She kept smiling as she stretched her neck to look up at him. “I’m a professor at the medical institute. If you, um, you get a chance, stop by some time or…call me. I’m in the book.”
And a brilliant pioneer of genetic research, he added silently. Being in her presence, she appeared so young, far less than her thirty-two years, yet…obviously there was an amazing depth to her.
“A doctor as well, I assume?” he asked as if he didn’t already know the answer.
She smiled brightly. “Yes, but I don’t practice. I do research through the school.”
Her smile was like salve to a wound, it soothed him so, with such powerful force, he had to glance away from her.
Holly Heart was off-limits. If she knew what he was, she would run and hide, as well she should.
Still…he couldn’t resist touching her one more time. He offered her his hand, preparing for the jolt to his body. “It was nice meeting you.”
She looked down at his hand for a long moment before slipping her delicate-looking fingers against his palm. The rush of pure heat that rocked his body was as intense as the warmth he felt in his heart.
He pulled her hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles. She tasted irresistibly unique, doing some strange thing to his senses that he found hard to resist. He battled the urge to flick his tongue across her skin—to taste her more fully.
Instead, he inhaled her soft, perfect scent, as his lips lingered. She shivered in response and he felt the satisfaction of knowing the attraction was mutual.
But the sense of loss for what could never be was more intense…a potent rush of regret. He could never pursue what was so obviously between them.
He looked at her as he raised his mouth from her hand, seeing the heat of her own arousal in her amazingly green eyes. Their gazes locked for an eternal moment. “You remind me of an angel, Holly Heart.” Then he dropped her hand, turned and walked away, needing some space to reinvent his game plan and get this crazy reaction to his newest assignment under control.
* * * * *
Holly stepped into her lab office, still thinking about the amazing man she had just bumped into. Actually, she mentally amended, it was more like a head-on collision. The sparks ignited were far too in-your-face and explosive to be initiated by a minor bump.
No, something had happened between her and the sexy stranger. Something unique and wonderful and more satisfying than she could possible explain.
Holly walked toward her desk—one of several sitting in the far corner of the office—pausing at a large cage which held a chimpanzee.
“Hey, Dixie,” she said and watched as the animal jumped around excitedly. Dixie belonged in the lab, not the office, but she just couldn’t bear the thought of putting her there. “Hang on, sweetie, and I’ll get you some food.”
Continuing to her desk, Holly dropped her purse in her drawer. She smiled as the significance of her morning washed over her, feeling the heat of color fill her cheeks.
A man had finally made her feel…hot. There wasn’t any other way to describe what she felt.
Holly had begun to think her sex drive was a genetic mishap all of its own. Thanks to… Her smile vanished. He hadn’t told her his name. The only man to ever get her all hot and bothered, and she didn’t even know his name.
She made a disgusted sound.
Years ago she had given up sex, deciding it ranked far below a good dessert and came with a whole lot more complications. Now she was seeing things in a different light, suddenly awakened to the fact that sex might just be better than chocolate, after all. Yet opportunity to explore and act on her new feelings had escaped in the courtyard. The object of her lust, the man that made her body yearn, was nameless and, worse, gone.
She let out a frustrated breath. Chances were she would never see him again.
Back to square one, no hope of satisfaction.
She sighed.
Maybe he was some sort of figment of her imagination. After all, men just didn’t look like him. His shoulders were so broad she wondered if he would fit through her doorway, yet his waist was lean, his legs long and defined.
And those eyes…oh, those eyes.
As dark and dangerous as a thunderstorm, yet they were tender and gentle at the same time. It was a combination that defied reason but she knew what she had seen and felt and it was very real.
She closed her eyes a moment, thinking about how it might feel to have him touch her. To be naked in his arms, his hand on her breast. Her nipples tightened, a tingling of arousal making them ache. She bit her bottom lip. The need to be touched so intimately was new.
Or was it?
Perhaps she had simply tucked away certain needs, hiding them from her conscious mind. What was it about a mere stranger that had awakened something so dormant she thought it didn’t exist? Images of those rippling muscles beneath her palms as she explored his body caused a moan to slip from her parted lips.
Her eyes popped open. God, what was happening to her?
No man was as perfect as he was. Perhaps he was a figment of her imagination. She thought a moment. No. He was very real, very male and…very gone.
She sighed again.
What a depressing realization. “This really is the pits,” she muttered.
“What’s the pits?” Roger Mayfield asked, setting his briefcase down on the desk beside hers.
Holly’s gaze swept over him. Tall and thin, he wore glasses and looked the role of researcher, doctor and professor. “Studious” was how Holly mentally described him. Roger had always been a dear friend and she knew they had a lot in common. Some would think a pairing between them was likely. Fortunately, he had always been very proper with her because he didn’t do it for her.
For once, she knew what it was.
It was what the tall, dark, dangerous, sexy-looking stranger had done to her.
Five years her junior, Roger had only spent a few years working in genetics but Holly found him to be smart, eager and an overall good research partner. It also helped that he understood and tolerated Holly’s work habits exceptionally well, never showing offense when she tuned him and the rest of the world out over an obsession to prove a theory as truth.
Today was no different; she was already starting to tune him out. Only Roger would never guess sex, rather than science, was the cause on this particular day.
“Nothing,” she said barely glancing at him before slipping into her lab coat and then sitting down at her desk and flipping open her research file from the day before.
“That government man, Marshall Walsh, keeps calling, Holly,” Roger said, leaning a hip on his desk. “Eventually you’re going to have to deal with him.”
Real life was getting in the way of her fantasy time. Normally, that was just fine with her. Actually, she didn’t even know she knew how to fantasize until now, today, this morning. It would be nice to have just a few moments to revel in her newfound feminine desires.
But she didn’t, so she focused on the ever-present problem of Marshall Walsh.
Holly sighed and looked at Roger. It wasn’t fair to keep using him as her scapegoat. Holly, of all people, knew how Marshall Walsh could be when he wanted something.
“I know you’re tired of fielding his calls. I’ll talk to him if he calls today.”
Roger nodded. “I told him you weren’t going to change your mind but he was pretty insistent he talk to you. I don’t think he is going to put up with me much longer.”
Holly sighed. “I know. I just don’t understand why he can’t get a clue. I want to cure disease, not create super soldiers.” She looked down at her desk. “Just like my father did.”
“And you are, Holly, you are. You have made amazing advances in gene therapy. Your father—” he said and then added, “Your parents would be proud of you.”
Roger didn’t know her parents but he knew her and that meant he knew how close she had been to them. She still missed them desperately at times. It had been seven years since thei
r fatal car accident and sometimes she still felt like they would walk in her front door.
Fulfilling her father’s scientific dreams comforted her. He had believed he could make a difference. Years of working by his side had convinced Holly his work really could change the human way of life. Determined to step into his shoes and follow the path he had set, his goals had become her life. Unfortunately, it was not free of obstacles.
“What good has it done me?” she asked with irritation. “The government has banned all genetic therapy. There are so many people out there that I could cure yet I’m forbidden. Sometimes I’m tempted to run an underground clinic.”
“People are still afraid of the side effects. Creating humans that were not quite mentally stable was—-”
“A mistake made in the early stages of testing,” she argued vehemently. “Too many people got so anxious to make genetic replacement therapy happen, that steps were skipped, critical testing ignored. Things were tried that should have been tested many times over before put to use.”
Roger held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m on your side.”
Holly’s shoulders slumped. “I know, I’m sorry. I just get so frustrated, I could scream.”
“At least animal testing is still allowed.” Roger walked over to Dixie’s cage. “Genetic therapy cured Dixie’s cancer and she isn’t crazy or mutant or anything but loud and demanding,” he laughed, “but that’s normal for her and a whole lot of human women I know, for that matter.” He opened the cage and Dixie climbed into his arms. “Isn’t that right, girl?”
Holly ignored his joke, sighing heavily. “I’m going to make coffee,” she said, pushing to her feet without looking at Roger. She needed some space alone.
Once she was in the little kitchen attached to the labs, she flipped on the radio and instantly regretted it.
A second unsolved abduction this week brings this month’s total to five, all women. Authorities are looking for a connection between the women. Add that to the three unsolved homicides and authorities are declaring a state of emergency. Word has it the FBI is being consulted—
Holly flipped the switch off, quickly cutting off the remainder of the newscast, and then started scooping coffee into a filter. She had come to the kitchen to escape the darkness of her mood, not add fuel to the fire. As her mother had taught her, negativity didn’t get you anywhere. A good mood and positive attitude did far more to propel you into success.
Still, it was hard to hear about the strange crime wave in the area for a number of reasons. One, it was just plain scary, period, to think of murder in your own city, the place you call home. Holly was comfortable in her neighborhood, often walking home after working late. She didn’t want to have to change her habits.
She loaded the coffee filter in the machine and started filling the pot with water. Secondly, she had discovered the gene combination that controlled violence and depression but she wasn’t allowed to use it to benefit the better of humanity. That was a hard fact to swallow when her life had been dedicated to making a difference, not sitting by and watching destruction.
Turning the coffeepot on, she planted her palms flat on the counter. She had done interview after interview, preaching to the general public, to the government, to other scientists, that she knew how to make genetic therapy work minus the prior pitfalls.
But no one listened. They were too afraid of the past. Somehow, she had to get genetic therapy approved. Looking upwards, she whispered, “I will make it happen, Daddy. I promise.”
* * * * *
Holly gathered her papers and settled them into her briefcase before heading out of the empty classroom. She reached the doorway and smiled. Teaching a group of students so eager to make a difference in science and medicine was a thrill. It had been just what she needed to get her attitude back into positive mode. Well, that, and a little day dreaming about Mr. Hot and Bothered from her morning hit-and-run.
As she stepped into the hallway, her smile faded as she came face-to-face with Marshall Walsh. His thick, gray brows emphasized the assessing pair of blue eyes that locked onto her facial features. Holly guessed him to be at least fifty, but built like a tank—big, strong and hard to avoid.
“Mr. Walsh,” she said, with a curt nod as she sidestepped him and started walking.
He matched her stride with ease. “Ms. Heart, you’ve been avoiding my calls.”
“I would have thought you would have gotten the point,” Holly said, without looking at him, her eyes focused on the elevator button as she punched it.
“Ms. Heart,” he said, with a deep voice, which he had the nerve to lace with a reprimand. “I don’t think you understand the importance of what’s at stake here.”
Holly flicked him an angry look as the elevator door opened. “I understand perfectly,” she retorted and stepped into the elevator.
He followed. “No, you don’t,” he said in a short tone and then fell silent for a moment as the doors to the elevator shut them into the small space alone. “Our country is at risk of a major war if we don’t figure out a way to detour the actions already in play. We believe your father, and yourself, are two of the only people capable of solving some of the gaps which leave us critically exposed.”
“My father is dead,” Holly said, thankful that the elevator opened as she escaped through the doors, praying he wouldn’t follow.
Several people rushed onto the elevator, temporarily delaying his pursuit. She made it all the way to the courtyard before he reappeared by her side.
“No,” she said, before he could speak.
His tone was neutral but she knew he was anything but. “Why don’t we get a cup of coffee and talk this through. There are many new developments since we talked last year.”
“As I told you last year, and earlier this year, I am not interested.” Holly stopped walking just outside the lab entrance. “No to coffee. No to working with you. No, no, no, no!”
She felt rather than heard the presence behind her. “It sounds to me like the lady means no.”
Holly turned, immediately recognizing the deep, sexy voice with every one of her senses. “You,” she whispered.
“You did invite me, remember?” he said as his lips hinted at a smile.
She gave him a quick once-over because she couldn’t help herself. He was just so darn perfect. His sandy brown hair, which she guessed to be about shoulder length, was tied neatly at his neck and invited images of running her hands though the long strands.
His well-worn jeans and a snug T-shirt hugged his muscular body and, God, what a body. He wasn’t like most men, he was…just too perfect to be called normal.
Her mouth felt dry, her body all warm and wet. This was very new territory. What he could do to her just by conjuring up mental images was downright crazy.
“You’re interrupting,” Walsh said, snapping Holly back to reality and making her twist around to glare at him.
“Our conversation is over, Mr. Walsh. Just in case you didn’t get the message, I’m not building super soldiers, I’m not working for the government and I don’t like you one bit. Now, please leave!”
Walsh let his eyes fix on her new visitor a moment and then looked at her again. “This isn’t over,” he said in a low voice that held a soft threat.
* * * * *
Mason looked down at Holly, a bit surprised by the aggressiveness she had shown toward Walsh. Seemed there were many sides to Ms. Holly Heart besides sweet and angelic.
He knew of Walsh, though Walsh didn’t know of him. Few did. That was the way of his world—silent, thorough and effectively nonexistent.
He knew everything about Holly that a file, and years of records, could tell him. Too bad that file couldn’t tell him how she would make him remember what it was like to want like a normal man.
His body tightened at the mere sound of her voice. She aroused something deep and primal. An animalistic side he knew was more beast than man. And that something was raging a battle inside. He pus
hed the feelings aside, trying to refocus on the task ahead. On his job.
He waited until Marsh was out of hearing distance, using the moments to distance himself from the burn inside. “I was hoping you would go to lunch with me.”
She looked up at him, smiling, no hint of anger left in her face. “On one condition.”
Mason let his brow inch up. Normally he didn’t like to be given conditions but, where Holly was concerned, he could think of a few of his own, all of which included a little undercover action in the bedroom sense. At least he hadn’t gotten a resounding no, like Walsh.
“What is your condition?”
“Your name,” she said simply. “You never gave it to me.”
Once again he found himself smiling. She was utterly charming. How was he going to keep his mind on business? “Mason. Mason Alexander.”