Spotlight & Giveaway: Flatline by Linda Bond

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Linda Bond to HJ!

Hi Linda and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Flatline!

 
Thank you all for taking your time to read about my next release. I’m very grateful to be doing what I love and appreciate you and Harlequin Junkie for hosting me.
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

Sexy Dr. McDreamy in scrubs. His former fiancé -an investigative reporter -in his ER. With a friend who is dying. It’s been 5 years since they’ve seen each other. 5 years since her brother died. 5 years since she investigated his ER. 5 years since he broke things off. 5 years. Now people are dying again. People they both know. And his ex is back in his ER. Whether it is an outbreak, an epidemic, or even a botched flu vaccine, she’s going to tell the world. #medicalthriller #2020 #guaranteedhappyending.
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

Reporter Rachel Wright’s producer had thrown up twice in
the car on the mad race over to Tampa Bay Hospital, but it
was the blood in Jackie’s vomit and the lethargy in her limbs
that had her heart whacking against the ribs. An investigative
reporter, she thrived on tense situations, but right now every
blood vessel in her body had to be constricted.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• I spent 10 years as a medical reporter for a TV station in Tampa, Florida so this book is based on real life experience.
• My inspiration for Joshua Salvador is an ER doc in Tampa I used to interview on the news. He was a real life Dr. McDreamy.
• The dinner Dr. Salvador made for Rachel in Flatline is a meal I used to make for my husband when we first met. #RopaVieja
• I’m a Grey’s Anatomy junkie and wish I could intern with Shonda Rhimes
• I have a think for men in scrubs. Hello!

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

He longs for a family, and she’s dedicated to hers.
She loves a smart man who knows what’s he’s doing and isn’t afraid of a woman who knows what she is doing, too.
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe Hero and Heroine’s love affair?

Second chance to get it right.
 

The First Kiss…

She backed up. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to help you.”
She swayed, her eyes blinking rapidly.
He reached for her, his elbow accidentally hitting the shelving behind him. Her pictures rattled. One fell, shattering on the floor.
She jumped, her gaze following the picture to the ground.
His gaze followed hers. Oh, shit.
She bent down, lifted the picture of a younger Elizabeth up off the floor. Her hands were shaking.
He wanted to hold them. To steady them.
“I can’t do this again,” she whispered.
Yes, you can. But the damn words were stuck.
Moving around him, she placed the picture on the shelf. Broken glass shards fell onto the floor at his feet.
Her body was putting off heat. Feverish heat.
“I won’t do this again. Please leave, Joshua.” She grabbed his hand, jerking him toward the door.
He let her lead him.
“I have to focus. I need to be here for Elizabeth. I have to call Jackie’s parents back. Work is calling me every five minutes.”
The doctor in him kicked in, recognizing her rant, feeling her warm fingers, seeing the sweat bubbling on her shiny forehead. He needed to calm her down, lower her blood pressure, before she hyperventilated and passed out again.
“I don’t know what to do. Do I take Elizabeth to the ER? Do I just watch her myself? How do I even explain to a doctor—”
Distract her.
Joshua shifted his weight, gently shifting the power, then carefully pushed her until her back hit the wall.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted.
He leaned in.
Her hot breath hit his skin.
His body responded. Jesus. What was wrong with him? He was so close to her. That’s what was wrong. No, this is what’s finally right.
She knew what was coming—he could see it in her eyes, the way her pupils were dilating. They’d been here many times before. The mad make-up following one of their fierce fights.
She wasn’t pulling away. She was looking up at him, her body still, her breathing fast and shallow, waiting for him to make a move.
His heart leapt. He wanted to distract her by planting his lips on hers.
Her body relaxed, and her arms slipped around his neck, as they’d done so many times before.
He put his hands on her backside and pulled her up into him, loving the feeling of her heart beating against his chest once again. “It will all be okay. I promise.” He pressed his lips to her neck, feeling the blood racing through her artery.

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

My favorite scene is when these two former lovers realize it’s okay for them to be lovers again…despite their tragic past.

Rachel leaned back against her kitchen island, giving in to
the delicious feeling, knowing it would help put a positive
end to a horrific day, possibly help her sleep, and definitely
bridge that gap of intimacy and trust between them that had
been so badly broken.
This was the feeling she’d been dreaming about, longing
for, desiring and living for. The sensation of his lips on
hers. The way his kisses made her forget herself. Forget
everything. The heat kissing him generated elsewhere. This
was exactly what she needed.
His hands were in her hair, pulling, tugging, and forcing
her head back. Just a little pain sending fire to the tips of her
already heightened nerves. He kissed her neck again. Her
shoulders lifted, and she rolled her head, exposing more of
her skin to him, the pleasure of it almost too much to bear.
Desire rippled through her center. She moaned, both from
happiness and embarrassment at how quickly she’d caved
to lust.
It had been so damn long.
He lifted his head. “We should go to the bedroom.”
His eyelids were heavy, his eyes intense with desire. “Your
mom.” He sounded winded. “Elizabeth.” Like he was
having trouble breathing, too.
“Both asleep.” All Rachel could think about was
how long she’d fantasized about this very moment. The
reconnection. She wanted it fast and furious. “I’ve waited
five years. I’m not waiting a second more.” She reached for
his shirt to pull him closer.
His hand shot out. Stopping her.
Her heart skidded. “What?”
“At least let me…” He sprinted to the wall near the
hallway. “Turn off lights.” He flipped the switch.
The room went dark.
The hair on her arms rose.
“We’ll just be quiet.” Suddenly, he was on her again,
arms around her waist, pulling her up, lifting her into him.
Onto him. If only she didn’t have the damn yoga pants on.
He took a step back. Wobbled.
She threw out her hands, looking for something to steady
herself. Her right hand knocked her wine glass, sending it
sliding across the marble island, dropping to the tile floor
with a loud crash.
They froze. She wrapped her legs around his body,
wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in that
warm space where his neck and shoulders met, and held her
breath.
No lights flipped on.
No one was coming.
She heard it. The sound of his desire. Blood pumping
through the artery in his neck, pulsing with intensity.
Then, she felt it.
His heart thumping in his chest like a boxer’s fist.
Her own flapping against her rib cage in time with his.
She couldn’t breathe in this loud silence. Couldn’t see in
this blinding darkness. But she could speak. “Oh God, don’t
stop.” This time, her mouth found his, and she kissed him,
urging him on.
He carried her across the room, stumbling as his foot hit
a piece of furniture, spinning. He hit a wall. He broke the
kiss. “Your bedroom would be safer.”
“I don’t want safe.” Her arms went up.
“You never did.” He set her down.
As her feet hit the floor, he pulled her tank over her
head. She didn’t have a bra on. The cool air hit her skin.
“Make me forget today.”
Her nipples hardened as the roughness of his cotton
shirt brushed against her. She needed him naked. Now.
She fumbled for his belt buckle, unbuttoned his pants,
and yanked them off. Sad that her eyes—not yet adjusted to
the dark—couldn’t feast on his fine form. His body had been
her temple for so long.
He pulled off his shirt.
Now naked from the waist up, her hands moved up his
chest. He had little body fat, so her fingers found ridges.
“Joshua.”
His skin was heated and a little slick from sweat. She
wanted to taste him. Savor the salt. Her lips found his
nipple, teasing it.
His hands tangled in her hair, bringing her face up to
his, kissing her again. Totally in control.
He squatted, putting both hands under her butt. He
lifted her, moving into the living room, lowering her onto
a futon.
The air escaped her lungs in one brief jailbreak, leaving
her breathless, chilled, hot and needy.
He lifted one limb and pulled her pants leg off.
He was moving too slowly. The adrenaline dumping
into her system all day long had worn her out. She didn’t
want the foreplay. She helped him by kicking the other leg
out.
He threw her pants on the floor. His body moved
forward, landing on hers, his hands keeping him from
crushing her.
She pulled at his shoulders, wanting him down on top of
her, almost all flesh to flesh, mouth to mouth.
He moaned into the kiss.
“I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered into the
kiss.
The hum of a cell phone on silent broke through the
heated silence.
…
His damn phone was vibrating on the kitchen island.
His heart was focused only on one thing.
But his brain registered that calls after midnight on
his private cell were never good. He adjusted over Rachel.
Gently touched her cheek. “I have to get that.”
“I know.”
He jumped up and pulled on his pants. He couldn’t see
it, but he felt her energy change.
He felt the urge to explain. “Could be an emergency with
one of the patients I saw in the ER today.” Or an emergency
with one of the doctors in his group. Or the test results from
that smoking gun vaccine. Damn it! He should have let the
phone go to voice mail.
“Let me get the light.”
Cool air drifted over him as she shuffled in the dark
toward a light switch.
The light burst on.
He blinked, trying to catch his breath and swallow his
disappointment at being interrupted. He marched to the
island and grabbed his phone. “Joshua Salvador.”
“Need help.”
Joshua straightened, his back now rigid. “Who is this?”
“Steve.”
Steve’s voice sounded different. Muffled. “What’s
wrong?”
A forever pause. “I’ve. Been. Injected.” His words were
both breathy and clipped. “You know. India. Remember
India. You. You’re the only one. Who. Can. Save me. Bring
it. With you.”
Needlelike pricks of fear erupted all over his skin. “Give
me your address.”

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

He still hadn’t looked at her.
Rachel’s heart beat like an intern facing her first confrontational news interview.
How many ER physicians worked at Tampa Bay Hospital?
Dozens, at least.
And her ex-boyfriend had to be working today?
Rachel placed a hand on her chest. Could Joshua hear it pounding? Because she could hear her pulse drumming in her ears. She felt like throwing up, herself. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Joshua said, his voice booming.
So, he did know she was in the room.
Joshua pressed his fingers into Jackie’s wrist. “Nurse Dawson her skin is a bit jaundice, pulse is weak.” He moved Jackie’s sleeve up. “Profound swelling and marked bruising extending over her left upper arm.” He continued in a professional, robotic tone. “I need a complete blood count and a metabolic profile.”
He still hadn’t looked at Rachel.
“Tox screen. Ativan for the seizure.”
“She’s going to be alright, right, Joshua?” She couldn’t keep the doubt out of her voice. She hadn’t meant for it to be there. She knew what her doubt would do to him.
Joshua didn’t look up, but his body stilled for an instant. It was so quick his nurse probably didn’t notice. But, she did.
Jackie stopped shaking, but she continued to twitch.
Rachel’s knees went weak. This felt like déjà vu. For many reasons.
It had been five years since her brother had died in this very ER with Joshua in the room.
Five years since she’d become a mother to her grieving niece.
Five years since she’d investigated Joshua’s ER physician’s group for medical malpractice.
Five years since Todd, the doctor in charge that night, had resigned.
Five years since Joshua had broken up with her over her series of stories.
Five years since she’d been promoted into the investigative unit, becoming ‘Rachel Makes It Right.’
Five years since she signed a new contract, which was up in a few months.
Five years since she’d had a decent night’s sleep.
The beeps of a machine sped up to an alarming rate.
A baby’s cry from another room escalated into a wail.
“Skin is warm to the touch.” Joshua pulled his fingers from Jackie’s wrist.
He finally looked at Rachel.
The heat of his gaze lit her cheeks on fire. She stumbled backwards.
Today felt so different from the day they’d met here in the hospital almost seven years earlier. She’d been with Jackie on that day, too. Jackie had come down with a case of annoying bronchitis. Joshua had been intense. Intensely flirting with her. Jackie had noticed and had slipped Joshua Rachel’s number.
The man in front of her now had hardened into a different kind of man, and she was partially responsible for his change.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” he said.
The frantic activity stopped. For one brief moment, the room calmed, as if the energy had been vacuumed out of it.
Then his words broke the suction. “You’re not family. I know you’re not. You need to leave.”
Rachel took a step forward, her breath sputtering. At one time, the three of them had been like family. “I can’t leave Jackie. You know I—”
His hand shot out, silencing her. “That was not a request. This is my hospital. My trauma room. My order. Get. Out.”
Feet wide, she braced herself for a fight. She wasn’t leaving until she knew Jackie wasn’t going to die.

Readers should read this book …

because we are all living in through a real life medical pandemic right now. One we never saw coming. It’s crazy that I wrote this book right before Covid-19. Now I have a much greater appreciation for our front line doctors and nurses.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’m working on a series with a main character who is an investigative reporter who is taking care of her family after her mother and eldest sister are killed by a serial killer. And ten years later, the killings began again. She’s forced to turn to her former fiancé and an older, standoffish FBI profiler to protect her family while she tries to find the killer before he kills again. And this time her siblings are his target.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: I will give away one signed copy of Flatline.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: How has this covid-19 pandemic affected you? And will it affect your love for medical thrillers?

 
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Excerpt from Flatline:

“Rachel shivered on a bed in the trauma room of Joshua’s ER for the second time in twenty-four hours. She rolled onto her right side so she could see the bite marks the guard dog left on the back of her calf. Her skin looked red and swollen, and the wound throbbed like a toothache left untreated. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to deflect the pain.
She had four cuts, two deeper ones that had finally stopped bleeding.
Joshua had insisted she get the wounds cleaned out and stitched up. She stopped fighting him so he could just do it, and they could continue on with their investigation.
They were wasting valuable time. She feared more patients would arrive while Joshua was busy stitching her up.”
But maybe this interlude would be a chance for them to talk about more than just the investigation.
He pushed his fingers into latex gloves.
“She crinkled her nose at the stomach-stirring combination of fresh blood and alcohol rub.
Joshua drew a clear liquid into a syringe.
“I’ll be quick.”
Before she could react, he squirted the liquid into the cuts.
“Ouch! That burns.” She swatted his hand away. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
He, in turn, pushed her hand away. “Don’t start with me. The police are waiting to talk to us. I have to do this first.” He placed a pad on her skin, applying pressure. “You want an infection?”
She shook her head, thinking about Bob Smith and his son’s terrible MRSA infection and the Dress Syndrome that had followed.
“I’ve ordered a rabies shot.”
Her fingers went cold. “Oh, hell no.” Those shots were supposed to hurt like hell. Big, long needles that went deep.
“Listen”—Joshua cut her a look that burned almost as much as the rubbing alcohol—“I had to pull some big strings to get you back here ahead of the line in the waiting room.” He pulled the gauze away. “And to keep the police at bay.”
Her stomach revolted but not just from the smell of her open wound. “Think we’re in trouble?” She wobbled up onto her elbow so she could watch.
“Just tell the truth.” He drew up more clear liquid, this time into a smaller syringe. “I’m extracting about four cc’s of lidocaine with epinephrine.”
She braced herself for a new wave of burning.
He injected the numbing medicine at the edge of her wounds. “Eww.” Yep. That stung. She might as well have just laid her calf across an open grill. Shit. She needed more of a distraction to get through this. “You pulled strings for me, huh?”
As he moved around the wound, the bleeding worsened. She flinched. “Well, I guess it’s good to be a well-respected doctor.”
He stopped, lasering her with a heated look.
Oops. Wrong thing to say.
Pain flickered in his eyes before he looked down, injecting her again.
She winced. Not the kind of distraction she was looking for. “Oh God, I’m sorry. You know what I meant.”
He dropped the syringe into a bio-hazard container. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”
She exhaled. “Okay.” They had other things to worry about. They had to worry about more people dying. She had to worry about a phone message from her news director demanding she call and explain her actions at the vaccine plant. And they both had to worry about police waiting to talk to them. Good thing Carla’s friend had let them in. Carla also called her dad, who had placed a call to the owner of the company. They wouldn’t be charged with trespassing. But police still wanted to talk.
The needle Joshua picked up now was not only bigger but it had a hooklike shape. Flushing, she shifted on the table.
He must have caught the worried look on her face. “Thicker thread requires a bigger needle.” He aimed the point at her leg, looking right at her. “Maybe I should have skipped the lidocaine.”
“Very funny.” She smiled because he was trying to lighten this situation. “Joshua, I really am sorry.” She wanted to draw forgiveness out of him and erase the awkwardness between them. Would they ever get over this tension, this distance, this divide?
The needle slid in.
She looked away, holding her breath and counting internally. The screaming pain in her calf subsided. Still, her stomach was flip-flopping.
Another tug but no pain now. Not the physical kind, anyway. And watching him work made her lightheaded and dizzy. She dropped her elbow and laid her head on the table.
He stopped stitching her. “You okay?”
“Yes.” No. “Maybe it would help distract me if we did talk about, you know, talk about it. Talk about us. Our breakup.”
He stilled. But didn’t look at her.
“We never talked about it.” She had trouble supporting her words with air. Here it was. What she’d been wanting to say to him for five years. “You just broke up with me and then shut down any efforts I made to explain.” He had no idea how much that had hurt her—she’d never had the chance to tell him anything. Not even “I’m sorry.”
He continued with the stitches, but his slow, controlled method took on a new urgency.
Her stomach hurt like she’d ingested acid gumballs. She bit her bottom lip to keep from saying more. Maybe talking about this right now was a bad idea.
“What hurt the most was that you didn’t trust I would fairly investigate your brother’s death.” He finally broke the silence. “Then, you didn’t think I was competent enough to diagnose Bob Smith’s son. You didn’t believe me. You didn’t believe in me. I had to take that shit from my father, but when it came from you—”
“It broke you.” Stitch up my mouth, so I can never say words to hurt you again. “I believe in you now,” she whispered.
He tugged harder. “What’s changed?”
What’s changed? Now was her chance to tell him. “Five years ago, you broke my heart when you broke up with me.”
“I—”
“Let me finish. Please. I know now why you did it. But back then, I couldn’t see it. I was so, so—blinded by grief after Jim’s death. When I started investigating, I was looking into how Todd treated Jim. I wasn’t looking into you. I wasn’t questioning your ability.”
He stiffened.
“You took it personally. And after that, you would never allow me to explain.” Tears poured into her eyes. She blinked to hold them back. “You broke me, too.” She gasped at a sudden tug at her wound.
“Am I hurting you?”
What a question. “Not physically.”
He paused, flicked a look her way, then dropped his gaze and continued to work on her wound. “Like I said, what’s changed now?”
How could she explain what five years had taught her? Five years without him. How could she explain what spending the day with him and watching him in action today had made her see? “I thought I was over it. Over you, but—”
“But?”
“But when I watched you struggle after Todd died, I saw a vulnerable side you rarely showed. Not even to me. I realize now how much your patients mean to you. How much you care. How your father’s abuse—”
“He never hit me.”
“But he constantly reminded you that you weren’t as good as he was. And you’ve been trying to prove him wrong ever since. I never really understood that until now. And now I know why my investigating hurt you so much. That’s one change. And then when I saw Eve at the clinic, I got jealous. It surprised me, but—”
He drilled her with a questioning stare. “You got jealous over Eve?”
“Over the past you shared with her.”
“We were never a thing like you and me.”
“You were in her eyes. She cherishes your times together in India. It’s obvious. She has pictures in her clinic rooms.”
“She does?”
“She does. I think she still loves you and that made me—”
“Jealous.” He said it as if “jealous” was a most valued word. A gift.
She nodded. “And I’ve spent the day watching you take care of everyone else before yourself.”
He stared back down at her leg. “I always took good care of you.”
“Yes, you did.” She remembered the dinners he’d have ready when she came home late from a difficult day working a tough investigation. She could actually smell her favorite Cuban dish he’d whip up once a week. “What’s changed in five years?” She pushed back up onto her elbow. “I have.”
…”

Joshua stopped stitching the second wound and looked at her. Rachel’s eyes were full of sincerity. Her free hand clutched the side of the gurney. She was telling the truth. But so much had happened today. This change in her attitude could be out of fear or exhaustion or need. He couldn’t trust her emotions right now. Could he?
She licked her lips. “I’m not the same. I was blinded by pain and the need for revenge back then.”
He exhaled, looking away from her. He’d been blinded by ambition back then, too. When Jim was on his table, looking up at him with horror and helplessness, begging for him to help ease his pain, Joshua had not only been thinking about saving his life, but also his own ER group’s reputation. Something deep inside him had shifted that day. Lines had been crossed. Lines that had drawn a much different future than any of them had expected.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
Her voice triggered another flashback. “The past…” he said. Joshua remembered Bob Smith hunched over his son’s bed, bawling when he’d told him about Dress Syndrome and his son’s chances of surviving. His gut twisted, the pain almost as intense as it had been that day. Losing patients was the worst part of his job. But he’d saved so many more than he’d lost.
“Are you thinking about our past?”
“Well, yes.” Their pasts were so irrevocably entwined. “And no.” He looked back at her. Five years was a vast ocean of time.”
““This room is the room where Jackie was this morning.” “Yes.”
Recognition lit up her troubled gaze. “Also where Jim died.”
“Yes. It was the only room available.” He held his breath, waiting for her to lose it.
Instead, she just dropped her head back onto the table. “I think I’ve blocked out the day Jim died. Too painful to remember the details.”
He remembered all of them. They still made him feel like a failure. He went back to work, stitching slowly. “When I think of Jim now, the details are all I can see. His heart rate dropping. His vitals crashing. His organs shutting down. I even remember the order. His kidneys first.” He cut the thread, ready to start on the third wound. It wasn’t as deep. Maybe needed only three stitches. “I remember walking into the room to help my partner, and I remember exactly what time it was when I realized I was too late to save your brother.” He shuddered, the memory settling in his spine like a bad virus. “4:17 p.m.” And he’d spent almost every day since wondering what he could have done differently.
“Do you know I’ve never been back to the cemetery, not once since I buried him?”
“We buried him.” Jim’s funeral had been before Joshua had broken it off in a burst of anger that had torched his reason. He continued stitching.
She nodded but didn’t look up at him. “Instead, I think of all the times Jim made me laugh.” A sweet smile played on her lips. “Like all the times he’d wear that stupid foam
Gator hat to the Florida games, shirtless, painting his chest blue and orange. He was a grown man, for goodness’ sake.” She chuckled, obviously in her own world. “At first, I’d been so embarrassed. Looking back, those were the greatest days, those football Saturdays.” She exhaled as if blowing out past pain. “Back before life became so complicated.”
A rush of emotion caused him to inhale and hold his breath. She looked so sad, messy, and yet beautiful at the same time. He ached to touch her in a more intimate way than sewing up dog bites, but there was a part of him that feared she’d burn him again.
“You loved Jim unconditionally.” He dug into the last tear in her skin, knowing she was feeling nothing. “Even though I remember how you two used to fight.”
“Yeah, we did fight, and yes, my love for him was unconditional.”
He dropped his shoulders. That’s what he’d wanted from her, too. She hadn’t loved him unconditionally because if she had she wouldn’t have judged him so quickly, wouldn’t have investigated his group, and wouldn’t have chosen a good story over a good man. His heart was thumping against his ribs. Okay, okay. He took a deep breath. Steady hands.
“Jim was so bossy, just because he was older than me.” She closed her eyes, afloat in some great memory. “But I knew, no matter what, he’d always have my back. He’d be there when I needed him.” She opened her eyes, twisting enough on the table to catch Joshua staring at her.
He cleared his throat, his thoughts like punches to his middle. I would have had your back if you’d just trusted me. But she wasn’t sensing his hurt. She laughed out loud,
her eyes sparkling. “Remember when Jim convinced you and me to go camping with him?” She shook her head. “I hated camping. You did, too.”
That made him smile. Camping. In a tent. His idea of camping was a hotel with no bar. “That crazy fool had poison ivy all over his ass by the second day.”
“Hah!” She rolled a little more to one side. “You warned Jim about squatting in the brush. You were so pissed you had to treat it. Remember? Called him a baby with a bad butt rash.”
He did. He smiled.
“I laughed so hard. You didn’t have your latex gloves you always use. Even today at the vaccine plant. You carry those things still? When you’re not in the ER?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I’m not treating any bad butt rashes without them.”
That got her to laugh out loud again.
He exhaled, loving that sound. Turned his center upside down. He’d missed Rachel’s laugh and the way it used to make him feel. He looked up at her, and something shifted in her gaze. It softened and warmed.
She was gazing at him like she used to when it was just the two of them, naked and lazy on a rainy Sunday afternoon, staying in bed all day, because there was nothing else they wanted to do and no other place they wanted to be. Just together. Touching, flesh to flesh, all walls down, looking at each other through unfiltered eyes. Making love. Falling asleep. Waking up just to do it again. Screwing the day away. His stomach tightened. He forced himself to pull the last stitch through and knot it. He put his instruments down. “I’m done.”
“With me?” she asked.
“With the stitches.” He jerked off his latex gloves and threw them into the red bin.
“Oh. Okay.”
He reached for a large Band-Aid. “I’m going to cover the two biggest bites.”
She sat in silence, watching him work.
Even though he wasn’t looking at her, her gaze burned holes into him. “There you go. Just the shot and you’re done. For tonight. I’ll go prepare it.”
“Thank you for everything today.”
Her words dug at him like her nails used to. Damn her for using that soft, beguiling tone.
“I should go,” she said.
He pressed the Band-Aid onto her calf, his fingers lingering on her skin. “How are you going to get home?” He stepped back. Needing distance.
“Call a cab, Uber, something.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Oh.” She grabbed the side of the bed. “I feel a little dizzy.”
He steadied her. “You’re feeling lightheaded?” He checked her pulse. She was telling the truth. “I’m going to take you home.”
“Not necessary.”
“I want to check on Elizabeth.” He knew she wouldn’t say no to that.
She stared at him for a minute, finally exhaling in one drawn-out sigh. “Okay.”
He exhaled, too, but a much shorter blast of air.
Why was he doing this? He should just let her go. Call her a ride. “First I’ll administer that rabies vaccine.” He held up both hands. “As a precaution. Then, we’re going to have to give a statement to the police.”
Her eyebrows took a dive.
“The rabies shots aren’t as painful as they used to be.”
“I’m not worried about the shot. What are we going to tell the police?”
“The whole truth.” He cocked his head. “Aren’t you the one who used to tell me the truth is the only thing that will keep you free?”
“Maybe not in this case.” She shrugged. “Okay. Can we do this together?”
He looked at her. Her hair was still a mess, matted and clumped. Her makeup had all but disappeared. And yet, she stirred a desire he’d forced into hibernation. “Yes. Give me a minute.” The truth hit him right in his gut. It had been love. What they’d shared had been real. He wanted to tell her that, but two very big questions held him back.
Could he trust her now?
Would she ever trust him again?”

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

People are dying in Dr. Joshua Salvador’s ER. His medical assistant, only weeks from delivering her baby, hangs on to life by a thread. The symptoms seem horrifyingly familiar, and he begins to suspect the deaths are targeted at him. But, before he can figure things out, top TV investigator Rachel Wright is standing in the middle of his ER, convinced an outbreak, an epidemic, or even a botched flu vaccine could be the cause, and she’s going to tell the world.
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Meet the Author:

Linda Bond is an award-winning journalist by day and author of romantic thrillers by night. She has won 13 Emmy awards, numerous Society of Professional Journalist and Associated Press awards, as well as a Florida Bar and an Edward R. Murrow award. A breast cancer survivor, she’s also active in the Tampa community with The American Cancer Society, Hooked on Hope, and The Shoot for a Cure, raising money and awareness any chance she gets. She’s the mother of five, four athletes and an adopted son from Cuba. She has passion for world travel, classic movies and solving a good mystery.
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