Heather McGovern, whose feedback and inspirational photos helped it all come together.
My partners in crime at Bad Girlz Write and Capital Region Romance Writers of America, with their constant support and commiseration.
My incredibly patient husband and family, who put up with my crazy writer eyes even on Christmas Eve.
And Darik and Justino, for getting me out of a bind a very, very long time ago.
Chapter One
You don’t ask, you don’t get. It was one of the very first lessons Jo’s father had ever taught her—right after “stop existing” and “be a boy.”
She chuckled darkly to herself and wiped some of the sweat from her brow, leaning an elbow out the open window of the van and staring at the rows of palm trees lining the road.
She might not have been able to fulfill all his wishes for her, but at least there were a few of good old Dad’s teachings she’d taken to heart. She was going to ask all right. She just had to get there already, before she lost her nerve.
Twisting around in her seat, she glanced at the clock and worried her lip ring with her teeth. “How much longer?”
The driver, Roberto, tapped his finger against the steering wheel. “Ten minutes?”
Ugh, that still sounded like forever. After eight odd hours in airports and planes—and getting on near forty minutes in an un-air-conditioned van—Jo was more than ready to be done with travel for the day. Nodding to herself, she turned to face the window again, staring out at the little clusters of tiny, pastel-colored houses set off from the road, with their clotheslines, satellite dishes, and what seemed like unending swaths of overgrown green.
She took a deep breath, trying to let the scenery zipping past calm her down. Obsessing over what she was going to do and say when she arrived wasn’t going to get them there any faster. It was only making her more anxious and pissed off.
How could she not be agitated, though? She’d been busting her ass at school for ages. Had snagged decent internships after her freshman and sophomore years, and now here she was: one of nine undergraduates getting to spend the summer working in Arecibo, Puerto Rico, doing research at the biggest radio telescope in the world. It was her dream job. The capstone for her CV—the thing that was going to propel her into a top-level graduate school. Make her dad stand up and finally take notice of everything she’d managed to achieve.
Anger and disappointment echoed in her chest. She’d thought it would be all of that and more. Right up until she’d found out she was being shunted off into a second-tier project. Again.
Curling her hands into fists, she shook her head, pent-up rage sending fire and ice down her spine. Whoever this P.J. Galloway person was who had divvied out the assignments had a lot of nerve. If the guy thought she was going to sit back and be sidelined and coddled just because she was a girl, trying to hack it in the sciences… well. He had another think coming.
Just as her simmering frustration threatened to boil over, a sign appeared over the crest of a hill, pointing the way to the observatory, and Roberto put the blinker on.
Okay. Go time.
He looked to her as he took the turn, gesturing to the left. “I take you to where you are staying.”
“Actually…” She swallowed hard and channeled all the lessons she’d learned over the years. Making her voice as authoritative as she could, she insisted, “I need to go to the main building first. I have an e-mail.” She patted the pocket of her cargo shorts, reassuring herself with the crinkle of the printout she’d stashed there. “From Dr. Galloway.”
He frowned, lines appearing between his eyes. “I think you meet Dr. Galloway tonight.”
“Everybody else will,” she agreed. “But we have things to discuss before that.”
He gave her a sidelong glance, and she held her breath. But after a long moment, he shrugged. “If you say so.”
She exhaled long and slow. She had said so. She’d asked, and she’d gotten what she wanted. Now she just had to do it one more time.
Without saying anything else, Roberto drove them straight up to the observatory gates, where he got waved through by the guard on duty. Jo blocked out the sights around her, concentrating on psyching herself up for this. Channeling all her righteous indignation and all the times people had tried to pass her over in the past.
Because it wasn’t going to happen. Not today. No way.
As soon as the van pulled to a stop, Jo unhooked her seat belt and shoved open the door. Behind her, Roberto protested, “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the house?”
“I’m good.” She waved him off, her focus intent on the closed door in front of her. On flinging it open.
The second she was inside, it was like she went blind, the humming fluorescent lighting overhead no match for the brilliance of the sun outside. She blinked to get her eyes to adjust, staring down a series of corridors, all painted cinder-block walls and propped-open doors. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn’t let that stop her. She knew the drilclass="underline" walk around as if you own the place, and most people will assume you do.
“Miss? Miss!”
Sighing, Jo called over her shoulder, “Give me just a second.”
Roberto wasn’t letting her off that easily, though. He called after her again, and she swore beneath her breath as a couple of faces turned to give her curious stares. Yeah. Turned out the whole “walk around like you own the place” thing didn’t work quite so well when everyone knew you didn’t.
For the first time, a little prickle of doubt made her stomach twist. This entire plan of hers had the potential to be a disaster. She was tired and sweaty and disgusting, and it felt like her hair was plastered to her head. She was going off half-cocked, and in the kind of mood she was in, she was probably going to burn a bridge or two.
She hadn’t gotten as far as she had in life by being nice, though. In a man’s world, a girl never did. Not unless she had a hell of a lot bigger tits than Jo did.
The thick soles of her boots thudded against the tile floor as she rounded the corner, turning to enter a hallway lined by open doors. She scanned the numbers beside each one until finally she spotted it. Office number 109. She screwed up her confidence and tugged the hem of her top down. Shoved her hair out of her face and rubbed the studs in the shell of her ear for luck.
She knocked once before stepping right in, keeping her voice strong as she said, “Dr. Galloway?”
And then she did a double take as the chair of one Dr. P.J. Galloway slowly rotated, spinning to face the door, revealing—
Not the pot-bellied, middle-aged man Jo had been expecting. But a sixty-something-year-old lady in a lilac dress.
Fuck. So, so many layers of fuck.
The woman who was apparently Dr. Galloway raised one silver-hued eyebrow, peering over her glasses at Jo, and Jo was not the type to demur, but she shrank just a little inside. “Yes?”
“I’m—” Jo snapped her mouth shut when her throat made a wobbling sound. She swallowed and tried again. “I’m Jo Kramer, and I’m—”
“One of the delightful members of our Research Experience for Undergraduates program, yes. Yes, I know.”
As long as she didn’t know who else Jo was.
Before she could say another word, Roberto caught up with her. Breathing hard, he skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway, and Jo glanced to find him sending a pleading look at Dr. Galloway over Jo’s head.
Dr. Galloway made a withering sort of noise but smiled as she shook her head. She refocused her attention on Jo, who hadn’t felt this much like a butterfly pinned to a specimen tray in years. “Is this regarding the matter about which you e-mailed me earlier this week, Ms. Kramer?”