CHAPTER ONE
‘DONOVAN REID IS sex on legs,’ sighed Grace as she gathered up the remains of her lunch. Her two colleagues mumbled in agreement, too busy watching the object of their admiration through the glass window to the workout room.
It really wasn’t fair. How was anyone supposed to concentrate on their lunch when they had a view like that?
His light brown curly hair was wet with perspiration, his running vest and shorts allowing every sculpted muscle to be on display as his legs pounded on the running machine. The look on his was face intense, as if every single thing on this planet depended on him reaching his goal. The machine started to slow and he blinked in recognition, decreasing his pace and picking up the towel on the handrail to dry around his face and neck.
This was their Friday lunchtime ritual. Come down to the staffroom and goggle at Donovan Reid. Their local Matthew McConaughey lookalike.
Lara dumped her half-eaten sandwich in the trash, her eyes flickering between Grace and Dr Gorgeous. ‘How long is it since you’ve had a date, Grace?’
‘Don’t start.’
Lara folded her arms across her chest. ‘No, really. What happened to the computer guy?’
Grace shook her head; she could feel the hackles going up at the back of her neck. ‘Leave it, Lara.’ She wasn’t about to tell her friends that dating just freaked her out. Everything was fine in a busy, crowded restaurant. But take her out of that situation and into a one on one and a whole pile of irrational fears raised their heads.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’
‘Nothing happened. We went on a few dates but that was it. Nothing.’ It was simpler not to date. She just didn’t want to say that out loud. They would be rushing her down the corridor to the nearest counsellor and that she could do without. She just needed a little time. She would be fine. She would.
Lara nodded her head at the glisten
ing muscles of Donovan Reid, who was towelling himself off before heading to the showers. ‘So, have you considered any other options?’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, get real, Lara. The guy doesn’t even know I exist. Have you seen the kind of women he normally dates?’
Anna piped in, ‘Oh, yeah, blondes, big Amazonian types.’
They turned to look at her.
She shrugged. ‘What? I saw him out at dinner the other week.’
‘And you never mentioned it?’ Lara seemed annoyed.
‘Why would I? He never even recognised me. Believe me, he was otherwise occupied.’
Grace looked down at her own curvy body, visions of Donovan Reid wrapped around some lithe blonde model plaguing her mind, then back through the glass towards him. ‘Well, I guess that rules me out, then.’ She tossed her water bottle in the recycling bin, but her eyes were drawn straight back to Donovan like a magnet. She just couldn’t stop staring. Maybe it was the safety aspect. Donovan Reid was in the ‘unattainable’ category for her. Plus there was the fact she already knew how he’d reacted in a similar situation to hers. He’d come out of it unscathed. It kind of helped with his hero persona. ‘The DPA should have one of those calendars. You know, the charity kind with a naked man for every month? Think of the money we could raise for charity.’
Lara laughed. ‘And apart from Donovan, who are we going to get to model for it? We’re kind of short of handsome men around here.’
Anna smiled. ‘That’s okay. I could easily look at a different picture of Donovan every month.’ She tilted her head to the side as the three of them turned to appreciate their prey once more.
He’d finished in the gym and was grabbing his gear and heading to the showers.
Grace sighed. It was official. His butt was her favourite part of him.
It had been seven months since they’d finished their residencies and started at the Disease Prevention Agency. The DPA had over one thousand five hundred employees in Atlanta alone, with another ten thousand across the US and fifty other countries worldwide. Grace and her colleagues were currently part of the two-year training programme within the Emerging Disease branch of the DPA. Two years to learn everything they needed to know about preventing disease, disability and death from infectious diseases.
Placements included lab work, epidemiology, contact tracing, public health statistics and fieldwork. Some of the placements were exciting, some mundane, but the glimpse of Donovan Reid’s butt was often the highlight of Grace’s long twelve-hour-shift day.
‘Where are you covering this afternoon?’ she asked Anna.
‘I’m down in the labs. What about you?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m on the phones. Crazy bat lady, here I come.’
Lara hadn’t moved. She was still watching Donovan’s retreating back. ‘You know there’s a place going on his team, don’t you?’
‘What?’ Both heads turned in unison.
Lara nodded. ‘Yeah, Mhairi Spencer’s pregnant. She won’t be covering fieldwork any more.’
It made sense. A few years before, one of the DPA staff had died from an ectopic pregnancy in a far-off land. That was the trouble with working for the Disease Prevention Agency. A field assignment could mean staff would be miles from the nearest hospital. The weird and wonderful diseases they covered didn’t often appear in built-up areas. Regulations had been reviewed and it had been decided that as soon as any member of staff discovered they were pregnant, fieldwork was a no-no.
The tiny hairs on Grace’s arms stood on end. This was it. The chance she’d been waiting for. Seven months she’d been at the DPA, desperately waiting for the opportunity to get on one of the field teams. And to be on a team with the resident hunk? Wow.
The trouble was, the same thought was mirrored on her friends’ faces. She could almost hear the sound of whirring as their brains started frantically calculating the best way to make the team.
She held out her fist. They’d all started here together. They were friends. And this was their little show of unity. ‘May the best girl win.’ Lara and Anna held out their fists so that all three were one on top of the other.
Lara gave a wink. ‘Time to fight dirty, girls.’
* * *
Grace was trying to appear casual, trying to appear calm. But it wasn’t working. Since she’d arrived back at her seat she’d been making frantic notes. Things she could put on her résumé if they asked for one. Conversations she could try and have with Donovan Reid to let him know she would be the best person for his team.
She blew her bangs out of her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Who was she trying to kid? Donovan Reid had never had a conversation with her. He barely knew she existed. Her eyes focused on the sign above the phone. ‘NORMAL PEOPLE DON’T PHONE THE DPA.’ Didn’t she know it?
Ten calls in the last hour. Six from people who had rashes that they thought ranged from bubonic plague to scarlet fever. The other four from healthcare professionals who had patients they couldn’t diagnose. The internet was a wonderful thing. These days she could ask callers to take a picture and send it to her, giving them a diagnosis or reassurance in a matter of seconds.
She glanced at her watch. Crazy bat lady was late today. She’d usually phoned in by now. It was always the same conversation. Could the bats nestling in the nearby woods and caves be rabid? What kind of diseases could they carry? What would happen if she came in contact with bat droppings? All the doctors who manned the phones at the DPA knew crazy bat lady, she even greeted some of them by their first names.
Grace turned to the pile of incoming mail. The admin support was off sick. The irony of a sickness and diarrhoea bug sweeping around the DPA headquarters wasn’t lost on her. She started opening the brown envelopes and sorting the mail into piles. Lots were lab reports, some queries about different infectious diseases, some journal articles and a few requests from reporters. Nothing too difficult.
The last letter was stuck in the envelope. More difficult to get out than the rest. She gave it a little tug and it finally released, along with a plume of white dust.
The powder flew everywhere like a waft of white smoke, clouding her vision and catching in her throat.
And just like that, everything around her halted.
* * *
Donovan heard the collective gasps around him. The office was usually noisy, with a chatter of voices constantly in the background, along with mumbled telephone conversations and the rattle of keyboards.
Every sense went on alert.
He stood up, looking over the top of his pod, his eyes automatically scanning in the direction in which all the heads were pointing.
Was that smoke? No one was allowed to smoke in here. Realisation struck him like a blow to the chest.
That girl. That curvy, gorgeous brunette he’d been meaning to ask a few people about. She was standing stock still with a look of terror on her face. Dust was settling around her, covering her hair, face and clothes with a hazy white powder. If it had been any other setting, and any other season, she might have looked like she’d just been dusted with the first fall of snow.
But this was the DPA in the middle of autumn. And that was no snow.
Donovan was used to dealing with emergency situations, but they didn’t normally occur in his office space. He went into autopilot.
He was the most senior member of staff in the room and the responsibility of implementing safety procedures fell to him. All staff were trained about biohazard risks in the field. But he was already aware by the panicked faces that not everyone would have the quick thinking adaptability to apply them to their own workplace. He had to take the lead.
His long strides took him to the wall where he thumped the red button and the alarm started sounding. ‘Everybody, this is not a drill.’ His words brought the few people who hadn?
??t already noticed what was happening to their feet. ‘Biohazard containment procedures, now!’
He kept walking, straight towards his frozen co-worker, racking his brain for her name. Darn it. He should have asked days ago. She was on his list of possibilities for a replacement for Mhairi Spencer. He might not know her name, but he’d noticed her capabilities. Smart. Switched on. And focused. Three essential components.
The last remnant of dust was settling around her. He was walking straight into a potential disaster. But it was far more dangerous to leave her in an office space with circulating air-conditioning. She looked shocked and needed a push in the right direction. He took a breath before he reached her and clamped his mouth shut tight, putting both hands on her shoulders, spinning her round and marching her towards the door.
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak. The risk of inhaling or ingesting the substance was too great. He could only hope she was sensible enough to have stopped breathing.
He glanced sideways at a colleague who pressed the automatic door release, letting the door swing open and Donovan keep his hands in place.
He steered her to the left, nudging another button on the wall with his elbow and heading into the showers he’d just left. The door sealed behind him with a suck of air.
He could hear the motors above him stop. Perfect. The air-conditioning had been switched off. This whole building was designed for a possible disaster—the laboratories downstairs handled a whole range of potentially lethal toxins and pathogens. But this was the first time to his knowledge that there ever been a biohazard via the mail system.
The showers started automatically around them. Steam started to fill the room. ‘Strip.’
The word sounded harsh and there was a fleeting second of hesitation in her face before she started to comply, tearing off her shirt and sliding her trousers down over her thighs.
He took the same actions. Pulling off the shirt and tie he’d only replaced ten minutes ago and kicking off his brand-new Italian leather shoes. His designer trousers lay crumpled at his feet. All of these clothes would be incinerated.