”
“I’m not really in the mood for pie.”
“Now those are words I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”
He wanted to shake her, to demand that she tell him what was going on in her head. He knew it wasn’t the way to get it out of her, but part of him didn’t care. She was hurting and it was his job to make it better. It had always been his job, with everyone in his life. Why couldn’t Kara understand that and just let him help?
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair before demanding, “Tell me, Kara. Whatever it is, spit it out.”
“Spit what out?” She looked confused, but under it all was a shade of panic that set off his own nerves.
“Are you sick?” he asked abruptly.
“What? No.”
“Were you hurt in Somalia?”
“Of course not. Why are you asking all these questions?”
“Because you’re not talking to me. I want to know what’s put that bruised look in your eyes. And don’t,” he said as she opened her mouth to protest, “pretend that you have no idea what I’m talking about. It will only piss me off.”
* * *
KARASTAREDAT LUCAS, words welling up on her tongue that she had no idea how to say. Not to him when he wouldn’t understand. He always knew what he was doing, always had a plan. And once he’d made that plan, he stuck to it. No matter what. How could he understand that she was suddenly, deathly afraid that she couldn’t stick to the life plan she’d made for herself? Or worse, that she’d made a mistake ever thinking it was right for her?
No, she couldn’t tell him. Not now. She needed more time to figure it out in her own head, more time to decide what her options were before she asked him for his advice. With Lucas, it was always better to have a few backup plans in place before talking to him. Otherwise, he’d just take over and she’d find herself right back where she’d started.
Closing her eyes for a moment to clear her head, she opened them to find Lucas staring straight at her. Since she couldn’t meet his eyes, not when she was lying to him, she shifted her gaze behind her—and realized they’d stopped in front of her favorite park. Suddenly the idea of doing something mindless, something just for fun, appealed to her in a way nothing had for a very long time.
Was it absurd? Yes.
Was she going to do it, anyway? Absolutely.
Maybe it would buy her the time she needed to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to say. Because the look in Lucas’s eye said he wasn’t going to let her get away with evading him for long. Not this time. Not tonight.
“Wanna swing?” she asked him, nodding to the park behind him.
“Swing?” It was like he’d never heard of the word.
“It’ll be fun.” She walked closer to the locked fence that kept the public out after eleven at night.
“Are you kidding me?” Lucas demanded. “I want to talk about what’s going on with you and you want to go play in the sandbox?”
“Swings, not sandbox,” she said, tossing her shoes over the fence before grabbing onto the fence and starting to climb. “Try to keep up.”
“I would if you weren’t completely insane.” He paused. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked, reaching for the top of the fence and pulling herself up. “I can’t leave my shoes here—those are my only pair of Jimmy Choos.”
“The park is closed!” he hissed.
“And your point is?”
“My point is, it’s closed. You can get arrested for trespassing, you know.”
“Give me a break. It’s a public park.” Hiking her dress up to the tops of her thighs, she climbed over the fence, careful of the iron spikes, then dropped down to the grass below. “Are you coming?” she asked, picking up her heels and pretending she didn’t care if he followed her or not.
Lucas sighed heavily and she could all but see his eye roll as he said, “Of course I’m coming. This is downtown Atlanta. God only knows what could happen to you in there.”
As he pulled himself up and over the fence in a couple of smooth, well-coordinated movements—much smoother and well-coordinated than her own—she refrained from reminding him that she’d managed to survive on her own in places a lot rougher than Atlanta. But the last thing she wanted was to bring her job into the conversation, not when she’d done everything in her power to avoid talking about it.
He dropped to the ground beside her. “So what do you want to do now?” he demanded, his voice put-upon. But he couldn’t hide his grin—or the dimple in his left cheek that only came when he was deeply amused by something.
“We’re in a park, Lucas. What do you think I want to do?” She grabbed his hand and took off, running full out down the grassy hill that led to the playground equipment. But about halfway down, she tripped over a sprinkler head. As she stumbled, Lucas tried to stop her fall and somehow they got all tangled up together. They hit the ground, hard, and then they were rolling down the hill, Lucas instinctively wrapping his arms around her to protect her.
They came to a stop against the side of a small gazebo, a few feet from the bottom of the hill. Lucas hit with an oomph, though she wasn’t sure if that was because he’d born the brunt of the hit or because she had landed on top of him.
Certain she wasn’t helping matters, she struggled to climb off him, but was so dizzy from the roll that she ended up straddling him, her head on his chest as she tried to keep the world around her from spinning. She glanced up at Lucas, who had a very disgruntled look on his face—like he couldn’t imagine that he had somehow been a part of anything so undignified. The absolute shock, mingled with the sight of his expression, made her throw her head back and giggle like crazy.
Immediately, his hand shot up to the back of her head, his fingers probing her scalp. “Did you hit your head?” he demanded, trying to sit up. Which wasn’t easy considering she was stretched out on top of him and laughing like a hyena.
“If you could see your face,” she sputtered, “you’d laugh, too.”
His left eyebrow rose in that adorably sardonic way of his, which only made her amusement harder to control. Within moments, he joined in and the two of them laughed themselves silly.
This was what she missed the most when she was working on location. Kara rolled onto her back and looked up at the slightly wider expanse of sky above them. She decided it wasn’t Chinese takeout or her big feather bed or access to a regular shower that she missed most—though a shower did run a close second. No, what she missed more than anything was Lucas.
Spending time with her other friends and colleagues was never as much fun as spending time with him. Oh, he walked the walk of the rich, Southern gentleman, but inside that smooth, slightly reserved exterior was a wicked sense of humor and an incredible capacity for fun. He didn’t show it to many people, and she couldn’t help being grateful that she was one of the chosen few he could let down his guard with.
“What now?” he finally asked when their laughter had quieted. “You want to fall off the monkey bars, maybe break your collarbone? Or should we go for something more sedate, like riding the merry-go-round till we puke?”
She reached over, rested a finger against the right corner of his mouth and pressed upward. “You need to smile when you say that stuff. Someone who doesn’t know you might think you’re serious.”
“I am serious. If we try hard enough, maybe we could hang ourselves on the swings.”
“Make fun of me all you want,” she said, swatting his shoulder. “But you have to admit this is a lot better than that stupid gala.”
“So is a root canal, darlin’, so don’t get too full of yourself.”
She went to smack him again but he moved lightning fast and caught her fist in his hand. His face turned serious. “You’ve been running an awful lot tonight, Kara. It’s time to settle down and tell me what it’s all about.”
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the concern on his face, but in the end she couldn’t do it. Not when he was still holding her hand, his thumb stroking softly across the back of her palm.
“I can’t breathe. I just—I can’t…” Her breath caught on a sob she could no longer swallow down. It had been sitting there for days and weeks, maybe even months, waiting to escape. She tried to stop it—and the ones that came after it. The last thing Lucas needed was for her to turn into a basket case. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the surge inside of her.
“Aw, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap.
She went without a struggle, letting him rock her as she sobbed out all her pain and frustration and fear. Her last few trips—to Colombia, Somalia and the Sudan—had been awful. So awful that there was a part of her, despite what she’d told Lucas earlier, that couldn’t imagine going back.
Sure, she could map the outbreak of the disease, figure out where it started and why. That helped people in the long run—she understood that. It was why she’d chosen to be an epidemiologist to begin with. But it didn’t do anything for people in the short-term and she wasn’t sure she could take it anymore, to watch people die terrible deaths in the hope that somehow she could save others two, five, ten years down the road.
Finally, she wore herself out, the crying subsiding to the occasional shudder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his tuxedo shirt, ashamed of her loss of control now that she was coming back to herself. Lucas had enough on his plate—the last thing she’d wanted to do was burden him with more.
For long seconds Lucas didn’t answer, just stroked her hair softly. She had pretty much given up on a response when he said, “You don’t need to be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
This time she was the one who took long seconds to answer. And when she finally did find her voice, the only words that came out were, “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning, baby.”
She would, except at this point, she had no idea when that was.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’MTHINKINGOFLEAVING the CDC.”
He knew she was waiting for an exclamation of surprise or denial, and though he was shocked, he made sure not to show it. Instead, he just looked at her, waiting for an explanation.
“You know, I became an epidemiologist because I wanted to help people. I could have taken my medical degree and joined the Peace Corps or For the Children, but I wanted to do more than only treat the victims after the fact. I wanted to track viruses, to figure out how they start so we could prevent outbreaks from happening in the future.”
“And you don’t want to do that anymore?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to do that. It’s just—” She tried to find a way to explain what she was thinking. “You know, the locals have a phrase down there, one all the relief workers and mercenaries and warlords have adopted in the last few years. TIA. Do you know what it means?”
He shook his head.
“This is Africa.”
This time when she pulled against his arms, he let her go. It cost him, though. “I’m guessing that’s not a statement of pride?”
Her laugh cut like broken glass. “Not quite. Africa is…Africa. No matter what happens, no matter who tries to help or hurt, nothing really changes under the surface. One revolutionary group seizes control and another rises up to fight them. One drought ends and another natural disaster starts. One horrific virus goes dormant and another one takes its place. It’s a damn nightmare, one I’ve been caught in for ten years now.”
“I’m so sorry.” It was inadequate, but he had no idea what else he was supposed to say.
She didn’t answer, simply shrugged, shivered. Though he knew her trembling had more to do with her memories than it did the breeze in the night air, he slipped out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, anyway.
“Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result,” she finally continued. “I wonder what he would say about our policies in Africa. I wonder what he would say about me. I do the same tests, run the same research, teach the same classes. It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference. There will always be war, always be poverty. And there sure as hell will always be disease.”
She stood, walked over to the man-made pond at the center of the park. Looked out over the dark, rippling water for long seconds. Even as he wondered what it was she was seeing out there, she added, “On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about losing my job anytime soon. Unless, or course, I totally flip out.”
“Are you worried about that happening?”
“Sorry—did I make the doctor nervous?” She glanced at him. “I’m fine, Lucas. No nervous breakdowns or splits from reality in my future.”
Her voice dropped and he had to strain to hear as she muttered to herself, “No matter how much I wish there was.”
The aside was one more blaring signal of her disillusionment. It was painful to listen to, especially when he remembered the wide-eyed girl she’d once been, determined to make a difference and ready to take on the whole world to do it. Usually he could still find that idealistic girl under the pain and cynicism that came with ten years of public health work, but tonight she was MIA. All he could see when he looked at Kara now was the horror that came from taking on disaster after disaster—and losing, again and again and again.
Not that he blamed her for being tired or angry or heartsick. It had been years since he’d set foot in
Africa—he’d made the choice to put all his efforts and resources into his clinic instead—but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember the utter hopelessness and heartbreaking beauty of the people and the place. The two years he’d spent there, fresh out of medical school, had been the best and worst of his life. He’d often wondered how Kara held it together so well. Now he knew—she didn’t. She just looked like she did.
It was the last thing he wanted for her.
“I’m sorry, Kara,” he repeated, knowing even as he did that it was a useless sentiment.
She shook her head. “It is what it is.”
“What it is, sucks.”
“Yeah.” She started to shrug it off, but even in the dim light of the park, he could see when she decided not to. There was a change to her face, an opening of it that he hadn’t even realized was missing until he saw it happen. “It hurts. The children—” Her voice broke. “This time was bad, Lucas. It was really, really bad.”
“I know, baby.”
“You don’t know. You can’t know what it’s like.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Because the sickness isn’t the worst part. I can deal with the death, deal with the pain of not being able to save everyone, as long as I have the chance to try. But lately, I haven’t even been allowed to try.”
“You’re right,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand.”
She laughed, a harsh, painful sound that hurt to listen to. “Yeah, neither do I. I mean, we’re a scientific organization, right? It’s our job to control disease—shit, it’s in our name and our mission statement, so why is it so hard to get people who aren’t doctors or scientists to understand?”
“What people?”
“Politicians. Accountants.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be back yet. There’s still way too much to do in Somalia. Education efforts are just beginning—the conditions at most of the refugee camps practically breed cholera and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“You know, when I started at the CDC, the team leaders had more control. They said when an epidemic was contained. They said when it was time to go home. Now, politicians tell us what to do. What to say, where to go, how long before we have to get out…
“I’m one of the best damn epidemiologists in the world and I know I haven’t found the roots of this outbreak. Just like I know that, while our efforts are making a difference in Somalia, I needed another six to eight weeks to really make sure the education was working, that the conditions were changing.
“A week ago, I was in the hardest hit area of Somalia, fighting that damn disease and convinced that I actually had a shot at beating it. But then my boss called and here I am. The government has decided that it doesn’t want us in Somalia right now, because of some political problem I don’t know about or even care about. I tried to explain that this had nothing to do with politics, that we were really getting a handle on things and just needed a little more time. It didn’t matter. I was on a plane headed home a few days later. While cholera is loosely contained in Somalia, it will make a comeback in less than three months. I guarantee it. And when it does, it will have spread beyond Somalia’s borders and be ten times harder to contain than if we had just been allowed to finish our jobs in the first place.
“I’m so sick of putting bandages on festering wounds instead of actually fixing the problem. I mean, I know politics are a necessary evil. But sometimes, human decency has to exist outside of them, right? Because if we can’t do our jobs, then these viruses are going to keep spreading and keep killing people, people who wouldn’t have to die if I could just finish what I started.”
She turned away from the pond and walked along its edge in her bare feet. “That’s what I can’t take. Not the deaths we couldn’t prevent, but the thousands of deaths we can prevent and are being told not to. I can’t help people, can’t do my job, if they won’t let me. And if I can’t help people, why am I doing this job? Why am I putting myself through the pain and the risk and the abysmal conditions if nothing I do is going to matter?”
She looked at him then and he realized she was waiting for an answer. Too damn bad he didn’t have a clue what to tell her. What she was talking about was one of the reasons he’d gotten out of the game, one of the reasons he ran his own clinic now. There was no one around to tell him he couldn’t treat people who couldn’t pay. No one to tell him he had to stop caring for a patient that needed his help.
“The CDC isn’t the only game in town, you know. You have other options.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about. The thing is, I love my job. I’m really good at what I do.”
“Then they should let you do it.”
She smiled sadly. “Yeah.”
“When are you supposed to go back into the field?”
“Who knows? Two days, two months? Whenever the next epidemic hits.”
Everything inside him rebelled at her diving back in so soon. “You can’t do that,” he said. It was dangerous and she was obviously exhausted. “You need some downtime, a chance to get your perspective back. You need to rest for a while, decide what you want to do.”
“Oh, really?” She turned on him. “Is that what I need? To go on vacation and regain some perspective? And here I thought what I needed was to find a way to keep people from dying.”
“You’re not God, you know. There’s only so much you can do.”
“Which is why we’re having this conversation. I’m trying to decide if I can keep helping the way that I am, or if I need to walk away from the CDC and find another avenue where I can do my job. I suppose I could always track the flu for the Department of Public Health.”
While her statement had enough sarcasm to insure he understood her contempt for tracking the flu, he didn’t think it was that bad of an idea. At least until she got some distance from Africa and the CDC and could make a reasonable, logical decision. He didn’t say that, though, refusing to get drawn into an argument that neither of them would win. She didn’t say anything either and an awkward silence stretched long and taut between them, their easy camaraderie disappearing in the face of her hurt and anger.
He let her stew for a few minutes, and tried to compose an apology in his head, even though he hadn’t said anything wrong. Now was not the time to antagonize her, when she needed a sounding board and a friend.
But as he opened his mouth, she dove in first, blurting out, “I’m sorry, Lucas. There’s no reason for me to take my crappy mood out on you. I guess I should have stayed home and popped a sleeping pill instead of surprising you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Even if his inability to do anything for her was killing him. He was a doctor, for God’s sake. Shouldn’t he be able to fix this? Fix her?
“You know what’s sad?” she said after a minute. “I think you mean that.”
“I do mean it.”
“I know. But just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you have to put up with all this maudlin shit.”
“It isn’t maudlin if it’s how you’re really feeling.”
“Sure it is—the two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”
She sat down on the grass, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The innate defensiveness, the wariness, of the position struck him. Made him sad. So that when he sat down beside her, he made sure to give her plenty of personal space.
For the first time in a very long time, he was unsure of what to do, what to say. Still, he had to try—for both their sakes.
“The Department of Public Health isn’t your only choice here, you know. As you yourself acknowledged, you’re one of the leading field epidemiologists in the world. You can write your own ticket at some university here. Hell, if we’re being honest, you know you can write your own ticket at the CDC. You don’t have to let them send you all over the world. You can stay here, work in America. There’s a lot going on here that isn’t the flu— tuberculosis, the resurgence of hep C,
new strains of MRSA. Disease is disease, but at least it’s not like it is over there. When you’re here, it doesn’t hurt the same way.”
Kara was already shaking her head, as he’d known she would. This was an old argument between them, one that neither of them ever truly won. “If not me, then who, Lucas? I am good at my job. Damn good. Besides, the CDC has already lost two of their most experienced epidemiologists this year. If I punk out, how many more people are going to die because the person they send isn’t as thorough as I am?”
“How long before you die?” he countered.
She shrugged off his concern. “I’m careful.”
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it. I haven’t said anything because you always put up no-trespassing signs, but I’ve been able to see what this job is doing to you for a while now.” Every trip Kara went on she came back a little more tired, a little more distant, and each time it took longer for her to bounce back. She left a piece of herself in every country she went to, a piece of her heart—a piece of her very soul. The things she had managed to hang on to were joined together so precariously that he often wondered how long it would take before she fell apart completely. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a loose embrace. Part of him expected her to fight—Kara was fiercely independent and she’d already shared more of herself tonight than she usually did—but she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his waist, laid her head on his chest.
As she did, his body stirred to life, despite the circumstances. Cursing silently, he did his best to ignore
his very inappropriate arousal in the hopes that it would go away if he didn’t acknowledge it. After all, the last thing she needed was to feel like her best friend was putting the moves on her when she was at her most vulnerable.
Of course, it didn’t work—it never did with her—which just pissed Lucas off more. But Kara was everything he admired in a woman—strong, self-sufficient, involved, intelligent, kind. He might know intellectually that being stuck in the friend zone was exactly where he wanted to be, but sometimes convincing his body of that fact was a lot more difficult.
Embarrassed and more than a little annoyed at his lack of control, he started to pull away from her.
Kara made a low, humming sound of protest and her arm tightened around him.
“Not yet,” she said, tilting her head up to look at him with eyes made luminous by tears and the dim lights of the park. “Don’t pull away yet.”
* * *
KARACOULDFEEL LUCAS’S discomfort. His body had stiffened against hers and she knew she should let him go. She’d already cried on him, yelled at him and dumped her problems in his lap. Now she was clinging to him like he was the only thing standing between her and insanity. No wonder he was uncomfortable.
Needy much?
Still, she wasn’t quite ready to let go of him. Being near Lucas, absorbing his warmth and feeling the steady beat of his heart comforted her in a way nothing had in a very long time. Squeezing even closer, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the fears and memories clamoring inside of her.
She focused on Lucas instead, on the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
On the warm, delicious scent of him, like a pine forest on a bright, sunny day.
On the feel of his muscled body against her, so big and capable and comforting.
When she was with him, she felt safe in a way she never really had before. She’d been on her own a long time—her mother had died the summer before she met Lucas—and she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, there was something nice about knowing, really knowing, that Lucas had her back.
Oh, she’d never ask him for anything important—the last thing she wanted was to be a burden to him—but still, it was nice to know that someone was there if she needed something. Nice to know that he was there.
Turning her head a little, she glanced up at Lucas through her lashes. She didn’t know what she expected—maybe that he’d be looking out at the park, maybe that he’d be deep in thought. Maybe that he’d just be relaxing and enjoying sitting here as much as she was. But when she looked up, she found him staring at her, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes glittering like sapphires.
Her breath hitched in her throat. Sitting there, he looked dark, sexy and just a little bit rumpled. Basically like his normal, gorgeous self, and while that had never fazed her before, something about this particular moment had her heart kicking into high gear. Her stomach fluttered even as her mouth went desert dry. Trying to get some moisture back, she rubbed her lips together. Licked them. And felt Lucas stiffen against her even as a deep, rumbling growl started in his chest.
“Kara.” It was a warning, and a blatant one at that, and she felt it sizzle along every nerve ending she had. Drowning now in the scent and sight and sound of him, she reached up and rested her hand against his cut-glass jaw. Stroked her thumb over his dark stubble and lost herself in the pools of his eyes.
“Kara.” He whispered her name this time, his hand coming up to cup her own face. “What are you doing?”
She shook her head. She had no idea what she was doing and she didn’t want to know. For this moment, this instant, she just wanted to feel something other than the despair that was her constant companion. Wrapping her other hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him slowly, inexorably closer.
He didn’t fight her, didn’t shrug her off, didn’t make a joke like she half expected him to. Like she’d been half afraid he would. Instead, he watched her, eyes wide-open as they closed the distance between their mouths one small centimeter at a time.
And then, when her whole body was trembling in anticipation, he kissed her.
CHAPTER FOUR
IFSOMEONEHADASKEDHER if she’d ever planned on kissing Lucas, she would have told them—quite truthfully—that she never had. If that same person had asked her if she’d ever thought about kissing him, she would have lied like a rug and told them the same thing. But nothing she had ever thought about in passing, nothing she had ever imagined, could have prepared her for the jolt that went through her as Lucas brushed her lips with his.
It was a quick kiss, just a passing press of his lips to hers, really, but as he pulled away, he looked as stunned as she felt. Then she was reaching for him, her fingers tangling in the silky, cool strands of his hair as she pulled his face to hers. If they were going to do this, then she wanted a real kiss from Lucas. Even more, she wanted the real Lucas, not the one he usually showed to the women he dated.
It only took a moment before his lips opened against hers, moving in a gentle sucking motion that had her trembling and her hands grasping at his shoulders for support. He laughed a little and wrapped an arm around her waist to ground her. But as his tongue darted out to lick gently at the corners of her mouth, she acknowledged that it was going to take a lot more than a supporting arm to keep her steady.
But, as she pressed her body against his, she realized she wasn’t the only one trembling. Lucas was as shaky as she was. Somehow, that realization made what they were doing so much more real—and so much more delicious.
He sucked her lower lip between his teeth and her mouth opened on a gasp. It was the invitation he was waiting for, his tongue darting inside her mouth to tease and tangle with her own.
There was a strange ringing in her ears, one she tried to ignore as she lost herself in Lucas. It was probably her subconscious’s way of telling her that this whole thing was a really bad idea. But she ignored it—or at least, she tried to. All of this was overwhelming enough without facing the consequences of her actions at the same moment she was acting. Besides, for these few minutes when she was in Lucas’s arms, she wanted to forget what she was doing out here. Forget all the pain and ugliness and devastation she’d seen, and all that was to come because she wasn’t strong enough to find a way past the bureaucracy.
She wanted to lose herself in Lucas, to immerse herself in the desire whipping between them. He must have felt the same way, because his arms tightened around her, pulling her up to her knees so that their bodies were flush against each other, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. It was his turn to delve his hands into her hair, to pull on her curls until her head tilted at an angle satisfactory to him.
It alternately felt like they had been kissing for seconds, then hours. Long, luxurious kisses that made her lips burn and her head whirl. It felt good to kneel here, lost in the desire pumping through her body. She’d felt dead inside for so long, had deliberately tamped down on her emotions so that she wouldn’t feel the pain of what she did on a daily basis. It felt amazing to say to hell with it. To toss her inhibitions and worries and anguish to the wind and just feel.
But Lucas broke the kisses off abruptly, pulling back and staring at her. She whimpered, tried to cling to him and he cursed even as he fumbled for her purse. “Your phone’s ringing,” he told her breathlessly as he handed it to her.
She felt pretty breathless herself, and also pretty stupid, as she realized the bells she’d been hearing hadn’t been coming from inside her at all.
“Whoever it is has called three or four times,” Lucas told her, his voice a few shades deeper than normal. “It must be important.”
She checked the call log. Her heart sank as she saw that her worst fear was true—her boss’s private number. Already? she wanted to scream. Couldn’t she have just one day, one night, to herself before they came for her? Before she had to hurry down and try to contain an epidemic when they refused to give her the tools—and the time—that she needed?
She gestured to call him back, but the hand holding the phone was shaking so badly that she couldn’t even punch the call button. Seeing her dilemma, Lucas wrapped his own hand under hers, held her steady. “It’s okay, Kara,” he murmured to her, his thumb stroking across the back of her hand. His touch soothed her like nothing else could.
Her boss picked up on the first ring, grim and to the point. He didn’t even say hello, simply, “They have an outbreak of Ebola in Eritrea.”
“Ebola?” she asked, a little stunned. Beside her, Lucas stiffened, made a sound of protest, but she turned her head, focused on the tree right in front of her. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her right now. Until she made a decision one way or the other, this was her job—whether she liked it or not.
“How long since the outbreak started?”
“Three weeks.”
“Three weeks? And it hasn’t burned itself out? Did it start in a major city?” Ebola was a disease that sounded, and looked, incredibly frightening, but it wasn’t something that usually created long-term epidemics. It was an awful way to die, but it was fast and it wasn’t airborne—it could only spread through contact with bodily fluids. Which usually made it pretty easy to contain. Plus, with a high mortality rate, it usually died out—once its hosts died out—pretty quickly.
“They don’t know where it started—figuring that out is your job. But right now it’s in every major southern city—Om Hajer, T’io, Assab, Os Mara. It might be in the northern cities, as well, but we just don’t know that yet.”
“A couple of those cities are awfully close to the Sudanese and Ethiopian borders.”
“That’s what we’re afraid of.”
“Has it spread?”
“Based on the information we’ve been given, we don’t think so. I’ve reached out to health organizations working in both countries and am waiting to hear back. But my gut tells me if it hasn’t already jumped the borders, it’s going to soon.”
“But how is that possible? You can’t get Ebola from sitting next to someone on the bus, and those who have it get sick so quickly that they don’t have much chance to travel.”
“I am well aware of that, Kara.”
“I know, Paul. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Are they sure it’s Ebola? And why weren’t we contacted before this? If it’s been going on three weeks, that’s a lot of deaths. Did they call in the World Health Organization instead?”
“WHO got the call at the same time we did.”
“Why did they wait?”
“The Eritrean government isn’t known for its willingness to allow outsiders in. They don’t want anyone to witness what goes on inside the borders.”
She knew that. But this was a disease that could kill a lot of people if it was already in the major cities. How could that not have mattered to them? Then again, it was just more of the same political bullshit she’d been struggling with for months now.
Frustrated, angry, she blew out a steady stream of air. No matter how long she was in this business, she would never understand how a government could stand by and watch its people die, simply to protect itself. The whole thing was anathema to her.
Her mind racing, she repeated her first question. “Are they sure it’s Ebola?”
“Frankly, I don’t think they know what the hell it is. They say it’s Ebola and it has all the markers of the disease, but the growing infection rate doesn’t make sense. And their labs aren’t our labs. I won’t be happy until we have a team in the field.”
“Is this thing airborne?”
“They say no. Again—”
“I know, I know. You want a team there. When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
She laughed, though the sound had no humor in it. “Right.”
“I’m putting together a meeting for two o’clock tomorrow afternoon—I guess that would be this afternoon, since it’s past midnight. I’ve scheduled a flight out at eight o’clock. You’ll head up the team.”
It wasn’t a question, but she said “yes,” anyway. There was no doubt she’d be on that airplane. From the second she’d seen his name on her caller ID, she’d known it would lead straight to this. Some mutation of Ebola? Hemorrhagic viruses were her specialty. Morbid as it sounded, she’d been waiting her whole career for something like this to happen.
“What time can you be here?”
“I’m out right now. I need to get home, repack.” God, had she even gotten the last of her laundry done? “Catch a few hours’ sleep if I’m going to be alert in the meeting. And I’m going to need to refill my field kit.”
“I know. I’ll have everything ready and waiting for you.”
“Please. I’m a mess, totally jet lagged and nowhere close to organized. If you organize it then I go over it, there’s less chance I’ll miss something.”
“So what time?” he asked again.
She turned around, grabbed Lucas’s wrist to look at his watch. It was one-thirty. “If everything goes okay, I can be there by ten.”
“Good. I want you up to speed before the rest of the team gets here.”
Panic had her heart racing and her breath quickening but she refused to give in to it. She didn’t have a choice—she had to keep it together. Lucas must have heard something in her breathing, though, because this time he reached for her free hand, threading his fingers through hers and squeezing tightly.
It wasn’t much, wasn’t a huge gesture of comfort, but it was enough to cut through the fear and get her focusing on what needed to be done.
“You know you can’t send my team back out. We just got home from a two-month deployment. Davis’s wife is having a baby in three weeks and Anna’s mom is in the middle of chemotherapy—”
“We’ve called in Team Four to go with you.”
Shock ricocheted through her. “That’s Mike’s team.”
“Is that a problem?” Her boss’s voice tightened up.
“It might be for Mike—and the rest of his team. They aren’t going to want to report to me.” Especially since she and Mike had a very bad, very public breakup three months before.
“Mike knows you’re the best choice for this job, Steward.”
“Yes, but—” Her protests died in her throat. She was the best choice for this outbreak—or at least she would be if she could get her head on straight. And yes, Mike and his team probably knew it. That didn’t mean there wasn’t going to be some hostility on their part. She and Mike ran things differently and team loyalty and cohesion was a big factor in cases like these.
Still, it was past time to put on her big-girl panties and deal. Mike’s team would just have to do the same.
“I want Julian,” she said, naming the CDC’s top field doctor in infectious bleeding diseases.
“He’s flying in from Haiti. He might actually beat you to Eritrea.”
“Good. I also want Frieda and Van.” They, too, were the cream of the CDC’s Epidemic Intelligence Officer crop.
“I’ll get them for you. Any other requests?”
“Sam and Violet.” She named her two favorite microbiologists.
“Violet’s in Alaska, but Sam’s available.”
“He’ll have to do, then.”
“On the plus side, you’ll be meeting up with Pierre La Font’s team from WHO.”
Kara pursed her lips in a silent whistle, wondered what it was Paul wasn’t telling her. It wasn’t coincidence that they were bringing in the heaviest hitters in the industry for this job—herself included.
“You’re going to have to coordinate with him, Steward, so make sure not to step on too many of his toes, okay?”
“I’m not the one who has trouble playing nice in the sandbox. You know that and I know that. My counterpart at the WHO has a different outlook on the matter.”
“Of course he does.”
Even as they joked, the panic coalesced in her stomach, turning into a deep and churning sickness. Five years ago she would have leaped at the chance for this assignment. Hell, she probably would have been vibrating with excitement over it even two years ago. But right now it seemed a lot more like a punishment than a reward, a lot more like she was heading into hell rather than being given the prime assignment of her career.
If this thing was a mutated Ebola, changing its infection patterns, then this was it. This was her smallpox. Her hepatitis. Her AIDS. This was the case epidemiologists waited their whole career for and few ever got the chance to see.
So why did she feel like throwing up? She wasn’t afraid. She knew how to be careful, how to protect herself. But just the idea of going into Eritrea, of dealing with all the problems there—caused by this disease as well as centuries of war, famine and neglect—made her sick. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. Didn’t want to get knee-deep into this thing only to be pulled out before she could help, really help.
She knew she didn’t have it in her to walk away in the middle of this thing. Not again. Knowing she could help but being unable to do so would crush her completely.
Beside her Lucas stiffened, aware of her distress. Somehow it only made things worse. It was bad enough to admit to yourself you were a coward, but to have your best friend know made it different, somehow. Worse.
“You still there, Kara?”
The fact that her boss had called her by her first name told her that, not only was Lucas aware she was a basket case, Paul had a pretty good clue, as well. There wasn’t much softness in Paul, so if even he was questioning her mental health…
“Yeah, I’m here, Paul.”
There was another pause, this time on his side. “You okay to go, Kara?”
The sudden doubt in his voice had her straightening her spine and toughening up her own voice. She wasn’t even close to being okay, but it wasn’t as though she had a choice. Not if she wanted to be able to look herself in the mirror tomorrow. Those people needed help.
“I’m perfectly fine and definitely ready to go.”
Lucas let go of her hand, made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. She glanced over at him and caught the disapproving look on his face before he could banish it. It made her panic worse, but she refused to let herself be swayed by it.
With Lucas looking on like that, she knew there was no way she’d be able to finish her discussion with her boss. She turned her back on him and walked a few steps away.
“I’ve got this,” she continued, forcing steel into a reassurance that she was far from feeling. “But you have to promise me that barring a full-on revolution, you’re not going to pull me out in the middle of this.”
“Steward—”
“No, Paul. I mean it.” She put it in terms she knew he would understand. “This is the case I’ve been waiting my whole career for. You can’t put me down in the middle of it and then pull me out when it’s convenient for you. I can’t work like that. I won’t work like that.”
“You’ll work how I tell you to work!” he snapped, but then his voice softened. “Look, I know what happened in Somalia was bullshit, but you have to get past it. Eritrea is a whole different game.”
She wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny. Eritrea and Somalia, Ethiopia and Sudan, they were all the same game. All different sides of the same dice. And the Western world had spent the better part of two centuries rolling that dice just to see what number would come up. She was a fool to think this would be any different, but she had to. She had to believe it or there was no way she’d be able to get on that airplane.
Her prolonged silence must have made Paul nervous, because his voice was hesitant when he asked, “Steward? Are you still there? I didn’t lose you, did I?”
For long seconds she considered not answering, just letting the call drift away. But then where would she be? Where would any of them be?
“I’m still here.”
“Good. Okay, then, I’ll see you at ten. In the meantime, I’m going to put pressure on the Eritrean government to give me all the stats and info they have.”
“Which won’t be much.”
“No. But I’ll try to have a decent report together for you by the time you take off.”
“Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you. And Steward…”
She braced herself for words of comfort she didn’t know if she could handle hearing. “Yes?”
“Don’t screw up out there.”
She laughed. She should have known better than to think Paul had gotten in touch with his softer side.
“I’ll do my best.”
She hung up the phone and dropped it back into her bag. Then just stood for a minute gazing out into the night.
She wasn’t ready to look at Lucas. She didn’t know if it was because of that strange, magical kiss they’d shared minutes before or whether it was because he could so easily see through her. She’d thought she’d shored up her defenses pretty well before seeing him, but in one evening he’d shattered them and had her blubbering like a baby. She was afraid if she turned to face him now it would be an instant replay, and she couldn’t take that. She’d already cried all over him like some kind of high-maintenance whiner. Doing it twice in one evening was just a bad idea.
Besides, if she faced him, she’d have to think of something to say and right now her mind was blank.
Lucas didn’t seem to be suffering from the same affliction, though. “Ebola?” he asked. “A mutant strain of Ebola?”
“Maybe. We don’t know yet. I probably shouldn’t have had that conversation in front of you.”
“Yeah, because I’m going to go blabbing to the whole medical community about this.” He clasped her elbow, and when she still didn’t face him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until there was no place else for her to look but into his eyes.
“You really think you’re in shape to do this kind of thing?” he demanded. “This isn’t a simple assignment, Kara. If you take it, you’re in it for the long-term and you know it.”
“It’s not a choice, Lucas. I’m the one Paul assigned. I have to go.”
Lucas cursed then, something low and vile and violent. “You know that’s not true. You can beg off if you want to. You just got back, for God’s sake. You need time to rest, to get your head back in the game. Hell, you were just talking about leaving the CDC.”
“Yes, talking about it. I hadn’t decided yet—and I still haven’t. Until I do, I follow Paul’s orders. Anyway, my head is already in the game, thank you very much. I can do this. I have to do this, and you telling me I’m not up for it only undermines me.”
“You know I think you’re brilliant. That’s not the point—”
“It is exactly the point,” she snapped. Then relented with a sigh. “Please, let’s not do this. Is flying out barely forty-eight hours after I got back an ideal situation? Not at all. I know it. Paul knows it. And it actually goes against protocol. But emergencies happen and this is what I do. I’m the best suited to go. And none of us wants to be sitting here in six months, looking at a worldwide Ebola epidemic because the CDC didn’t send in the right people.”
She bent down, picked up her shoes. “Now, if you could take me home, I would greatly appreciate it.”
For long seconds Lucas didn’t answer and she was just beginning to wonder if she was going to have to catch a cab when he said, “Come on. Let’s go.”
He started toward the exit without waiting for her—which was a totally un-Lucas thing to do. It illustrated just how angry and frustrated he was with her. Which bothered her, but it wasn’t like there was anything she could do about it. Frankly, she had other, more pressing things to worry about.
They walked back up the hill without ever finding the swings, and the trip up the large grassy knoll was a lot less fun than the one down had been. Especially with Lucas grim faced and angry beside her. She wanted to call him on it. To ask him why he was getting himself so worked up. But that strange and powerful kiss had made her shy with him, had turned the easy camaraderie they’d always shared into something stiff and awkward.
As they walked, Kara waited for him to say something to break the silence. But he didn’t say a word. Not as they hiked the hill, not as they climbed the fence—though this time he gave her a boost—and not as they walked down the nearly empty streets of downtown.
It was sixty degrees out and she was still wearing his jacket, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this cold.
By the time Lucas paid the valet and held the car door open for her—all without saying a word—she was fuming. And more hurt than she wanted to admit.
This was why she never opened herself up to people, she seethed. Why she never let them in. Because the first time you did, the first time you started to take for granted the fact that they would always be there for you, you did something they didn’t like and they pulled away. Locked you out.
It had happened her entire life. When her mom would get angry she would shut down, withholding her affection until Kara fell into line. And after her mom died and she’d been forced to return to her dad’s house during college vacations, she’d learned that her father’s love was only as deep as her latest accomplishment. Why she’d expected better from Lucas, she didn’t know.
Because he was her friend, a voice whispered in the back of her head. Because he’d always been there for her. But now, the second she’d broken the unwritten rules that governed their relationship—she’d kissed him and cried all over him in one night—he was pulling back. Getting angry the moment she had the nerve to do something he didn’t like.
The worst part was that it hurt. A lot. Because she hadn’t been expecting it. Because she’d broken her own rules over the years and had learned to trust Lucas implicitly. And yet here she was, here they were, right back where a part of her had always known they’d end up.
Once in front of her house, she barely waited for him to stop the car before she was opening the door and lunging for her front porch. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll…call you when I get back.”
She just needed to get inside. If she made it inside her front door without letting him see how hurt she was, everything would be fine. She had a lot to do and very little time to do it in. Once he was gone, she wouldn’t even have time to think about him.
But she’d barely opened the door when he caught up with her. “What the hell is this?”
Her anger got the better of her. “Oh, so you do talk,” she said snidely.
His teeth ground together, his eyes shooting sparks of rage straight through her. She gave as good as she got, then muttered through her own clenched jaw, “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Yeah, because that’s really going to happen.”
“Lucas—”
“Don’t start, Kara. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to talk about this. And if you still decide to go, you’ll need a ride to the CDC.”
“Still decide to go? I am going, and I can get myself to work just fine, thank you. I’ve been doing it for the last ten years of my life without any problems.”
“Damn it, Kara. You don’t always have to be so independent. Can’t you see that I’m worried about you?”
Of course he was. St. Lucas, worried about everyone. She hurt a little inside hearing the words. Not because she was upset that he cared, but because everything had changed between them in the space of one evening.
She never should have cried. For seventeen years their friendship had been based on the fact that she didn’t need him. Lucas didn’t mind being needed—by his mother, his sister, his girlfriends, his patients. He thrived on it, really. But at the same time, her independence helped him put distance between himself and the demanding women in his life.
There’d never been any need for distance between Kara and Lucas—at least not before tonight. And she was smart enough to know that it wasn’t the kiss—it was what had come before it. Now, here he was, feeling like he had a right to tell her what to do. Somehow she’d become just another woman who needed him to save her.
“Look,” she finally told him as she stepped into the house. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need it.”
He followed her in. “You’re not thinking clearly—”
She whirled on him, got in his face. “Don’t tell me how I’m thinking. I was upset earlier. That doesn’t make me less competent. I don’t need you to save me, Lucas.”
“Is that what you think I want to do? Save you?”
“It sure looks that way to me.”
“Well, then, you don’t know a damn thing, do you?”
CHAPTER FIVE
THEIRANGRYWORDSECHOED in Kara’s foyer, bouncing off the walls and making him want to tear his hair out. What had gotten into her? One minute he was trying to help her deal with the fact that her job was a nightmare and the next minute she was kissing him. And the minute after that she was accepting an assignment to head right back into a hot zone. And not just any hot zone—no, not for Kara. She was heading straight into Ebola hell and wouldn’t even acknowledge that it was a bad idea. He just wanted her to admit—
What? he asked himself angrily. What exactly did he want from Kara? For her to break down again and admit that the idea of going to Eritrea scared the hell out of her? God knows, it scared the shit out of him. Normally she seemed so indestructible, but listening to her heartache, holding her while she cried…it had gotten to him. Really gotten to him, in a way few things did anymore. She seemed so much more vulnerable now than she ever had before.
Add in that bizarre, mind-blowing kiss they’d just shared and he couldn’t quite get his mind around any of this.
If someone had told him three hours ago that they’d be here, nose to nose, both of them spoiling for a fight, he would have thought that person was insane. Not that he and Kara never fought—of course they did. She had a redhead’s temper and he was as stubborn as they came. But none of their previous fights had this bruised quality, this resentment simmering right below the surface.
And he might not know much about what the hell was going on, but he knew this. He didn’t want Kara to head out with things like this between them. Who knew how long it would be before he’d get the chance to see her again?
Blowing out a huge breath, he bit the bullet and lied to her for the first time in all the years he’d known her. “I’m sorry.”
The look in her eye turned from furious to confused and for long seconds she didn’t answer. “That’s it?” she asked finally.
“I’m really sorry?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Jeez, Kara, what do you want? Blood?”
He half expected her to jump down his throat again, but she must have found what she was looking for—if not in his words, then his face—because she suddenly relaxed. “No, but if you’re offering, some of your sweat should work nicely.”
“My sweat?” he asked, wondering if he looked as lost as he felt.
She turned and headed down the hall to her bedroom. “I’ve got a couple trunks filled with gear stored at the top of my closet. Can you get them down
for me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He followed her through the house feeling a shock similar to the aftermath of a car crash. It wasn’t unusual for Kara to explode and then simmer down quickly, but this was fast even for her. Any second now, he expected to start feeling the symptoms of whiplash.
“The boxes are up there,” she said, pointing to the large walk-in closet at the end of her bathroom.
He followed her directions, feeling a little awkward being in this most private room of hers. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he’d never been here before—he was the one who’d helped her move her furniture in, after all. The one who’d painted these walls their current shade of sky-blue. But that was different. That was before the room had turned into this sultan’s paradise with the luxurious turquoise quilt and silver throw pillows.
Before a red lace bra-and-panty set had been draped across the foot of her bed.
Before he’d kissed her.
Studiously avoiding looking at her bed—which was more difficult said than done because the thing was huge and dominated the entire room—he headed into her closet and reached for the first trunk. It was a lot heavier than he thought it would be.
“Hey,” he said as he carried it back into the bedroom. “How the hell did you get this thing up there to begin with?”
“Mike put them up for me. I haven’t needed them in a while.”
He stiffened at the mention of her last serious boyfriend—the one she’d almost married. He’d never liked Mike, had thought the guy was a pompous ass more concerned with his reputation in the field than he was in the actual work he did. Lucas had been thrilled when things didn’t work out. Mike was nowhere near good enough for her and the idea that she would now be taking over his team was just one more thing Lucas didn’t like about this trip.
Dropping the first load onto the floor, he went back into the closet and got the second trunk down. It was even heavier than the first. “What’s in here, anyway?”
“My on-location biosafety suits.”
Right. Of course. Because she was going to need the huge positive-pressure suit if she was heading into a situation where a disease like Ebola might have turned airborne. When she worked in the CDC labs, or any other well-equipped labs, they provided the suits for her. But who knew what she was heading into now.
His chest tightened and he walked to the window, staring blindly into the night. He knew her job was dangerous, knew she regularly dealt with things that could kill her. But she’d had every vaccination there was, so that when she went into the field after cholera or TB, there was little to no chance she would get it—especially with proper precautions.
But this, this was something totally different. There was no vaccine for Ebola and even if there had been, who knew what would happen with exposure to this strange new strain? Any tolerance built up to it would mean absolutely nothing.
A part of him was aware that Kara was still talking about something, but it was like she was far away. For the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t a doctor. Wished he didn’t know exactly what it was she was heading into. Because knowing what could happen, thinking about it, had him paralyzed with fear.
“Don’t go.” The words came out before he knew he was going to say them, interrupting her in the middle of a sentence about something or other.
“Lucas.”
He spun around and stalked across the room toward her, feeling like a crazy man. Feeling like he was going to jump out of his skin any second.
“Please,” he begged, barely recognizing himself. “I have a bad feeling about this trip and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you, Kara. Please don’t go.”
He grabbed on to her shoulders and pulled her into his arms so that her heart beat steadily against his. Then he buried his face in her hair and just breathed, inhaling the sweet strawberry-and-magnolia scent deep into his lungs. He was acting like a maniac—he knew he was—but he couldn’t seem to do anything to stop it. From the second he’d heard the word Ebola, his whole world had spun out of control.
“I’m going to be fine, Lucas.” She murmured the words against his neck because she couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull back. He was holding her too tightly but he couldn’t seem to ease up. “You know I’m careful.”
“There’s careful and then there’s insane, Kara. This is insane.”
“No. It’s my job.” She shoved against his chest but he wasn’t budging. At that moment, he thought he could hold her forever if she’d let him. “You think I don’t worry about you?” she asked. “Every day you go to work in the closest thing to a war zone that the U.S. has to offer. Less than a year ago you had a shooting in the lobby of your clinic and you ran straight into it.”
“That was different. My patients—”
“I know. Your patients were out there and there was no way you were going to leave them at the hands of some coked-up teenager with a gun. But those people in Eritrea, they’re my patients. If I can help them, Lucas, then I have to go.”
Kara struggled against him, managing to pull back just enough to lift her soft, delicate hands to his face. As she held him, she looked deeply into his eyes and said, “I need to go.”
He knew it, had known it all along. And still, “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“Promise me,” he told her, knowing he sounded desperate but not giving a damn. He was desperate. She meant more to him than he ever could have imagined.
“Lucas—”
“Promise me!”
“I promise.” She looked him straight in the eye, her green eyes shining with sincerity and compassion and something else he couldn’t quite define. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
He shuddered, nodded. Dropped his head so that his forehead rested against hers. Then closed his eyes and just breathed.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, locked in their own little world. Not long enough, because when she finally stepped back he was still not ready to let her go. Wrapping a hand around her long, slender neck, he pulled her face back to his and, for the second time that night, captured her lips with his own.
If he was going to have to let her go, going to have to spend the next weeks and months racked with
terror that she was going to die in Africa, he was not letting her leave without having something to hang on to. He’d broken off the kiss in the park when her phone rang, and he’d regretted it ever since. No matter what happened, no matter how it shifted things between them, he was going to have this kiss untainted by fear or sorrow or regret. They owed each other that much.
But he wasn’t counting on the way they both lit up the second their mouths touched. Like the Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve all at the same time. It was as though her mouth had been made for his.
That was the first thought that ran through his mind as he deepened the kiss.
The second was that she tasted like she smelled. Like strawberries and caramel and rich, sweet cream.
The third was that he wouldn’t mind staying right here, kissing her, for the next decade or so. He had a lot of time to make up for, after all.
But just because he was acting like an idiot didn’t mean he really was one. So, despite the fact that every instinct he had was pushing at him to stay exactly where he was, he reluctantly pulled away.
Though every cell in his body screamed for another, longer taste of her, he figured he should check with Kara first. Make sure she was okay with this—or at the very least, not planning to smash her fist into the side of his head for overstepping his boundaries.
“What…” Her voice trailed off as she pressed shaky fingers to her mouth. When he didn’t answer—he couldn’t because he had no idea what to say—she tried again. “What was that?”
Any hope that she felt the same way he did dissipated under the shocked weight of her question. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping away from her. “Maybe we can chalk this up to too much champagne?”
“Neither of us has had a drink in hours.”
“The stars?” He pointed toward the skylight above her bed.
“We already discussed the fact that there aren’t any.”
“Could you at least work with me here?” he finally asked her. “I’m grasping at straws.”
“I can tell.” She inched closer to him, pressing forward so that her chest brushed lightly against his. Heat streaked through him all over again. “The question is why you feel the need to?”
“I already apologized. I’m not sure what else to say.” He looked down at her, tried to gauge her mood. She was looking up at him so that her full lips were a scant few inches from his own. As she exhaled, he could feel her warm breath brush over him.
His entire body tightened at the sensation, until the simple act of breathing hurt. He wanted another sample of her, wanted to delve inside her mouth and explore the taste and scent and touch of her until he’d satisfied the craving that had been years in the making.
He tightened his hands into fists, fought the desire back. His temper tantrum about her leaving for Eritrea had already put them on shaky ground. Kissing her had made things even less stable. Doing it again might send her running. After all, she’d done her level best to ignore the kiss they’d shared in the park. For her to run from him was the absolute last thing he wanted. He’d rather have Kara’s friendship than nothing at all.
“Who says you have to say anything? It was just a kiss, right?”
“Yeah.” He forced the words out between clenched teeth. “Just a kiss.”
“I mean, it’s not like you really laid one on me or anything.” She leaned in even closer.
He couldn’t help wondering what kind of kisses she was used to if she qualified what had passed between them as just a kiss. Maybe he’d underestimated old Mike.
The thought of Mike made him angry and he stepped back from her. Tried to turn away. The last thing he needed right now was to hear about other, better kisses she’d received from men she was more sexually attracted to than him.
She moved with him, though, as he retreated one step, two, until his back was—literally—against her bedroom wall. The warning bells he’d heard in the park had returned and they were clanging at top volume. But the fact that all the blood in his body had rushed about three feet south of his head made it impossible to pay any attention to them at all.
“It’s not,” she continued her earlier train of thought, “like you did this.”
And then she was kissing him, her lips soft and warm and open against his own.
For a full five seconds, he did nothing, just stood there like a total loser as her lips moved slowly against his. And then reality dawned and he caught fire. Slipping a hand behind her head, he tangled his fingers in her heavy curls and pressed her mouth more firmly against him. Then he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and nibbled softly.
She gasped, laughed a little, then wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with an exuberance that delighted him.
He ran his tongue over her lips, exploring the bow-shaped indention in her upper lip that had driven him crazy for more years than he wanted to admit. Then he moved on to the full curve of her lower lip and the tender corners of her mouth. She tasted so good, felt so good, that he wanted to go on kissing her forever.
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