Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(49)

“And of course,” Zoe said softly, “the number-one suspect, Patricia Hobarth, is dead.”

“Except she’s not.”

“And I’d stake my life on the fact that she’s innocent.”

“You certainly have buckets of DNA if you wanted to…”

Turn her in. “Whoa.” Zoe blew out a breath, falling on the pillow to stare at the ceiling. “Talk about a betrayal.”

“If she’s innocent you’d be helping her. And maybe you could negotiate for the kidnapping charges because she came forward.”

“Except she wouldn’t have come forward. I’m busting her.” Zoe’s whole body tightened like a coiled spring, the first prickles of a cold sweat breaking out on her neck and scalp.

Could she do that? Could she even think about it?

“Why don’t you talk to Oliver?” Tessa said. “You trust him.”

Zoe slid her a look. “I slept with him last night.”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” When Zoe didn’t answer, Tessa leaned forward. “How’d it go?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t feel the earthquake.”

“When you shared thundering simultaneous orgasms?”

Zoe smiled, but her eyes were already brimming. “When I ran out the minute he wasn’t looking.”

“Oh, Zoe.” Tessa reached for her with another of her mother-bear hugs. “Baby, you’re a mess.”

She gave in to the tears and the hug and the delicious overdose of nurturing, letting Tessa stroke her hair. Lovely as that was, it wasn’t what she needed. It wasn’t who she needed.

For the second time that day, Zoe wanted to run. But not away. She wanted to run to someone.

“What are you going to do?” Tessa asked.

Zoe turned a little to look up at her friend. “I’m going to talk to Oliver.”

“Talk?” Tessa looked dubious.

“Talk after.”

“After another simultaneous orgasm?”

“That or maybe after tomorrow,” Zoe said. “We got the other oncologists’ opinions today and everything’s a go for the transfusion and gene therapy in the morning. I think I should wait and do some more research. Maybe…talk to the sheriff.”

Tessa gave her another hug. “If you need me to go with you, I will.”

“What I need is…”

“Tell me, Zoe.”

“Oliver.” She mouthed his name.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Tessa gave her a peck on the cheek. “Have fun and stay with him.”

Zoe’s eyes popped. “Forever?”

Tessa laughed. “I meant tonight, but hey, who knows?”





Chapter Twenty

Oliver’s front door opened before Zoe even knocked, leaving her to wonder what was sexier: the sight of him bare-chested in soft blue doctor’s scrubs or the utter lack of surprise on his face when he saw her.

“You were expecting me, weren’t you?”

“A guy can hope,” he said softly.

“So you’re standing sentry at the door?”

He smiled. “I was upstairs checking on Evan and I saw you walking down the path. Usually when you come over you take shortcuts and climb fences.”

She smiled. “I had a cocktail with Tessa, so I didn’t trust myself to climb.” She glanced behind him. “Evan asleep?”

He nodded, reaching for her, touching her face with his gentle but capable fingers. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said vaguely, the need to tell him everything she’d just learned plaguing her. Of course he’d demand info, want to see the stories, and—worst of all—maybe he’d believe Pasha was guilty.

How would that affect the delicate gene-therapy procedure he was supervising the next day to save the woman’s life?

He drew her closer. “You coming in?”

She hesitated, looking at him, inhaling the mix of salty humid air and the soapy smell of a man who’d just showered. “I guess,” she said.

“You guess?” he laughed softly, sliding his hands to her wrist.

“I didn’t just come over for sex,” she said, not sure why it was important that he know that.

Still smiling, he eased her into the villa. “That’s fine. We’re a full-service operation. What will it be? Food, drink, pool, shower, or a cuddle on the couch where you can unload whatever it is that has your pulse so erratic?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come to a doctor for comfort and you get diagnosed.”

His face softened as he closed the door and walked her to the overstuffed sofa. “Is it comfort you want, Zoe?”

An unexpected lump formed in her throat. “Yeah,” she admitted. “That’s what I want. No-questions-asked consolation and tenderness.” She looked up at him with a hopeful smile. “Can I buy some of that here?”

“Better yet, we give that away at no charge.” He eased her down on the sofa cushions and laid her back on the armrest. He sat at the other end, lifting her feet to his lap, sliding off her flip-flops and letting them drop to the floor. “Somehow I keep getting sent back to your feet.”

She smiled, closing her eyes as he gave her a gentle foot rub, lost in the power of his hands.

“Are you worried about tomorrow?” he asked. “Is Pasha on your mind?”

She most certainly was. “Of course. I can hardly think about anything else.”

He gave her foot a squeeze. “She’s in great hands. Our team is amazing and prepared. I’m now one-hundred-percent convinced this is the right way to go.”

His confidence was as reassuring as his touch. “How long until we know if it worked?”

“In hours we’ll know if it didn’t work—that’s actually a better way to look at it. If there is toxicity or inflammation from the bad cells we’re injecting, we will know within hours. Certain symptoms will alert us.”

“What will you do?”

“Stop and reverse the therapy, but…” He stilled his fingers and waited until she opened her eyes to finish. “That might be too late.”

“I’m aware of that risk, and so is Pasha.”

“Good. But remember, this process could save her life and many more.” His voice grew tight and his grip even tighter.

“That’s why it’s so important, huh?” she asked.

“No, Zoe. It’s important because your aunt, whom you love, has trusted us with her life.”

She swallowed some guilt. Yes, she loved Pasha. Nothing could ever change that. But should Oliver know what Zoe knew now? Would it matter? Would it be right or wrong to tell him on the eve of this important event? The indecision squeezed at her chest.

“But,” he continued, “I won’t lie and tell you this isn’t major, potentially career-changing, and without a doubt the very reason I walked away from my position at Mount Mercy and opened a practice in Naples to work with Raj.”

The passion in his words hung in the room, as attractive and powerful as any language of love. She studied him from under her lashes, her heart swelling so much that the observant doctor could probably feel the physiological responses just by holding her feet.

“You love what you do,” she said, unable to keep the raw admiration—and maybe a little envy—out of her voice.

“I do,” he agreed. “Saving lives, hands-on medicine, especially the kind that has potential for huge and important change, is the reason I became a doctor and definitely the reason I went into oncology.”

A story about his grandmother drifted up from her memory banks. “I thought you chose oncology because of losing your grandmother to breast cancer when you were in college.”

He nodded slowly, his expression a little distant. “I did.”

She inched up a little. “It sounds like there’s more.”

“There’s…always more.” He inhaled deeply, and, on the exhale, he let go of her feet and climbed up the sofa, covering her body with his as he lay down next to her.

“Done with the comforting foot rub?”

“I want to do a comforting full-body rub.” He tucked her into his chest, wrapping a leg around hers to hold her securely on the sofa.

“Shouldn’t we do this behind closed doors? You’ve got an eight-year-old upstairs.”

“We will.” He brushed her hair back and angled her face so they were looking right at each other. “I want to tell you something. It’s serious and important and I don’t want to get sidelined by…by what happens when we get near a bed.”

She tensed a little, waiting for him to finish.

“Zoe, I don’t want to have any secrets or anything that could change how you feel—or not—about me.”