Echo 8 (5 page)

Despite the short, strappy nightgown Abby had slipped over Tess for the sake of modesty, and despite the curvy softness pressed close against his body, his gear retracted, confused by the temperature of the creature in his arms. But that didn't last. The smell and feel of her invaded his senses, coaxing blood back into his extremities.

“Sorry, Doctor,” he mumbled.

Her body gave a jerk—whether in response to his voice, he wasn't sure—and she coughed.

He eased her head back and looked at her. The lights were dimmed to the lowest setting, but bright moonlight shone through the west-facing windows, washing over the bed, and he could see her throat working.

He moved closer, listening for her breathing.

Her eyelids lifted and he froze.

She stared at him without blinking, her body resting limp in his arms. Her green eyes shone like glass, or the surface of a lake.

Oh God.

“Doctor?” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, then over her back.

Still she didn't move.

His jaw clenched and he swallowed. His arms clutched convulsively.

He felt her hand twitch at his waist, and he drew a sharp breath as it slid slowly up his ribs. Her fingers continued to glide up to his neck, raising chill bumps on his skin, and finally threaded into his hair.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as her fingers pressed the back of his head. He shivered and let her guide him. Their lips met, and a soft moan sounded in her throat.

This was
not
what he'd been afraid of when Abby asked him to crawl into bed with Tess. It had been the furthest possibility from his mind.

It was the very last thing he should be doing.

But here she was lying against him, awake and responding to his proximity, as he had responded to hers. The woman was aggravating without a doubt, but she was also interesting and sexy. And he was no more or less than a man.

He kept as still as he could, unsure whether she was awake—not wanting to wake her by trying to extract himself.

She continued to work her lips gently against his—so soft, so
warm
. Her lips parted, her tongue probing into his mouth, and
he
moaned. Her chest expanded with deepening breaths.

Finally her lips opened and released, and her head sank onto the pillow. He could feel her skin warming, and her heart beating solidly against him.

His hand closed over her waist, and he took a slow, tremulous breath, trying to steady his own hammering heart.

*   *   *

Ross's eyes opened suddenly, and he found himself staring into Abby's smiling face. Her straight blond hair, free from its usual twist, tickled his bare chest.

But Abby wasn't looking at him.

Gazing down, he discovered Tess's head resting on his chest, her hand splayed across his sternum. Her fingers stretched, lifting at the tips, and she turned her face to Abby, blinking in the morning light.

Relief mingled with surprise at finding Tess curled up against him. Both of them were damp with sweat.

“Thank God,” murmured Abby, touching her face.

Tess nestled against him, nose brushing his chest, and she drew in a breath through her nose, smelling him. Not exactly the reaction he'd expected. Was she really awake? Did she think he was someone else? Again he held still, afraid of what would happen if he broke the spell.

Tess gasped. She shot away from him, pressing her back against the windows next to the bed. Her eyes opened wide. He watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and the color stealing over her pale cheeks.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

*   *   *

Agent McGinnis sat up and combed his hands through his dark hair. Tess's breath caught. She was sure keeping fit was some unwritten job requirement—maybe even a written one—but wow, the man was ripped. Not in a gross, exaggerated way. More of a tight, sexy, the-better-to-hold-you-with-my-dear way.

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “What are you doing in my bed?” The throaty, morning-after timbre of her voice caused her to flush again.

She glanced around at the unfamiliar, spare furnishings and then at Abby. “Whose bed am I in?”

No one answered right away, and she looked down, noting with a hiss of alarm the low-scooped, green chemise stretching across her breasts. What had she missed? Had she and Ross…?
No, not possible.

Abby grabbed the top blanket and wrapped it around Tess's shoulders, sitting beside her.

“Do you remember what happened with the Echo? Ross got you away from him.”

“No,” muttered Ross. “He let her go.”

Tess closed her eyes, grasping, and finally it came rushing back.
He let me go.
She hadn't thought them capable of leaving a victim alive.

Her eyes snapped open. “Ross, you didn't shoot him?”

“No, Doctor. He's very much alive.”

“Tess,” said Abby, “we thought we were going to lose you. Ross and I have been taking care of you all night.”

She read the reassurance in her supervisor's gaze. There'd been nothing compromising. No inappropriate behavior. Apparently she and Ross hadn't gotten drunk and fallen into bed together. But then why was her head pounding like a fraternity house hangover? And why wouldn't Ross look at her?

She watched him rise from the bed, boxer briefs stretching over his thighs and backside. He walked to the dresser and slipped on a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt. It was the first time she'd seen him in anything but a jacket and tie. The funeral director uniform suited him, but this—this was much better. He looked like a real person. Like he had a soul and a beating heart. Of course she'd heard his beating heart for herself, just moments ago.

Ross turned slowly, eyes settling on her face. He looked confused and unsure—another first. “I can make coffee,” he said. His lips curved down. “Except I don't have any.”

“I'll go down and borrow from the cafeteria,” said Abby, rising. “I'll update Dr. Bakshi on the way.”

Tess shot her a pleading look, but Abby was already on her way out the door.

Ross and Tess stared after her.

“How do you feel, Dr. Caufield?” he asked without turning.

Eyeing the slinky nightgown again, she thought about how it had felt to lie pressed against his body. Safe. Warm.
Interesting
. “I think you might as well call me Tess.”

“How do you feel,
Tess
?”

“My head hurts. I feel heavy.” She drooped back against the window, sighing. “I feel lucky. How is Jake?”

Ross sank down at the kitchen table, about as far away from her as he could get in the studio apartment. He stretched his legs underneath, crossing his ankles. She noticed he had long, bony feet, like hers.

“A little twitchy. Wretched about what he did to you. Wretched in general, I think, and really confused. He told me he killed himself, back on his Earth.”

Tess sat up. Professor Goff's subjects had died right before the destruction too. It had seemed like too much of a coincidence not to be related somehow to their dislocation.

“At least I'll get another chance to talk to him,” she said, rising from the bed and pulling the blanket around her. She scanned the room for her clothes.

“You're going now?” asked Ross.

Her gaze settled again on his face. A little of the old resentment flared, but things had changed now. She owed him her life, and she could no longer so easily dismiss him.

“After I shower and have some breakfast.”

He frowned. “You're sure you're up to that?”

“Does it matter? It's my job.”

Her instincts warned her not to let him see her eagerness. He wouldn't view her near-death experience as the breakthrough she did. Jake had recharged without killing her. It
was
possible. She had to find out how. And before he faded, they'd have to do it again. It was the first real hope for addressing this crisis.

Ross moved from the table to the couch and pulled on a pair of well-worn basketball sneakers. He lifted a laptop bag from the coffee table.

“We're in agreement you stay outside the lab?” He paused a beat, gripping the shoulder strap. “The agents have orders not to let anyone in.”

“We're in agreement,” she replied.
For now.

He nodded. “There's something I need to do. I won't be long.”

“Ross,” she said, arresting his movement toward the door, “I want to thank you for getting me out of there. And for…” She couldn't help glancing at his pillow. “For everything you did to help.”

“You don't need to thank me, Doctor. I was assigned to protect you.
It's my job
.”

There was nothing uncivil in his tone, but it dropped the temperature in the room. He left, closing the door behind him.

She rose on shaking legs and walked to the coffee table, where her clothes lay folded in a neat pile. She carried them to the bathroom, dressed, and washed her face. She was bone-tired, like she'd been down with flu. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she gasped at the stripe of white in her hair. She ran her fingers through it and tucked it behind her ear.

As she straightened, her eyes moved over Ross's things—toothbrush, shaver, hair gel.

She exited the bathroom and headed down to the lab, leaving the shower and breakfast for later. Grateful as she was for what Ross had done, she wanted some time alone with Jake.

 

W
INDOWS

According to quantum theory and the many experiments that bear out its predictions, the quantum connection between two particles can persist
even if they are on opposite sides of the universe
. From the standpoint of their entanglement, notwithstanding the many trillions of miles of space between them, it's as if they are right on top of each other.

—Physicist Brian Greene, “Spooky Action at a Distance,” PBS.org

T
HE
E
CHO
lay on the floor with his arm draped over his eyes. Tess raised her hand and tapped the window with her knuckle.

His arm dropped, and in a heartbeat he'd crossed the room to the door.

She turned on the intercom. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God,” he choked out, “are
you
?”

“I'm okay,” she assured him.

“I had no idea, I swear. I never would have…” He shook his head. “This is insane. You're sure you're okay?

“I'm sure. Just take it easy. It wasn't your fault.”

His eyes fixed on the white at her temple. “You really shouldn't be here.”

“I need to ask you some questions. But if I'm too close—if I'm making you uncomfortable—we'll figure out another way.”

“Making
me
uncomfortable?” He laughed. “I'm glad to see you. I was afraid I'd killed you.”

“I
should
be dead, Jake. I need to understand why I'm not.”

Jake frowned, and his gaze flitted in a random, nervous way before settling again on her. “What do you want to ask me?”

“Maybe we could start with how it felt, and what you were thinking about while we were connected.”

He hesitated, and more color stole into his already flushed cheeks. “I don't understand why you're bothering with this. Wouldn't it be easier to just have your bodyguard shoot me?”

She braced herself against the door. Her legs felt like dry spaghetti about to snap. “That's exactly the way we're managing you now. I'm looking for a better way. I need to understand how much choice is involved in … in what you do. I need to understand if it's possible to control your impulse to feed.”

Jake chewed on this a moment. “Did you say you're a parapsychologist?”

“That's right.”

“And that's what, exactly?”

“A scientist who studies psychic and paranormal phenomena.”

“You mean like ghosts?”

“Yes, but that's not my particular specialty. I'm more interested in precognitive ability, and psychokinesis.”

He eyed her like she was some kind of strange insect, which struck her as ironic. “Are you a Ph.D.?”

She nodded. “I have a doctorate in psychology. I did extra coursework in psi through the University of Edinburgh.”

“So what does a parapsychologist write her thesis on?”

“I wrote a scholarly analysis of the impact of quantum physics on our understanding of psi phenomena.”

Jake's eyebrows shot up. “Okay, I'm impressed.”

“Tess?”

She turned from the window to see Abby headed for her, bearing a cafeteria tray and a disapproving frown. “I knew I'd find you down here. You should be resting.”

The tray was loaded with food—cereal, toast, blueberries, even a steaming mug of coffee. Tess's stomach growled. “You're an angel, Abby. I'll take a break right now.”

Tess turned back to Jake. “I want to continue our conversation. I'm just going to slip across the hall and eat something first, okay?”

“Okay, Doc.”

Abby followed Tess to the conference room, and they sat down at the table.

The director gave her a troubled look. “I don't know what to do about this damn board meeting.”

Tess poured milk in her coffee. “What do you mean?”

“I can't leave you alone here. But I'm supposed to go in”—she glanced at her watch—“less than an hour.”

Tess laughed. “Apparently you haven't noticed all the people with black suits and matching accessories wandering the halls.”

“I know, but what if you need someone who's not one of
them
?”

“I'll call you.” Tess eyed her over the rim of her cup. “You can't be seriously thinking about not going. This is your biggest meeting of the year. Who's going to give your funding presentation?”