About the Baby

Because he was her friend, a voice whispered in the back of her head. Because he’d always been there for her. But now, the second she’d broken the unwritten rules that governed their relationship—she’d kissed him and cried all over him in one night—he was pulling back. Getting angry the moment she had the nerve to do something he didn’t like.

The worst part was that it hurt. A lot. Because she hadn’t been expecting it. Because she’d broken her own rules over the years and had learned to trust Lucas implicitly. And yet here she was, here they were, right back where a part of her had always known they’d end up.

Once in front of her house, she barely waited for him to stop the car before she was opening the door and lunging for her front porch. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll…call you when I get back.”

She just needed to get inside. If she made it inside her front door without letting him see how hurt she was, everything would be fine. She had a lot to do and very little time to do it in. Once he was gone, she wouldn’t even have time to think about him.

But she’d barely opened the door when he caught up with her. “What the hell is this?”

Her anger got the better of her. “Oh, so you do talk,” she said snidely.

His teeth ground together, his eyes shooting sparks of rage straight through her. She gave as good as she got, then muttered through her own clenched jaw, “I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Yeah, because that’s really going to happen.”

“Lucas—”

“Don’t start, Kara. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to talk about this. And if you still decide to go, you’ll need a ride to the CDC.”

“Still decide to go? I am going, and I can get myself to work just fine, thank you. I’ve been doing it for the last ten years of my life without any problems.”

“Damn it, Kara. You don’t always have to be so independent. Can’t you see that I’m worried about you?”

Of course he was. St. Lucas, worried about everyone. She hurt a little inside hearing the words. Not because she was upset that he cared, but because everything had changed between them in the space of one evening.

She never should have cried. For seventeen years their friendship had been based on the fact that she didn’t need him. Lucas didn’t mind being needed—by his mother, his sister, his girlfriends, his patients. He thrived on it, really. But at the same time, her independence helped him put distance between himself and the demanding women in his life.

There’d never been any need for distance between Kara and Lucas—at least not before tonight. And she was smart enough to know that it wasn’t the kiss—it was what had come before it. Now, here he was, feeling like he had a right to tell her what to do. Somehow she’d become just another woman who needed him to save her.

“Look,” she finally told him as she stepped into the house. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need it.”

He followed her in. “You’re not thinking clearly—”

She whirled on him, got in his face. “Don’t tell me how I’m thinking. I was upset earlier. That doesn’t make me less competent. I don’t need you to save me, Lucas.”

“Is that what you think I want to do? Save you?”

“It sure looks that way to me.”

“Well, then, you don’t know a damn thing, do you?”

CHAPTER FIVE

THEIRANGRYWORDSECHOED in Kara’s foyer, bouncing off the walls and making him want to tear his hair out. What had gotten into her? One minute he was trying to help her deal with the fact that her job was a nightmare and the next minute she was kissing him. And the minute after that she was accepting an assignment to head right back into a hot zone. And not just any hot zone—no, not for Kara. She was heading straight into Ebola hell and wouldn’t even acknowledge that it was a bad idea. He just wanted her to admit—

What? he asked himself angrily. What exactly did he want from Kara? For her to break down again and admit that the idea of going to Eritrea scared the hell out of her? God knows, it scared the shit out of him. Normally she seemed so indestructible, but listening to her heartache, holding her while she cried…it had gotten to him. Really gotten to him, in a way few things did anymore. She seemed so much more vulnerable now than she ever had before.

Add in that bizarre, mind-blowing kiss they’d just shared and he couldn’t quite get his mind around any of this.

If someone had told him three hours ago that they’d be here, nose to nose, both of them spoiling for a fight, he would have thought that person was insane. Not that he and Kara never fought—of course they did. She had a redhead’s temper and he was as stubborn as they came. But none of their previous fights had this bruised quality, this resentment simmering right below the surface.

And he might not know much about what the hell was going on, but he knew this. He didn’t want Kara to head out with things like this between them. Who knew how long it would be before he’d get the chance to see her again?

Blowing out a huge breath, he bit the bullet and lied to her for the first time in all the years he’d known her. “I’m sorry.”

The look in her eye turned from furious to confused and for long seconds she didn’t answer. “That’s it?” she asked finally.

“I’m really sorry?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Jeez, Kara, what do you want? Blood?”

He half expected her to jump down his throat again, but she must have found what she was looking for—if not in his words, then his face—because she suddenly relaxed. “No, but if you’re offering, some of your sweat should work nicely.”

“My sweat?” he asked, wondering if he looked as lost as he felt.

She turned and headed down the hall to her bedroom. “I’ve got a couple trunks filled with gear stored at the top of my closet. Can you get them down

for me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He followed her through the house feeling a shock similar to the aftermath of a car crash. It wasn’t unusual for Kara to explode and then simmer down quickly, but this was fast even for her. Any second now, he expected to start feeling the symptoms of whiplash.

“The boxes are up there,” she said, pointing to the large walk-in closet at the end of her bathroom.

He followed her directions, feeling a little awkward being in this most private room of hers. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he’d never been here before—he was the one who’d helped her move her furniture in, after all. The one who’d painted these walls their current shade of sky-blue. But that was different. That was before the room had turned into this sultan’s paradise with the luxurious turquoise quilt and silver throw pillows.

Before a red lace bra-and-panty set had been draped across the foot of her bed.

Before he’d kissed her.

Studiously avoiding looking at her bed—which was more difficult said than done because the thing was huge and dominated the entire room—he headed into her closet and reached for the first trunk. It was a lot heavier than he thought it would be.

“Hey,” he said as he carried it back into the bedroom. “How the hell did you get this thing up there to begin with?”

“Mike put them up for me. I haven’t needed them in a while.”

He stiffened at the mention of her last serious boyfriend—the one she’d almost married. He’d never liked Mike, had thought the guy was a pompous ass more concerned with his reputation in the field than he was in the actual work he did. Lucas had been thrilled when things didn’t work out. Mike was nowhere near good enough for her and the idea that she would now be taking over his team was just one more thing Lucas didn’t like about this trip.

Dropping the first load onto the floor, he went back into the closet and got the second trunk down. It was even heavier than the first. “What’s in here, anyway?”

“My on-location biosafety suits.”

Right. Of course. Because she was going to need the huge positive-pressure suit if she was heading into a situation where a disease like Ebola might have turned airborne. When she worked in the CDC labs, or any other well-equipped labs, they provided the suits for her. But who knew what she was heading into now.

His chest tightened and he walked to the window, staring blindly into the night. He knew her job was dangerous, knew she regularly dealt with things that could kill her. But she’d had every vaccination there was, so that when she went into the field after cholera or TB, there was little to no chance she would get it—especially with proper precautions.

But this, this was something totally different. There was no vaccine for Ebola and even if there had been, who knew what would happen with exposure to this strange new strain? Any tolerance built up to it would mean absolutely nothing.

A part of him was aware that Kara was still talking about something, but it was like she was far away. For the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t a doctor. Wished he didn’t know exactly what it was she was heading into. Because knowing what could happen, thinking about it, had him paralyzed with fear.