Dr. Bodyguard Read online

  “I can’t remember.”

  It almost broke Nick to see her holding herself as though she was the only person she’d ever been able to depend on. It was enough to propel him forward and hold her.

  She was shaking. Maybe they both were, and he boosted her up onto the waist-high counter and let her cling. Let himself soothe.

  Three days ago, Dr. Genie Watson had been nothing more than a woman whose reputation for utter brilliance and cool standoffishness was hard to deny.

  Now, in just seventy-two short hours, Genie Watson had become so much more to Nick. And he couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching her. Wanting her.

  He couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t take advantage of her. She was scared, vulnerable. And he was her protector.

  “Nick,” she whispered, breaking in to his thoughts, “I know that this will be over soon, that they’ll find this guy and things will go back to the way they were before. So will you do me a favor and kiss me? Just once, so I know what it’s like?”

  “Genie, I—” Shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  Will.

  Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

  Beginning this October, Harlequin Intrigue has expanded its lineup to six books! Publishing two more titles each month enables us to bring you an extraordinary selection of breathtaking stories of romantic suspense filled with exciting editorial variety—and we encourage you to try all that we have to offer.

  Stock up on catnip! Caroline Burnes brings back your favorite feline sleuth to beckon you into a new mystery in the popular series FEAR FAMILIAR. This four-legged detective sticks his whiskers into the mix to help clear a stunning stuntwoman’s name in Familiar Double. Up next is Dani Sinclair’s new HEARTSKEEP trilogy starting with The Firstborn—a darkly sensual gothic romance that revolves around a sinister suspense plot. To lighten things up, bestselling Harlequin American Romance author Judy Christenberry crosses her beloved BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series into Harlequin Intrigue with Randall Renegade—a riveting reunion romance that will keep you on the edge of your seat.

  Keeping Baby Safe by Debra Webb could either passionately reunite a duty-bound COLBY AGENCY operative and his onetime lover—or tear them apart forever. Don’t miss the continuation of this action-packed series. Then Amy J. Fetzer launches our BACHELORS AT LARGE promotion featuring fearless men in blue with Under His Protection. Finally, watch for Dr. Bodyguard by debut author Jessica Andersen. Will a hunky doctor help penetrate the emotional walls around a lady genius before a madman closes in?

  Pick up all six for a complete reading experience you won’t forget!

  Enjoy,

  Denise O’Sullivan

  Senior Editor

  Harlequin Intrigue

  DR. BODYGUARD

  JESSICA ANDERSEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Though she’s tried out professions ranging from cleaning sea lion cages to cloning glaucoma genes, from patent law to training horses, Jessica is happiest when she’s combining all these interests with her first love—writing. These days she’s delighted to be writing full-time on a farm in rural Connecticut that she shares will a small menagerie of animals and a hero named Brian. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 204, Voluntown, CT 06384.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Genie Watson—When the brilliant scientist is brutally attacked and several “accidents” occur in her DNA lab, Genie must turn to co-worker Nick Wellington for protection, even though he’s just the type of man she has vowed to avoid.

  Nick Wellington—Caught between an ingrained need to protect and a learned distrust of smart, opinionated women who hog lab equipment, Nick fights to save Genie even as he struggles against his growing desires.

  George Dixon—He and Genie had once shared a relationship. Now they share a restraining order. How far will he go to get her back?

  Richard Fenton Sr.—The aging tycoon is putting financial pressure on Genie to disclose confidential genetic information. Could he be putting another kind of pressure on her, as well?

  Richard Fenton Jr.—Heir apparent to his father’s fortune, he will do anything to insure his future.

  Stephanie Alberts—Genie’s clinical coordinator has had terrible luck with men, but she thinks she’s found a keeper this time. Or is he just using her?

  Roger Strait—Is the salesman from Petrie Pharmaceuticals really Steph’s dream come true?

  Leo Gabney—One of the top administrators at Boston General Hospital, Leo will do anything to keep the hospital on track. Anything.

  For Brian,

  who only winced a little

  when I announced I was quitting the lab

  to write romance novels.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  “Wellington? Darn it, Wellington, are you in here?”

  Genie shoved at the revolving door and squinted into the research lab’s darkroom, trying to pick out her irritating co-worker’s broad-shouldered silhouette. She stepped inside, fumbled for a switch and heard the ultrasonic whine of warming red lights over the rumble of machinery. “Because if you’re hogging the developer again when my name is clearly written on the sign-up sheet, I’ll—”

  A blur of motion swept across the faintly red darkness. “Dr. Watson?”

  “Wellington, I—” But it hadn’t been her floormate’s voice. “Who—”

  The stranger’s hand clamped over her mouth. His hard, hot arm latched on to her ribs and crushed her back against his body. She opened her mouth to scream and tasted the powdered latex of a lab glove. Only a muffled whimper emerged.

  “Shut up.” His voice was uneven, his breath sour and his silhouette black against the bloody red lights. “Just shut up, slut-doctor-whore. Ruin a man’s life and think nothing of it, will you?”

  Genie screamed against the glove, thrashed and tried to elbow her captor in the ribs. He cursed and shoved her against the waist-high counter that circled the room. A starburst of pain sang as her hip smacked against something square and solid and red-black.

  His heartbeat pounded against her shoulder, quick and scared—or was that hers?—and he thrust against her backside and growled over the clanking hum of the X-ray developer. She tried to wrench away and he pressed harder, pushing her against the counter as she flailed her hands against the warm, red-black air.

  She was trapped. Powerless. And her office, safe and bright, wasn’t twenty feet away.

  “Thought you were safe in your ivory tower, didn’t you?” The whisper slid across her skin as his hand cruised up to cup her breast and pinch her nipple through the starched lab coat. “Thought you could take her away from me and I’d do nothing?”

  Genie felt her soft leather shoes slide on the linoleum floor as the sharp scent of spilled developer chemicals and madness stung her nose and tears burned her eyes. Shaking her head, she tried to say, No, no! Why are you doing this? I help people. I don’t take them away! But her struggles only excited him more and he tightened his grip.

  “We’re smarter than you think, Doctor. We figured out what you and the old man are up to. And we’re going to stop you. Permanently. But first…”

  He shifted his grip, his intent clear. Oh, God! Genie squealed and kicked backward but encountered only air. Her attacker chuckled and ground her harder against the sink. She whipped her
body from side to side in an effort to loosen his hot, trembling arms while her hands groped wildly for a weapon. Something. Anything.

  Her grasping fingers glanced off a pair of bandage scissors and sent them spinning to the floor.

  Oh, God!

  She flailed, straining against his superior strength and trying for the freedom she knew was only a few feet away. Then at the last possible moment, when she heard the rasp of his zipper and felt his cruel, groping hand on her body, Genie touched something else with a straining fingertip.

  Something heavy.

  Something cold and metal and sharp-cornered.

  As his hot fingers slithered up her leg beneath the sensible gray wool skirt, Genie screamed against the impersonal latex glove, grabbed the metal thing and swung it over her shoulder with all her might.

  There was a sickening thud as it connected. A bitter curse. Warm wetness sprayed her cheek and the hand fell away from her mouth. She was free!

  Then she saw a quick movement of black shadow against the unholy red light.

  Pain exploded in her head.

  And she saw no more.

  “DR. WATSON? Dr. Watson?”

  At first the voice reminded her of the loudspeaker at St. Agnes, where she’d done her residency. Dr. Watson. Paging Dr. Watson. Dr. Watson to the NICU.

  She’d hated the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, full of sick babies, some born with genetic disorders. For many of the tiny lives in the NICU the cures were few, the costs high, and the bright spark of consciousness too quickly snuffed. Like Marilynn. Poor, dear Marilynn. Genie shuddered and tried to slide deeper into the beckoning blackness.

  But the voice wouldn’t allow that. “Dr. Watson? Genie? Come on now, wake up.”

  She must be dreaming. She heard the rubba-thump, rubba-thump of the light-proof revolving door and wondered what the light lock was doing in her bedroom.

  “Genie? Can you hear me?” For that matter, what was a man’s voice doing in her bedroom? The last time that had happened the voice had belonged to the cable guy, and he’d been whiny and had a hanging butt crack the size of a Smithfield ham.

  “She’s unconscious. And look at all that blood.” Another voice murmured agreement as the first one said, “Where the hell are the paramedics? The genetic research building is part of Boston General, for chrissake. The E.R.’s right down the street. What’s taking them so long?”

  Frustration edged the tone, but the voice was still nice-gruff and interesting, without the nasal twang of Boston. His voice made Genie feel warm and fuzzy and she wanted to snuggle into the sound and bring it with her to the safe darkness.

  “Genie? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? She liked that. She hadn’t been anyone’s sweetheart in a long, long time. Not since her father died.

  Her eyes remained stubbornly closed when she ordered them to open, but her head began to hurt like hell as if the act had alerted thousands of anxious neurons that she was conscious and ready for pain.

  Rubba-thump, rubba-thump. The sound of the revolving light lock magnified the throbbing behind her eyes and she began to feel the hard, cool floor beneath her. This wasn’t her bedroom and, oh, she was beginning to hurt.

  A new voice, excited. “The police and the paramedics are here.” An audible gulp. “Is Dr. Watson going to be okay? That’s an awful lot of blood.”

  “I don’t think it’s all hers. I hope to hell it’s not.” She could feel her anchor move away. With a monumental effort she cracked open her eyes and made out a blurry man-shape against the bright, stabbing light.

  “Don’t leave me. Please.” Was that pitiful croak really her own voice? It must have been, because she heard him crouch down beside her, felt him take her hand—

  And she slid back into the warm, blessed darkness, taking his presence with her. Feeling safe.

  “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED, Nick?” Leo Gabney looked as though he wanted to yank at his hair as he paced the moss green waiting room at Boston General’s E.R. Instead he pulled a soggy handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped it across the top of his glistening scalp, turned and marched back the way he had come.

  Nick watched his boss pace and didn’t say a word. He’d screwed up, that’s what happened. The developer room was across the hall from his office, for God’s sake. He should’ve known something was wrong. He should’ve been quicker, smarter. Better, said the Senator’s voice in the back of his head, and Nick twisted his lips in rare agreement.

  He’d been annoyed when Jill had told him she hadn’t developed yesterday’s DNA sequencing because the darkroom was still being used. He’d said something pithy and rude about the one-step-holier-and-a-heck-of-a-lot-smarter-than-the-creator M.D., Ph.D. he was forced to share lab space with and had ignored the Occupied—Please Do Not Enter sign on the darkroom door. He’d simply barged in, intent on giving Dr. Genius a piece of his mind.

  The red lights had been on. He’d expected that, since only an idiot would handle autorad film in white light and Dr. Genius was anything but an idiot. But he hadn’t expected the little room to be torn apart, with film cassettes opened and scattered willy-nilly and the developer’s guts strewn about like spaghetti.

  Then he’d stepped further into the room and his foot had slipped on something dark. Something trailing. A black ribbon that led directly to the crumpled lab coat under the sink. He’d flicked on the fluorescents and the red of the dark lights had become a patchwork of macabre crimson splashes on the floor and walls.

  Blood. Lots of it. And the motionless body of his archnemesis, Dr. Eugenie Watson, M.D., Ph.D.

  “Gentlemen?” The strange voice echoed in the E.R. waiting room and Nick shot to his feet. It wasn’t the cops this time. It was a doctor in bloodstained greens.

  It was too soon. They couldn’t possibly have stopped all that bleeding in so little time. She must’ve died.

  Genius Watson was dead.

  Nick remembered that he’d been rude to her that morning in the elevator, more out of habit than any real rancor, and perhaps also because for one brief moment he’d thought she looked nice in the soft gray wool skirt and high-buttoned blouse. Pretty. Touchable.

  When a man started thinking of gray wool and lace collars as sexy, he needed to get laid. Fast. Or so he’d thought at the time. Now all he could think was that he’d do anything to go back in time and murder the guy in the darkroom for trashing their experiments and injuring Dr. Watson.

  Killing her?

  He had a sudden, sharp image of Watson’s bloody hand lying in his as they rode to the hospital in the shrieking ambulance. She had begged him not to leave when she should have been cursing him for not finding her sooner. How had he not known something was wrong? He’d been sitting in his office wrestling with that damned journal article. How had he not sensed something? Heard something?

  “Is she—” Even Leo Gabney, the most insensitive man Nick had ever met, was unable to finish the question.

  “Eugenie Watson is one tough lady.”

  Nick glanced quickly at the doctor. “Then she’s—”

  “Going to be fine.” Apparently the doctor was familiar with this fill-in-the-blanks form of conversation. “She has a whopping headache and a few stitches to close up the laceration across her eyebrow, but there’s no indication of more serious damage.”

  “But what about—”

  “The blood?” The doctor grinned. “Very little of it was hers. Her attacker must’ve been a mess when she was through with him. I’ve discussed it with Detective Sturgeon and he’ll put area hospitals on the lookout.”

  Nick thought about the panty hose torn half off her body. He hated to ask. “Was she—”

  The doctor shook his green-capped head. “No evidence of further sexual assault. I’d say she changed his mind by fighting back.” Both Nick and Gabney relaxed marginally. The doc continued, “But we can’t be sure exactly what happened. She doesn’t remember anything about the attack, which isn’t surprising if
you consider what a horrible experience it must have been. The brain has its own way of protecting itself.”

  “She doesn’t remember anything?” Nick spun toward the new voice, having not realized that Detectives Sturgeon and Peters had entered the room. Sturgeon was sucking one of the peppermints he’d been working his way through ever since he’d arrived at the lab on the heels of the paramedics. His sallow cheeks, moving in and out with each peppermint suck, made him as if he should be behind glass at the Boston Aquarium rather than at the helm of a major investigation. “Is she conscious?”

  The doctor wasn’t intimidated by Sturgeon’s scowl. “She doesn’t remember the attack, and she’s conscious now but not in any shape to answer questions. You’ll have to wait.”

  Then, just as Nick was coming to like the doctor, the guy said, “You can make do with this gentleman. He found Miss Watson.”

  The cops turned with identical fishy looks and Peters flipped to a new page on his pad. “And your name would be?”

  Nick sighed. “Dr. Nicholas Wellington the Third, Ph.D.”

  Sturgeon raised an eyebrow. “Any relation to the Nicholas Wellington that ran for president a few years ago?”

  Feeling that helpless mix of guilt and anger that always came with thoughts of the Senator, Nick nodded. “He’s my father.”

  “I’M FINE.” Genie batted at the nurse’s hands and shooed the blood-pressure cuff away. “I’m a doctor, I should know when I’m okay to leave, don’t you think?” The nurse rolled her eyes and glanced at a nearby man in green scrubs as if to say Not frickin’ likely. The frazzled intern who grinned in reply didn’t look a day over fourteen.

  Genie winced at the unkind thought. She hadn’t been much older than that when she interned—a fact her colleagues never let her live down. She was the last person who should be complaining about her doctor’s age, particularly when he was agreeing with her.

  “That’s correct, you’re perfectly fine. Now.” He paused for emphasis. “But you know as well as I do that after a concussion of such severity you should be monitored for at least the next twenty-four hours in case there is additional swelling of the brain.”