most intelligent response, but it was something.
“Care to expound on that, Dr. Morgan?” He covered my hand with his own, keeping it pressed to his cheek.
Realizing he didn’t let go—just like on the docks—I fumbled for a good reason why I’d be touching an engaged man’s face in the first place. Then I remembered I was a doctor. A medical one, even. “I thought you might have a fever. Your hand felt hot.”
“Did it?” He sandwiched my hand and forearm between both of his, pulling me closer with the act. “What about now?”
I nodded, making a bionic effort not to shiver against the heat coming off his entire body. The feel of his flesh against mine sent tingles in all the wrong directions. “But your forehead is cool, so I’m satisfied.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you satisfied, Dr. Morgan?”
Proud of myself for not gasping, I tugged my hand from his grip and stepped back, not attempting to rub the goose bumps on my…well, on my everything . “Uh, yes, thank you, Captain Marek. For your assistance with my research, I mean.” Even though he couldn’t have known what I thought he was asking, I felt a blush scalding my cheeks. Not breaking into a run to get to the door was almost impossible. “I should be going. No, please don’t trouble yourself. I can show myself out.” As I said this, I noticed the door wouldn’t open.
“Please allow me.” The door slid open immediately in his presence.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, and hurried to the elevator. Before the doors closed, I saw him leaning against the entrance to his office, grinning like a fool—a very attractive fool.
He was considerably more cheerful than I imagined. How many more of his stupefying smiles could I endure? As for his touches…I could probably count on one finger how many more of those I could stand.
I combed through my notes, thankful for once that I had nothing to add. I didn’t feel justified in asking my arms to complete thirty-five pushups and try to type in the same day. I knew the brunt of the aches and pains would come tomorrow, and in a moment of weakness, I regretted provoking Lt. Horan.
The moment was a short one.
I anticipated the arrival of the fresh research. Although Captain Marek didn’t understand the need to peruse failed lab experiments—child prodigy as he was—I hoped it would spike the punch of my own testing. Reviewing and eliminating every approached angle from the get-go would preserve invaluable time—time I could spend contriving unconsidered perspectives to create a new square one.
I was also curious to see if I recognized anyone’s name, and if any had been a colleague of mine at The University. If I found someone familiar, I knew I’d wonder if they’d also been kidnapped. And I’d wonder if they’d been the one to suggest my name to the United Nations, sealing my fate.
Still, my gut pointed to Dr. Folsom. And I couldn’t be angry about it. I conceded—if only to myself—that I enjoyed engaging in the activities of the Bellator . After the first few days, I stopped feeling like a prisoner here and more like a reluctant patron. My life would be forever enriched from the experience, regardless of the commencement, regardless of the outcome.
My life on the island was routine, monotonous, lonely—a life without living. My father would have hated my grow-old-and-die mentality, would have denounced it as a shameful squandering of time, energy and vitality of youth. I’d have to argue that point. It took very little energy to breathe in and out, to eat and drink, to shower, to sleep—an energy-efficient schedule, indeed. I could see the sting of disappointment in my mother’s frown as if she were right in front of me. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the island, to leave their final resting place.
Good thing I’d been forced.
I braved another glance at the clock and was surprised to find it was lunchtime. I grabbed the book, my symbol of
“Care to expound on that, Dr. Morgan?” He covered my hand with his own, keeping it pressed to his cheek.
Realizing he didn’t let go—just like on the docks—I fumbled for a good reason why I’d be touching an engaged man’s face in the first place. Then I remembered I was a doctor. A medical one, even. “I thought you might have a fever. Your hand felt hot.”
“Did it?” He sandwiched my hand and forearm between both of his, pulling me closer with the act. “What about now?”
I nodded, making a bionic effort not to shiver against the heat coming off his entire body. The feel of his flesh against mine sent tingles in all the wrong directions. “But your forehead is cool, so I’m satisfied.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you satisfied, Dr. Morgan?”
Proud of myself for not gasping, I tugged my hand from his grip and stepped back, not attempting to rub the goose bumps on my…well, on my everything . “Uh, yes, thank you, Captain Marek. For your assistance with my research, I mean.” Even though he couldn’t have known what I thought he was asking, I felt a blush scalding my cheeks. Not breaking into a run to get to the door was almost impossible. “I should be going. No, please don’t trouble yourself. I can show myself out.” As I said this, I noticed the door wouldn’t open.
“Please allow me.” The door slid open immediately in his presence.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, and hurried to the elevator. Before the doors closed, I saw him leaning against the entrance to his office, grinning like a fool—a very attractive fool.
He was considerably more cheerful than I imagined. How many more of his stupefying smiles could I endure? As for his touches…I could probably count on one finger how many more of those I could stand.
I combed through my notes, thankful for once that I had nothing to add. I didn’t feel justified in asking my arms to complete thirty-five pushups and try to type in the same day. I knew the brunt of the aches and pains would come tomorrow, and in a moment of weakness, I regretted provoking Lt. Horan.
The moment was a short one.
I anticipated the arrival of the fresh research. Although Captain Marek didn’t understand the need to peruse failed lab experiments—child prodigy as he was—I hoped it would spike the punch of my own testing. Reviewing and eliminating every approached angle from the get-go would preserve invaluable time—time I could spend contriving unconsidered perspectives to create a new square one.
I was also curious to see if I recognized anyone’s name, and if any had been a colleague of mine at The University. If I found someone familiar, I knew I’d wonder if they’d also been kidnapped. And I’d wonder if they’d been the one to suggest my name to the United Nations, sealing my fate.
Still, my gut pointed to Dr. Folsom. And I couldn’t be angry about it. I conceded—if only to myself—that I enjoyed engaging in the activities of the Bellator . After the first few days, I stopped feeling like a prisoner here and more like a reluctant patron. My life would be forever enriched from the experience, regardless of the commencement, regardless of the outcome.
My life on the island was routine, monotonous, lonely—a life without living. My father would have hated my grow-old-and-die mentality, would have denounced it as a shameful squandering of time, energy and vitality of youth. I’d have to argue that point. It took very little energy to breathe in and out, to eat and drink, to shower, to sleep—an energy-efficient schedule, indeed. I could see the sting of disappointment in my mother’s frown as if she were right in front of me. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the island, to leave their final resting place.
Good thing I’d been forced.
I braved another glance at the clock and was surprised to find it was lunchtime. I grabbed the book, my symbol of
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