“Mr. Burke.”
She waited until he returned his attention to her bright, determined blue eyes.
“You should know that I’m not your real date for tonight, or the person you planned to spoil with fancy dresses and hair and all that.” She waved her hand in the air as if the suite were situated above their heads.
“Ms. Grant, I made a few calls after you burst into my office,” he said as the waiter reappeared with their drinks. “I knew who you were and where you worked five minutes after you left the building. After I’d called for a dress and ‘all that.’” He took a sip of the vodka, savoring the sweet, tangy taste. “I planned to spoil you, Ivy.”
“Why?” she demanded. “If you knew that I worked for you…why go through all of this?”
“You’re intriguing.” He took another sip of his cocktail. “I’ve met with the scientists working on the cancer project. I’ve spoken at length with the lead researcher on that project, the man responsible for the team’s success. What’s his name?”
“Peter Dunn,” she ground out.
He nodded. “I’ve met with him and his team of scientists a half dozen times in the last month. But not one of them radiates passion and determination like you do.”
She sat up straight. With one hand, she brushed the train of sparkling fabric that hung from her shoulder, down her back. Her lips formed a thin line and her blue eyes demanded attention.
There you are, he thought. The fearless person who marched into my office.
He sat back and scanned the woman sitting across the table from him. For the first time since he’d seen her at the hotel, she appeared in command of the gown.
“That passion you saw? That was the direct result of a major breakthrough in my research. I’m close—very close—to a potential cure for amyloidosis.” She lifted her chin. “I know it is not cancer, but I burst into your office because I need additional funding.”
Ah, hell.
He should tell her. Now. Before they walked into gala. He’d drawn out this adventure long enough. One look at her expression and he knew he was sitting across from a warrior, not a woman who would set aside her goals while he wined and dined her. He’d bet his fortune that funding ranked close to the top of her priority list. Gowns and makeovers probably didn’t make the cut.
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. Tension rippled through his biceps. Every muscle in his body felt tight. This poised and determined woman had walked away from one victory determined to pave the way for the next step. She’d come to him. And then she’d endured an unexpected makeover, which he hoped she’d enjoyed because this next part wouldn’t be fun.
He had to tell her.
But first…
“What is amyloidosis?” he asked.
“When abnormal protein builds up in organs or tissue. It can be treated with early detection and drugs, but we don’t have a cure. Without one, amyloidosis can lead to death. There are several strands. Some affect dialysis patients, for example. My work to this point has focused on a new blood test to detect the protein. That’s what I found today. A test that will help doctors diagnose and treat patients. Early detection is critical, especially if it affects the heart or kidneys.”
“An abnormal protein? Like an abnormal cell or cancer?”
She nodded. “But cancer is the second leading cause of death in America, and only an estimated four thousand individuals suffer from amyloidosis. The Burke Initiative is one of the few places willing to fund my research. Without you, we never would have made it this far. But we need more.”
He looked into her blue eyes and recognized the glimmer of hope. Once upon a time, he’d fought to preserve that flicker. He’d struggled to remain optimistic while serving his country. He’d needed to believe that something good could come from the seemingly endless misery war rained down on everyone involved.
But the reality of war had crushed his hopes and dreams for a happy ending. He hadn’t been prepared for it. The loss of hope, the feeling of helplessness that accompanied the void—he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
He needed to tell her the truth, even if it brought their adventure to a
close.
“I’m closing the lab, Ivy.”
Chapter 7
Ivy gaped at the man. He’d dressed her up, made her feel like a princess, and then destroyed her world with a simple sentence. If he thought a designer dress and a manicure would lessen the blow…
I’ll cut up the Marchesa and stomp on the pieces.
But she couldn’t let anger win. Not now. Not yet.