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He reached out his hand and took the charts from her hands. ‘Let’s not waste time. Go, and try and arrange to get these kids airlifted out of here. You’ll have a fight on your hands—first, with ICU at Panama City to accept three kids with an infectious disease and, second, with the air crew.’ His hand rested on her back. ‘It won’t be the first fight you’ll have like this, Grace, but I have confidence you’ll make the case.’
His eyebrows were raised. It was almost like drawing a line in the sand. Setting her a challenge. Her stomach flipped over.
His eyes were serious, but the corners of his mouth were edging upwards. He was trying not to smile. And she was trying not to react to the feel of his hand on her back.
His fingers were inches from her scar and the heat emanating from his hand through her thin scrub top was making her skin tingle and the scar area itch.
The wound never bothered her, never caused her any problems—except, of course, at airports. While it had been healing the itch had driven her mad. Probably because that tiny part of her shoulder blade seemed like the most inaccessible part of her body. No matter how she twisted and turned, her hands just couldn’t reach the spot. She’d ended up rubbing her shoulder blade up and down a wall instead.
The fingers moved, shifting their position on her back. ‘Grace, are you okay?’
Heat rushed into her cheeks, Donovan had given her some clear instructions. She didn’t have time to dither. She had to get on and do the job, prove herself as a responsible member of the team.
His fingers were still in contact with her body so she took a step forward to get out of reach.
‘No problem, I’ll get on the phone straight away.’ She started to walk down the corridor. She’d no idea where she was going. There was a perfectly good desk, chair and phone at the nurses’ station where they’d been standing but she needed some space. She needed some distance.
She could almost feel his eyes burning a hole into her back. As she rounded the corner she glanced back just in time to see him pull his eyes away and look down at the files in his hands.
She swallowed. She hadn’t missed anything with these kids. She knew she hadn’t. But she was worried. Their condition was deteriorating and they needed more support. So why was her stomach doing flip-flops?
She was nervous. She couldn’t help it. She wanted Donovan to think she was a capable member of the team. It seemed so important that he respect her work abilities above anything else.
She had to prove to him she was a worthy member of his team. She wanted his respect. There had been a moment in the isolation room, when she’d told him what she remembered about Marburg virus, that he’d looked at her—really looked at her for a few seconds. It had almost been as if he was seeing her for the first time.
And there had been something. Whether it had been admiration, respect or just downright curiosity, she’d liked it.
She wanted it to happen again.
Even now, from the second she’d set foot in the airport, she had sensed something else. She wasn’t as street smart as some. Her wound was proof positive of that.
But she didn’t use the art of flirtation as a means to anything else. She wasn’t skilled at those techniques and sometimes she wondered if she even read things the way she should.
In any other world, if she were any other person, she could swear that Donovan Reid had been flirting with her sometimes. Had been looking at her in a way that hadn’t been entirely professional. And she liked it. She liked it a lot.
Up until yesterday she hadn’t featured on this guy’s radar at all. She may have admired him from afar. He may have said a few things that had hinted he had noticed her. But that had probably been just to soothe her ego, keep her sweet while she was on his team.
She wasn’t a blonde supermodel. Not like the last girl he’d dated. Or anything like any of the others he’d been rumoured to wine and dine. She was just Grace Barclay, doctor at the DPA.
But when he’d held her gaze a few times and looked at her, it had felt like so much more. It had made her skin tingle and the blood race through her veins. He’d looked at her in the shower when they’d both been naked. He’d looked at her at the airport when she’d had her mini-makeover. The first time she’d barely been able to meet his gaze. The second time she’d felt more confident, more ready to deal with it.
Donovan Reid interested in her? She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face or the tingles that were sweeping over her skin.
She picked up the phone. Now it was time to be charm personified. Now it was time to develop some of her persuasive skills to get these kids somewhere appropriate.
And maybe she could use those persuasive skills later...
* * *
The room was stifling and it was packed. It was Florida in the middle of summer and the air-conditioning wasn’t working. Sweat was starting to run down his back, he only hoped his shirt wasn’t sticking to his back.
Worse still, there were no windows. No outside view to escape from. Two doors, both surrounded by people and both closed. It made his skin prickle. Maybe he wasn’t sweating because of the temperature, maybe he was sweating because he couldn’t see the outside. His mind was retreating into the six-year-old-boy space again and he pressed his lips tightly together, willing it back to the present.
He wasn’t a six-year-old boy. He was an adult. And all his rational sensibilities were telling him he was fine. The room wasn’t entirely comfortable but there was a clear exit, two clear exits. Well, not entirely clear. But visible.
That should be enough. That should be enough to allow him to continue through this. The last thing he wanted to do in the middle of a packed room full of reporters was have a panic attack.
He’d always managed to stave them off. He’d always managed to talk himself out of them, even when all the symptoms and sensations had been there, he’d recognised them and tried to rationalise things in his brain.
A team leader with panic attacks in enclosed spaces would be no use in the DPA. You never knew what situation or set of environmental circumstances you could end up in. Doctors in the DPA had to be able to deal with everything. Team leaders? They had to deal with the impossible.
He couldn’t let his childhood traumas interfere with his present-day life. He had no time for this. It didn’t make sense. Not even to him. Sure, six hours trapped in an elevator was terrifying for a child. But it didn’t really feature as traumatic. In his experience he’d met lots of people who’d had a million experiences more terrifying than his. It almost had him feeling embarrassed that his body reacted this way—in a way he couldn’t control.
He took a few long deep breaths, letting the air hiss out slowly through his lips. He’d read his DPA-agreed statement around thirty minutes ago. It had been hastily written on an unused chart then faxed to the department. He’d thought he could be in and out of here in ten minutes. But he should have known better. The reporters had other ideas. They were out for blood. And by the look of it—his.
The questions were coming thick and fast. ‘Have you identified the source?’
>
‘Marburg virus has been known in the past to come from the African fruit bat. While we’ve identified bats before in Key West, that type of bat has never been found here. We have, however, identified Jamaican fruit bats in the area. Further investigations are taking place.’
‘But weren’t all the kids that were affected on a kindergarten trip to the national park? Should the park be closed?’
He shifted in his seat. This was where things got difficult. ‘Our investigators are taking detailed histories from all people who have contracted the virus. We are looking at any and all commonalities. Until the investigation is complete I can’t make any further comment.’
What I really mean is the park authorities still haven’t let us in there. It was beyond frustrating. All establishments had their own protocols but nothing was supposed to get in the way of a DPA investigation. Federal law stated they had jurisdiction. It just didn’t seem apparent right now. For some agencies the wheels of time seemed to move slower than shifting sands.
‘What can you tell us about the first victim? The woman who died? We heard she called the DPA on a regular basis.’
How on earth did they know that? He did his best to smile sweetly, while racking his brains. Someone from the DPA must have leaked the information. There would have to be an investigation.
‘The first confirmed case of Marburg virus was Jessie Tanner, age sixty-seven, from Northwest District in Florida. She has phoned the DPA in the past, but I can confirm she never reported any clinical signs that were related to Marburg virus.’
This was a nightmare. The sooner he could get out of here and on the phone to the Director of the DPA the better.
‘Is it true that there was another kindergarten trip at the same site the day after this one?’
His skin started to prickle as a chill swept across his body. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to hear. He kept his face as bland as possible. ‘We’ve not yet been notified of that possibility.’
He wanted out of there. He wanted out of there as soon as possible to check those facts. He wanted to make sure another thirty kids weren’t at risk.
