“I wasn’t especially smart last night,” she commerited, but she was pleased. Jessica was quite wrong, of course—her team had six PhDs and three MDs between them—but it was nice of her to say. “In fact, I’d better get this over with.”
“I’ll go—”
“You will not go with me. I don’t need an escort. Although,” she added dryly, “security will likely be escorting me out.”
“Well. If you’re sure.”
“I am. Thank you for checking on me. I’m sorry I tried to close the door on your foot.”
Jessica laughed. “I have two. So it’s all right.”
She had boxed up her files—those she could legally take with her—and cleaned out her desk. Now she printed out her formal resignation and fantasized briefly about stapling it to Jimmy’s forehead.
It was after ten… she’d slip it under his door and be on her way. And never, never think of Anodyne or Faskin or Jimmy Scrye again.
His office door was open a crack and light was spilling out into the hallway. She hoped that meant he’d simply left it unlocked. She couldn’t hear anyone speaking, so she simply pushed the door open with her tented fingers.
Jimmy was standing beside a Lego Eiffel Tower as tall as his hip, hugging a woman. From the back, she had the same flaming red hair, and it bounced around her shoulders like a mobile sunset. Thea was shocked at how the sight was like a knife between her shoulder blades.
Jimmy’s eyes, which were closed as he blissfully hugged the whore, flew open. “Thea! Jeez, are you all right? I mean—uh—”
She flapped the piece of paper at him. “I came in to pack. Here is my formal resignation. I regret I am unable to give you proper notice.”
The hussy started to turn. Jimmy started to talk faster. “Thea, please don’t. I—the company needs you. We can’t finish without you.”
“You’ll have to.”
The slut pulled away and faced Thea, who nearly dropped her resignation. The left side of her face was mostly flawless… cream-colored skin, a gorgeous sprinkling of freckles, cheekbones you could cut yourself on. Sparkling green eyes. The right side… a ruin. Thea was looking at long-healed skin grafts.
“Hi,” the very nice woman said. “I’m Patrice, Jimmy’s twin sister.”
Your scars are no big deal.
“I’m Dr. Foster,” Thea said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
They wouldn’t matter to me if they were all over your face.
“It’s nice to meet you. You’re all Jimmy talks about.”
Oh, dear God. How blind she’d been. How unforgivably stupid.
“Thank you.”
She thought back to what the team had told her on his first day. Orphaned at sixteen via a house fire, that’s what they said. An MD who started his first biofirm at twenty-two.
I jumped on my little sister to put her fire out, and a couple of burning roof tiles fell on me.
A scarred man who made a practice of rescuing ailing biotech firms and turning them around.
Why? For Patrice. All for her. It had nothing to do with his scars. Oh, she was an idiot.
“—came to check out Jimmy’s new digs,” Patrice was saying. “He told me you were going to help him put me out of business.” She said it in a tone of perfect good cheer.
“Um… Miss Scrye…”
“Dr. Scrye-Drie.”
“Scrye-Dry?”
“I hyphenated my name when I got married.”
“Thereby giving herself the dumbest name ever,” Jimmy said, rolling his eyes.
“Shut up,” Patrice said, giving him a pinch. “What were you saying, Thea?”
“Ah… well, Faskin offers great promise. But it can’t—that is to say, we can’t use it to—um—”
“Fix my horror of a face?” Patrice Scrye-Drie laughed. Laughed! “Of course not. Faskin will only work on fresh burns, correct?”
“Yes. Maybe someday…”
“Right. Well, that’s good enough for me. That’s all I ever wanted. I’ve got a husband who thinks I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, but I’ve got a sucky job.”
“She’s the director of the burn ward at Chicago General,” Jimmy explained. “Does six grafts a day.”
“Not for long,” Patrice said. “Not if you finish what you started.” She smiled. The right side of her face didn’t move, but she had a dimple buried in her left cheek. The effect was surprisingly charming. “You will, won’t you? Don’t let my jerk-off of a brother chase you away.”
“I’m so, so sorry about last night,” Jimmy said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to treat you like—”
“I don’t want to discuss it.” She saw him flinch, and wanted to tell him she’d been a bit of a jerkoff herself… that’s why she didn’t want to get into it. Especially in front of Patrice.
How blithely confident she had been! What a supreme ass!
“I’ll—I’ll stay. Until Faskin is done. That could be six weeks or six years… I don’t know.”
Jimmy looked distinctly relieved. Patrice clapped her hands. “That’s great! Thanks so much, Thea!”
“I didn’t—I didn’t feel right, leaving my work unfinished anyway,” she said awkwardly.
“Put me out of business, Thea. You promise me, now.”
“I promise.”
They smiled at each other, like sisters.
Chapter Thirteen
“C’mon, IQ. Pack it up for the day.”
“Quit it,” Thea said, her gaze riveted on the chemical reaction before her.
“Come on! You’ve got to get out of here. You haven’t left the lab in four days.”
“Hmm…”
“You’re going to kill yourself for that redheaded weirdo.”
Which one? “Most likely.”
“Dr. Foster, please!”
“Good-bye.”
Jessica huffed out. She’d been the last team member to stay. It was midnight… at least, it had been the last time she checked her watch. Her stomach, which had been growling constantly, had finally quit.
Good. She didn’t have time to eat.
She was inches away. She felt it. She smelled it! It had been like this with PaceIC, too… years of frustration, followed by unconscious insight, followed by success. While she’d been sulking and sobbing and sleeping in bed, pieces fell together in her brain and the answer, which had eluded her for so long, was inches away.
She would get this done. She would keep her promise. She would make it up to Jimmy. She would…
… would…
Why was it getting so dark?
“Oh, Christ Thea!” Hands on her shoulders, shaking. Light taps on her cheeks. Somebody yanked her glasses off. Firm fingers at her throat, checking her pulse. A thumb peeled her eyelid up. “Thea! Shit, where’s that fucking cell phone—”
“You keep it in an ankle holster like a complete yutz,” she said, batting his hand away from her eyes. “Remember?”
Jimmy was staring down at her. He was pale, and his green eyes burned like lamps. He was holding her glasses protectively curled in his hand like a baby bird. His fingers moved to her throat again, to check her heart rate. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, you dumbass! Killing yourself won’t help my sister.”
She snorted irritably. “I’ve worked longer than this without sleeping or eating.”
“Eating?”
“Stop yelling. Help me up.”
“The hell. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Just help me up,” she repeated tiredly. “You’re an MD, you know perfectly well I don’t need to go to the hospital. Besides, thanks to the HMOs, I could have end-stage cancer and they wouldn’t admit me.”
He sat on his heels and thought about it. “Promise to rest.”
“…for a while.”
“OK. Ooooooof!” He strained and lifted her.
“Don’t be overdramatic. I can walk.”
“You weigh a ton.”
“Thank goodness I haven’t eaten, then.”
br />
He laughed and nearly dropped her. He staggered through BioSecurity and brought her to the executive conference room. The sight of it made her giggle.
“What’s funny, honey?”
“Oh, I caught an employee having sex in here once. I mean, they had just finished, but you could tell what they’d been up to. I thought it was monumentally stupid of them at the time. I didn’t know…”
“What?” he said, placing her on the couch behind the table.
“Never mind.”
“Do not move from that couch. Not unless you want your ass kicked.”
She yawned. “Oh, I wouldn’t want that.”
He backed out of the room, and then she heard him running down the hall to his office. He was back a minute later. “Drink up,” he said, popping the top and handing her the Coke. The can felt ice cold and she pressed it to her cheek. “That’ll get your blood sugar up.”
She emptied the can in seven noisy gulps, then laid back and belched lightly. “Oh, that’s better.”
“You are so sexy when you’re gassy.”
“Shut up. I’m not speaking to you.” She flushed, embarrassed. “Also, you shouldn’t be speaking to me.”
“Forget it.” He sat down cross-legged beside the couch. It was so low, he still loomed over her. “You couldn’t have known. I should have told you. I just—it’s a private thing.”
“I understand,” she said fervently. “Believe me.”
“No, you were the one person in the world I should have told,” he said, serious for once. “But old habits, you know.”
“I shouldn’t have been so smugly judgmental.”
“And I shouldn’t have been a raving sociopath. Well, we’ve both beaten our breasts pretty well, haven’t we?”
“You leave my breasts out of this.”
He laughed, leaned over, and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Sleep,” he said.
She did.
A minute later, she opened her eyes to blazing sunlight. The shades hadn’t been drawn, and she could see it was almost noon.
“Wow!” she said.
“What? What?” Jimmy sat up beside the couch, blinking dazedly. His hair was standing wildly in all directions. He had carpet marks on his left cheek. “Are you all right? What’s wrong? I’ll call the—”
“Sorry.” She smiled and touched his cheek, smoothing out the checkerboard pattern. “It just surprised me… It felt like I was sleeping only a few minutes, but a good nine hours have gone by. Also, I could play tic-tac-toe on your face.”
“I always knew you were a kinky bim.”
“Did you really sleep on the floor all night?”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair, which made it stand up just as wildly… but in the opposite direction. “You were my patient.”
“Oh, you spend the night with all your patients?”
“Just the ones who drive me batshit. Stay here.”
“Good doggy,” she muttered as he stumbled out.
She did not obey. She got up, carefully tested her legs, and was pleased when they held her weight. She used the executive washroom, shook her head in despair at her reflection, and was lying placidly on the couch when Jimmy returned.
“OK, you want Pringles, Fritos, or Nachos for breakfast? Lunch, I mean?”
“Do you have anything that doesn’t end in ‘os’?”
“I said Pringles. Also, M&M’s.”
She made a face. “Pringles, please.”
“Just a few,” he warned, popping the top and dumping a few chips into her hands. “I ordered some soup and sandwiches from the cafeteria. They’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“I’d rather eat my own vomit.”
“Obviously you haven’t eaten at the caf since I took over. The food’s much better.”
He was right. Her sandwich had been brushed with basil mayonnaise; the tomato soup was velvety perfection and tasted like summer. She forced herself to eat slowly. No use having it all come back up.
Jimmy gathered up the garbage as she lay back down with a sigh. “Oh, that was good. Where is everybody? I haven’t heard a soul in the hallway.”
“It’s Sunday,” he replied, stomping the garbage until it fit in the overflowing can. “We’re it, sugar. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“Absolutely not.” She stood. Yes, that was much better. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Absolutely not. Thea, you’ll get it. I know you will. Shit, the whole company knows.”
“No pressure or anything,” she muttered.
“If you don’t promise to rest and not come back to work until Tuesday, I’ll fire your ass.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” she snapped.
“Sticks and stones, sugarplum.”
“You can’t fire me. Your sister is depending on you.”
“Watch me, gorgeous.” He crossed swiftly to her and held her hands in his. “It’s not worth your health.”
“Jimmy, you don’t understand. Let me work,” she pleaded. “I’m so close! I know I’ll—”
He kissed her. She knew she should finish the argument, but the pressure of his lips on hers was, in its way, a compelling argument on its own. She looped her arms around his neck and licked his lower lip.
“Ummmm. I’ve missed you.”
“Gorgeous?” she teased. “Are you farsighted? I’m a wreck.”
“Gorgeous,” he repeated firmly. “And—uh—I’ll take you home.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I mean, I have this gigantic hard-on right now—”
“Gigantic, hmm?”
“But you’re in no shape to—”
“If you won’t let me work,” she said, slipping her fingers into his jeans and feeling the throbbing warmth he had for her, “you’d best let me play doctor, Doctor.”
He closed his eyes and squeezed her so hard she squeaked. “Um. You. Uh. Shouldn’t do that. Um. Don’t stop.”
She unzipped his fly, reached around, and squeezed his ass. Oh, lovely. The flesh barely gave way. “You are in great shape,” she commented. “But you devour a constant stream of junk food and I’ve never seen you exercise.”
He leered. “Sure you have.”
“Oh. Pervert.”
“OK,” he said suddenly, pushing her toward the couch. “But you have to let me do all the work.”
“Phooey, that’s no fun.”
“I mean it, Thea.”
“You’d appear more stern if you weren’t yanking off your jeans as fast as you could.”
“When we’re done, I plan on strangling you,” he said, exasperated.
“When we’re done, you won’t have any strength left.”
She got off the couch and crawled beneath the conference table. “Here,” she said, patting the carpet beside her. “I want to do it here. Also, I owe Renee Jardin an apology.”
“Who?” He crawled next to her.
“Never mind.”
They undressed each other, growing more and more urgent, and once Jimmy sat up too quickly and banged his head on the underside of the table. This sent Thea into gales of laughter and she scarcely noticed when her skirt went flying over his shoulder.
He buried his face in her cleavage, licking and nibbling and sucking, and she could hear her breath shortening. “How do you feel about kids?” he asked, his mouth muffled against his flesh.
“What?”
“Kids. Ankle-biters. Nose-miners. Rugrats.”
“Thanks for translating.” He lightly nipped the sensitive swell of her breast and she shivered. “I always figured I’d artificially inseminate myself. Twice.”
“Uh-huh. Well, how about the old-fashioned way?”
“That would be all right in a pinch,” she said, picturing herself swelling with Jimmy’s child, a red-haired beauty with her eyes and his sense of irreverence.
“OK, good, we’re agreed on that. How do you feel about getting married?” He reached down, gently parted her, and slipp
ed a finger inside. He found her ready… more than ready.
She raised her knees and spread herself before him. He made a soft sound in his throat, a purr of pleasure.
“It would depend,” she said breathlessly, moving against his hand, “on whom I asked.”
He raised himself up on his elbows and smoothed her hair away from his face. “If you asked me?”
She reached down and clasped his throbbing, velvety length. “Then I would love marriage.”
“So. Ask me.”
“Right now?”
“Well, it’s possible I’m about to knock you up. So I should make an honest woman out of you.” He pulled up her legs and entered her with excruciating slowness. She locked her ankles behind his back.
“Ask me,” he breathed in her ear.
“It’s crazy,” she gasped.
He pumped harder, lengthening his strokes, and she groaned and met him, thrust for thrust.
“Ask me.”
“Will—you—marry—me??”
“Yes.”
He slowed his strokes, looking down to watch himself entering her again and again. “It’s still crazy,” she groaned, as he moved against her, within her. Slowly. Sweetly. “We’ve only known each other three weeks.”
“Three weeks and two days,” he corrected her, panting slightly. He stopped moving, resting within her.
“Oh, now you’re just being mean,” she joked.
“I want to say this while I can sort of think. I mean, most of the blood in my brain headed south a while ago.”
“Men,” she sighed, shaking her head.
“And I don’t care about how long it’s been,” he added gently. “I care about you. I love you. I loved you the minute I saw you on the news about PaceIC.”
“You saw me?”
“Couldn’t take my eyes off you. Something about your face—you looked proud, but you looked a little scared with all those microphones in your face. Of course, the cameras didn’t do you justice, because in person you were—wow.”
He was still throbbing within her, which was delightfully distracting. She squirmed, but he didn’t budge. “That’s… ummm… a lovely thing to say. I couldn’t stand you the moment I saw you.”
He laughed, a low rumble against her chest. “Why do you think I bought this company?”