Racing Against the Clock

He was a handsome man, tall and lean. His hands, long and slender, belonged to a surgeon. His hair was dark brown, his eyes an even darker shade of chocolate. There was a brushstroke of gray at each temple and a few laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes. An air of refinement clung to him and yet at the same time he exuded a rugged masculinity. A hunter who listened to Mozart. A soldier who studied fine art. A man as comfortable skiing in the Rockies as he would be at a wine-tasting party.

She could not deny her attraction to him, but Hannah didn’t employ her physical urges to form opinions or make decisions. Her parents had taught her that nothing was more important than a clear head and a practical mind. Affairs of the hearts were reserved for sentimentalists and fools and she was neither.

Her parents, though they professed to love her, had not been the type to offer kisses, hugs or even many words of praise. Hannah had been expected to perform to the best of her ability and she had strove to please them. She had earned a bachelor’s degree in chemistry by age sixteen, had a master’s by eighteen and at age twenty had been the youngest woman ever to earn a Ph.D. in pharmacology from the University of Texas. In fact, it had been her burning desire to honor the memory of her parents and the high standards they had set which led her to discover the phenomenal Virusall.

She had always been on the outside looking in, the girl who was out of step with everyone else her age. Because of her up-bringing, Hannah had never been very good with people, but it was this trait that made her such a dedicated researcher. She possessed an analytical mind and she enjoyed being alone. She didn’t easily succumb to the emotional pull of others and she held herself to lofty standards.

But right now Tyler Fresno was tugging at her with the force of a high-powered magnet.

“Do you know where my clothes are?” She ran a hand through her unruly hair. Furrowing her brow, she wished for lipstick and a hairbrush. She must look a fright and although Hannah wasn’t given to vanity, she found herself wanting to look nice for him. Why?

“Perhaps they’re down here.” He turned and bent over to pick up the sack she had been trying to reach when he had come into the room and caught her with her backside in the air.

This turnabout was fair play.

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched with interest as she got a glimpse of his rear-end. Unfortunately, doctors’ scrub suits did not offer the same uninhibited view as an open-back hospital gown. Still, she enjoyed running her eyes down the length of his lanky form. She wasn’t one for ogling men, but for this guy she would make an exception.

“Here you are.” He handed her the paper bag.

Hannah peered inside and was alarmed to see her clothes matted with dirt and blood.

Tyler must have read her mind because in the next minute he said, “Tell you what—I’ll get you a set of scrubs to wear. What are you?” He squinted, raking his gaze over her. “An extra small?”

“Yes, but a small will do fine and thank you. That’s very considerate.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled and Hannah felt warm and tingly all over.

A girl could fall for a guy like him.

She had to be careful. Hannah had spent so much time in a laboratory, she knew very little about the opposite sex or how to handle herself in the presence of a man she found attractive.

“I’ll just draw a vial of blood first,” Tyler said. He opened a supply drawer. “Damn, we’re out of purple-top tubes. Just hang on a minute while I pop over to the lab for the right tube.”

“I’m leaving in a hour,” she warned.

“Okay, fine. I’ll just go ahead and draw your blood and then carry the specimen to the lab in the syringe. I can put it in the correct tube when I get there.”

“Thank you.” She beamed at him.

He wrapped a yellow rubber tourniquet around her arm and palpated a vein in the bend of her elbow. “Make a fist for me.”

After drawing her blood, he then put the syringe into a red bag marked with a biohazard chemical emblem.

It was after eleven o’clock and Danny was getting ready to leave for the night when Tyler walked into the lab.

“Here’s the blood on Jane Doe,” he said.

“Lad, your timin’ leaves a lot to be desired,” Danny grumbled good-naturedly and started to shrug out of the coat he’d just put on.

“No, no, go on. I’ll put it in a purple-top tube and label it for the next shift,” Tyler offered.

“You’re a saint, you are.”

“Off with you.”

Danny headed for the door.

Tyler removed the syringe from the red plastic bag and took off the needle cap. He started to push the needle into the tube’s rubber stopper but his hand slipped and he accidentally plunged the needle into the pad of his thumb.

“Yeow!”

“What’s the matter?” Danny turned back and paled when he saw the syringe of blood protruding from Tyler’s thumb.

“I slipped.”

“Ah, Laddie. I shouldna let you done that,” Danny castigated himself. “It’s my job.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tyler said, trying to appear casual when his heart was racing. He’d just been stuck with a patient’s blood and he didn’t even know her HIV status.

Jane Doe wasn’t HIV positive.

How do you know? Just because you don’t want her to have AIDS doesn’t make it so. Her blood work is abnormal.

Danny took the syringe and blood tube away from Tyler. “Go wash up at the sink and mind you fill out an incident report on this. You’ll have to get tested and so will she.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tyler washed his hands at the sink and tried his best to ignore his throbbing thumb. He would live.

But would his beautiful mystery woman?

By the time the X-ray technician wheeled her back to the emergency room, Hannah was more than ready to see the last of Saint Madeleine’s. A knock sounded on the door and she looked up to spy Tyler standing in the doorway, a blue scrub suit in his hands and a smile hovering at his lips.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded, relieved. “Do I need to go to the billing office?” she asked. “It’s going to be tough. I don’t have any identification. To be honest, I don’t know if I have health insurance or not.”

This was the truth. After her run-in with Daycon, she figured her old boss would not be inclined to pay her medical bills. Especially since he would rather cover her funeral expenses instead, but not until he got his hands on Virusall.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tyler said. “I’ve already checked you out of the hospital.”

“How did you accomplish that feat?”

“I told them I would be responsible for your bill.”

“Dr. Fresno,” she protested, “I can’t allow you to do that.”

He raised his palms. “Shhh. I have more money than I know what to do with. We’ll discuss it later. Right now you need a warm bath, a hot meal and a good night’s sleep. Hopefully by morning your memory will have returned and we can piece together what happened to you.”

“Why would you do this for me?” she asked. “I’m a stranger to you.”

“I’m curious about your condition. About you.”

She wasn’t buying it. There was something more. Mere curiosity didn’t cause a man to open his home to someone he did not know.

“What’s the real reason?” she asked.

He looked at her for a long moment and she saw a myriad of emotions play across his face. Sorrow, loss, sadness, regret. By helping her, was he assuaging something inside of him? A long ago guilt? A bad choice made? A wrong turn taken? Was he looking for redemption? Who was she to deny him his salvation?

“A stranger helped me once when I was in deep trouble,” he said quietly. She could tell by the way he held himself that the memory of his troubles still haunted him. “I vowed that I would never turn my back on someone in need. And from my vantage point, you’re looking pretty needy. Besides, you remind me of someone I once knew.”

His voice caught and Hannah realized then he wasn’t doing this so much for her or even for his own good karma, but for the person that brought the gravelly, emotional sound into his voice. She shouldn’t fight his generosity. She should just accept it as a gift. Why was it so difficult for her to receive help?

Hannah swallowed hard. “I have trouble taking assistance from people I don’t know.”

“Ah, trust issues.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered.

“I understand. You’re under no obligation to me.” The look on his face was one of utter compassion. He had no ulterior motives. He was simply a nice guy. Why did she have so much trouble accepting that?

Because no one has ever been kind to you without an ulterior motive.

“What about the police?”

“I told them you weren’t available for an interview until tomorrow morning.”

“What happens tomorrow when they find out I’m not here?”

“We’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

A lump formed in Hannah’s throat. She couldn’t believe the kindness of this good doctor. She didn’t deserve to be treated so well, particularly since she was lying to him.

In that moment, Hannah experienced a premonition, a spooky sensation that sent goose flesh flying up her arms. By agreeing to go off with Dr. Tyler Fresno and evading the police, was she possibly making the gravest mistake of all?

Chapter 3

“Are you hungry?” Tyler asked as they left the hospital in his silver BMW.

It was either early or late, depending upon your definition. The parking lot lay half-empty. The sky was dark and the street lamps exuded a fuzzy golden glow. Hannah had crashed her car around dusk, now it was after midnight.

“Famished,” she admitted and pressed a palm to her belly. She hadn’t eaten all day. Between the terror of fleeing Daycon’s men, living through a smashup and experiencing a miraculous healing, she was ready for a down-to-earth activity like supper.

Besides, eating might take her mind of this unexpected twist of sexual desire building at a brushfire pace between she and the good doctor. Being in the car alone with him was causing her to think some very unseemly thoughts. She kept getting a flash of what he might taste like. Warm and sweet, she decided. And deliciously sinful. Like Death By Chocolate dessert.

You’re just famished. Knock off the fantasy.

“How are you feeling otherwise?” Tyler fretted. “No nausea, no headaches, no dizziness?”

“I’m fine except I could eat a hippopotamus.”

“How about a hamburger instead?” He chuckled and pulled through a drive-through fast-food joint.

“Is this your idea of healthy eating, Doctor?” she teased, surprised at her own levity. The truth was, she felt good. Damned good. Happy to be alive and, if she dared to confess it, excited. For the first time since fleeing Daycon’s burned-out laboratories, Hannah had hope.

“Normally,” Tyler said, “I recommend healthier fare. But considering what you’ve been through you need the protein and a little fat won’t hurt you, either.”

She was usually conscientious about what she ate, preferring fruits and vegetables to meat and bread but her mouth watered at the thought of a thick, juicy hamburger. Sometimes junk food was exactly what the doctor ordered.

And what a doctor he was! Tall and lean but muscular. With a dark, brooding quality beneath his professional demeanor. A quality that issued a call to her own sense of isolation.

Stop this, Hannah. Stop it right now. No good can come of your sudden infatuation.

She knew better, and yet she could not stop sending him surreptitious glances over the rim of her thick chocolate milk shake.

Within minutes they were traveling south outside of Houston, the comforting smell of mustard and onions filling the car. After she had polished off the hamburger and the milk shake, she wiped her hands on a paper napkin, sighed her pleasure and leaned back against the leather seat.

What elegance. What style. The car perfectly fit the man. She must have drifted off because the next thing she knew, Tyler was pulling the BMW into the driveway of a dark, silent beach house.

There was no light, save for the full moon overhead and the illumination from the headlight beams. Sitting up, Hannah rubbed her eyes and rolled down the window. The scent of salt air mingled with the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore.

“This is it,” he said, coming around to help her out.

Her body had grown stiff during the hour-long drive from the city to the Gulf of Mexico. Stretching, Hannah suppressed a yawn.

Tyler reached to take her arm but she tensed and rejected his extended hand. He shrugged nonchalantly, but evidently she’d wounded his pride. She wanted to tell him it was nothing personal but how could she explain that she didn’t like to be touched? Particularly by strangers.

Growing up without much physical affection had caused her to crave a larger than average personal space. She needed distance. Her parents had taught her it was rude and presumptuous to press herself upon people. As a result, she often felt awkward whenever someone touched her. She didn’t even care to shake hands.

As for kissing, well, that had proven to be a nightmare the few times she’d tried it. Hannah supposed her less than enthusiastic response to swapping spit was the main reason she’d had a string of first dates but never a steady boyfriend.

And yet, some small part of her desperately wanted Dr. Fresno to kiss her.

She knew she was an oddball. Her parents’ negative view of romantic love had colored her outlook. Doctors Eric and Beverly Zachary had been friends and colleagues and little more. They had prided themselves on avoiding the trap of useless emotions in favor of a marriage based on mutual respect. They had even encouraged Hannah to make an emotionless match herself. When they had met Marcus Halpren, they had been hopeful she would choose him as her life mate. He had an IQ of two hundred and ten, and even though Marcus had been interested in her, Hannah had been unable to bring herself to ruin their friendship with a business merger. Although she liked and respected her colleague, she had never been attracted to him. A passionless marriage might have been enough for her parents. It wasn’t enough for her. She’d rather remain single.

In college, her roommates had extolled the joys of sex in vivid detail. Hannah had even attempted the act herself but after one or two groping sessions in the back seat of some guy’s car, she had come to the conclusion that one, sex was noisy, sweaty and not worth the bother and two, she was in the minority in her opinion.

“This way,” Tyler said, leading her up the path to the two-story frame structure built on stilts.

She could see sand dunes beyond, and the ocean shimmering in the distance. It had been such a long time since she’d been to the seaside. The water called to her, pulled at something deep inside her solar plexus. The tide was so elemental, so basic, at once temporary yet enduringly permanent. She was tired of her complex life and had a sudden desperate need for the simple fundamentals.

Food. Water. Love. Not knowing where that last thought came from, Hannah moved toward the ocean.

“Where are you going?”

“Can we take a walk along the beach?” she asked, desperate to clear her head. His proximity was disconcerting. The smell of his woodsy aftershave mingled with the scent of the ocean, creating a powerful draw inside her. A draw she must deny.

Tyler arched his eyebrows at her request. “Sure, if you feel up to it.”

Without waiting for him, she trailed over the shifting sand toward the beckoning waves. She needed to put distance between them, needed to get some perspective on what she was feeling. She’d never been this physically attracted to a man before and she didn’t know how to handle her body’s purely feminine response. Particularly when she could not act on her feelings. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Jane,” he said, and it took Hannah a minute to realize he was speaking to her. “I know that’s not your real name, but I don’t know what else to call you.”

Hannah turned and saw him silhouetted in the moonlight, regal as a mythical knight. His handsomeness took her breath. He possessed an elegant self-assurance and a natural patience. In that instant, she almost told him her name but fear for his safety stopped her. The less he knew about her, the better for both of them.

Wistfully, she thought back to her childhood when her first-grade teacher had read the story of Cinderella to the class. Until that time, Hannah had never heard the tale. Her parents, disdainful of fiction in general and fairy tales in particular, had read only nature stories and biographies for entertainment. Of course, like any little girl, she had been enthralled with the notion of Prince Charming. Excited, she had rushed home to tell her mother what she had learned. Her mother had burst her bubble, telling her that fairy tales were utter nonsense written for silly fools. Then she had pulled Hannah out of public school.

The memory lingered. She wondered why her mother had been so opposed to the romantic story. Now, looking at Tyler, Hannah recalled the joy she had experienced upon hearing that story her first and only time.

What was the matter with her? Why was she thinking these crazy romantic notions when her mind should be consumed by thoughts of Virusall?

“Jane will do fine,” she said, and wished she could tell him her real name. She would have loved to hear him whisper “Hannah” in his low, sexy voice.

“I want you to know that you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be on my way in the morning.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Hannah crossed her arms. “Listen, you’ve been very sweet and I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I’ve got to be straight with you. I don’t ‘do’ people well.”

He cocked his head. The moonlight caught his eyes and they glinted with a dangerous light. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“I’m a loner. I have a hard time with small talk.”

“And?”

“I snore.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you make a terrible house guest?” He gave her a look that raised goose bumps on her arms. What was it about him that drove her hormones insane? Was this what they called chemistry? It felt wonderful and wild and scary and out of control. She didn’t like it. Not one bit. But she loved it.

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose I am.”

“Don’t worry. I live in the city. The beach house is yours.”

“I won’t be here long,” she reiterated.

“Stay as long as you need.” Tyler stepped closer and Hannah felt both fearful and thrilled that he might try to touch her again, but he didn’t. Discombobulated, she glanced away.

“Let’s walk,” she said and started down the beach.

The chilly night wind whipped the thin scrubs around her legs, sliced through her car coat and snatched at her curls. She took a deep breath. It was good to feel cold. She savored being alive with a handsome man by her side. A man she liked more than she had any right to.

These feelings were deadly. She had to be on her way as soon as she got a good’s night sleep. For both their sakes. Because she could tell by the expression on his face he was feeling the same powerful push-pull of attraction that was grabbing at her chest.

“I haven’t been to the beach house since summer. It’s probably pretty musty inside. Salt water takes its toll.”

Hannah nodded. Silence elongated between them, increasing their awkwardness with each other.

“Are you married?” she asked at last.

“No. Are you?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, then she remembered she was suppose to have lost her memory. “I don’t think so,” she hedged. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure your amnesia is temporary. It’s not uncommon in the aftermath of an accident. Spontaneous memory usually returns in a few hours to a few days.”

Fresh guilt swept over her. The more she lied to him, the worse she felt.

“I was married once,” he said quietly. “A long time ago.”

The water lapped at their feet. The moon shone down. She could almost palpate his uneasiness.

“You never remarried?” She angled a sideways glance at him. His face was cast in shadows, his jaw ridged.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Divorced?” she asked, startled to find her throat thick with an unnamed emotion.

“Widowed.”

Then he stopped, turned his back on her and stared out to sea, letting Hannah know the subject was closed. He had loved his wife a great deal, she realized. So much that he still found it hard to talk about her. The knowledge stirred a longing deep within her. Would anyone ever love her with such intensity? Better question, would she even live to see the end of the week?

Not for the first time, she wondered why Tyler had offered her sanctuary. She shivered and hugged herself. If she hadn’t been desperate she would never have accepted his offer.

“You’re cold.”

He slipped off his heavy jacket and draped it gently around her shoulders. He held himself stiffly, making sure he didn’t touch her. He was as discombobulated by their attraction and apparently did not welcome it anymore than she did. That was good. If they both kept their distance everything would be all right.

The jacket smelled of him. Of hamburgers and hospitals, soap and antiseptic. She couldn’t help herself. She found the scent very comforting.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s go to the house.”

She stumbled in the sand, almost lost her balance. He reached out to take her hand, but she hung back.

“Does touching me make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“I just don’t want you to fall, but if you’re uncomfortable, I understand.” He dropped his hand and seemed relieved she didn’t need him.

“I’m fine.” But then she stumbled again, belying her statement.

He reached out again. “Come on. Take my hand.”

Tentatively, she reached out and slid her hand into his.

Holding his hand was awkward at first. She couldn’t deny it. It was as if she didn’t belong in this place and had no business touching this man as they walked along in silence under the crescent moon.

His hand was smooth and firm. He held her loosely so she could easily break free if she chose. Hannah liked that. He was offering his support with no expectations. He simply wanted to keep her from falling.

Palm trees swayed. Leaves rustled. The water whispered as it rolled forward, and then slithered back. Near their feet sea creatures scuttled for safety across the sand.

The bond between them grew. Her hand tingled with a warm glow that increased the longer Tyler held on. Her heart filled with heated syrup. Her mind spun. She felt as if she were falling from a high precipice into a bottomless abyss.

Hannah had never experienced anything to equal the sensation. Her pulse quickened. What did it mean? So many strange things had happened to her over the last few hours that she couldn’t unravel the implications.

It means nothing. It couldn’t mean anything. She could not act on this attraction. She couldn’t trust it. Even if she wasn’t on the run. Even if her life wasn’t in danger. She simply didn’t know how to please a man. She’d spent her life in a lab. She had no idea how to flirt or wear makeup. Had not a clue what turned men on. And most of all, she had no idea how to open her heart to love. And a man as special as Tyler deserved a feminine woman who could give him her all. Especially after he’d been so scarred by life.

So what was she supposed to do about this vibrant electric current running between them?

“Do you feel it?” Tyler asked, his voice a low rumble invading her ears.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“My hand’s melting into yours.”

“Flowing,” she said, articulating the word that leapt to her head.

“It’s so hot. As if you have a fever.”