TEMPTED BY HER BOSS (17 page)

She jumped out and waited at the door for Callum. He didn’t waste any time, striding down the corridor and heading towards the lab. ‘Come with me,’ he called over his shoulder.

She bit her lip. ‘Where’s Donovan?’ But he didn’t reply and she sucked in a breath so quickly it hurt.

She hurried after his disappearing frame. For a big man, Callum could move quickly. He lifted the phone outside the laboratory entrance and buzzed the staff inside, putting them on speakerphone. Everyone was wearing a hazmat suit, and there were three staff. Was Donovan in there?

All three heads turned. David, John and Lucas from the other team. No Donovan. She winced. ‘Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?’ She was starting to feel desperate. As if there was some unspoken rule that no one could tell her what was wrong. There was still the horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. The reason that Donovan would have to reveal personal information to Callum, to allow the public-health duty of contact tracing to take place. But why wouldn’t someone just put her out of her misery and tell her?

David looked up from his microscope, his eyes darting past her and fixing quickly on Callum. The man she’d shared a few jokes with earlier now couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘I can’t find any evidence of Marburg virus in his sample. No shepherd’s crook. Even if it was in the early stages there would still be some evidence in the sample.’

Callum nodded. ‘Best guess?’

John walked over to the glass panel. ‘While you’ve been gone I’ve been up and taken a lumbar puncture. I think we’ve got a meningitis case. Give me an hour.’

Callum nodded. ‘I’ll start him on some IV antibiotics in the meantime. I’m not going to wait on the results.’

He touched her elbow. She felt numb. Numb with shock. She’d thought Donovan had been off with her earlier. She’d had no idea he was ill. What kind of a doctor was she if she couldn’t pick up symptoms in a colleague?

‘Grace? Do you want to come back upstairs with me?’

She nodded and followed him to the stairwell. Donovan must be seriously unwell if they’d first suspected Marburg virus. Meningitis was every bit as serious and some of the symptoms were similar to Marburg. The headache, sore neck and throat, temperature and nausea.

Her legs were moving quicker and quicker. She couldn’t help it. More than anything in the world she wanted to see Donovan. She wanted to know that he’d be all right.

As soon as they exited the stairwell she could see a flurry of activity at one of the rooms at the end of the corridor. She couldn’t stop herself and started to run.

Callum matched her step for step. ‘What is it?’ he asked the nurse inside the room.

Her face was pale. ‘A rash. It’s started to appear across his abdomen.’

Her eyes met Callum’s. They didn’t need to say a word. Both of them knew that in some cases of meningitis, by the time the rash appeared it was too late for the patient.

Donovan was lying on the bed, his face coated in a sheen of sweat, his eyes closed. His chest was bare, the definition of his toned arms clear. She walked over to the side of the bed and touched his damp hair. His skin was burning. ‘Donovan? It’s Grace. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling unwell?’

He didn’t move. He didn’t respond. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. She turned to the nurse. ‘How are his observations?’

The nurse frowned. ‘His level of consciousness has deteriorated quite quickly. I’ve put him on neuro obs. His blood pressure is dropping and he’s pyrexial.’

Callum walked over to the nearby trolley. The nurse had already just brought out some antibiotic supplies. He pulled up a bolus of cephalosporin into a syringe, looked at the clock on the nearby wall and started administering it directly into the venflon on Donovan’s hand.

Grace couldn’t help herself. She pulled the thin sheet back from Donovan’s chest. The tiny red and purple-hued petechial spots seemed to be materialising before her eyes. She knew exactly how serious this was. She grabbed his hand. It was colder than the rest of his body. He didn’t even flinch when she squeezed his hand. Her eyes went to the clock as she watched Callum slowly push the first dose of antibiotics into Donovan’s vein. She was trying to do some calculations in her head. This seemed to be a very rapid onset. Was it some kind of bacterial meningitis? She could only pray that he didn’t become septicaemic, with all the complications that could ensue.

She looked around her and pulled up a chair. She didn’t care what else was going on. She was going to stay here by Donovan’s side.

She met Callum’s gaze and stared hard. She would say the words out loud if she had to. She didn’t care who heard.

He finished administering the antibiotic and reached across the bed, putting a hand on her shoulder. His Scottish accent was heavy, the way it always became when he got emotional. ‘I’ve contacted the DPA. A replacement team is on their way.’ He looked down at his colleague. ‘He needs a CT scan. There isn’t one available here. He’s also going to need ITU facilities.’

She nodded as a single tear snaked its way down her cheek. She couldn’t bear the way his hand didn’t feel the way it had the last time it had touched her body. It was clammy, cold. It didn’t feel like Donovan’s hand. Not the warm hand that had stroked her skin. The lack of response from him was more than disturbing.

She picked up his chart. ‘Can we give him some steroids before we arrange the transfer?’

Callum nodded as he picked up another glass vial and started pulling the liquid into a syringe. ‘On it.’ He hesitated. ‘Grace, do you want to go on the transfer?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t falter for a second.

She didn’t care what anyone thought. Although it helped matters greatly that none of the team had commented at all. In fact, most of them seemed quietly supportive. She didn’t doubt that Callum had shared the information about them kissing. He’d had to. If they’d first suspected Marburg virus, they had to know Donovan’s every contact.

Would there be repercussions now their kiss was out in the open? They were two consenting adults, it was hardly criminal behaviour. But she already knew relationships between team members weren’t really approved of. If she was going to be allowed to remain in fieldwork she would be transferred to another team. That had become the norm after Sawyer had lost his wife.

Callum injected the steroid slowly. It would be hours before they had an official diagnosis. But in suspected cases it was always the case of treat first, ask questions later. Cases of meningitis had been known to kill in twelve hours.

It didn’t matter that it would probably be a helicopter transfer and she’d never been on one before. She didn’t care that even the sound of helicopter rotors made her nervous beyond belief. All she could focus on was the man lying on the bed next to her and the fact the last words she’d said to him had been in anger.

The phone rang shrilly outside. One of the nurses darted out to answer it. The other came and fastened the blood-pressure cuff around Donovan’s arm.

Grace gave her a smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll do his observations. I’m going to be here anyway.’

‘Dr Ferguson, that’s Panama Health Care about the transfer to ICU.’

He paused in the door way and gave her a resigned sort of smile. ‘Don’t worry, Grace. Donovan will be fine.’

She could only pray he was right.

CHAPTER NINE

O
NE
FRANTIC
HELICOPTER
transfer later Grace was beginning to lose hope.

Donovan’s blood results had gotten steadily worse, edging closer and closer towards septicaemia. His blood pressure had bottomed out, his temperature had shot sky high and he’d needed assistance with his breathing. His body was in shutdown and she didn’t need anyone to tell her that.

Not the nurses that hovered around his bed, not the machines that alarmed at all times of the day and night, not even the admin assistant who’d told her where she could find some clean scrubs and a shower.

She didn’t want to leave his side. She
couldn’t
leave his side.

Callum was always phoning the ICU. Another team had arrived to assist in Florida and things were under control at the hospital. She was glad. Because right now she couldn’t focus on anything but Donovan.

Was there really a huge difference between Callum Ferguson, the Granddad of Disease, not being able to focus on his job and her? He might not be sitting by her side, but he seemed to know every one of the staff members on the unit on a first-name basis.

She shifted in her seat again. The worst part of all of this was that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Donovan had been right all along.

When the worst had happened, she’d fallen to pieces. She hadn’t been able to function. She’d been unable to focus. There was no way they could work on the same team in the future. No matter what happened between them. She couldn’t go through this again.

His hand twitched and she was on her feet immediately. He’d had a few involuntary muscle spasms in his legs but nothing like this.

The accessory muscles around his chest started to move and his eyes flickered open. Panic. He was sensing the ventilator and starting to panic.

‘Nurse!’ she shouted. ‘He’s waking up.’

The nurse was at her side in an instant, obviously used to dealing with the clinical situation. She adjusted some dials on the machine and leaned over Donovan, speaking softly.

‘Hey, Dr Reid. I’m Marcie, one of the nurses here. You have a little tube down your throat to help you breathe and some medicines to try and assist you. How would you feel about getting that tube out? Can you blink for me or give my hand a squeeze?’

Donovan blinked as if his life depended on it and the nurse called over a colleague. They sounded his chest, whilst Grace waited impatiently at the side. His sedation, which was already minimal, was stopped, the ventilator disconnected. And after a few painful coughs from Donovan the tube was removed.

Grace shifted nervously as the nurse blocked her view. She was still talking quietly to Donovan as she adjusted his position on the bed and gave him a few tiny sips of water to help his throat.

After the longest five minutes of her life she finally moved and gave Grace a smile. ‘We’ll be doing fifteen-minute obs and one of our medics will come and check Dr Reid over. Would you like me to give Dr Ferguson a call?’

Callum. Of course. The old devil had charmed all the nurses in here with his thick Scottish accent. ‘That would be great, thanks.’

She pulled her chair closer to the bed and sat down next to Donovan, waiting for the nurse to be out of earshot before she spoke.

Feelings of pure relief were washing through her. He was awake. He was conscious. His temperature was coming down and he’d been extubated. A few hours ago she’d feared the worst.

She took a deep breath and tried to appear casual. ‘Well, you certainly know how to cause a commotion.’

He leaned forward and lifted his arm, taking a sip of water through the straw on the table placed in front of him. His voice was dry and throaty. ‘It’s a special skill.’

He sagged back against his pillows. Just taking that drink had looked like a gargantuan effort.

She smiled. It was definitely Donovan. He was back. There was a slight tremor in his hands and he was definitely pale and thinner, but she’d never seen someone look so good.

‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ His voice was strained.

She waved her arm out, ‘Welcome to Panama Healthcare ICU, Donovan. It seems that taking over the kids ICU wasn’t enough for us.’

Deep furrows lined his brow. ‘I had Marburg?’

She wondered how much he would remember. Meningitis could have lasting effects—sometimes even brain damage. But Donovan appeared to have all his faculties and was just trying to orientate himself.

She shook her head. ‘No. You didn’t have Marburg—though they did suspect it at first. You had meningococcal meningitis.’

‘Me?’ He looked incredulous. That was a danger of working in a fieldwork team. After a while the team members—no matter how good their training—started to think they were impervious to certain diseases.

‘You.’

‘What type?’

There were lots of different strains of meningitis. ‘W135.’

‘But I’ve been vaccinated against that.’ He rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to make sense of all the facts. The staff at the DPA were vaccinated against everything they could be.

‘And that’s probably why you’re still here. You and I know that vaccination isn’t infallible. If you hadn’t been vaccinated things could be a whole lot different.’ She couldn’t hide the shiver down her spine. She was trying to talk like a fellow professional, giving him the information he needed to fill in the gaps in his head, but her body was reacting in a much more personal way.

‘But where on earth could I have caught that?’

He was thinking out loud. She could tell straight away. He really didn’t need a response. ‘Do you want me to write you a list, Dr Reid?’

His eyes met hers. There was still an element of confusion in them. His muscles would ache from lying in that bed and his throat would be sore for days. She felt his eyes drift up and down the length of her body.

Her hands went to her hair self-consciously. She hadn’t washed it in three days. She’d barely washed her face. Any trace of make-up was absolutely gone. She’d had to steal some deodorant from one of the nurses on duty and this was her third set of scrubs. Navy blue was certainly not her colour.

‘Grace, how long have you been here?’ He looked around him. ‘How long have I been in here?’

Wow. She must look bad.

She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. ‘Three days.’

‘Three days?’ His voice echoed around the unit and every head turned in the direction of his exclamation.

She put her finger to her lips. ‘Shh. Yes, three days.’

‘But what about the Marburg? What about the patients? Who is looking after them? Are there enough staff? Why aren’t you there?’ The words came tumbling out of his mouth with no pause to take a breath.

There was a tiny sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. His questions were entirely natural. He wanted to make sure everyone was okay. But the last one was hurtful. The last one made her think that he saw her as nothing more than a colleague.

Maybe he hadn’t remembered what had happened between them. Maybe she’d imagined that first twinkle in his eye when he’d woken up.

She bit her lip and tried to answer as methodically as possible. ‘They flew in another team. David and John are still working with Callum. There’s been another adult fatality but no child fatalities from the Marburg virus in the last few days. Two new cases have been identified elsewhere.’ Her voice faltered a little and she wondered if he noticed. She was trying to take into account the fact he’d just woken up after being really ill. She was trying to remember that his body would be exhausted, having fought off meningitis for three days. She really should leave him alone to rest and sleep.

But she couldn’t. She hadn’t had anything to think about these last three days but him. No matter how she examined her feelings about him, or her reactions to him, it all came down the same thing. Donovan had been right. This couldn’t work.

She met his gaze. He still looked pretty dazed. ‘Why do think I’m here, Donovan?’

She left the question hanging in the air between him. It took a few seconds for him to react. Almost as if the little jigsaw pieces were fitting into place in his brain.

His eyes widened. ‘I told Callum. I told him about us.’

‘You did.’

His head started shaking. ‘I had to. I had no idea what was wrong. I just couldn’t think straight. I could have hurt you. I could have infected you with something.’

She gave the slightest shake of her head and pointed to a plastic container of meds on his bedside locker. ‘I’ve been given antibiotic cover.’ It was normal for close contacts of patients with meningitis.

She licked her lips. She’d already made her decision. She knew what she had to do. All she had to do was press Send on the email.

She couldn’t keep working with Donovan. If anything like this happened again, she’d never be able to concentrate on the job they were there to do. It wasn’t fair to the patients and it wasn’t fair to the other staff members. Watching his chest rise and fall for the last three days had brought that home to her.

Being attracted to someone was one thing. Acting on it another. Feeling as if your life would end if theirs did was something else entirely.

She’d cried every time his blood pressure had dropped or temperature rose. Not doctor-like responses, not professional responses, but from-the-heart responses.

He closed his eyes for a second and rested back against his pillows. It was obvious his body was exhausted. It would be another few days until he would be well enough to be discharged. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to put you in harm’s way.’

‘You didn’t. I’m a big girl. I did that myself.’

He opened his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I kissed you right back.’

She saw the flicker behind his eyes. But it didn’t seem like emotion, it looked like regret.

‘You were right, Donovan. You said people who work together shouldn’t be emotionally involved. And I didn’t get it. I didn’t get it until Callum turned up at my door and told me you’d collapsed and were unconscious.’ Now she’d started she couldn’t stop. ‘I felt as if someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart with both hands. I’ve spent the last three days and nights worrying myself sick over you. I’ve even fielded calls from your dogsitter.’ She shook her head.

‘But you were right. I can’t work like this.’ She waved her hand towards him. ‘We can’t work together. It’s no good. I need the chance to see what a fieldwork team is like without complications like this.’

Was she connecting with him? She just couldn’t tell. And the wave of hurt washing over her was getting stronger by the second. She had to get out of there.

He was safe. She knew he was safe. It was time to walk away before she embarrassed herself.

She stood up and reached out and touched his hand. It was a mistake, and she knew that instantly. The zing shot up her arm and she pulled it back to her chest.

‘I’ve requested a transfer to another team. I think, under the circumstances, the director will approve it. I hope you feel better soon.’ Tears were pooling in her eyes, the heat in the room clawing at her chest. She needed to get out of there.

He moved, his hand reaching towards her. Every part of him looked exhausted. The best thing she could do right now was let him rest. He started to speak, ‘Grace, I...’

But she wasn’t listening. She needed to get away. She didn’t want platitudes, she didn’t want to add excuses to the mix. She would chalk this up to experience.

She picked up the bag at her feet and headed to the door. The wash of cool air was an instant relief. The doors in the distance took her to the outside and her feet powered down the corridor.

Out of the hospital. Away from the claustrophobia of the unit. Away from the pain in her heart.

* * *

Donovan’s befuddled brain definitely wasn’t working. He threw back the thin sheet on the bed and tried to move his legs. It was like having the body of an eighty-year-old. They edged towards the side of the bed in slow motion. One of the nurses appeared at his side. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He pointed in the direction of the door. ‘Going after her.’

The nurse looked at the swinging door and sighed. ‘What did you say to upset her? She’s sat here for the last three days and nights, breaking her heart. If that’s not a sign of a woman in love, I don’t know what is.’

His heated skin felt chilled. Everything about this was going so wrong. When his eyes had flickered open and Grace had been sitting at his side, everything had felt right in the world. Even in the midst of his confusion, as he’d tried to make sense of things around him, knowing Grace was right next to him had grounded him.

She was his anchor. His place in this world. She was the last thing he’d thought about when he’d been ill, and the first person he’d seen when he’d woken up.

But he’d hurt her. Without even trying to. His brain and mouth didn’t seem to want to engage together.

But all of a sudden it was as if a symphony of light appeared around him. ‘It’s what I didn’t say.’

The nurse raised her eyebrows. ‘Say what?’ He tried to stand and she pushed him back firmly. ‘No way. Tell me what you need to say to her. I’ll catch her in the corridor.’

He shook his head and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I need to tell her that I love her.’

The nurse blinked then waved her finger. ‘Oh, no. That you have to do yourself. Give me a sec.’ She disappeared behind the nurses’ station and came back with a phone in her hand. ‘What’s her number?’

He must have looked blank. ‘Her number. I know she has a mobile phone because she charged it at the station.

‘Oh, right.’ He racked his brain before hesitantly reciting out the digits of what he hoped was Grace’s number. The nurse pressed them in and held the phone to her ear for a second. She held it out towards him. ‘It’s ringing. Go on, then, Dr Reid. Just call me Cupid.’

* * *

The sun was blisteringly hot. Her three-day-old clothes were scrunched up in a plastic bag at her feet and long beyond redemption. She hadn’t given much thought to walking about outside the hospital in scrubs. It was hardly ideal.