Racing Against the Clock. Lori Wilde

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Racing Against the Clock - Lori Wilde


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to stay was the right thing to do, even though he feared prolonged proximity to her might alter his fate in ways he never imagined. He needed to do this. In memory of Yvette. In memory of the man he used to be.

      “All right.” Tyler pocketed the money. “If you refuse to stay in the hospital and you won’t take my cash then there is only one option left.”

      “And that is?”

      It was now or never. If he hesitated, he would back out. Tyler took a deep breath and committed himself. “You’ll stay at my secluded beach house on Galveston Island. No one will bother you. You can rest, collect your thoughts and stay until you get your memory back. Is it a deal?”

      She had no other choice but to say yes. She couldn’t go back home to Austin. It wasn’t safe. Daycon’s men would be watching her house. And she couldn’t talk to the police. They would make a phone call and discover she was the one responsible for torching Daycon Laboratories. Besides, Daycon was buddies with a rogue CIA operative. He would have no trouble locating her if she didn’t accept help. She had no money for a motel. She needed food and a good night’s sleep before trying to obtain another car so she could get to Marcus in New Mexico. Dr. Fresno’s offer was a gift from heaven.

      Hannah gazed into Tyler’s sincere brown eyes and felt guilty for lying to him. But she didn’t know how far she could trust him and as long as she kept her name a secret it offered both of them some small measure of security.

      “Why would you do that for me?” she asked.

      He shrugged. “Maybe because you’re the most interesting case I’ve ever come across.”

      She studied him a moment, trying to figure him out.

      “Well?” he asked slanting his head and waiting for her response to his proposal.

      “All right,” she agreed.

      “There’s just one stipulation.”

      Hannah groaned. She should have known there would be a catch. “What is it?”

      “You allow me to perform a few more tests.”

      Hannah hesitated. She wanted out of this place. Now. The longer she stayed, the more precarious her position became.

      “I’ve got to know what happened to you,” Tyler insisted. “Why your spleen stopped bleeding. Why your chemical burns disappeared.”

      I could tell you what I think might have happened, Hannah thought, but I don’t fully understand it myself.

      Virusall could be responsible for her stunningly quick recovery. How, she did not know for sure, but the experiences she’d had with the drug in the lab indicated anything might be possible. It was a miraculously healing drug but it was also very unstable.

      Fear rippled through her, but she pushed her anxiety aside. She didn’t have time to piece together what Virusall might have done to her. Not now.

      When she’d accused Tyler of misreading the X rays and confusing her with another patient, she had done it to offer him an explanation. A rational possibility his scientific mind could accept. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she had concocted a wonder drug proven to eradicate all viruses. She had scarcely believed it herself.

      And then there were the horrific side effects that turned ordinary people with type O blood into vicious beasts.

      To let Tyler in on her secret would be tantamount to signing his death warrant. If Daycon suspected she told anyone about Virusall, she knew the man would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to protect himself and his CIA cohort.

      She had to get to Marcus before Daycon figured out what she was planning, and she had to get out of this hospital before his henchmen discovered she had not died in the car crash.

      “Concerning these tests,” Hannah asked Tyler. “What do you have in mind?”

      “X rays, more blood work.”

      “How long?”

      “Three, four hours tops.”

      “Sorry. I can give you an hour. That’s all. Do what you can in that length of time—after that, I’ll be gone.”

      “Fair enough.” He surprised her by agreeing.

      Cocking her head, she studied him, wondering what his motivation was in opening his house to her. He had told her she was special. What had he meant by that? Was it because her vanishing illness fascinated him? Had someone helped him when he was down and out? Or was there something more?

      He was a handsome man, tall and lean. His hands, long and slender, belonged to a surgeon. His hair was dark brown, his eyes an even darker shade of chocolate. There was a brushstroke of gray at each temple and a few laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes. An air of refinement clung to him and yet at the same time he exuded a rugged masculinity. A hunter who listened to Mozart. A soldier who studied fine art. A man as comfortable skiing in the Rockies as he would be at a wine-tasting party.

      She could not deny her attraction to him, but Hannah didn’t employ her physical urges to form opinions or make decisions. Her parents had taught her that nothing was more important than a clear head and a practical mind. Affairs of the hearts were reserved for sentimentalists and fools and she was neither.

      Her parents, though they professed to love her, had not been the type to offer kisses, hugs or even many words of praise. Hannah had been expected to perform to the best of her ability and she had strove to please them. She had earned a bachelor’s degree in chemistry by age sixteen, had a master’s by eighteen and at age twenty had been the youngest woman ever to earn a Ph.D. in pharmacology from the University of Texas. In fact, it had been her burning desire to honor the memory of her parents and the high standards they had set which led her to discover the phenomenal Virusall.

      She had always been on the outside looking in, the girl who was out of step with everyone else her age. Because of her up-bringing, Hannah had never been very good with people, but it was this trait that made her such a dedicated researcher. She possessed an analytical mind and she enjoyed being alone. She didn’t easily succumb to the emotional pull of others and she held herself to lofty standards.

      But right now Tyler Fresno was tugging at her with the force of a high-powered magnet.

      “Do you know where my clothes are?” She ran a hand through her unruly hair. Furrowing her brow, she wished for lipstick and a hairbrush. She must look a fright and although Hannah wasn’t given to vanity, she found herself wanting to look nice for him. Why?

      “Perhaps they’re down here.” He turned and bent over to pick up the sack she had been trying to reach when he had come into the room and caught her with her backside in the air.

      This turnabout was fair play.

      She propped herself up on her elbows and watched with interest as she got a glimpse of his rear-end. Unfortunately, doctors’ scrub suits did not offer the same uninhibited view as an open-back hospital gown. Still, she enjoyed running her eyes down the length of his lanky form. She wasn’t one for ogling men, but for this guy she would make an exception.

      “Here you are.” He handed her the paper bag.

      Hannah peered inside and was alarmed to see her clothes matted with dirt and blood.

      Tyler must have read her mind because in the next minute he said, “Tell you what—I’ll get you a set of scrubs to wear. What are you?” He squinted, raking his gaze over her. “An extra small?”

      “Yes, but a small will do fine and thank you. That’s very considerate.”

      “Don’t mention it.” He smiled and Hannah felt warm and tingly all over.

      A girl could fall for a guy like him.

      She had to be careful. Hannah had spent so much time in a laboratory, she knew very little about the opposite sex or how to handle herself in the presence of a man she found attractive.

      “I’ll


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