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1
Old Dominion University, Norfolk, Virginia
Dr. Madeline Towson made a face, but her dad, Clay Towson, ambassador to Haiti, couldn’t see it from twelve hundred miles away. She hadn’t opted for a face-to-face phone call for just this reason. She wasn’t a subtle person. Everything she felt she pretty much projected on her face.
Yeah, she didn’t win much at poker.
“Is there a possibility of an earthquake?” Her father’s concerned tone told her this might be tricky.
“Daddy, it’s a research study, and I won’t be there for more than two weeks—three tops—then I’m attending a conference in Santo Domingo, then one in Milan.” The line hummed. “Besides, I haven’t seen Fabrice since she had her son. I can’t wait.” Fabrice Baptiste, formerly Charles, was the daughter of her parents’ former cook who retired. While her father had been posted to Haiti, they had become fast friends, becoming almost inseparable. She was now married to the newly elected president, Didier Baptiste.
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you, too. So, what exactly does research study mean?”
“I’ll be taking readings around the island for my research. I want to write a couple of papers, and I have a poster to present for the conferences. As a new assistant professor, it’s publish or perish.” She was now on that merry-go-round thanks to her disastrous decision to get involved with her former boss at the US Geological Survey. The worst decision she’d ever made, but she loved research and going into the field. Her primary interests included Geotechnical Engineering, Engineering Seismology, and Applied Statistics, emphasizing regional geo-hazard modeling and analysis, multi-hazards risk assessment, geospatial analysis, and statistical learning and modeling in civil engineering applications. Her degrees were a PhD from UCLA in Geotechnical Engineering, an MS in Statistics also from UCLA, and a BS from MIT in Geophysics and Seismology.
“How is the ambassador gig going? Things getting better in Haiti?”
“Luckily, the people have elected a new leader. He’s a young guy, thirty-two, and he checks all the political boxes. So far, he’s been cordial and accommodating. The country needs reinforcement. But Washington isn’t convinced. They’re sending me a contingent of special operators to assess the situation and make sure we’re all safe here at the embassy.”
“It sounds reasonable, Dad. No one wants another Benghazi or what happened in Niger,” she said, horrified at even the thought of her wonderful dad in danger. It made her hackles rise to even think of it and caused all kinds of protective instincts to surface.
Speaking of disasters, hers was of the deeply personal kind. She sure didn’t want any more trouble, the kind that had scarred her and almost ruined her reputation. She had been ill-advised to get into an intimate relationship with her separated boss, Benjamin Halstead at the USGS. He’d made a lot of promises to her for her promotion, especially when she was doing the bulk of writing articles, working nights and weekends, and he was reaping the benefit of putting his name first. At the time, she believed him, and as an optimistic, upbeat person, she performed not only because she really cared for Ben, but because she loved her work.
But then word had gotten out they were involved, and she’d been embarrassed and harassed, not only by some of her colleagues but by his estranged wife, who wasn’t exactly estranged. So, Maddy got out and accepted the first job she was offered, assistant professor at Old Dominion University in their Batten College of Engineering and Technology. It got her out of Reston and the DC government circle, blessedly away from the scandal that really wasn’t a scandal since Ben hadn’t been upfront with her on either a professional or personal level. She consoled herself that Ben would be hard-pressed to see his name on another published article. Her organizational skills aside, without her insightful brilliance discerning the underlying correlations between all those facts Ben was so enamored of unearthing and flaunting, there’d be damn little significance to make any article he actually wrote worth publishing. Ha, take that Ben. Mediocrity right in the face.
She was going to make lemonade out of lemons and enjoy every last drop. Sure, a lot of men were liars and cads, but not all of them. Look at her dad. And Max…don’t think about Max, she told herself. She ruined that relationship, and she wasn’t exactly sure why.
“Of course, no one wants another Benghazi or Niger. From what I can see Fabrice made an excellent choice. I believe this kid will unite the country, and he has plans to get Haiti back on track economically, and part of that is a big push for tourism. Their reputation has been tarnished by the unrest, but hopefully that’s all over.”
“I’m sure it is. Now the country can look forward to prosperity and rebuilding, with the understanding that another 7 Richter earthquake could be possible.”
“Let’s hope they are open to that. I can certainly address it if you have some information that would be beneficial to them—facts and figures are always best.”
“I can compile the information after I’m finished with all my readings into a report for you.”
“That would be excellent. Thanks, Maddy. We’ll see you when? End of today?”
“Yes, my flight leaves soon and is about seven hours. I’ll arrive in Port-au-Prince at around five p.m.”
“Just in time for dinner. I’ll send a car for you.”
“Thanks. Love you, Dad, and see you soon.”
Hours later she landed in Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti and the location of the US Embassy. She was relieved that all she had to do was pick up her luggage and head to the entrance where there should be a limo waiting for her to take her to the embassy.
It was the weekend, and the airport was packed with travelers. She’d had a busy social life in Reston, but Norfolk was a new town to her, and she hadn’t really had much of a chance to relax since she’d been on the whirlwind of moving and settling in a new place. So, this tropical island would be a nice respite.
After all the pushing and shoving, she was just as washed-out, run-down as the mostly rude people in the airport. She spied her luggage making its sluggish way on the conveyor belt. She watched it come—Holy Mother of God. Her heart caught in her throat, and she tightened her hand on her travel bag.
Gorgeous man at twelve o’clock coming around the baggage carrel, coming out of the crowd—and she swore it, moving in slow motion. Everything suddenly seemed to have slowed down, except her pulse. Her skin flashed hot, then cold, and she gripped her messenger bag tighter. An edge of dizziness threatened to take hold. Then she realized she was holding her breath.
Breathe, Maddy, she admonished herself. Breathe.
But so help her God, he was breathtaking. Okay, so she was stating the obvious since she hadn’t been breathing and all. She watched detachedly as her suitcases slid by her on their merry way for another circular ride. She couldn’t be bothered with mundane things like suitcases.
Six feet of power and grace, and dark hair, shaved on the sides and longer on top. Black cargo pants, white T-shirt, black jacket, and incredibe mysterious gray eyes, like the ocean in winter.
And his face, wowzah. Chiseled, beautiful, the shadow of a beard across an elegant jaw with sensual wide, kissable lips.
