brilliant doctor with an encyclopaedic knowledge, but his people skills were sometimes lacking. Should he have sat her down and given her a pep talk? She looked a little pale. Her hand was pressed against the wall as if to stop her body swaying.
But there was no time for pep talks. Donovan needed to be surrounded by colleagues who conducted themselves in a professional manner. There were things to do. Tests to be ordered. Clean-up precautions to be taken. Risk assessments made on the exposure of others. Chances were he’d be stuck in an isolation room with Grace for hours—maybe days. There’d be plenty of time for pep talks later.
Her gaze met his. ‘Let’s go.’ Was she trying to convince herself or him?
He didn’t really have time to think about it, and if Grace Barclay was a potential member of his team she was going to have to be ready for anything.
He pulled open the door and gestured towards spacesuited Frank. ‘Then let’s go.’
* * *
Ninety minutes later Grace had been X-rayed and her bloods were being analysed in the lab. She was still in shock.
The negative pressure room was used frequently for training scenarios at the DPA. She’d been in it countless times—she’d just never expected to be a patient in one.
The glass walls reached from ceiling to floor, leaving every aspect of them on view to outside observers. The only part of the room that had any modicum of privacy was the screened-off bathroom and shower area. In the meantime, she and Donovan were prime viewing material to the rest of the department, who all seemed to be staring at them from outside.
People were scurrying around, huddled in conversations, talking on phones. All busy. All doing their jobs. Grace just wished she could be out there with them.
It was like being a goldfish in a bowl. A big bowl, with a shark circling inside.
Donovan didn’t seem to like being in isolation either. He hadn’t stopped talking since he’d got in here—talking about everything and anything. If she didn’t know better she’d have thought he was nervous or a bit agitated. But that didn’t fit with what she knew about Donovan Reid. The guy was practically a legend around here.
Last year he’d led work on an outbreak of West Nile virus, saving the lives of over a hundred people because of his rapid diagnostic skills. Then there had been the incident that had made the news the year before. Donovan had shown complete and utter self-control when dealing with a gunman who’d entered a hospital where the DPA was working. He’d managed to persuade the gunman to release some hostages and had eventually tackled and disarmed the guy himself. Donovan Reid was every schoolgirl’s hero. But it wasn’t helping her head. She pressed her fingers to her temples and started rotating them in small circles.
‘Has Frank been able to isolate anything in the lab yet? What about the blood tests? Have they shown anything? Is Bill Cutler from the FBI here yet?’
Grace swung her legs up onto one of the two beds in the room and leaned back against the pillows. Her wet hair was really beginning to annoy her. She’d never be able to sleep. She closed her eyes for a second. ‘Donovan, any chance of some quiet? I have a killer headache.’ The words were out before she’d even thought about them.
‘What?’ He spun around, his forehead creased with lines. He crossed the room in a few strides, putting his hand on her head.
A prickling sensation swept over her skin. The expression on his face was serious. Maybe this wasn’t the start of a migraine. Could this be a symptom of something? She hadn’t even considered that.
But she didn’t need to. Because Donovan was considering it all for her. Out loud. ‘When did your headache start? Is this normal for you? How is your vision—are you having any problems?’
She reached her hand up and put it over his, squeezing her eyes closed and trying to ignore the instant tingle that shot up her arm like a pulse.
Just like when he’d touched her in the shower.
Could this day get any worse?
She swallowed. Her mouth was dry, she was desperate for something to drink. Was there even water in this fishbowl?
She removed Donovan’s hand from her head. ‘Stop it. You’re not helping. I suffer from migraines but I haven’t had one for the last four years.’ She didn’t even want to open her eyes, the spotlights around them were just too bright.
He sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness. What can I do to help?’
‘Stop talking?’ She squinted out the corner of one eye.
He smiled. The first time he’d smiled since they’d got in the isolation room.
‘Never gonna happen.’
Her stomach rumbled loudly and she pressed her hands over it in embarrassment.
‘Would some food help? Or some meds?’
She nodded. Having a migraine around Dr Handsome was bad enough. Having it under the spotlight of just around every member of staff was even worse.
She mumbled the name of the meds she normally used. The normally brisk manner he used around others had vanished. ‘Can you put the lights down?’ she asked.
He hesitated for a second. ‘Sure, I’ll keep you under my watchful eye.’ He walked over to the wall. Every word they said in here, every noise they made could be heard by the outside world.
‘Can we get some migraine meds for Grace, please? And can someone put the lights down around here?’
There were a few nods and some words exchanged by members of staff. Anna walked over to the glass. ‘Grace, are your meds in your locker? I can get them from your bag.’
Grace nodded. Donovan was back at her side. ‘What do you want to eat? We need to plan on being in here for the next few hours—maybe even the next few days.’ He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘We can order in—what’s your favourite?’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Why?’ He held up his hands. ‘Anything that comes into this room goes through the cross-contamination system. We can ask for anything. It’s only our air that can’t get out.’ He raised his eyebrows, ‘Personally, I’m going to order a pepperoni pizza and a pastrami on rye for later.’
She smiled as her stomach growled again. ‘Well, there is something that helps my migraines.’
‘What?’
She named a coffee house a few minutes away from the DPA. ‘I’ve used it for years. They have the best skinny sugar-free caramel lattes and banana and toffee muffins I’ve ever tasted.’
He frowned, as if his brain was trying to process her female logic. ‘The skinny latte counteracts the banana and toffee muffin?’
She grinned. ‘Exactly. You get it. It’s all about the calories, Donovan.’ She pointed at his washboard stomach. ‘Though I’m sure you’d spontaneously combust if you ate anything like that. You probably don’t even know what a banana muffin looks like.’
He
