Kind of ironic really.
* * *
Callie flew along the corridor as if she were being chased by swarm of angry bees. He’d kissed her again. And she’d been so close to responding to him. So close.
But she couldn’t let that happen again. She couldn’t be caught in a compromising position with Sawyer. She had to keep her mind on the job.
That was the rational part of her brain talking.
Her heart was saying something else entirely.
She couldn’t let him touch her again. She couldn’t let him evoke those feelings in her again, only to walk away without a single glance.
She wasn’t built that way. She couldn’t deal with things like that.
Isabel had been entirely different. Isabel would have been the one kissing Sawyer and walking away without a second thought. She had always been in control.
Not like her.
History had taught her that she hated things she couldn’t control. And there were lots of elements of this spinning out of her control, without adding her feelings for Sawyer into the mix.
When were these feelings ever going to go away? She’d thought working at the DPA where she and Isabel had planned to be would have given her some comfort. But in the end it hadn’t.
The guilt she felt about her sister still gnawed away at her. She constantly compared herself to Isabel, without ever really meaning to.
Even with the men she’d dated she’d kept her sister at the forefront of her mind. Would Isabel have approved? Would she have liked this one? Would she have thought that one good enough?
But with Sawyer it was different. She didn’t even want to give them space together in the same thought. Why was that?
If Sawyer had met Isabel, would he have been attracted to her instead of Callie?
That thought made her feel physically sick. She felt a horrible creeping sensation over her skin, along with a realization of her continued exasperation with herself.
When would this go away? When would she feel as if she was living her own life and not doing penance for the loss of her sister’s?
Everything in her work and personal life was so mixed up right now. And being stuck in an enclosed space with Sawyer wasn’t helping.
Yesterday she’d spent time fretting over the plan. While all her instincts had told her that keeping the brothers together was ultimately the right decision, the truth was that the plan told her otherwise.
She’d spent a few hours weighing up the pros and cons of insisting the plan be followed before finally deciding to let it go. The only thing was, unease still gripped her. Gnawed away at her stomach and kept her awake at night.
Plans were evidence based. Plans had been researched within an inch of their lives. How would she defend her decision if challenged from above?
Sawyer had whispered to her to relax and stop following the plans a few nights ago and the truth was it hadn’t been nearly as scary as she’d thought.
Just like making the decision about the brothers.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pressed the answer button straight away. It was five in the morning so it had to be the DPA.
“Callie? How are you? How are you holding up?” Her footsteps froze.
“Callum?”
“Who else would call you at this time in the morning?”
Relief flooded through her and the tears that had just vanished came spilling down her cheeks again.
Callum. Her port in a storm. The one person she actually did want to talk to.
“You don’t know how happy I am to hear your voice. How are you, Callum?”
She heard the hearty laugh she was so used to. The familiar sound made her miss him all the more.
“I’m fine. You were right—it was an MI. They whipped me down to the angio lab and inserted a stent. Missed most of the last few days because of the drugs. But I’m feeling great today.”
She leaned against the wall, sliding down onto her haunches. “If you’re feeling great, why are you phoning me at five in the morning? Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Resting’s for amateurs. Couldn’t sleep and no one at the DPA will tell me anything useful. I blackmailed one of the nurses into letting me use her phone. It’s been five days and I should have been officially discharged by now. Funny thing is, my doc won’t discharge me to the containment unit.”
She shook her head at his tenacity. She wouldn’t put it above Callum to try and discharge himself straight to the containment unit. “You phoned the DPA?”
“Of course I did. I wanted to know how my favorite doctor was getting on.”
She felt warmth spread across her chest. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” It was so good to hear his voice. She’d heard about the stent but no one would actually say if they’d spoken to him. This made all the difference. She smiled. “And anyway who is your favorite doctor—me or Sawyer?”
He paused. Obviously deciding what to say next. “Yeah, Sawyer. Well, he used to be my favorite but you’ve taken over from him now. How are you getting on with him, Callie?”
His voice sounded a little strained. And the realization hit her. That’s why he was phoning. That’s why he was trying to get to the containment unit. He was worried.
“Ask me something else.”
“Oh, I see. It’s like that.”
That was Callum. He knew her too well. She couldn’t lie to him and try and dress this up but she didn’t want to add to his stress. “Yes, it is. Ask me about the smallpox.”
She heard the sigh at the end of the phone. “I’m assuming you don’t have a definitive diagnosis yet.”
“You’re assuming right. We know it’s an orthopox and we know it’s definitely not chicken pox. We’ve vaccinated all those exposed and moved to the containment facility. What was this place, by the way? I’m assuming you know.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s just a little place that was on the back burner.”
“What does that mean? The building is old, but the facilities are state-of-the-art.” Her curiosity was piqued now—no matter what the time.
“How are the patients?”
She gave half a smile. An obvious deflection. He knew it. And she knew it. Whatever this building had been, he’d no intention of telling her. “We’ve got two sick little boys—one ventilated. And we’re monitoring symptoms in everyone else. Had a bit of a scare with the boy’s mother but it turned out to be nothing. Oh, that reminds me. We had someone we couldn’t vaccinate. A nurse who is eighteen weeks pregnant. She’s currently holed up for a fortnight in an exclusive Chicago hotel.”
“Oh, no.” Callum’s silence was ominous. She’d expected him to say something else or to ask more questions.
“Callum?”
“How’s Sawyer? Was he okay about that? How did he deal with the pregnant nurse?”
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. What could she say? That initially he had freaked out? But he’d managed to contain how he’d been feeling and had done the job? It was truthful, but was probably too near to the bone. “He was fine. I know that his pregnant wife died on a DPA mission but no one really knows the details. Want to fill me in?”
His answer was brusque. “Not really. Is he following protocol?”
“Ours or his?”
“So it’s like that. I might have guessed. Sawyer’s never going to change.” Even though he sounded a little exasperated, Callie could almost see the smile on his face as he said the words.
“If you tell me about him, Callum, maybe I’ll understand him a little better. Maybe it will help us work together.”
She could almost hear his brain ticking over at the end of the phone. “Are you having major problems with him? Professional problems?”
How did she answer
that question? Because, like it or not, the professional problems were minor. It was the personal problems that were the real issue.
Callum had never been slow off the mark. He was a man who could always read between the lines.
“It sounds as if it’s not up to me to tell you, Callie. It would be better coming from him.” Words of wisdom from a man who was obviously seeing things much more clearly than she was. “Maybe I should give Sawyer a ring. Have you got his number? Did he ever change it?”
“Maybe you should relax. Maybe you should follow the post-MI protocol like a good patient.”
“Give me his number.”
“No.”
“Dr. Turner, I asked for his number.” His voice was rising now and he was obviously getting agitated. He only ever called her Dr. Turner when he was trying to tell her off. It made her smile.
“I’m hanging up now, Callum.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Take care now.”
She was smiling but still close to the floor on her haunches. Her legs were beginning to cramp.
She stood up and arched her back, trying to release the tension. Her head was beginning to thump, probably from lack of sleep and all the stress she was under. Nothing to do with Sawyer.
Nothing at all...
* * *
Sawyer was lying on his bed, trying to get some sleep. He glanced at his watch for the tenth time. The sun was streaming through the windows. Seemed like no one had thought of blackout blinds for this place.
He picked up his phone and pressed in Violet’s number. His guilt was starting to kick in now. He should have phoned her earlier. His excuses were weak—even he knew that.
She picked up straight away and let out a big sigh. “Perfect timing, bruv.”
He sat up in bed. The chance of sleep was long gone. “What’s up?”
He heard her slow intake of breath. “I’ve got Evan Hunter breathing down my neck. He wanted me to check up on you—find out what you’ve been doing these last few years.”
“Well, I’ll make it easy for you. I don’t want you to be next on Evan Hunter’s hit list. Check out Borneo, Alaska and Connecticut.”
“What?” He could almost hear the wheels spinning in her brain at the eclectic mix of places he’d been in the last six years.
“There’s nothing sinister to find, Violet. You know that.”
Her answer was instant. “I know that, Matt.”
“What’s Evan’s problem? No—scratch that. I know what his problem is—me. But what exactly does he think he’s going to find?”
Violet sounded annoyed. “I have no idea. He threatened to report me to the director if I didn’t get back to him with a report in two hours.”
“What? He asked you do to a report in the middle of the night?”
“Well, not exactly. He first asked me to do it five days ago. Then he gave me the two-hour time limit three days ago.”
“And you still haven’t done it?”
He could hear the casualness in her voice. “Yeah, well, I didn’t really think he’d complain about me to the director. He was just growling at me. Trying to show me who’s boss. Now you’ve given me the heads up I’ll at least go and give him that to chew over. It should be enough to finally satisfy him you’re not involved in this.” He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “How are you, Sawyer? Is everything okay? Any other symptoms?”
“Not yet. We had a little scare earlier but it’s fine. I’m fine.” He paused. “Well, actually, I’m not fine.”
There was a long significant pause at the end of the phone and he knew why. He’d never discussed anything with his sister before. He avoided personal issues at all costs.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was quiet, almost afraid to ask the question.
“It’s Callie.”
“Is something wrong with Callie? Does she have symptoms?” It was only natural for her to jump to the most obvious conclusion.
“No. It’s not that. I kissed her.”
“You did what?”
Well, that had got her attention. Other than their last conversation, he couldn’t remember the last time Violet had ever shouted at him. But, then again, she was also defying Evan Hunter left, right and center, which was also unheard of. It seemed his sister had turned into a whole new person over the last six years. All while he’d been hiding in the outer parts of the planet.
“I kissed her.” He flopped back down on the bed. The words seemed so much worse now he’d finally said them.
But they felt so much better. It was nice to finally offload.
“Why on earth did you kiss Callie Turner?” her voice hissed down the phone. She was obviously trying to keep anyone from hearing.
Sawyer felt like a teenager. Why did any guy kiss a pretty girl? “Because I wanted to. And I think she wanted me to.”
“You mean she didn’t slap your face?”
“Not quite.”
Violet was obviously a bit stunned. “So, what’s the problem?” She hesitated a second. “I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve kissed someone since Helen, is it?”
He let out a snort of laughter. “I think I can safely say no to that. But this is different.”
“Different how?”
She’d put him on the spot now and he didn’t quite know how to answer. “Different because I don’t want to hurt her. But there’s a definite attraction between us. And I know she feels it too.”
“Has an alien inhabited your body?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that for the first time in years you’re talking to me about your feelings. Since when have you done that?”
He couldn’t answer.
“Okay, brother, I’m only going to say one thing. I like Callie. I mean, I really like her.”
“Well, I think I like her too.” There. He’d admitted it. To someone other than himself.
“Then don’t mess this up. Don’t hurt her.” The words were blunt and straight to the point. Violet had never been one to mess around with how she felt.
“Can’t you give me something else? Can’t you tell me to handle this? You know her better than I do.” He was beginning to sound desperate, but right now he didn’t care.
“Really? Well, here’s the clincher—I haven’t been in a lip-lock with her, Matt. And I’m sorry but you don’t reach the grand old age of thirty-six and ask your sister for dating advice. That ship sailed a long time ago, buddy. Probably around the time you told everyone about my high-school crush.”
He cringed but it brought a smile to his face. He’d made a poster and stuck it up outside the school. Violet had locked herself in her room and hadn’t spoken to him for days. She still hadn’t got over it.
“So, no advice, then?”
“Absolutely not. Not on your love life anyway. Just stay safe, brother. And phone me if there’s any problem. Any work-related problem.”
“What about Evan?”
Her voice had a hard edge to it now. “Leave me to worry about him. I’m hoping I’ll be out of his hair soon enough.” She hung up before Sawyer had a chance to ask her what she meant.
He stared at the ceiling. Potential smallpox day five. Great.
CHAPTER TEN
“WAKE UP, SAWYER.”
One of the nurses stood above him. Liz? Julie? He really couldn’t remember. He sat bolt upright in the bed, not even thinking about hiding himself.
She turned sideways. “Cover yourself up, boy. And get dressed. Some guy from the DPA wants to talk to either you or Callie, and I can’t find her.”
Sawyer pulled the sheet half across his body, lifting a crumpled pair of scrubs from the floor and tugging them on. He smirked as the nurse rolled her eyes and handed him the
matching top.
He let out a laugh as she walked to the door then stopped and threw him a can of deodorant. Then something registered with him. “What do you mean, you can’t find Callie? Where can she be?”
The nurse shrugged. “I just know the guy said he had to speak to either one of you. He’s been holding for a few minutes because I tried to find Callie first. When I couldn’t, he said to wake you.”
“Where’s the phone?”
“At the nurses’ station.”
He jogged along the corridor. His brain was in overdrive. It was day seven. This had to be a diagnosis. But where on earth was Callie?
He picked up the phone. “Frank?”
“Finally. Sleeping beauty wakes up.”
“Have you got something?”
“Is this Frank? Is this the man who is supposed to be in Hawaii with his devoted and gorgeous wife, who’d bought eight different bikinis for our long-awaited vacation?”
Seven days. He’d waited seven days for this. “Frank?” He couldn’t hide the impatient tone in his voice.
“It’s monkeypox.”
“What?” Sawyer was stunned. He’d never seen monkeypox before. It had never really been on his radar.
Frank seemed to know exactly what to say. “You’ll need to examine the boys again for bites, scratches and abrasions. Monkeypox usually only occurs in Western or Central Africa but strangely enough the last known case was in the U.S. in 2003, caused by prairie dogs.”
“What?” Nothing about this made sense. His brain couldn’t process what he was hearing.
“Monkeypox can be spread by squirrels, dogs, rats, mice and rabbits. That’s why your boy had swollen glands. It’s one of main differences in symptoms between smallpox and monkeypox.”
Sawyer ran his hand through his hair. Where was Callie? He had to talk to her about this straight away. Things were starting to register in his brain. Should he have guessed this? He hadn’t given too much thought to the swollen lymph glands—even though they were unusual in smallpox. He’d just assumed it was a viral response.
“What are our options?”
Frank cleared his throat. “None, really. No known treatment. It’s less severe than smallpox and the smallpox vaccine can lessen the symptoms. But it can still be fatal—monkeypox can have a one to ten percent mortality rate. All the smallpox infection controls should remain in place.”
THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... Page 13
