"Has anyone checked your wife's heart?"

"This is about our son. My wife isn't nearly as bad."

"Chances are whatever is wrong with your wife is also what's wrong with your son. Give me another couple of minutes and I'd like to examine him as well as your wife if she's available."

"She's with Robbie. She hardly leaves his side." Ed rubbed his hands over his face and peered through his fingers at Tyson.

"I don't have a lot of time to devote to threatening people. I don't know why someone might be after Sam, but the only conversation we had was when I begged him to talk to Dr. Drake. I put in numerous calls to you and never got through. With Eva and Robbie sick, I just don't think about much else."

"I don't check the messages."

"Can she heal people?"

Tyson winced at the plea in Edward's voice. He glanced at Libby. There was no question she was feeling his pain and frustration-his desperation. He had always been able to read Libby's expressions, her face was so transparent to him, and she was definitely forming an opinion. Libby had worked for Doctors Without Borders as well as WHO. She'd worked for the Centers for Disease Control and she'd seen both domestic and exotic illnesses, far more than most doctors. He wondered if her healing ability aided her in diagnosing, but had no chance to ask her.

"Mr. Martinelli," Libby began, an edge of desperation in her voice.

"Libby," Tyson interrupted decisively, interjecting a note of warning.

Tyson found himself responding to the pain and weariness so evident in Edward. And he could see how it would be so difficult for Libby to walk away from a situation like this one, but she wasn't recovered from healing Jonas-or him. He couldn't let her risk her own health or possibly even her life. "Libby's a brilliant doctor, Ed. If it's possible to figure out what's going on, I have every faith in her that she'll be the one to do it."

Libby's eyes met his and his heart nearly stopped at the look she gave him. He'd never seen love in another's eyes, not directed at him. He had the sudden urge to drag her into his arms and kiss her, just for looking at him that way. He was smart enough to acknowledge to himself that there was a part of him that felt he was unlovable and no amount of telling himself to grow up would get him over those childhood feelings of rejection. He was beginning to believe Libby Drake could love him, and all of his careful planning to get her to see she needed him was every bit as important as he'd first thought.

Edward shook his head. "I've lost all faith in doctors."

"Don't give up yet, Mr. Martinelli," Libby said, standing up. "Please let me see your son. Has your wife and or your son ever traveled with you to a foreign country?"

"Not Robbie. We haven't been out of the country since before he was born."

"Which country?"

"I traveled in South America. I wanted to see the rain forest. Eva flew to Mexico to meet me when my trip to the rain forest was over, and no, she wasn't bitten by any bugs. She wasn't near any bugs. I was very conscious of her health and kept her in the best hotel available. We've had the same questions asked over and over by the doctors."

"It's the only way we can get a clear diagnosis, Mr. Martinelli." Libby preceded him into the room where a nurse sat beside a bed and a young woman lay beside a small boy. He was about five and very pale and weak. Eva Martinelli looked just as weak.

"This is Dr. Drake, Eva. She's come to take a look at both you and Robbie," Ed said, his voice gentle.

"Don't get up, Mrs. Martinelli," Libby said, her smile easy as she pulled gloves out of the small bag she'd brought with her. "I won't disturb him too much."

She approached the bed, noting the woman's breathing. "Have you been short of breath for a long time?" Libby slid her hands down Eva's neck, feeling the swelling in the cervical glands. "On this trip you made to Mexico to meet with your husband some years ago, you don't recall being bitten by anything at all? Nothing unusual happened?"

"Nothing to do with bugs," Eva said.

Libby paused, her hands sliding down to the deeper glands. "What do you mean? What did happen on that trip?"

"I flew to Mexico to meet Ed. I wanted to swim with the dolphins. I love the water and we have a favorite place we enjoy going."

Libby nodded encouragingly as she moved to the sleeping child, her hands sliding over his neck to feel similar swelling in the glands.

"Eva's leg was cut open on a piece of metal embedded in the wall of a swimming pool just below the surface of the water. We were at the estate of some friends of ours and the cut was very deep. We barely got her to the hospital in time."

Libby straightened up and turned to face Eva. "You suffered severe blood loss?"

Eva nodded. "It was just a cut though. It didn't get infected."

"But you had a blood transfusion."

"I don't have AIDS. They checked us for AIDS."

"I don't believe you have AIDS, Mrs. Martinelli, but I believe I've seen your symptoms many times before. The signs are very indicative of Chagas's disease. You can get Chagas three different ways and one of them is through a blood transfusion. The symptoms often don't show up, particularly in an adult, for years. Adults many times get a more chronic form where a child can often get an acute form. You both will need some tests run immediately."

"But I thought the blood was screened for everything," Ed protested.

"I obviously could be wrong," Libby said, although she was certain she wasn't. The swelling in the cervical glands was very symptomatic of Chagas. "But the disease is very easy to misdiagnose. Did you tell the doctors about the transfusion in Mexico?"

Eva exchanged a long look with her husband. "We talked about South America quite a bit, but not Mexico. The subject didn't come up."

"Someone mentioned Chagas once," Ed said, "but she was never exposed to the bug that carries it."

"I think she should be tested and Robbie as well. She obviously was transfused before she ever conceived him. If I'm correct, Mr. Martinelli, time is of the essence to get treatment for them both, particularly Robbie. I'd like to call their doctor if you don't mind and arrange things immediately."

"I don't want to put them through a lot of tests again and then have the doctors say they have no idea."

"Chagas is present in eighteen countries on the American continent. In the early eighties, over seventeen million people were infected. Even now with all the work being done to eradicate the problem we see between seven hundred to eight hundred thousand new cases per year. I'm telling you, I've seen this over and over. Get them to the hospital and get treatment started. If you let me use your phone, I'll speak with their doctor and we can get things rolling."

Chapter Seventeen.

"OKAY, woman," Tyson said, as he unlocked the door to the enormous gla.s.s front house, "I was very impressed."

"It wasn't all that difficult. I've seen Chagas's disease many times, and when I touched Mrs. Martinelli, I knew she was having heart problems. It wasn't such a big jump, especially since I knew Ed often went to foreign countries doing wild things with you. I was thinking foreign diseases as soon as he told me about his wife."

"You thought about trying to heal them," Tyson said, holding open the door, waiting for her to make the move to go inside. "Just like you wanted to do with Jonas."

"I was giving Jonas a boost, it isn't the same thing."

He made a huffing sound, which Libby ignored as she forced herself to step over the threshold. It was utterly silly to feel exposed in the house, but she did. She had loved the property from the first moment Tyson had driven her along the winding driveway and the first glimpse of the house had been breathtaking. It meant even more to her that he had found the place himself and purchased it for her. She wanted to feel safety and peace, instead of the current heart-pounding fear that someone was watching their every move.

"I did think about it, but you gave me your best imitation of intimidation and I was able to be sensible."

His eyebrow shot up. "Imitation? I scare everyone at the lab with that look. A little more respect, Drake."

"I thought if you kissed me, you couldn't call me Drake anymore."

"Are you angling for a kiss?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, why didn't you just say so?" He caught her chin in his hand to lift her face to his. She felt the long slow kiss all the way to her toes. Her reluctance to enter the house faded away instead of increasing as she thought it might. Every time he touched her, the world fell away so that she could only feel the ebb and flow of pa.s.sion, and a rush of love so deep it shook her. She hadn't known she was falling that hard. It hadn't come fast as she'd always imagined love would, but had happened slowly over time. All those years of watching him, thinking about him, she had tied herself to him without even knowing.

When he lifted his head, she stared up at him feeling a little bemused. "That book you read on kissing? I'd like a copy."

"You kiss just fine, baby."

"I was going to frame it and hang it on the wall over the fireplace in a place of honor. In fact, let's keep the entire collection of your 'how to' books on the shelf where we can refer to them often."

He grinned at her. "I like the idea." Tyson gestured toward the living room.

Libby took a breath, forced air through her lungs and walked through the cool marble entryway into the enormous gla.s.s living room. She halted abruptly. Where before the unfinished room had been a lovely but bare hardwood floor and plush throw rugs, now neat groupings of furniture filled the s.p.a.ce, leaving openness, but eradicating emptiness. A long, wide couch curved around the corner in soft b.u.t.tered leather.

Several recliners and low slung coffee tables formed intimate, relaxing s.p.a.ces. She halted abruptly. "Who did this?"

He shrugged. "I picked out the furniture a while back and had it delivered yesterday. If you don't like it, you can have them take it back and pick something different. I just wanted to make the house seem more like a home than an empty building. And you won't have to worry about voyeurs. Sarah put in an alarm system. We have cameras for outside. And I had these drapes installed for you." He looked really pleased as he crossed to the wall opposite the gla.s.s. "I remembered Sarah waving her arms and closing the drapes and it gave me the idea."

He pushed a b.u.t.ton on the wall and drapes slowly descended from above the panels of gla.s.s. "We can close them from just about anywhere in the room, on either story so you'll have privacy whenever you want. There are several remote controls as well."

Libby blinked back the tears she felt burning so close. She had always known Tyson was a genius and that he was wired far differently than most people. He seemed shut off from his emotions most of the time, and he was often socially inept. So it had never occurred to her that he could be so thoughtful. Yet more and more, he was proving it was a fundamental part of his character. "This is wonderful. I can't believe you were able to do it so fast."

He gestured around the room, a small, almost shy boyish grin on his face. "You really like it? When I bought the house I had the drapes custom ordered and asked for a quick delivery. When things got out of hand the other day, I called them up and offered them a lot more money to speed things up." His grin widened. "I'm getting this money thing down."

"Ty, you didn't have to do that." She could barely speak around the lump in her throat.

He suddenly looked a little lost. "I can't take all the credit. You know, Libby, I'm not very good at this kind of thing, even though I want to be. I've never noticed things like drapes before. The realtor pointed out to me that the sun might be too much at times through the gla.s.s. She actually handled finding the place that did the drapes and then I couldn't find her number at first to ask her to get them moving faster."

A smile began somewhere deep at his confession. He sounded like that little boy again, the one that popped out occasionally and was so endearing to her. Meticulously honest. Expecting a reprimand or worse, a rejection.

"How did you find her number?"

He squirmed, looking a little embarra.s.sed. "That's not really important." He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. "The drapes look good, don't they?"

"You've already confessed to me that you didn't do it yourself. It doesn't negate your thoughtfulness in realizing I would need the protection." She put her hands on her hips, looking up at his face. "Confession is good for you."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shoved both hands through his hair until he was so rumpled her body began to tingle, acutely aware of his. She loved his many different sides, but this-this helpless, mystified side of him-was one of her favorites.

"I called Elle."

She blinked, unable to believe her ears. "You called Elle?"

"You heard me."

"After all those years of thinking we were charlatans? You called Elle?"

"I couldn't ask Sam because I didn't tell him about the house." He defended himself. "He's not been very happy with my decisions lately. I've always ignored the details of life, like paying bills and reading anything the lawyers send, at least as much as I could, but the past few months I've worked at not putting so much on Sam's shoulders. He's had to take care of too many details and I realized it wasn't fair to him."

Libby sank into one of the plush recliners just because it looked so inviting. The room was set up with small conversation areas and the recliner in front of the fireplace provided the most intimate s.p.a.ce. She waited until Tyson sat across from her.

"Didn't it worry you that Sam had a gambling problem with all that money around him all the time?"

"I knew he gambled, but didn't realize the extent of the amounts until recently. I didn't know he was borrowing money from Ed."

"Did you believe Martinelli when he said he didn't send those men after Sam?" Libby asked.

Tyson hesitated briefly before he nodded his head slowly. "I've known Ed a lot of years, Libby. I've never believed all the rumors about his family. I've met his uncles, and I know how difficult all the rumors were for his family."

"I believed him, too." Libby leaned back, frowning slightly as she thought the situation over. "The men could have gone after Sam if they were employed by Ed's uncles, all on their own."

"That doesn't make much sense, Libby," Tyson insisted. "It seems a bit of a coincidence that Harry showed up at the same time and was in my lab hiding under a table. He didn't try to call the police or help Sam in any way and a few minutes later there was an explosion in the lab."

"How would he know about Sam's gambling debts?"

"Information like that wouldn't be all that hard to come by."

"I guess you're right." Libby sighed. "I don't like knowing someone may want me-or both of us-dead."

"Baby, honestly, I don't think anyone wants you dead. I think it's me they're after. You just fell in love with the wrong man."

"Really? I don't think so." She stood up and went to him, framing his face with her hands to lean in and kiss him. "I think I found exactly the right man for me."

Tyson closed his eyes, savoring the taste and texture of her. Satin lips, full and soft, her mouth so warm and welcoming. Her hands slid down his neck to his shirt, slipping the b.u.t.tons open one by one. At once his body responded, right along with his aching heart and burning lungs. Every brush of her fingers against his skin heated his blood and sent it roaring through his body. He could barely breathe with wanting her. When she had his shirt open she nibbled her way down his throat to his flat nipples, teasing with her tongue and teeth.

Tyson stretched his legs out in front of him, seeking to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans. Her hands were at his belt buckle, loosening, sliding his zipper open as she kissed her way down his belly. He reached for her, wanting to touch her, wanting to take control when he was fast losing his.

Libby stepped back, a small smile on her face. She took her time undoing the b.u.t.tons on her silk blouse before letting it float to the floor. Tyson kicked off his shoes and stood up, his gaze darkening as she unhooked her lacy bra and allowed it to drop on top of her blouse. His shirt joined hers on the floor. As fast as possible the rest of his clothes followed. He kept his eyes on her as she slowly tugged at her gray slacks, sliding them over her hips to pool on the floor where she added the small sc.r.a.p of underwear.

She crooked her little finger at him. "Come here."

"There?"

She pointed to a spot in front of her and dropped to her knees. "Right here."

"Baby, you're killing me." Tyson's body thickened and lengthened even more, as he approached her. He swept his hand over her dark hair. "I love your mouth."

"You're going to love it more," she murmured as she took his shaft in her hands. She knelt even closer, nearly wedging herself between his legs so she tipped her head back, looking up at him. "I've been reading a few books myself lately."

Tyson's knees went weak. She looked beautiful kneeling there, her hands stroking and caressing, her eyes dark with a mixture of l.u.s.t and love. The combination was so heady he fisted her hair, pulling her mouth closer to him.

Tyson was far larger and thicker than Libby had expected, much more intimidating, but he was beautiful, his body hardened by the continual training and extreme activities he chose to partic.i.p.ate in. She wanted to taste him. To shape his body with her own hands. She wanted to show him love and l.u.s.t could be the same thing. That she loved his body the way he loved hers. That she wanted his pleasure as much as he wanted hers. It was his turn this time, to experience someone wanting to fulfill his every desire. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at her, mesmerized, filled her with a mixture of joy and power.

Libby moistened her lips with her tongue, holding his gaze, letting him see her eagerness. She felt his shaft jump in her hands. Her tongue flicked out again, a long lick up the shaft and around the mushrooming head. She was rewarded immediately with the sound of his breath exploding out of his lungs. Holding his gaze with her own, she curled her tongue around him, long slow licks that left him gasping. Her nails grazed gently along soft skin, fingers stroking his tightening sac.

Deliberately she made him wait, drawing out the antic.i.p.ation, her tongue teasing and tormenting, tasting his salty tang as his fingers tightened in her hair and his hips began a slow nearly helpless thrust. One moment her grip was firm with long hard strokes, then she switched to a lighter hold and shorter strokes. She lapped at him like a kitten with a bowl of cream, then licked as if he were an ice cream cone.

Watching his every reaction, she slid her lips around the broad head and engulfed him completely. She concentrated wholly on him, on bringing him as much pleasure as possible. She closed her lips as far as possible down his shaft, creating steady suction while she slid her mouth up and down, tickling with her tongue just beneath the base of his head with every up stroke.