“Are you insane?” Ivy challenged.
“I’m not the crazy one in the room.” Penelope dropped the act and her arms drifted to her sides. “Peter’s this close to curing cancer. He’s getting a brand-new state-of-the-art lab at Johns Hopkins, courtesy of billionaire Burke. He’s on the cusp of saving millions and millions of lives. I believe in what we’re doing here. But at the end of the day, amyloidosis is rare.”
But if we’d had a cure ten years ago, I could have saved my father, Ivy thought. Just one man. One life. But saving him would have meant the world to her. And one day her work in this lab might be the difference between life and death for someone else.
“A man who moves from an illustrious military career to being a billionaire businessman to freaking curing the world’s most pervasive diseases must have an ego,” Penelope continued. “He’ll want to take credit for Peter’s work because it’s so important. He might not even give you the time of day. But maybe if you talk to him just right, charm him, he’ll keep funding us, too.”
“Charm Carter Burke?” Disbelief clung to her words.
“Who knows? Maybe he’ll invite you to the party.”
Ivy pictured the hotel ballroom filled with New York City’s elite dressed in designer gowns and tuxedos. Mentally scanning the imaginary gala, she looked for the one woman who didn’t belong—the woman who didn’t even own a little black dress.
I’m not in the picture.
“I’m sure Carter Burke already has a date,” Ivy said lightly, as if Carter’s significant other was the only barrier between her and a dream date at a ball with a handsome billionaire.
“He broke up with his girlfriend last week. They had barely been together a week, but it’s over now,” Penelope said. “I read it on TMZ.”
Hope flickered. How long had it been since she’d gone on a date? Twenty-four long, work-filled months since her disastrous relationship with Robert. He’d never understood her workaholic need to practically live in her lab. Plus, Robert had been downright boring in bed.
After she and Robert broke it off, she resigned to set her sad dating life aside and mentally extinguished the hopeful flames of desire with a bucket of reason. Plus, she just did not belong in Carter Burke’s world.
Period.
End of story.
On the other hand…Penelope had a good point. She might secure more funding with a face-to-face meeting. If he saw her passion—for her work—who knows? He might give her everything she needed to continue her research and find a cure.
“I’ll go.” Ivy shrugged out of her lab coat and tossed it onto a steel table. Then she headed for the door. The locker holding her purse and car keys stood in the hallway beyond her workspace. “I’ll meet with him, for the funding. Not for a flippant night of fun. Anyway, he’s way out of my league. I’m a scientist, not a model.”
“With a little mascara—”
“I would still be a scientist.” Ivy placed her hand on the door. “I only need one thing from Carter Burke. The chance to continue our research—and I’m going to get it.”
“By any means necessary?” Penelope followed her into the hall.
“My plan is to bore him with statistics and scientific details. After fifteen minutes, he’ll be so uninterested that he’ll probably write me a personal check just so he can escape and meet up with his picture-perfect date for tonight’s event.” She lifted her purse from the locker and headed for the elevator.
“Bore a billionaire?” Penelope called after her. “That’s your plan?”
Ivy stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. Drive Carter Burke crazy with scientific terms and then ask for money? Penelope was right. She needed a better approach.
And a little makeup wouldn’t hurt.
Chapter 2
Reality set in with each passing floor. Ivy would probably be turned away before she met the famous billionaire. She wasn’t exactly dressed to impress in her white button-down shirt and plain black slacks.
She opened her purse and searched for lipstick, mascara, something to boost her courage. If she walked into Burke Initiative’s Manhattan office looking as if she’d lived in her windowless lab for the past year, she’d never get a chance to bore the one man who could help her cure the disease that had stolen her father.
Her fingers closed around a thin tube as the doors opened onto the basement-level parking garage. Oh, thank goodness. She stepped out of the elevator and looked down at her hand.
Lip balm.
But this was not just any balm. Her hopes of securing a meeting with Carter Burke were tied to a glossy stick she’d borrowed from her four-year-old niece last weekend—Sparkle Berry Kiss.
What are the chances Carter Burke has a thing for sparkling lips?