by C. J. Miller
His relationship with Gemma was the most complex he’d had with a woman. They had a history dating back to their childhood, they had mutual professional interests and his attraction to her was off the charts. But she was also his good friends’ little sister and his colleague and a nice, sweet woman. And a sexy woman. That last trait would be his undoing.
“What if I left tomorrow? What if this was over? How would you feel?” Rafe asked. He wouldn’t put his lust ahead of Gemma’s feelings.
Gemma shifted on her feet. “I’d miss you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a good man. You’re interesting. Fun.”
“Can’t we stay friends?”
Gemma looked away and pulled her hands free of his. “That’s a tricky proposition. Once you’re in New York, you’ll be busy. We’ll grow apart. It’s hard to make a friendship work when we’ll live thousands of miles apart.”
He understood and agreed with her assessment. Connecting over social media wasn’t the same as sharing drinks with friends on a Friday night. In the past, when Rafe had left Dead River, he hadn’t wanted to look back. He’d wanted to put as much space between him and this little town as he could. “Then tell me what you want. If you tell me, I’ll give it to you.”
Heat flared in her eyes. “Rafe, you’ll crush me.”
Rafe shook his head. He didn’t know what exactly she meant by that, but he wasn’t planning to hurt her. “I haven’t lied to you. I haven’t pretended to be anything other than me.”
Gemma set her hands on his chest. “I’ve always tried to be a good person. I’ve always tried to make decisions that would ultimately lead to happiness. For me. For my brothers. For my grandmother. But I’ve been thinking about my life and I’m not sure if I haven’t been using the idea of a good decision to give me a reason to make the safe decision.”
“Taking a chance can have a huge payoff.”
“Or it can be devastating.”
“I won’t devastate you.”
“You already have,” Gemma said.
Rafe startled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, and if I have, I am deeply sorry.”
“I thought I wanted stability and a family and to date a nice, safe guy. But having you around makes me want to forget those things, and be a very, very bad girl.”
Gemma grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him to her. He didn’t resist. Their mouths met in a hungry, wild kiss.
His male brain had trouble thinking about anything except that he was going to sleep with Gemma. She was pressing her petite frame against him and her tongue was stroking his. He couldn’t slow this enough to think, let alone stop it.
The trailer had two cots set head to foot along one side of it. Gemma pulled him toward the one farthest from the door.
She surprised him by pushing him onto the cot. He sat and she climbed on top of him. Her fingers brushed at the hair at his temples.
“You are beautiful,” she said.
“You stole my line,” Rafe said.
Gemma kissed him, shifting closer. He took her hands from his shoulders and kissed her palms. “You smell good.”
“It’s hand sanitizer and soap,” she said.
He laughed. “Not that. Just you. Clean and refreshing.”
He ran his hand along her hair, taking the elastic holding her hair back and pulling it free. “You are so sexy when your hair is loose around your face and you smile.”
She blushed. Her humility made her more stunning. Did she know how beautiful she was? “You really don’t know, do you?” he asked. He shed his coat, feeling entirely too warm.
She reached for the hem of his shirt and he held it in place.
“I could look at you all night. You are beautiful.”
“I want to see you naked,” she said.
He released his shirt so she could pull it over his head. She looked from his face, running her fingers along his hair, then down across the day’s worth of beard that had grown, down his body. She seemed captivated.
Had he ever been with a woman who had looked at him how Gemma was?
She dropped his shirt to the floor and he captured her mouth in a demanding kiss. She sank into him and he let her set the pace.
He had much to say, but he would show her instead. She reached for his pants and hooked the sides in her hands. She drew them down his legs, pulling off his shoes. They hit the floor.
She lowered her body between his legs and he stopped her, taking her hands. “No, Gemma. Let me make you feel good.”
She shivered and he knew it was from passion, not cold.
He removed her clothes, piece by piece. When she wore only her bra and underwear, he enjoyed the sight of her. She wrapped her arms around her midriff and he removed her hands.
“Let me look. You are turning me on.”
She glanced at his erection and her eyes got wider. He guided her to the cot and removed her panties and bra.
He brought his hand between her legs. “You are so wet.”
“I want you, Rafe. I’ve told you that all along.”
He thought he would spill on her thigh from her words. He hadn’t had a woman be so honest about her attraction to him.
He slid a finger inside her. “Tight.” He moved his fingers slowly, watching her face for a reaction, studying what she liked, learning from her moans and cries how fast to move and how deep to go.
Then, unexpected words from her mouth. “I need you inside me. I want to come with you deep inside me.”
He fumbled for a condom, hearing the urging in her voice. Making sure she was wet enough, he entered her and she trembled in his arms, her body contracting around him. He went still, then pulled out, unsure if she was too sensitive to continue.
“More,” she said. She rolled over and presented her perfectly round rear end to him.
He hadn’t known many women who liked this position, but he moved behind her and pushed inside her. Slamming himself home, he sensed she liked it the harder he thrust.
The goal of having her orgasm caught in his mind and he refused to finish until she did again. He reached between her legs and stroked her until she was moving wildly beneath him. Then he lightly slapped the side of her behind and she exploded again, this time, taking him with her.
They collapsed on the cot and he shifted her, rolling to the side, keeping her tucked in front of him.
Sex had never been this soul-shaking. Hot sex with someone he liked, someone he enjoyed talking to, was almost a novel concept. This wasn’t just attraction and it wasn’t just a meeting of the minds. With Gemma, it was everything in the same woman.
Chapter 6
Gemma could hear Lucas Rand swearing from behind the door to the virus wing. She hurriedly cleaned her hands and raced to the small corridor to the doctor’s offices.
“Dr. Rand? What’s wrong?”
Another outbreak somewhere in town? Had someone died?
“The shipment that came from the CDC was destroyed.” He was pacing in his office.
Her heart sank. They had been waiting on equipment to replace the items that had been broken in the lab. “Destroyed? How?” Gemma asked.
“It was torched,” Dr. Rand said.
“As in set on fire?” Gemma asked. She didn’t understand what he was saying. Shipments into the town were slow due to the overhead of clearing items entering Dead River, and the need for a drop-off point and for someone to pick up the materials and deliver them.
“That’s what torched means!” Dr. Rand said. His angry expression morphed to remorse. “I’m sorry, Gemma. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I don’t know how many more setbacks I can take.”
The shipment they were waiting for had their replacement lab equipment, but also food, medicines, clothes and a hund
red other items the residents of the town needed.
Anand appeared in the entryway of the office. “I heard some commotion. Tell me no one else has died.”
Gemma shook her head. “No new casualties, but our supplies shipment has been destroyed.”
Anand closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Why? How?”
Dr. Rand stopped pacing. “I was waiting for Dr. Goodhue to return with the supplies. She called from the delivery point. Everything is gone. Someone sabotaged the shipment.”
“Everything? Sabotaged?” Gemma asked. Was the same person targeting the clinic targeting the town’s shipments?
Shelves in stores were becoming more and more bare. Medication at the pharmacy was near depleted as some residents had begun hoarding in anticipation of worsening conditions. The town had had to implement a rationing system, which had been an administrative nightmare.
“Food. Medicine. Supplies. Destroyed,” Dr. Rand said.
Gemma couldn’t understand who would do this. It was as if someone wanted everyone in the town to die.
Rafe appeared in the hallway, tablet in his hand, tapping at the screen. It was their first encounter since they’d slept together in the doctor-and-nurse lounge. He looked up and lowered the tablet when he saw Anand, Dr. Rand and her staring at him.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“The supplies that were sent from the CDC were destroyed,” Gemma said. She didn’t have another way to break the news to him. She wished she could soften the blow. Rafe would take it hard.
He took a deep breath. “I see.” He handed Gemma the tablet as he walked by. “Patient charts have been updated.” He strode into his office and shut the door. It closed with a heavy thud.
Anand gestured to the door. “Talk to him. He needs a friend.”
Rafe had indicated he wanted privacy, but she hated to think about him alone. She walked to the door, tapped once and entered. She shut the door behind her.
Rafe looked up from his desk. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent. “We won’t find a cure at this rate. I needed that shipment to keep working on the sequences.”
Gemma leaned against the edge of his desk. “We will find a way. Everyone is working on it.”
Rafe slammed his fist against the desk. “Not everyone.”
That was true. Someone in Dead River didn’t want a cure found.
“I convinced Dr. Goodhue to order some video surveillance equipment. Nothing fancy, but I want eyes on the lab and the clinic,” Rafe said. “Those cameras were in that delivery.”
Gemma rubbed her forehead. “What about setting up our own surveillance equipment using computers or video cameras? We could ask around for spare equipment.”
“If we make the announcement public, it will tip off the attacker and he’d be more careful. We could ask around discreetly,” Rafe said. He smiled at the idea. “But we can’t have eyes and ears everywhere in town at the same time. I wouldn’t have imagined someone would sabotage the delivery.”
What could she offer to help them with the cure? They’d been counting on the shipment to make additional progress.
Gemma tried to clear her mind. Every time she did, she saw Rafe pushing into her. Not an image that would help her focus on the virus.
“What’s the matter?” Rafe asked, coming around the desk to stand in front of her.
In the small confines of his office, their thighs brushed and heat torpedoed through her. A stress reaction to bad news or perhaps her reaction to Rafe in general. He was too close.
“I’m upset.”
“You’re breathing heavier. Are you dizzy?” he asked.
Her heavier breathing wasn’t about being upset. “I’m trying to think what we can do. I am sure another delivery will be arranged, but we don’t know how long it will take for it to arrive. We can’t sit around and twiddle our thumbs waiting.” It was hard to think with him staring at her, especially staring at her with that intense look in his eyes, but she had a lot at stake. “Maybe we’re thinking about this wrong. Maybe instead of analyzing the virus, we should be working to figure out where Mimi Rand became sick.”
“I like that idea too. You’re on fire today.”
She lifted a brow. He had no idea.
“I haven’t told anyone else, but I was in the lab this morning before my rounds. Some of my samples are different.”
“Different like someone sabotaged them?” Gemma asked, keeping her voice low.
“Different like the virus is changing. It’s morphing. I want to take another sample from our patients to confirm and get a sense how quickly it is changing.”
“If it keeps changing, how will we track a cure for it?”
“I don’t know,” Rafe said.
The news had other disturbing implications. “How do you think the virus changing will affect our patients?”
Rafe scrubbed a hand over his face. “Could make it more lethal. Stronger. Different symptoms. It could spread in a new way. I need to know if the virus is morphing in the samples because of the medium we have it growing in or if it’s also mutating live.”
“We’re still being cautious about exposure,” Gemma said.
“We’ll continue to be cautious, but I don’t like the direction this is headed. I thought by now we would be closer to a cure.” He looked at the wall where a calendar was posted. “Do you know Christmas is in a week?”
She didn’t. Christmas had been almost off her radar. She hadn’t put up a tree or strung lights or baked cookies. She didn’t have the energy most days and it seemed strange to celebrate anything while the town was in dire straits. “It will be a crappy Christmas.” Christmas had been a happy holiday for her growing up. She, Gram Dottie and her brothers had exchanged presents and they’d attended service at the local church together. Gemma and her grandmother often bought dresses for the occasion, always green because they thought it brought out their eyes. She wouldn’t have those traditions this year.
“I shouldn’t have pointed it out. It’s a downer for everyone,” Rafe said.
“Maybe we can have a Christmas do-over when this is resolved,” Gemma said.
Rafe nodded, though a faraway look came into his eyes.
“You’re thinking that the moment a cure is found, you’re running for the border,” Gemma said, feeling hurt even though he hadn’t said the words.
“I can come back for Christmas do-over. Bring you a nice gift from Manhattan.”
Gemma didn’t want a gift from Manhattan. “Do I strike you as a Tiffany’s girl?”
Rafe took her hands in his. “That’s a complicated question. If you are asking that question because you think Tiffany’s is classy and elegant, then yes, you most assuredly are. If you’re asking it because you think I’d try to buy your friendship, then no, I don’t think you can be bought.”
“I’m holding you to a Christmas do-over. You don’t have to bring a present. Just bring you.”
She kissed his cheek and let her face linger close to his. When she drew away, she released his hands. “How can I help?” Gemma asked.
Rafe cleared his throat and seemed to gather himself. “Talk to your brother. Find out if he knows anything else about Mimi. He was leading the investigation into the last days before her death, trying to track the origins of the virus. Baby Amelia managed to avoid it as did Theo, but people Mimi came into contact with at the café were affected.”
A more complete picture of the days and hours leading to Mimi’s death could help them establish how she had contracted the virus. “If she caught the virus in another town, why haven’t we heard of an outbreak outside Dead River’s limits? Dr. Goodhue would be among the first to know if other towns were affected.”
A dark expression crossed Rafe’s face. “I’ll speak to Dr. Goodhue later and
make sure she isn’t holding anything back from us.”
“Why would she do that?” Gemma asked.
“I’m not accusing her of doing anything wrong, but if this virus is worse than we believe, the CDC may not want everyone in America to panic. One small town in Wyoming under quarantine is bad enough. Two becomes scarier. More towns being affected is worse.”
A chilling sense of foreboding streamed through her. “It would be difficult to hide an entire town being sick from the media.”
“I need to ask the question,” Rafe said.
He circled his desk and sat heavily in his chair. He set his elbows on the desktop and put his head in his hands. “I haven’t been this paranoid in my life. I’m questioning myself and my decisions and the people around me.”
“Are you questioning what happened last night?” Gemma asked. She had wanted to ask him about it since she saw him. She hadn’t meant to speak the words, but now that they were out, she had to deal with them.
Rafe stiffened. “Last night was great.”
Did he want it to happen again? Had he been thinking about it? “But...”
“Not so much a ‘but.’ It’s an ‘and.’ It was amazing and I want to do it again. But I don’t want to lose sight of our top priority. Finding a cure.”
She had felt like this once before, when she had been dating the surgeon. He had been evasive, giving her reasons he couldn’t commit to their relationship. She should have seen the signs before her pregnant friend was standing in front of her with the evidence.
The cure was her priority too. “Let me talk to my brother about the surveillance equipment and what he knows about Mimi,” Gemma said.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t need to,” Gemma said, sensing strangeness between them. He was pushing her away again by reminding her they had no future.
Gemma felt the beginnings of frustrated tears forming behind her eyes. Pride held them back. She hurried to her car, Rafe following.
She unlocked her car door and before she could open it and climb in, Rafe set his hand on the door, stopping her.
“Talk to me. Don’t run away when you’re upset,” Rafe said.
