“A graveyard adventure?” Carter steered his Tesla past the stone house at the entrance. “I thought those exploits took place in the dead of night.”
“I was distracted last night,” Ivy said.
And happier, he thought. Right now, she sounded damn near despondent.
He stowed that thought and focused on steering. The walls surrounding the Brooklyn graveyard showed signs of age. But the roads and the slopes lined with tombstones were well maintained.
“Take a right at this intersection and then park,” she added.
Carter glanced over at her as the car slowly rolled past one grave after another. She wore the same mask of determination she’d donned in his office yesterday afternoon. The playful woman who’d raced through the museum with him seemed far, far away. But the sultry beauty that had dropped to her knees last night was still there. Every time he looked at her mouth he remembered how her lips felt wrapped around him.
But she was focused on work again.
He shook his head as he took the turn. The qualities that drew him to this woman—her drive and her commitment to her goals—were also the barrier between him and her slipping back into bed.
“Here,” she said.
He guided the car to the shoulder. Before he’d cut the engine, she’d opened the passenger door, gathered the Marchesa’s full skirt in her arms, and slipped out of the car. She looked oddly cute, wearing her wrinkled gown and a pair of women’s slippers that he kept for the rare occasions his mother visited his apartment.
He turned off the car and followed her to a simple stone that read MATTHEW GRANT.
Oh, Ivy.
“Your father?” he said gently.
“Yes.”
He slipped his hands into his pockets to keep from pulling her close. If he touched her right now, he had a feeling she would shatter. He suspected she would save the tears for later, when she was alone. Ivy Grant might have gone willingly to his bed, giving in to a pull that went beyond a quest for adventure, but she didn’t reach out for emotional support. She didn’t let others see her weak and close to broken.
He knew the signs of trying to carry the weight of the world alone. He did the same thing. Asking for help felt a helluva lot like admitting he was letting someone down.
“My father died from amyloidosis ten years ago,” she said. Her voice wavered over the name of the damn disease that had landed them here. She drew a sharp breath. “I was in my third year of medical school. I knew a lot, but there is nothing like navigating doctors and diagnoses when they don’t have a cure. They didn’t even have a test to look for the disease in the early stages. By the time they were able to settle on a diagnosis, he was close to the end.”
“I’m sorry, Ivy.”
“Yesterday, I found a pathway to early diagnosis. And I’m close, very close, to finding a cure. I just know it.”
She wrapped her arms around her center as if she were trying to hold herself together. And he had to touch her. He reached out and ran his hand down her bare arm. He covered her hand with his. But she didn’t interlace her fingers with his.
Standing at her father’s grave, and she can’t reach out for support.
But she had asked. Not for someone to lean on. She’d asked for money.
“How much do you need?” The question slipped out even though he knew he couldn’t justify the open-ended expense to his shareholders. Plus, he would have to keep her facility open, which would have a negative impact on his bottom line.
“A hundred million for the clinical trial on the diagnostic test.” Her voice didn’t waver this time. “More to find a cure.”
“Hundreds of millions,” he said.
She nodded. “But less than the cancer research.”
“True.” He was allocating over a billion dollars to that project in the next fiscal year. “I only have so much to spend on projects that don’t turn a profit yet. If your clinical trial is successful and your new diagnostic test is approved—and I’ve been funding research and medical developments long enough to know that is a pretty big if—how many people will need this test?”
She glanced over at him. “You mean where is the path to profits?”
He nodded. “I’m not running a charity. The Burke Initiative funds research that in turn provides returns for the shareholders. That last vaccine led to a windfall. Those are the kind of projects I need to focus on.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “They’re all worthy, Ivy. But our pie simply isn’t big enough.”
“Are you sure about that?” she challenged as she stepped forward, pulling free from his grasp, and turned to face her.