by Jill Monroe
Tony loved something about her?
He brushed his lips against hers. “You care. It’s one of those things that makes you special, Hayden.”
“Taylor,” she supplied.
“What?” he asked.
“My last name. It’s Taylor.”
* * *
LARISSA WINSTON’S HANDS shook on the steering wheel as she pulled into the parking lot of PharmaTest. But no flashing blue-and-red lights awaited her. No uniformed officers stalked across the front door, ready to take her to jail. Her breath rushed from her chest in an exhaled whoosh. Still, her legs were unsteady as she stepped out of her car and walked to the front door of her office building.
The job had always been so easy. Check the volunteers in, monitor their vitals every hour, and then send them off in the morning with a questionnaire. The last contact she ever had with the test subjects was to cut them a check once they mailed in their completed survey. But last Thursday had changed all that.
Something different must have been in the formula of HB121 because instead of sleeping all night long, four of her patients had not only been fully awake, but they’d also attempted to walk out the door. And they’d been in a partying mood. She’d tried to physically block them from leaving, but then the filmmaker had lifted his camera and asked if she planned to hold them against their will.
She had not been trained to handle this, and she was going to lose her job. You didn’t let four subjects stroll out of the lab to wreak havoc and get to keep your job. Even if you did manage to get them to sign waivers. She’d spent the weekend trying to track down two of the four test subject volunteers with no luck at all.
One of the volunteer’s cars still waited in the parking lot, which was a horrible sign, right? Larissa raced over to the vehicle to check on the note she’d left under the windshield wiper. It wasn’t there. She’d begged for the subject to contact her in that missive, but it had either blown away or was being used as evidence for later.
“Compose yourself,” she said aloud, and forced a little calm into her system.
She’d be opening the office in fifteen minutes. At eleven, Dr. Mitch Durant would stop into the office to look over the initial results from Thursday’s testing. That flutter of excitement that usually danced in her stomach at the idea of seeing, talking and spending some time alone with the studious research physician didn’t materialize.
Now only a tight ball of dread settled heavily in the bottom of her gut. She fought back a wave of nausea. What if her negligence cost him his research? He paid PharmaTest a lot of money to monitor and maintain the integrity of his life’s work. She’d never be able to forgive herself if all his research was lost. A true waste of all he’d worked for, but even more importantly, the benefits of HB121 as a medication to be used on those injured in battle or in accidents would be set back possibly years, when countless people could benefit from it now. And it was all her fault.
But she still had two hours before the doctor arrived. All weekend long she’d searched the internet and all the social media sites for any hint of her four subjects. It wasn’t until this morning that she remembered she had something that might break things open for her—subject thirty-five had left her phone here.
Larissa’s heels clapped against the concrete as she raced to the front door and quickly punched in the key code for the knob to unlock. She took five minutes to perform her normal office routine: picking up Saturday’s mail from the floor where the carrier had dropped it through the slot, starting a pot of coffee and twisting the rod on the miniblinds to let in a little of the morning sunlight.
But once those tasks were done, her palms started to sweat and her hands shook as she activated PharmaTest’s voice mail. Larissa deflated with each call that wasn’t test subjects seventy-eight and thirty-five or twelve and ninety-two.
That still left thirty-five’s cell phone. As with most people, thirty-five had protected her phone with a password, but had one of those talkie things that could activate the phone book with the lock still in place.
“Call Mom.”
Nothing. No response.
“Call Dad.”
Still nothing. Poor subject thirty-five.
Then on a long shot she ordered the phone to call Bae. And nothing.
Okay, so that plan didn’t work. Her next big idea was to simply wait and see if anyone called thirty-five’s phone. Then answer and try to get as much information out of the caller as she could.
Of course in the perfect of most perfect scenarios, the drugs would wear off all four of the subjects and they would go on with their lives. None the wiser. But what were the chances of that? Nil and none.
At nine, two figures passed by her window and Larissa sucked in a deep breath. She’d run through a lot of setups in her mind of how she’d track the patients down and keep them safe, but the scenario of the two of them just dropping in on the office first thing Monday morning hadn’t been one of them. She’d never been that lucky in her life.
Of course if those two just kept on walking past her door, she’d be right. But no, they stopped right outside the door and stepped inside. Larissa had never been so grateful or so nervous in her life.
Subjects seventy-eight and thirty-five approached her.
Honestly, even if she’d be going to jail soon, Larissa had never been happier to see two people. She also had no idea how to handle this. She stood and smiled because, when in doubt, always smile.
“Good morning. Would you like some coffee?” And when in doubt, look for a way to escape and prolong the unavoidable.
“Yes,” thirty-five said.
“Do you recognize us?” asked seventy-eight. The filmmaker was all business, not to be distracted by dark roast or caffeine.
Larissa nodded and gave up the excuse of fleeing to the break room to prepare their coffee before they talked. “Yes,” she said. “Why don’t we go into the conference room? We’ll be more comfortable there.”
PharmaTest rarely received visitors on nontesting days, but she’d still be able to watch the front door and answer the phones if she left the conference room door open and sat at the head of the table.
PT’s conference room wasn’t large, as the company acted as a middleman between researchers, governmental regulatory officials and pharmaceutical companies. No big deals were hatched between these walls, and usually the space was mostly utilized as a private area to question test subjects. The furnishings were modest with posters of healthy and happy people—all healthy and happy due to modern medicine—gracing the walls. The subject waiting areas were much nicer, with an eye to comfort, relaxation and entertainment while the testers were administered medications and waited out their experiment time.
Larissa pulled their individual files, but she didn’t really need to open them. She’d pored over the details they’d provided, even dropping by Ms. Taylor’s home several times throughout the weekend to see if she’d returned to her apartment. Thirty-five was a local, but seventy-eight was from out of town—California, if she recalled—but these two appeared very cozy together. Their body language shouted couple.
He pulled out the chair for her.
She patted his shoulder.
And then there were the special glances and smiles.
Okay, well good for them. And maybe good for her, too. If they were still in that euphoric, newly enthralled stage of their relationship, they surely wouldn’t want anything messy like threatening her job or Mitch’s, er, Dr. Durant’s research to pop their enraptured love bubble.
Larissa cleared her throat. “Ms. Taylor, I remember from your intake interview that you’ve participated in several medical and pharmaceutical clinical studies, although this was your first one with us.”
“And last,” she stated, her voice firm.
Okay, so maybe the love bubble wouldn’t be protecting Larissa’s job. Well, it was to be expected. She should never have even entertained the idea. Hope was a dangerous thing. “I understand, but I’d like
to tell you a little about the drug you were given and just what it will do. It’s designed for traumatic emergency situations. Imagine a child hurt in a car crash or a soldier wounded in the field, desperately needing life-saving surgery. The medication can be given orally, which makes it ideal for remote locations and field hospitals. Think about it—no worrying about sterilized needles and IVs, although there should be a version of that ready for trial tests later in the year.”
“But we were awake and talking, I’d assume most medications like that would put you to sleep.”
Larissa nodded. “Yes, usually when a doctor performs an operation it’s ideal for the patient to be unconscious. Obviously they won’t panic, their blood pressure won’t elevate due to fear and they’re immobilized so they can’t interfere with the surgeon’s work. But for certain kinds of trauma it’s better for the patient to be conscious and able to answer questions—brain surgery for one. And on the battlefield there’s not the luxury of an operating room. Sometimes you must move the patient, and if they’re able to walk, well... I’m sure you can see the benefits of the possibilities afforded by this drug.”
“Yes, I can,” Ms. Taylor said, her voice not as firm, the anger no longer as palpable. “So that explains the pain relief, but what about the memory loss?”
“That’s the most experimental part of this medication. Several peer-reviewed studies show that patients heal faster if they don’t have to relive their trauma over and over again in their head. HB121 aids with that.”
The filmmaker leaned forward, his broad shoulder gently brushing Ms. Taylor’s. Shielding her? Yes, definitely bordering on couple territory. Strange, her life was about to fall apart because of this new medication, while theirs had taken on a whole new facet. She was genuinely happy for them, especially as she’d been hoping for something similar with Dr. Mitch Durant, but that would never be now.
“Why did you let us leave the building?”
“Usually the subjects wait in the patient area or sleep in the room provided. They’re quiet. Malleable. But you...” Larissa shook her head, remembering the stress and strain of that night. “You guys were charged. You couldn’t wait to get out of here, and when I tried to stop you, Mr. Garcia flipped on his camera phone so I could ‘confess to the world’ that I was kidnapping you. You did sign a waiver before you left.”
The man grimaced and had the grace to look uncomfortable. “That sounds like something I’d say.”
“We found some pictures on his phone of us with another couple. They were in the drug study with us, right?”
Larissa nodded. Slowly. This was dangerous ground for another reason: patient confidentiality.
“I can’t give too many details because of privacy laws, but let me reassure you that, um, everything is being done for them, as well.”
“But you have found them. They’re okay?”
She sort of knew where they were. “No need for you to worry.” Perfect answer. Leave the panic to Larissa.
Ms. Taylor exhaled and flashed her a grateful smile, which made Larissa feel even worse. Get them out of here.
“I have a few additional forms for you to sign, discharging yourself and us from follow-up interviews. And liability.” She slipped that last one in quickly, hoping they wouldn’t notice. She doubted the forms they’d signed Thursday would hold up in a court of law. And for the icing on the cake, she presented Ms. Taylor with her phone. “You left that here Thursday night.”
Ms. Taylor smiled and reached for her phone, then tucked it in her purse without looking at the screen. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Something was wrong here. Clearly the chemistry between them had sizzled Thursday night. They were strangers then, but not now. They’d been so anxious to get their answers, but now neither one seemed to be in any particular hurry to leave. Nor did they blink an eye when she mentioned liability. Which reminded her, she should race to grab those forms before they changed their minds. She might actually be able to keep her job.
“Still interested in that coffee?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”
Larissa tried to catch a word of their conversation as the two talked quietly, but she deciphered nothing.
She quickly located the forms, two working fountain pens—so there’d be no delays—and poured a cup of coffee for Ms. Taylor. The expensive kind, just to seal the deal.
“Here we go,” she announced cheerfully as she placed the paperwork in front of them and set the mug of steaming java in front of almost-former-subject number thirty-five.
As the two read the forms, Larissa’s gaze strayed to the clock. Not bad on the timing. If she could wrap this up in the next fifteen minutes, she’d still have an hour to locate ninety-two and twelve before Dr. Durant arrived. And there fluttered the butterflies at the thought of the sexy doctor.
Since Thursday night, she hadn’t felt one glimmer of hope that maybe everything could work out all right. Her stomach lurched, and not the good kind of lurch that the doctor evoked. Was it really going to be this easy? Really? She reminded herself of her earlier warning hope was dangerous.
They both scribbled their names at the bottom of the forms, but instead of gathering their things and leaving, Ms. Taylor sat and savored her coffee while Mr. Garcia sat and savored her when she wasn’t noticing.
Then it became clear. They’d got to this point by focusing on solving the mystery of what happened to them. Now, no longer under the effects of HB121 or in doubt of the reasons for their memory loss, what bound them together?
She eyed the clock again. She didn’t have time for matchmaking, but then, they weren’t suing her. “There’s one last effect of the drug. It’s rare, but it has shown up occasionally in the trials. Some people refer to the phenomenon as a clarity of thought. Others as a lowering of inhibitions so they could pursue what they really want. I’m glad you two found each other. I wish you both luck.”
* * *
TONY WALKED HAYDEN to her car. That morning she’d repacked the overnight bag she’d brought with her, stowing it in the trunk of her car before they entered PharmaTest.
Lowering of inhibitions so they could pursue what they want.
Had HB121 given him that? The ability to drop the emotional baggage that told him a fine woman like Hayden should never go for him? He wanted her and he’d pursued her. Never leaving her in doubt that he wanted her.
Until now.
Because everything inside him screamed not to let her go. But they’d only discussed their time together as lasting until they learned all the secrets of Thursday night.
Both their steps slowed as they approached her car.
Wait, no. That first night together he’d mentioned two weeks. It was the perfect solution.
She smiled up at him, and like always, all rational thought fled. He became Tarzan—me want. “I had a great time with you, Tony. Probably the best time of my life.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and he drew her slight body to him. Holy hell, he was in trouble, and it wasn’t because Hayden stood in the circle of his arms with her head pressed against his chest, and that sex was only the third idea that had seized his brain instead of the first. The first idea was that he could hold Hayden like this forever.
But he didn’t come from a forever kind of family. Short-term all the way. He came from a family of screwups and he was no exception. Hayden had her own rough start in things, and didn’t need another weight dragging her down when she was just about to fly.
And yet... Pursue what you want. “Don’t leave me yet,” he told her, kissing the tip of her nose.
“I’m not ready for this to end, either,” she confessed with a shaky laugh.
He rubbed his chin, but couldn’t stop what must be one damn goofy smile from spreading across his face. What the hell was he thinking? He’d documented too many screwed-over-by-love stories to believe in anything like love at first sight, but he’d been falling for Hayden since the moment he’d opened h
is eyes to find her naked in his bed. “Fallen.”
“Fallen?” she asked, confusion knitting her brow.
“That woman at PharmaTest said the drug could give you clarity of thought.”
Hayden nodded. “One of the side effects.”
He cupped her face, the softness of her cheek a drug in itself. “I can only tell myself you don’t fall in love with a person in two days before it starts sounding less like a fact and more like I’m trying to convince myself of something.”
“Love?”
“I’m not ready for us to end.”
10
TONY FOLLOWED HER in his car to her apartment, but it wasn’t to get more of her things. They’d cleared out his hotel room, and the man was moving in. For the next two weeks.
He loved her.
She loved him.
It was crazy. Nuts. It was the very definition of delusional recklessness. The reverse of her usual calm and rational engineering soul. And she just didn’t care. He parked beside her in the lot outside her complex, and then the two of them raced hand in hand to her door.
Hayden unlocked it and tugged him inside. He slammed the door shut with his foot, then drew her against his chest. It was like a first kiss because this time there was no fantasy, no secrets—he knew her name and where she lived. His kisses were more passionate now, less controlled and fully demanding.
“I could kiss you all day,” she murmured.
Her shirt and her new cool-mint bra landed on the floor while she tore at the buttons on his shirt.
Then she was pressed against him skin to skin, her nipples tightening against the strength of his pecs. She trailed her fingers down the leanness of his six-pack until his belt blocked her forward progress.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
“Behind you. The door on the left.” Then he swooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed. He followed her to the mattress and made love to her until their bodies were exhausted.
“I was afraid I’d never see you again after we talked to the lady at PharmaTest,” she revealed later as they snuggled under the covers of her bed.
