Grace stood up, ‘What is the obsession with my hair? Is something wrong with it?’

  She stood in front of the mirror looking at her reflection. She’d had long brown hair for as long as she could remember. On the odd occasion she might get some highlights or the odd hair dye job when she got it trimmed, but apart from that she usually tied it up for work. She frowned, taking a look at her ends. Maybe it was a bit straggly. Maybe it could do with a tidy up?

  ‘Do you think I should get it cut?’

  Anna stood behind her, putting her hands around either shoulder and resting them on her shoulder bones. ‘What about a few inches? It might be easier to handle. Give it a bit more volume.’

  Grace took a deep breath. She’d never had her hair that short before. She looked at the several straggly inches that hung beneath the position of Anna’s hands. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

  She looked at the clock. ‘I don’t have time. I need to be at the airport in five hours. I’ll never be able to get my hair cut before then.’

  Lara swung her legs off the bed. ‘Yes, you can. There’s a salon in the mall that stays open really late. I’ll call them now.’

  ‘But what about my packing?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘I’ll do it. Take out some toiletries and some underwear. I’ll just throw in everything we’ve got on the bed, along with shoes and some casual gear for under the hazmat suit.’

  She’d forgotten about that. Wearing the hazmat suits in a hot climate was going to be really uncomfortable. Thank goodness her friends could keep her right.

  She looked at the clothes on the bed. Truth was, if her friends left right now, she’d probably pack a whole load of bland clothes that she wouldn’t even think about. Having their expertise was actually quite exciting after all, Donovan had commented how much he liked her green shirt...

  ‘Come on, slowcoach!’ yelled Lara. ‘I’ve just spoken to the salon. They can take you in twenty minutes. Let’s go.’

  Grace grabbed her bag. A new haircut. A revamped wardrobe. And a chance to prove herself to her team leader. What more could a girl want?

  * * *

  Donovan stuffed things into his carryon bag. He hated luggage with a passion and had no intention of standing around while a conveyer belt of multicoloured suitcases filed past at two miles per hour. He only hoped the rest of team were as prepared as he was.

  He folded one suit and a couple of shirts and ties. The rest of his clothes were casual. He was going to be on the ground investigating or in the local lab. He wouldn’t need a lot of professional clothes. Just as well, as his latest suit and handmade shoes had just been incinerated. He winced when he remembered how much those shoes had cost. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time—spend a little extra, shoes that were measured and moulded to fit. It had been like wearing a pair of comfortable slippers, the Italian leather had been so pliable. Too bad they were gone for ever.

  He flung his shaving gear and toiletries into a wash bag and stuffed that inside his bag. His last item was his most essential. His tablet. He’d stored all the information that the DPA had on Marburg virus, along with incidences and procedures manuals. He liked to have everything he needed at the touch of a button.

  He smiled. Or maybe he should just have Grace Barclay at his side. Her knowledge seemed to rival his own and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

  He glanced around his apartment. White, clean lines everywhere. She’d pretty much nailed the place with her description. Not that it bothered him. He wasn’t fixated on soft furnishings and curtains. He was much more interested in the glass around him. The view of open space.

  As long as he had a window with a view outdoors he was fine. Put him in a room with no windows and within a few minutes he started to get antsy. It wasn’t a big deal. Because he didn’t let it be. He’d never used the elevators at the DPA. The stairs were the healthier option anyway, and there were windows in the stairwell. It didn’t matter that they were small, they were still there. And that’s what was important.

  Up until now the only place in the DPA that had really made him uncomfortable was Frank’s lab. A totally enclosed environment. It needed to be. There were too many potential toxins in that lab. Any of them escaping into the natural environment would be a disaster.

  He’d just about held it together today in the isolation room. There had been lots of practice drills involving the room before but he’d always had a timescale. He’d always known he’d only be in there for a few hours. Today the timescale had been indeterminable, and it had almost given him away.

  At one point he’d noticed Grace’s green eyes fixed on him, watching the slight tremor in his hands with a question in her eyes. He’d ignored them. Had focused on one of the many other things that he’d had to be concerned about. It had helped. It had helped him stop visualising the walls of the elevator he’d been trapped in as a child. Six long hours in an elevator by himself. It had seemed like fun for a six-year-old to jump in the elevator and press the button, watching the doors slide closed on his horrified mother’s face. Typical mischievous little-boy behaviour. Only it hadn’t been so much fun when the lift had ground to a halt.

  It hadn’t been fun at all when the alarm hadn’t sounded when he’d pressed the button and it had felt as if no one could hear him shout.

  It had taken him a long time to finally hear the distant voices of adults calling to him.

  Six hours, staring at four walls, was a long, lonely time for a little boy. It had felt like for ever. His imagination had run riot and left him with a permanent, and no doubt irrational, fear of being trapped again.

  So windows were his friends. If he could see out of a window he was fine. Anything else he kept brief and to the point. Enclosed spaces were definitely time limited for Donovan Reid.

  There was a nuzzle of something wet and soft at his feet. Casey. He bent down and picked up the little terrier, giving him a hug. ‘Hey, boy. You’re getting collected any time. You’re going to stay with Auntie Hannah for a few days.’ He was lucky. Not only did Hannah dog-walk for him, she was also able to take Casey for a few days at a time when he was on assignment. Dog-walking and dog-sitting services weren’t cheap in Atlanta, but he would have hated to leave Casey in kennels.

  He’d never actively looked for a dog. A pet had been the last thing on his mind. But Casey had kind of found him. One night when he’d been out running he’d noticed Casey lying by the side of the road. He’d hesitated for a few seconds—what did he know about dogs?—but as soon as he’d looked into the big black eyes he’d been sucked in. A few hundred dollars’ worth of vet bills later he had become the proud owner of a terrier of unknown origin.

  And it was an interesting partnership. Casey was more temperamental than most women he’d known. Snarky some days, loving on others, and absolutely determined to get his own way. On more than one occasion he’d grabbed hold of Donovan’s trouser leg and dragged him towards the door when he wanted to be walked.

  Hannah rang the doorbell and walked in. Her immediate attention went to the dog and she dropped to her knees and started tickling Casey behind the ears. ‘Hey, boy. You’re going to come with me for a while.’ She picked up the plastic bag sitting on the counter, filled with Casey’s favourite dog food. Donovan only merited a mere wave. ‘Give me a call when you’re due back, Donovan. Casey and I will be fine,’ she clipped his lead onto his red collar and walked him out the door.

  Donovan took a quick glance around the apartment, set his alarm and headed for the airport. It was a late flight and check-in wasn’t until eleven p.m. but a few members of his team were already there when he arrived, checking in their specialised equipment. He could travel light, but the equipment required by the team was a logistical nightmare.

  He was going through one of the check lists when the voices around him stopped. He looked up. Dave and John were totally ignoring him, their attention focused elsewhere. Dave lifted his hand and waved. ‘Over here, Grace,’ his shout came out as something resembling a squeak, and the two other men smiled in amusement.

  Donovan glanced across the concourse. And blinked. Twice. He could hear movie theme music playing in his head. What the hell?

  It seemed like Grace was moving in slow motion—one shapely leg striding in front of the other—with every eye in the building on her. Her hair had been cut shorter by a few inches and a red wrap dress enhanced every curve. Her black jacket was clutched in one hand, and her suitcase dragged behind her.

  Dave murmured, ‘If that’s what she looks like with her clothes on...’

  Both sets of male eyes turned to face Donovan, their question apparent.

  ‘Stop it, guys,’ he said brusquely. ‘Let’s keep it professional.’

  He kept repeating those words in his head because not one of his thoughts about Grace right now could be described as professional.

  Why had she cut inches from her hair? He’d liked watching the way it had streamed down her back, finishing at the base of her spine, in the shower. But it bounced as she walked across the concourse in her stiletto heels. It was just touching her shoulders now, the colour more vibrant and a few little curls appearing. Darn it—it was sexier than before.

  As she neared, his gaze was drawn to her green eyes. Now her face wasn’t clouded by the expanse of hair, they stood out even more. Fixing on him with that deep colour.

  Grace Barclay had attracted his attention before. But the Grace Barclay standing in front of him now was stunning.

  Her case trundled to a stop and her face fell as she glanced at her companions. ‘Are you ready to go?’

  Donovan could sense her discomfort. It was just after eleven at night and she was dressed as if she were going to a power meeting in the office. He and the rest of the guys were dressed in jeans and baseball hats. He could curse. He should have given her a heads up about what dress code was expected on field assignments. He only hoped her heavy-duty case—that looked as if it held three weeks’ worth of clothes—wasn’t filled with suits and stiletto heels. They wouldn’t be any use where they were going.

  He was normally so good at this sort of thing. When he’d recruited anyone to his team in the past he’d always had a meeting with them, giving them a printed list of essential equipment for field assignments and some basic instructions about wherever they were travelling.

  What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he done the same for Grace?

  The little voice in his head wasted no time in telling him. None of the other recruits were naked in the shower with you.

  He took a deep breath and swung his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘We like to travel light, Grace, so there’s no waiting around at the other side.’ He gestured towards her case. ‘Sorry, I should have given you a heads up. We’ll spend most of our time in scrubs and they’ve been sent on with the rest of the equipment.’

  She looked down at the huge case. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’ She glanced at the rest of team’s rucksacks. ‘It’s okay, guys. When we land you go on ahead. I’ll wait for my case and meet you there.’

  Dave shook his head. ‘Oh, no, we don’t mind waiting for you, Grace.’ His voice was almost a drawl. Donovan shot him a look as the check-in girl gave him a nod.

  ‘Hand over your passports. We’ll get our seats allocated and head to the departure gate.’ He signed a few forms about their other equipment, as Grace rustled through her leather bag for her passport.

  Her scent was drifting up around his nostrils. Something new. Not like the perfume she’d been wearing as they’d hit the shower. This smelt like vanilla. The kind of cupcakes his mother had baked when he was a boy. She smelt good enough to eat.

  She finally found her passport and pulled it from her bag. ‘Sorry, Donovan.’ She looked down at her clothes. ‘I just assumed that because we were on business for the DPA it would still be office wear.’ She tilted her head to the side, giving him a view of her smooth skin and a rueful smile. ‘No matter what time of the day or night. But, hey, I guess we learn something new every day.’

  She heaved her case up onto the check-in conveyer belt. There was no way this could be mistaken for carryon luggage.

  He handed over the passports to the beautiful blonde desk clerk, who didn’t look too impressed that she was being ignored. ‘I guess we do,’ he replied.

  She had no idea how true those words were. He was trying to work out why he hadn’t got a handle on Grace Barclay seven months ago. He’d noticed her, and had meant to find out more. But Donovan was a work first kind of guy. He didn’t like things to interfere.

  Still, seeing the reactions of Dave and John had sent the hackles up at the back of his neck. He’d wanted to rip their eyes from their sockets—not exactly rational behaviour, particularly around a woman he barely knew.

  Grace Barclay was an adult and a professional. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself. She didn’t need him to protect her, so why was that the way he felt around her?

  He was trying not to stare at her curves. He’d already seen her naked—what more was there? But Grace wasn’t just wearing this red dress, she va-va-voomed it. It covered every inch that it should. But its coverage was just great. It clung to the full curve of her breasts, the swing of her hips and the smooth swell of her backside. As for the tanned legs and black stiletto heels...

  ‘Donovan, is something wrong? Did I forget something?’

  She was staring at him, twiddling one strand of her shorter hair between her finger and thumb. Another ‘tell’ when she was nervous. It was cute. It was sexy.

  He shook his head, trying to get his mind back on the job. ‘Nice hairdo.’ The words were out before he thought about them and her cheeks flushed in an instant.

  ‘Thanks.’ Her fingers were working overtime on that strand of hair. Any more and she would pull it clean from her head. ‘My friends thought it would be more practical for a first field assignment.’

  He raised his eyebrows and couldn’t help but smile. ‘Did they think the dress would be more practical too?’

  He knew it. He knew there had been a makeover team involved. Grace looked fabulous, but he kind of preferred her the way she’d appeared twenty-four hours ago. When he’d been the only one who had noticed her.

  Her shoulders sagged. ‘Like I said, I wanted to look professional.’

  The blonde behind the desk cleared her throat and handed over the boarding cards, her eyes drifting up and down the length of Grace’s body with disapproval. Her gaze was so blatant he cringed.

  But Grace didn’t. She laughed. Out loud. And reached over and took the boarding cards from her hand. ‘Thanks honey,’ she quipped. ‘I’ll take care of these guys now.’

  With a confidence Donovan hadn’t seen before she swung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk towards Security. ‘Come on, guys, let’s go.’ All eyes followed the swing of her hips and the rest of the team grabbed their bags and hurried after her.

  By the time they reached Security Grace had emptied the contents of her bag, removed her gold necklace and put her shoes in the tray. She beeped as she walked through the scanner and stood patiently while the female security team scanned her with the wand. The scanner paused around her shoulder blade and she said a few quiet words to the staff member.

  The woman reached up and pulled the stretchy red material out where indicated by Grace. It wasn’t enough. A few seconds later she was asked to stand in the full-body scanner. What on earth was going on?

  It took less than thirty seconds. The female guard viewed the scan and had a quick discussion with her counterpart. He nodded and she indicated to Grace to come out and handed her her shoes, talking away as if they were old friends. Grace was shrugging her shoulders and smiling. Donovan was concentrating so hard on what was happening between them he felt a sharp nudge at his back. ‘Hurry up, buddy. The guard has signalled you through twice now.’

  Donovan had already removed his belt, shoes, money and watch. There was no reason for him to beep. He hurried through and caught the last few words of the conversation. ‘No problem, it happens every time...’

  It had to be her scar. Questions were firing in his brain. There were lots of reasons people could beep at the airport. Metal plates in their bodies, other kinds of implants or devices. But the only scar he’d seen on her entire smooth skin had been the angry–looking one on her shoulder.

  It just made him all the more curious. Grace didn’t seem like the kind of girl to have had a knife wound. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it was from a car wreck? A sports accident? A skiing mishap?

  But it didn’t matter how many ‘what ifs’ he planted in his brain. Donovan knew a knife wound when he saw one. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the question.

  She was sliding her painted red toes into her black stiletto. ‘What next? Can we all go for a coffee somewhere and make some plans?’

  Her voice jolted him. It was embarrassing. She wasn’t having any problems focusing on the job. It was only him. Why hadn’t he noticed the painted toes earlier?

  ‘Sure. Let’s go to the coffee shop. I’ll recheck my emails and see if we’ve got any new information.’

  She moved away and started chatting with John. He noticed the glances from passers-by as they walked through the terminal. Grace seemed to chat easily with people. She had a nice friendly nature, a killer smile and she appeared to be a good listener, all things that would make her an asset to the team. It would make her good with patients and give her the ability to integrate well with staff they might meet wherever they travelled.

  They joined the queue and Grace frowned at the coffee selection.

  ‘What’s wrong? No skinny, caramel lattes?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, yeah, they’ve got them. They just don’t have any sugar-free caramel.’