FrankenDom

  “You told him?” I hissed.

  He nodded somberly. “As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d fucked up and I thought he’d better hear it from me first.”

  “Really? You thought I’d go running to him?” Had he even known me at all?

  “No, but word gets around in hospitals.”

  “Not from me, it doesn’t.” When he didn’t say anything, I couldn’t resist prompting, “And?”

  “And…he made sure I’d never again say anything without thinking about the potential consequences first.” When I looked at him curiously, he said, “None of your beeswax.”

  Although my imagination was going wild, I shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “So do you think you’re mature enough to let bygones be bygones?” he asked, raising his brow.

  I returned the look. “My maturity clearly isn’t the issue here, Dr. Beeswax.”

  Colin grinned. “Touché, Dr. McBride. So what about it—are you going to reach out and grab the chance of a lifetime?”

  Confused and torn, I looked out the window. It would be awkward enough working with Colin again after everything that had happened between us. But knowing Dr. Kilmartin had once wanted me as a woman, and had now sent for me as a surgeon…?

  I shook my head. No way would I flatter myself that it was just an excuse to see me again, because men like him didn’t hide behind excuses. They just took what they wanted.

  So why had Colin dangled that bit of information in front of my twitchy little nose and then moved right along as if it had no relevance now?

  Because it probably didn’t.

  And even if it did, I couldn’t let it affect my decision. It would be one thing to give up the fellowship at EVI in favor of a better offer—that was marginally justifiable. But Julian Kilmartin was the one deliciously frightening fantasy I’d never outgrown, and my heart still gave a jerk whenever I saw his photo on the internet or read some news story about him. Finding out that my attraction to him might have been reciprocated, at least on a physical level, pitched my stomach into free-fall, and everything in me longed to explore what might still be possible between us.

  That would be a totally unjustifiable reason for passing on EVI. Not to mention unprofessional as hell, and likely a tiny bit insane. Even if the attraction were still there, why should I expect it to unfold differently this time? Julian Kilmartin was clearly married to his research.

  If I accepted the offer, it would have to be for strictly professional reasons. I couldn’t let myself hope there might be more to the offer or I’d be setting myself up for disappointment of epic proportions.

  “If I have to get down on my knees and beg your forgiveness, I will.” The intensity of Colin’s voice startled me. “I’m serious, Rachel. What we’re working on is so big…”

  He blew out a huge breath and ran his hand through his short brown hair, which had lost none of its tendency to curl boyishly. Then he looked at me again. “If you pass on this, sooner or later you’re going to hate yourself. I guarantee it.”

  I bit my lip. “Can I have a few days to think about it?”

  “We have an experimental procedure scheduled on the 31st, and that date is set in stone. We need you there as soon as possible so we have time to bring you up to speed.” Unzipping his jacket, he pulled a manila envelope and handed it to me. “It’s all explained in the contracts.”

  “What—”

  “I’m due back in Montaneva tomorrow morning so all I can give you is…” He glanced at his watch. “Five hours. My cell is on my business card. If I don’t hear from you by three o’clock, I’ll have to make the offer to our second choice.”

  Second choice. So much for there being anything more to the offer.

  “No pressure there,” I grumbled.

  “Julian’s personal assistant will take care of all the details for you—moving and storage, travel arrangements, mail forwarding—”

  “Is she going to break the news to my parents and sisters?”

  “If you want him to, yes, he will.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I was kidding, but no thanks. If I accepted, could I at least tell EVI who I’d be working for so they’d know I wasn’t making the decision lightly?”

  “Of course. Julian will be contacting Brian Duff personally anyway.”

  Well that made me feel a little better. Dr. Duff would probably jump ship himself to work with Julian Kilmartin.

  “You have a passport,” he said, as if a negative answer were unthinkable. If he’d shown up here two months earlier, that’s what he would have gotten, though.

  “Yes. I did make it to the Turks and Caicos last month.”

  “I know. How was the diving?”

  He knew? What the hell did that mean? And what the hell else did he know?

  “Great,” I said in a defiant tone.

  “Excellent. So all you have to do is fill out the paperwork, sign the contracts in front of a notary, and pack your bags. Julian will have your work visa expedited.”

  “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  “You will.” He checked his watch again and headed for the front door.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you again,” I threw out desperately.

  “I’m not going to ask,” he threw back with a gleam in his eye.

  That shut my mouth, first with embarrassed annoyance and then with confusion. Exactly what did he mean by that?

  Standing on the threshold, he said, “Five hours, Rachel—don’t be late.”

  It didn’t dawn on me until the door closed softly behind him that I was holding my breath. I’d always felt slightly at sea with Colin Carter, and clearly that hadn’t changed a bit. After just ten minutes in his company, I felt as though I were on a small boat in the middle of a rolling ocean and hadn’t gotten my sea legs under me.

  And yet Colin had changed. He’d been genuinely humble and earnest, qualities I would never have ascribed to him five years ago. He’d apologized for his behavior back then, something I’d never known him to do. He’d even offered to get down on his knees and beg for my cooperation, something the hotshot senior resident I’d known would never have done.

  Dr. Colin Carter had obviously matured quite a bit, and he’d made me a straightforward professional offer with no apparent strings attached. So why did I still feel like we were playing some kind of game and he was the only one who knew the rules?

  God, was it me? Was I reading subtext in his words that wasn’t there? Was I the one who hadn’t changed, who hadn’t managed to move on after he vanished from my life?

  It was a humbling thought.

  Sighing, I pushed over a pile of papers and slumped onto the couch. From a professional standpoint, I’d have to be insane to pass up such offer—I knew I had the diagnostic instincts, the surgical skills and the competitive drive to play with the big boys, and this project could be history in the making.

  But from a personal standpoint, I was hopelessly outclassed and likely to make a complete fool of myself.

  I’d be have to be insane to accept.

  After going round and round with myself for hours, I finally gave up the fight. There were some things a woman just couldn’t live without knowing.

  “I’m in,” I said when Colin answered.

  I could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Welcome to Kilmartin BioTech, Dr. McBride. I’ll have a messenger there at three o’clock.”

  Kicking myself for dithering so long, I filled out all the forms, skimmed over the employment contract and rushed to the bank to sign all the documents in front of a notary, barely making it back to my apartment before the messenger arrived to pick them up.

  * * * * *

  The next couple of days passed in a blur of shopping, packing, and visiting. My parents and my older sister Clarissa were thrilled for me—they’d already adjusted to the idea of my living almost three thousand miles away, so what was another four thousand? They spent the evening crowded around Dad’s laptop with Clare�
�s husband Art, looking up information on Montaneva, a picturesque little speck of a country sandwiched between Hungary and Romania, and planning a family vacation there next summer.

  My younger sister Breanna used their distraction to drag me off to the kitchen and grill me like a cheese sandwich.

  Though Clare and I were closer in age, Bree and I were each other’s best friends. Clare tended to be a little domineering and a lot demanding, which made her the perfect army staff sergeant and worked very well for her and easy-going Art. But it had been a challenge for the rest of the family when we were growing up.

  Bree had been a bit of a challenge for my parents, too, just because she was so daring and outspoken, so completely at ease with herself and others. I’d worried about her a little, especially during her teens, but I’d also secretly admired her boldness and wished I were more like her. She was the only one I’d ever said anything to about Colin—though she got the heavily edited kid-sister cut— and she had plenty to say about the matter at the moment.

  “Are you crazy?” she demanded, plucking a bit of ham from the mostly denuded bone in the roaster and popping it in her mouth. “You’re going to let that douche canoe sweep you off to some foreign country nobody’s ever heard of and make you live in a place called Bangenschloss?”

  We both snickered—again—but I sobered immediately and said, “I’ve heard of Montaneva. And don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross.”

  She stuck her ham-laden tongue out at me. “How do you know he’s really taking you to Dr. Kilmartin? You said he fell off the radar years ago—what if he’s some serial killer who’s never caught because he lures women to foreign countries before he rapes, tortures and kills them? Maybe he’ll make you bang his schloss for a year and then grind you up and serve you as wienerschnitzel.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you even know what wienerschnitzel is?”

  “Or wait! Montaneva is right next door to Romania, and Transylvania’s in Romania, right?” Her eyes grew round. “Oooh! Maybe Dr. Kilmartin is a vampire and Colin the Cockhead is his human servant, scouring the world for tender-skinned blood slaves to take home to his master.”

  “Bree, where in God’s name do you get these insane ideas?”

  “I can read,” she sniffed.

  “Well you’re twenty-six years old now, for crying out loud,” I told her severely. “It’s time you started reading something a little more edifying. Pick up some biographies at the library or something.”

  She blew a raspberry at me and I grimaced, brushing imaginary bits of ham from the sleeve of my sweater.

  “Seriously, Rae, this doesn’t feel right to me. You shouldn’t let someone who already hurt you once take you so far away from the people who can protect you.”

  “What, like you’re Buffy or something?”

  “Hey, I can kill a man with nothing more than an air bubble,” she said with a narrow look, “but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “I know,” I said in a conciliatory tone. “Come on, you know it was mainly my pride that was hurt, and I’m the one who told Colin to get out, remember? If anyone should be worried, it’s him.”

  “You didn’t mean forever and the cockhead knew it,” she said doggedly. “And you had feelings for both of them.”

  “I had a fangirl crush on Julian just like every other resident in the building, and Colin was just a—”

  “Substitute?”

  “Fling.” I flung a piece of ham fat at her. “He was great in bed, that’s all.”

  “That’s it. I’m coming to visit you for Christmas. I have three weeks coming to me, and all the nurses on the floor owe me big-time because I’m the only one who’s single.”

  Uh-oh. I wasn’t allowed visitors for the first three months. “That might not be the best idea. We’re going to be really deep into this project.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed. “You can’t have visitors, can you?”

  “It’s a top secret project.” It sounded weak even to my ears.

  “Well there’s nothing that says I can’t meet you in town, is there?”

  “Of course not,” I said brightly. “Maybe I can get a day or two off and we can do some sightseeing while you’re there.”

  “Okay then,” she said, marginally pacified.

  “Hey, are you girls eating all the ham?” Art said, pulling up a chair and taking a defensive stance over the ham bone.

  Bree put up her hands. “Easy, boy, it’s all yours.”

  “You only say that because you know it’s true.” He looked at me. “The name of that place you’re going to, Bangenschloss?”

  Bree and I both snickered.

  “Grow up, girls. Schloss means castle. We looked it up on a German translation site. And believe it or not, Bangenschloss really is an ancient castle.”

  A vision of me emptying a chamber pot out the castle window onto the heads of unsuspecting peasants below made me shudder. “I assume it’s been updated with indoor plumbing?”

  “I’d think so. A couple of articles mentioned extensive renovations.”

  “Of course. They wouldn’t have put in labs with no bathrooms. Cool, then I’m down with a castle. Were there any photos?” I asked eagerly.

  “As a matter of fact, no. We couldn’t find a single one, which is really weird in this day and age. Not even a Google Earth image.”

  “Money buys privacy,” Bree said in a disgusted tone.

  “Yeah, that’s why the tabloids are filled with pictures of movie stars without makeup or Spanx.”

  It was Art’s turn to receive a hammy raspberry.

  “So what does bangen mean?” I asked.

  “Well, apparently it could either mean fear or awe.”

  Bree stared at him. “You’re shitting me. Castle of Fear? Really?”

  “Castle of Awe, with a mote of awesome sauce,” I said decisively. “I can’t wait to get there.”

  Chapter Two

  October 16

  By the time the limo passed through the little village of Kander and started the last leg of the journey deep into the woods of Montaneva, I was wired for sound. I’d slept for three or four hours—a good night’s sleep for me—at a London hotel when my connecting flight was cancelled due to weather, so rather than battling fatigue, I’d spent most of today’s trip trying unsuccessfully to dial back my excitement a little. Dr. Kilmartin had hired me as a surgeon. Period. End of story. If there were something more personal on his agenda, Colin would have said so, right? Or the man would have come himself.

  Right?

  Yeah, that’s what I kept telling myself, but I couldn’t help vibrating with nervous anticipation.

  “Pardon me, Dr. McBride, but we are arriving at Bangenschloss.”

  Startled out of my reverie, I jerked upright. “Awesome. As much as I enjoy it, I’m ready to be done with traveling for a while.”

  The handsome, brown-haired limo driver, who’d introduced himself simply as Dirk, nodded knowingly as he turned in between two imposing wrought-iron gates and headed up a rutted gravel drive. “I have been to the States many times in my life,” he said, meeting my eyes in the rear view mirror. “It is a long trip.”

  That explained his excellent English.

  “Very long,” I agreed. My eyes widened as we rolled to a stop, then I blinked repeatedly. “Are you sure this is it?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve been here many times.”

  He hopped out and hustled around to open my door while I stared out the tinted window at the pile of rough-hewn limestone that was to be my working home for the next two years. Bree and I had laughed because the name sounded kind of dirty, but I wasn’t laughing now.

  Bangenschloss was dirty, and not in a fun way. Square, squat, and as gray and foreboding as the storm clouds boiling up behind it, the castle had an eternity’s worth of filth drizzling down its mottled façade.

  Good God, maybe I would be emptying a chamber pot out my window.

  Assuming I could get it open
without sending a bunch of baby birds plummeting to their deaths. The sills of the narrow mullioned windows bristled with nests.

  And the two crenellated towers visible from this angle were riddled with holes and gouges, as if they’d taken a blast from God’s own shotgun. Hopefully that wasn’t their idea of air conditioning.

  “Dr. McBride?” Dirk was standing there with his hand out.

  Bemused by the courtly gesture, I hooked my purse and laptop over my shoulder and let him help me out of the limo. A quick glance around revealed that the grounds were almost as neglected as the castle. A jungle of weeds had pushed their way up between the cobblestones of the courtyard, the scattered ornamental shrubs were overgrown, and if there were any flower beds on the gently rolling grounds, I couldn’t see them for the grass, which had long since gone to seed. The whole place looked unkempt and unwelcoming, and so far from the sparkling Disney-esque palace of my imagination it was almost laughable.

  “No wonder there are no pictures on the internet,” I murmured. “The poor thing is probably embarrassed to be seen.”

  When I caught Dirk’s haughty look, heat prickled in my cheeks. “Sorry, that was tactless of me. I was told the castle had been renovated.”

  “The interior was extensively renovated,” he grunted as he grappled with the larger of my two bags. “And the castle was reroofed. It is now a palace fit for a king and all his minions.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I said quickly, though I had a feeling his idea of a palace and mine might be worlds apart. Note to self: Don’t diss the palace in front of the minions.

  But I knew there had to be a state-of-the-art research facility in there somewhere. Dr. Kilmartin’s personal assistant Vince had said during our brief phone conversation that I could bring whatever electronics I wanted because the entire castle had been rewired with 110-volt outlets—which was why I’d anticipated lots of glass and steel, with immaculately manicured, if utilitarian, grounds. Why would he go to all the trouble and expense of renovating the interior and then let the exterior go to hell like this?