Page 13 of One Reckless Night

6

AMELIA

The next morning, I followed the signs directing me to The Lab. I realized when Clair had been talking about the lab, it should have been capitalized in my head. The Lab was huge and was certainly worthy of being a proper noun.

I wasn’t sure if Jared was serious when he said he was going to give me the tour. I doubted it, in fact. He had a million things to do. Guiding me around seemed like a task best completed by an assistant, not the guy at the top.

Obviously, I would prefer to explore on my own but I suspected some areas were probably off-limits. This place was on the cutting edge of science. It made sense there would be some proprietary information. I wasn’t ready to have my own research made public just yet either.

The sprawling complex of glass and steel looked more like a luxury resort than a scientific facility. The sun glinted off the windows as I approached. I couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. This was it. My dream job. My dream life. And yet, as I walked through the automatic doors and into the sleek, air-conditioned lobby, I couldn’t shake the nerves buzzing in my chest.

That little voice in the back of my head was telling me I wasn’t good enough. Smart enough. The people that worked here were brilliant. Their names would be in history books. The Welch Foundation was already responsible for so many major advances. I wanted to keep up. I didn’t care if my name was in a history book or medical journals, but I wanted my research to matter to someone.

I scanned the lobby. Like the condo, the place felt like a starship. The expansive space was squeaky clean and gleaming white floors reflected the soft, ambient lighting that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn’t a harsh glaring light that gave a person a headache. It was just bright in a comfortable way.

To my left, a massive digital wall displayed a constantly shifting array of data: stock prices, weather patterns, and what looked like real-time brain scans. The images were mesmerizing. I had no idea if it was just art or part of a study taking place in the lab. I knew what I was looking at and I could have stood there all day studying the scans. Maybe they were a test of some sort? Like you couldn’t advance if you couldn’t identify the tumor or the aneurysm on the verge of rupturing.

But the star of the lobby was the atrium. A towering structure of glass and metal rose up through the center of the building, housing what appeared to be a giant artificial neural network. Lights pulsed along its pathways, mimicking the firing of synapses in a human brain. It was breathtaking, a physical representation of the very thing we were here to study.

“Miss Pritchard.”

I turned to see Jared strolling toward me. “You know very well it’s Dr. Pritchard, but feel free to call me Amelia.”

He flashed that cocky grin once again. He looked good. Too good. His dark blond hair was perfectly tousled, and he was wearing a fitted button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his corded forearms.

He smelled amazing too, like cedar and something faintly citrusy. It was distracting, and I hated how much I noticed it. The man was ridiculously tall. I noticed it at the awards dinner, but somehow, he looked taller today. I wondered if his hair was typically brown, but the Florida sun bleached it out. Given the even tan he was sporting, I imagined he spent a lot of time on the beach when he wasn’t in surgery.

“Morning to you too,” he said. “Ready for the grand tour?”

“Lead the way,” I replied, trying to sound casual while doing my best not to get lost in the stunning gray eyes framed by thick black lashes.

He gestured for me to follow him, and we started walking down the hallway. Everywhere I looked, there were researchers in lab coats bustling about.

“So, how’d you sleep? Still jetlagged?”

“A little,” I admitted. “But I’ll survive. I’m ready to get to work.”

“Good,” he said, glancing at me. “Because I’ve got big plans for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I be worried?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. Just impressed. This place tends to weed out the weak. The healthy competition keeps people working harder. Smarter. I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a challenge, but I decided to take it as both. “We’ll see,” I said, matching his tone. “I’m not easily impressed.”

“Noted,” he said, grinning. “But I think I can change your mind.”

We continued the tour, and I was struck by how different Jared seemed compared to the man I’d met at the awards ceremony. He was still confident—borderline arrogant—but there was a laid-back, almost playful side to him that I hadn’t expected. Maybe he wasn’t as tightly wound once he was back at home base, away from the crowds.

He cracked jokes as he showed me the state-of-the-art equipment. He seemed genuinely excited to explain how everything worked. It was disarming. And confusing. The man I’d idolized from afar was nothing like the man standing next to me now. He was still a genius, sure, but he was also witty, charming, and surprisingly down to earth.

I had a feeling he used all that charm to woo a lot of ladies. I was dangerously close to falling under his spell. But I wouldn’t. I was here to learn and grow. I didn’t need to get googly-eyed over a man.

At one point, we passed a group of research assistants who giggled and openly flirted with their eyes at Jared as we walked by. I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself. “Why did you choose neurosurgery, anyway?” I asked, glancing at him. “With your charm and good looks, you could’ve gone into cosmetic surgery. Made a fortune smoothing out wrinkles and inflating egos. Be one of those plastic surgeons that works on the rich and famous.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made my stomach do a weird little flip. “Neurosurgery chose me,” he said, his tone mock serious. “I wanted to know why my brain was so much better than everyone else’s.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so modest.”