Three weeks later …

Meghan felt like she was in a daze. Her brain both raced and felt bogged down. She slumped into her office chair and put her face in her hands.

“What’s gotten you so rattled?” George asked from the other side of the lab.

"Don't ask." Her words were muffled behind her hands and she felt her eyes well with tears. Just as quickly, anger rose up in her, drying up the tears before they had a chance to form properly. She pushed back on her chair and stood up. "It's not fair." She shook her head, her hands curling into fists.

“Oh no!” George widened his eyes and put down the beaker he was holding, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ve never seen you like this. Not when what’s-his-name broke up with you. Not when the IRS sent you that letter requesting a crap ton of money. Not even when that rude asshole rammed into your car at the grocery store last month and blamed you.”

“That was nothing,” she mumbled. The CCTV footage had cleared up that little spat. Even if it hadn’t been resolved, it was just a car. This was different. It had been a very long time since Meghan had felt like this. Helpless. At a loss. At her wits’ end. “We were so close.” She wiped her hand across her desk and papers went flying.

“Don’t do that. Trashing the place won’t help.” George took a step towards her. “What the hell is going on?”

Shit! Tears began to gather in her eyes once more.

“Oh, honey.” George shook his head once before rushing around her desk, careful not to step on any of the papers littering the floor. “Speak to Georgy. Tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he enveloped her in his arms.

“You don’t want to know.” She sniffed, trying hard not to cry and failing as the first tears fell.

He pulled back, cocking his head and looking her in the eyes. “It can’t be that bad. You’ll feel so much better once it’s out. Guaranteed.”

She wiped her eyes. “ARJ Packaging are no longer funding our research.” Even as she said it, she still couldn’t believe it. The packaging company had been their biggest supporters. They paid Meghan and George’s salaries. Without which they were finished.

George clutched his heart, sitting on her desk with a bang. “That is bad. It's freaking terrible. What the hell happened? Why? I don't understand." He shook his head. "Our research is so close to Alex Jackson's heart." Her lab assistant looked bewildered. "I would never have expected this. Not from him."

“One of ARJ’s biggest clients is Aztec Pharmaceuticals.”

George frowned. “So what. What does that have to do with anything? Alex lost his daughter to asthma. How could he withdraw the funding? Especially now when we’re so close.”

“Aztec has ARJ by the proverbial short and curlies. They’re one of ARJ’s biggest clients and are threatening to cancel their contract if ARJ Packaging doesn’t stop funding us.”

“That’s got to be fucking illegal.” George jumped to his feet. “How did Aztec find out about the funding in the first place?”

Meghan shrugged. “Who knows. It doesn’t matter in the end who told them. Ultimately, ARJ can’t afford to lose that contract. Alex was gutted at having to stop funding our research but what can he do?” She sighed. “He’s the CEO and has shareholders to contend with; bottom line, losing a contract like Aztec would mean having to lay off staff members.” She pursed her lips for a few seconds. “People’s lives are at stake. He didn’t have a choice.”

“Shit!” George rolled his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “This sucks. I don’t want to have to go back to Dalton Springs Gen. It’s a fucking hellhole. Maggie Jacobs is the devil.” He was referring to the head of department.

“It’s not that bad,” Meghan said. “More like you’d die of boredom.” George could be a prima donna.

“I doubt she’d take me back anyways,” he added. “I didn’t write the nicest letter of resignation.”

“I told you not to burn your bridges.”

“Yeah, yeah. You were right.” George pulled a face.

“You could always take up stripping. I heard that Up the Jackson’s on Fifth is looking for a new drag queen to take over from Miss Sally-Ann who recently retired.”

“Please! I don’t think so.” George laughed. “I’ll do the gig with pleasure but there is no money in it. Dancers get two drinks and dinner on the house and that’s it. Up the Jackson’s is an institution, not a business.”

“Oh flip, so you’re well and truly screwed then.” Meghan felt her smile falter, felt her lip quiver. She wasn’t a crier for goodness sake. “I’ll think of something, George.” She sniffed. “I’ll redouble my efforts to find more funding. I’ll …”

“What about that email you received last week. That might—’”

“It was a hoax. I’ll go door-to-door if I have to. There must—”

“Do you still have the email?” George looked animated, his big brown eyes were wide.

“No! It’s utter garbage. There is no way in hell any company ‒ local or otherwise ‒ is going to pay that kind of money. Forget about it. It’s a scam.”

George walked around her desk and gave her mouse a shake. “I’m sure it’s in your trash file. Come on, missy … what’s your password?”

Meghan rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t know my password.”

George grinned, he looked at her from under his lashes. “We’ve been working together too long. It’s C. H. O. C. O. L. A. T. E. C. R. U. S. H.” He said each letter as he typed them. “Your favorite.” He bobbed his brows. “No other crushes for you since your vag never gets any action.” He stuck his tongue out at her.

“Hey!” She laughed, feeling a little bad. George was technically her employee, although you would never say it. First and foremost, they were really good friends. She hadn’t said anything to him about Tide. Hadn’t told a soul. No one needed to know about it. It wasn’t like she would ever see the shifter again or anything. “Chocolate is my one guilty pleasure,” she admitted as her home screen appeared.

“And it’s a tragedy. You’re still young and you’re attractive for a total geek with no dress sense.” He looked her up and down.

“I’m thirty-two, hardly that young anymore.”

“It is still young, trust me!” He raised his brows.

“You’re only a year older than I am, George.” Meghan had to laugh. “Stop being such a drama queen.”

"Don't remind me. Anyway, maybe this would be your chance to get out more. Meet new people." George worked the mouse, opening her mail. "Right. Let's check in your trash file." He clicked a couple more times, scrolling down. Within a half a minute his eyes lit up and he smiled. "Here it is." Another click of the mouse. This time with flourish. "Right," his whole face was animated, "they're extending a request for you to apply for a position. They need a geneticist with your kinds of specializations." He continued, "The assignment would be abroad with an opportunity to return home for one weekend every month."

“Who is this they the email refers to?”

“They,” he smiled, “don’t specify. There is mention that it’s classified.”

Meghan shook her head. “Exactly. There’s no company logo. No type of identification.”

“Look at what just happened with ARJ Packaging and Aztec. It might be that whoever this is, doesn’t want one of the pharmaceutical companies to catch wind.”

Meghan felt her frown deepen. She wasn’t buying it. “You said it’s a remote location. Do they specify where?”

George shook his head. “That’s all they say about it.”

Meghan snorted. “More secrecy.”

“The package they’re offering is phenomenal. Everything else might be vague but they’re fully transparent when it comes to the money.” He raised his brows and whistled low, turning the screen to her. “Take a look at the number of zeros.”

“That’s just it. There’s no darned way that’s for real.” She pointed in the general direction of the computer.

“How do you know? There aren’t many scientists who do what you do.” His hands made a flourish. “You’re worth your weight in gold, lady. You just don’t seem to realize it.”

“Worth my weight in gold, hey?” She laughed. “Well, in that case, maybe the zeros are accurate.”

“Stop that. There are plenty of guys who are all about the tits and ass. You have those in spades.”

His comment made her think of Tide. She felt her cheeks heat. Lush and delectable were the words he’d used to describe her. The way he looked at her had made her feel plenty desirable.

George smiled at her. “It also helps that you’re pretty cute as well. No paper bag necessary in your case.”

Meghan choked out a laugh. “You didn’t just say that!”

“What?” he shrugged. “It’s true. You know me, I say it like it is and if it wasn’t for the fact that I happen to like my dick with a side of balls, I’d be all over you.”

She laughed some more. “You were right,” she paused, “I do feel much better after talking this out. I’ll find a way to fix it.”

George took her hand and squeezed. “I know you will and I’m here to help. This isn’t all on you.”

Meghan nodded. “Thank you, but I think you should start applying for—”

“I have some money saved, so I’ll survive for a while.” George looked her head-on for a few moments. “Promise me you’ll reply to this email.”

"It's nothing but a dumb hoax." Meghan sat down at her desk. "I'll prove it." She typed a quick replying stating that she was interested and requesting further information. "I'm willing to bet you they ask for money or personal details so that they can phish my account or something."

“You never know, maybe it is for real and then …” George’s eyes widened as a beep sounded. It was an incoming email alert.

It couldn’t be. No way.

Using the mouse, she opened the message. “It’s a meeting request for next Tuesday. It’s for the entire day.” She rolled her eyes. “Someone called Bianca Evans. This can’t be for real. What the hell do I have to lose though?” She clicked that she accepted the request and George jumped up and down a few times clapping his hands. Her friend was short and slim. Even though he was a lab technician, there was nothing nerdy about him. He always wore the latest fashion. With his big, brown eyes and perfectly coifed hair, he was very good-looking.

“They’ll be asking for my banking details next. Just you wait.”

“You are so damned negative. Stop it already.”

She huffed out a breath and folded her arms. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, George. That’s all. I don’t like living on hopes and dreams. Life doesn’t work that way. We need to formulate a plan of action. Let’s start with our current sponsors, then I’ll approach companies that haven’t funded our project in …”

Another alert sounded. There was another mail. Her heart beat a little faster. She wanted so badly for George to be right but she feared the worst.

“What are you waiting for?” George asked.

“I’m too scared to open it. It’s from her … from Bianca Evans.”

George pulled a face. “I’ll do it then.” With a flick of the wrist he opened the email. “Shit!”

“What is it?”

"It's a ticket … a plane ticket. You're going to New York. Bianca works for one of the top recruitment firms in the country. You leave first thing on Tuesday. The return flight is on the same day. Pack your bags, baby, you're going to the Big Apple."

“No way!” She shook her head.

"Yes, way! This is legit," George squealed. "I told you so. I damn well told you so. You're brilliant and it turns out that someone wants you on their team."

Excited now, Meghan opened the original email, scanning the contents and actually taking note this time. “It says that I would need to sign a contract for a minimum of a year. There’s a big bonus if I extend it to two. Oh my word.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“It’s huge money,” George spoke from over her shoulder.

“Even after a year abroad, there’d be enough to continue our research for a long time. No more begging and pleading. No more looking for funds. We can do this ourselves. We can find a cure ourselves.” It cost big money to keep even a small lab operational. The equipment, the rent, things like lights and water. It all added up quickly.

“You’ve got this,” George said. “And I’ll be waiting to pick up where we left off when you get back.”

Meghan shook her head. “No! They take us both as a team or not at all.”

George frowned. “They want you, not me. And from how quickly that ticket came through, I’d say they want you badly.”

“We’re a package deal. If they want me so badly, they can take both of us.”

“Once you have an offer on the table you can negotiate. This might not even be something you want.”

“This is scary,” she groaned.

“It’s exciting.” George clapped his hands. “Everything is going to work out just fine, I can feel it.”