TEMPTED BY HER BOSS (3 page)

The negative pressure room was used frequently for training scenarios at the DPA. She’d been in it countless times—she’d just never expected to be a patient in one.

The glass walls reached from ceiling to floor, leaving every aspect of them on view to outside observers. The only part of the room that had any modicum of privacy was the screened-off bathroom and shower area. In the meantime, she and Donovan were prime viewing material to the rest of the department, who all seemed to be staring at them from outside.

People were scurrying around, huddled in conversations, talking on phones. All busy. All doing their jobs. Grace just wished she could be out there with them.

It was like being a goldfish in a bowl. A big bowl, with a shark circling inside.

Donovan didn’t seem to like being in isolation either. He hadn’t stopped talking since he’d got in here—talking about everything and anything. If she didn’t know better she’d have thought he was nervous or a bit agitated. But that didn’t fit with what she knew about Donovan Reid. The guy was practically a legend around here.

Last year he’d led work on an outbreak of West Nile virus, saving the lives of over a hundred people because of his rapid diagnostic skills. Then there had been the incident that had made the news the year before. Donovan had shown complete and utter self-control when dealing with a gunman who’d entered a hospital where the DPA was working. He’d managed to persuade the gunman to release some hostages and had eventually tackled and disarmed the guy himself. Donovan Reid was every schoolgirl’s hero. But it wasn’t helping her head. She pressed her fingers to her temples and started rotating them in small circles.

‘Has Frank been able to isolate anything in the lab yet? What about the blood tests? Have they shown anything? Is Bill Cutler from the FBI here yet?’

Grace swung her legs up onto one of the two beds in the room and leaned back against the pillows. Her wet hair was really beginning to annoy her. She’d never be able to sleep. She closed her eyes for a second. ‘Donovan, any chance of some quiet? I have a killer headache.’ The words were out before she’d even thought about them.

‘What?’ He spun around, his forehead creased with lines. He crossed the room in a few strides, putting his hand on her head.

A prickling sensation swept over her skin. The expression on his face was serious. Maybe this wasn’t the start of a migraine. Could this be a symptom of something? She hadn’t even considered that.

But she didn’t need to. Because Donovan was considering it all for her. Out loud. ‘When did your headache start? Is this normal for you? How is your vision—are you having any problems?’

She reached her hand up and put it over his, squeezing her eyes closed and trying to ignore the instant tingle that shot up her arm like a pulse.

Just like when he’d touched her in the shower.

Could this day get any worse?

She swallowed. Her mouth was dry, she was desperate for something to drink. Was there even water in this fishbowl?

She removed Donovan’s hand from her head. ‘Stop it. You’re not helping. I suffer from migraines but I haven’t had one for the last four years.’ She didn’t even want to open her eyes, the spotlights around them were just too bright.

He sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness. What can I do to help?’

‘Stop talking?’ She squinted out the corner of one eye.

He smiled. The first time he’d smiled since they’d got in the isolation room.

‘Never gonna happen.’

Her stomach rumbled loudly and she pressed her hands over it in embarrassment.

‘Would some food help? Or some meds?’

She nodded. Having a migraine around Dr Handsome was bad enough. Having it under the spotlight of just around every member of staff was even worse.

She mumbled the name of the meds she normally used. The normally brisk manner he used around others had vanished. ‘Can you put the lights down?’ she asked.

He hesitated for a second. ‘Sure, I’ll keep you under my watchful eye.’ He walked over to the wall. Every word they said in here, every noise they made could be heard by the outside world.

‘Can we get some migraine meds for Grace, please? And can someone put the lights down around here?’

There were a few nods and some words exchanged by members of staff. Anna walked over to the glass. ‘Grace, are your meds in your locker? I can get them from your bag.’

Grace nodded. Donovan was back at her side. ‘What do you want to eat? We need to plan on being in here for the next few hours—maybe even the next few days.’ He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘We can order in—what’s your favourite?’

She laughed and shook her head. ‘You’re joking, right?’

‘Why?’ He held up his hands. ‘Anything that comes into this room goes through the cross-contamination system. We can ask for anything. It’s only our air that can’t get out.’ He raised his eyebrows, ‘Personally, I’m going to order a pepperoni pizza and a pastrami on rye for later.’

She smiled as her stomach growled again. ‘Well, there is something that helps my migraines.’

‘What?’

She named a coffee house a few minutes away from the DPA. ‘I’ve used it for years. They have the best skinny sugar-free caramel lattes and banana and toffee muffins I’ve ever tasted.’

He frowned, as if his brain was trying to process her female logic. ‘The skinny latte counteracts the banana and toffee muffin?’

She grinned. ‘Exactly. You get it. It’s all about the calories, Donovan.’ She pointed at his washboard stomach. ‘Though I’m sure you’d spontaneously combust if you ate anything like that. You probably don’t even know what a banana muffin looks like.’

He leaned forward and lowered his voice, just as the lights flickered off around them. His eyebrows arched as a dim glow of pale blue appeared, giving their skin a strange pallor. ‘It’s only work-related things that make me spontaneously combust, Grace. I can assure you I’m well acquainted with the muffin family.’ He gave her a wicked smile. ‘And from where I was standing you certainly don’t need to worry about calories.’

She felt her cheeks burn. How would they look in this strange light? Had she just imagined it, or had Donovan Reid just given her a backhanded compliment?

There was no hiding her curves. She was never going to look like one of the gym bunnies he normally dated. But maybe that wasn’t his preference.

There hadn’t been time to think earlier. No time to be shy. He’d seen every single part of her—scars and all.

The thought of his fingers brushing over her shoulder scar sent shivers down her spine. He must have noticed it, but he certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

He’d seen her ample breasts, rounded stomach and curved hips and thighs. Her backside didn’t even feature in her thoughts. In her head it was her best feature—round enough to rival J-Lo’s. If only she had J-Lo’s matching height...

There was a hiss of air, doors were opening, items left to be decompressed before the second set of doors opened. Her migraine tablets were pressed into her hands, along with a glass of water, and she swallowed them gratefully.

Donovan Reid had never struck her as the kind of man to have a good bedside manner. He wasn’t much of a people person—his mind was always focused on the job. He’d been the youngest team leader around here for the last four years.

And the last few years had been tough. A potential outbreak of smallpox, discovered by an ex-employee, followed by one of the biggest operations the DPA had ever been involved in. Donovan had missed that call by a matter of minutes. She could only imagine how much he’d smarted about that.

And now another member of his team was pregnant. Jokes had been circulating the office for the last year about a certain swivel chair. Callie Sawyer, Violet Hunter and now Mhairi Spencer had all sat in that chair at some point. Grace and her friends had vowed not to sit in it for the next five years.

She swallowed her tablets and sighed, leaning back against the pillows. They were softer than she’d thought; she could almost forget about her still damp hair. If she closed her eyes just for a minute, she might feel a little better. She sank down into the comfort zone, tugging the soft blanket up around her shoulders. She could daydream for a few seconds.

Daydream about what she really would have liked to have happened in that shower. Donovan to give her a cheeky wink and sexy smile, loving her curves and having a look of pure lust in his eyes for her. Donovan, with his light brown curls, chiselled jaw and sculpted body. For her eyes only. Ah, well, a girl could dream.

She could hear mumbling. Donovan was in deep talks through the glass with Frank. He gave a sigh and walked over to her.

She sat up. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh, good. You’re awake.’

She rubbed her eyes and looked around. ‘Was I sleeping?’

He nodded. ‘Just for the last thirty minutes.’

Great. In the middle of a crisis with the man she wanted to impress and she’d fallen asleep. ‘What have I missed? Has something happened?’

‘Yes, well, no. It’s good,’ actually. Frank couldn’t screen the sample until it had been irradiated. At first glance it’s not anthrax and it’s not any form of plague.’

She let out the breath she hadn’t even realised shed been holding. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Maybe it’s something stupid. Maybe it’s flour or talcum powder—something like that? Something that means we’ll be okay.’

He ran his fingers through his already mussed-up hair. ‘It’ll take a few hours before we know anything for sure.’

She could read in his eyes exactly how he felt about that, he was watching everyone outside rush around. ‘And you can’t stand the thought of being stuck in here? You’re wandering about like a caged animal. Don’t you know the meaning of the word “chill”?’

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she’d made a big mistake. He whipped around to face her, his eyes as black as coal. His expression matched.

‘How can I chill, Grace? The DPA has just received a potential biological hazard through the mail system. No note. No explanation Nothing. Just an Arkansas postmark. Hundreds of people in our department could have been exposed. Hundreds of mail workers could have come into contact with that letter. If this
is
a biological contagion, this could be a disaster. And you want me to chill? This is my watch, Grace, these people are my responsibility.’

She gulped. Oh, no. She’d just killed any chance of impressing Donovan Reid. He probably thought she was a dumb-ass schoolkid. All thoughts of powerful thighs and six-packs were flying out of the window, although she reserved the right to conjure them back up in her dreams. She stammered, ‘A-and it’s m-my f-fault—because I opened the package?’

His eyes widened. ‘Is that what you think? Why on earth would I blame you, Grace? You only did what anyone would do—you opened the envelope.’

She held out her hands. Her migraine really wasn’t improving. The thirty-minute nap hadn’t helped. The meds hadn’t even touched the edge of her pain. ‘But look at the effect it’s had on the whole department.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t read too much into my ranting, Grace. I hate that I can’t be out there, doing more. It doesn’t matter who opened that envelope today, the effect was always going to be the same.’

He moved over next to her and lifted an electronic BP cuff from the wall, switching on the monitor with his thumb.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Your migraine isn’t any better, is it?’

She shook her head as he wrapped the cuff around her arm. ‘I’m doing what any good doctor should. I’m checking your BP. Maybe it’s not a migraine. Maybe it’s something else entirely.’

Her stomach gave a little flip. Back to the whole ‘you’ve breathed in a contagion and are going to die’ scenario. She was trying to keep that one from her head right now. If this was a tension headache it was only going to get a whole lot worse.

She felt the cuff inflate, cutting off the circulation to her arm. These darned things always felt as if they overinflated and any minute now her fingers would fall off. After what seemed like for ever it gave a gentle hiss and started to go down.

Donovan’s eyes stayed on the monitor, watching the figures. He leaned over and pulled the cuff free. ‘Perfect. Your blood pressure is fine.’

A few minutes later the food appeared and was placed in the decompression section between the doors. After the obligatory number of minutes the second set of doors hissed open and smell of pepperoni pizza and caramel latte wafted into the room.

Their stomachs grumbled in unison and they both laughed. Donovan opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. ‘Mmm, delicious. I hadn’t got round to having lunch earlier. I was just about to eat at my desk when someone...’ he gave her the eye ‘...decided to brighten up my day.’

She should be feeling guilty that she’d managed to eat some of her sandwich while Donovan Reid had worked out at the gym. But as his muscled body had proved too much of a distraction, most of her sandwich had ended up in the trash. And the smell surrounding her was just what she needed.

Grace took a long sip of her latte, letting the smooth, sweet caramel hit the spot. It was just the perfect temperature. Someone had obviously had to spend ten minutes walking it back from the coffee house. She took a bite of the muffin. Perfect. ‘Fabulous. I love these. I could eat them all day.’

‘Wouldn’t you get sick of them?’ He was watching her. As if he was curious about her.

‘Are you crazy? Of course I wouldn’t. I limit myself to one a week because there’s about a billion calories in each one.’ She licked some toffee from her finger. ‘But you know what? I love every single one of them.’

He was watching her appreciatively. Apart from being naked in the shower, it was the first time she’d noticed him run his eyes up and down her body, although right now he was focused entirely on her fingers. She tried not to smile.

It hadn’t even crossed her mind that her actions could seem provocative. She’d been too busy enjoying her muffin. But somehow the thought of Donovan Reid having those kinds of thoughts about her was sending shivers down her spine. He’d never even noticed her before. He hadn’t even known her name.