“Then there’s lymphoma and leukemia,” Yale interjected. “Essentially, those emanate from blood-forming cells. And then there are germ-cell tumors. Those come from totipotent cells…”
“Okay, okay. Overloading,” Cate said. “You’re getting too complicated for me. Just go back to one of the cancers you’re working on. Like pancreatic. What makes that one different?”
Even Arthur got into it now. “For one thing, it’s one of the toughest to cure. It’s also one of the worst killers. It’s just plain ugly.”
Cate nodded. “Now, you’re talking language I can understand. But what makes that cancer so hard to cure?”
“Three things,” Purdue said. “All about the cells. They’re tiny and they grow like weeds and they hide. Actually, it’s the hiding factor that’s always been the worst problem.”
“But you guys found an answer for that?”
“Exactly.” Yale leaned his head back. “It’s complicated. But to put it in basic terms, what we discovered was a chemical that turned on those sucker-small cells. They grow neon bright when exposed, even through dense tissue.”
Harm held his breath. None of them talked this way to outsiders, primarily because of security and privacy. And they shouldn’t. But Cate was somehow able to charm money from a beggar…and he hungered for the chance to hear how each of the men responded.
“So how’d you all find this formula where nobody else could?” Cate asked.
“Initially, it was Dougal’s breakthrough-Harm’s uncle. He didn’t have the formula pinned down, but he established the breakthrough idea. Then when he got ill, Purdue took over some of the lab work. Then me. Took a while before we were getting consistent results. Then we started the real trials.”
“Which was…when?”
“Over the last two years. The compound passed every damn test we could put it through. We have it. We hadit.” Purdue’s voice carried the whine of frustration. “The next step was final FDA approval, but there was no reason that would have been denied. We had all the legal grounds set up. It was ours. The company’s. We all had a stake in it. There was just a waiting period until the final stuff came through. There was no doubt in any of our minds that we had the real thing.”
Arthur said, “I’m roasting here. Think I’m getting out, wandering back toward the ship.”
The comment came out of the blue, stopped the discussion cold-and started an exodus. Simultaneously, the guys started to move, standing up, groaning when their flesh suddenly contacted cool-cold fresh air. Instead of joining the others, Cate leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Harm wasn’t about to budge without her. Immediately, though, he noticed that her perky questions and zesty smiles all faded once the men disappeared from sight. The clear water revealed her lithe, slim body. She wasn’t soft. Her calves were tight, molded from walking and exercise, her hips more bone than padding. A few sunbeams sneaked through the green canopy overhead, lighting on freckles and a skinny nose, on bare lips.
She looked nothing like any woman he’d ever loved.
But he looked at her, and wondered if he’d ever loved before.
“You wade right into trouble, don’t you?” he murmured.
“Yup. It was one of the things my foster mom taught me. Never avoid trouble if you can help it. It’s the old shark-in-the-water thing. If you don’t turn around and face it, you have no way of knowing if trouble’s on your tail.”
“Are you going to be able to make it back to the boat?”
“Maybe. In a bit.” She opened one eye. One sharp blue eye. “I’m not sick, Harm.”
“I know.”
“It just hurts. The bruise on the hip more than the head. But really, the rest of me is okay.”
“The rest of you is more than okay,” he corrected her.
There now. He got a smile. Softer than butter. Lustrous. But then it disappeared. “There’s a huge piece missing, Harm. Didn’t you hear it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your guys. Your problem. There’s this huge hole that doesn’t make sense. Everybody’s got a loyalty to this formula you all developed. Everybody values the team, what they were doing. Everybody could see success coming, personal and financial. There doesn’t seem to be a single visible gain for anyone to steal the formula, when everyone was already going to get rich, already going to get tons of lauds and credit. So what could possibly motivate the man to steal it?”
Harm was beginning to have his suspicions. But he still told Cate the frustrating truth. “I don’t know.”
“There has to be something we’re missing.”
“Yes.”
“It’s driving me nuts. Trying to figure it out.” She opened both her eyes then. “Maybe…Fiske died of natural causes. Maybe my fall was somehow accidental. Maybe things only look dire and dangerous and they really aren’t.” She frowned. “Harm, I totally realize this isn’t really my business or my problem. But I’m at least a fresh pair of eyes. And I didn’t know anyone before, so I can be objective. So I’m not trying to bug you, I really hoped I could bring something to your table, seriously help. Except…”
“Except that your mind’s spinning sideways?”
“Oh, man. You said it.”
“So how about if we see…if we can make your mind spin in a whole different way? A good way,” he promised. He valued everything she’d said, but it was too much. The more she hurtled into his problems, the deeper he hurtled into her character. He liked that foolhardy character of hers, but for a while, he wanted her to quit worrying. He wanted her to quit hurting.
He wanted to figure out how deep he was in with her.
He found out.
Damn fast, he found out.
Careful of her sore hip, even more careful of the lump on her head, he scooped her closer, using his arms as a cushion for her neck. And then he kissed her. Not softly. Not carefully. But with everything he had.
He took her mouth. Her tongue. Her breath.
A few other people had been enjoying the springs, but no one was in sight now. The only sounds were the splashing waterfalls, the whisper of leaves, the shallow intake of her breath, the beat of her heart…and his.
Somewhere, in the rush of water, the heat, the thick scent of pine, she turned liquid for him. Her limbs flowed over his, around his. Her lips turned slippery-soft, under his, with his.
An hour before, he thought she didn’t have enough clothes on. Now he realized she had way, way too many. Thankfully, they were soaked snug to her skin. It wasn’t as good as naked, but he could still feel her. Her bones, her small, lithe muscles, the cushion of breast and tummy.
She murmured…something in the language of music. A call, a whisper, a tune of longing.
Desire barreled through his pulse like a racehorse at the gate. He stroked the length of her tenderly, with precious care for where she could be sore or bruised…Yet still, he found nipple, found treasure beneath the waistband of her pants, hair that curled around his fingers, inviting him into her private nest.
She murmured again. This time the sound she made was more of a feline hiss. She stroked him too, but not with tenderness or care. Her fingers made prints, denting his back and shoulders, down his sides. Her hands, her mouth, enticed him to forget where they were, who they were, and when she suddenly twisted her full weight on top of him, he went down.
He surfaced almost immediately, sputtering, almost laughing…until he saw the reckless intent in her eyes. It was her turn to slide a hand down his torso, to dip into damp pants, to find the hot, hard core of him and squeeze. It wasn’t a nice squeeze. It wasn’t a sweet, shy squeeze. It was an I’m-gonna-have-you kind of squeeze.
“Cate. Think. You’re too sore,” he hissed.