I’d left my lab to take a walk and clear my head. Getting laid last night had helped me sleep, but it hadn’t done anything to help me focus on the problem I ran into this morning. That problem had been circling in my mind over and over, and all my walk had done was given me a rhythm to mull by.

Then I walked straight into someone who’d been paying as little attention as I’d been, and everything changed.

I stared at her as she talked, fascinated by the rapid-fire way she spoke, as if her thoughts were connecting on a level that her mouth couldn’t quite keep up with. I knew how that felt. I rarely tried to articulate my ideas because I always seemed to be skipping things and then having to go back and re-explain, and that never went well. People always ended up being confused. I couldn’t even really write them well. My brain worked great when it came to numbers and chemistry, but communication, not so much.

It was one of the reasons I didn’t often have conversations with women. Simple commands were easier.

Normally, people who talked a lot bothered me. It seemed a waste of time using so many words when just a few would suffice, but I didn’t get that impression from the pretty redhead. She was nervous, and the words were a result of that, as much a part of her unconscious response to stress as someone who tapped their toes or chewed their fingernails. The biggest difference was that her nervous tick revealed a lot about her, and I found it fascinated me.

Once she started rambling again, this time about zombies and ending the world, I was tempted to see how long she would go before she realized that no one else was panicking, but then I saw that she was truly distressed, and knew I couldn’t do that to her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I touched her arm, and her head jerked up, eyes meeting mine.

I’d never seen eyes quite that shade of pale green before, and something about them quieted the chaos in my mind. Or maybe it wasn’t her eyes as much as it was her. Whoever this young woman was, she managed to do what little else ever had.

She distracted me.

“I was cleaning some things in my lab,” I said, my hand still on her arm. “The beaker just had some soapy water in it.”

She gave me a strange look. “You were carrying a beaker of soapy water?”

I shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “I forgot I had it, honestly.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing prettily. “I’m glad it wasn’t some sort of flesh-eating virus that was going to turn us all into brain-munching zombies.”

I laughed, wondering if it was me making her nervous enough to babble this time. I couldn’t say the thought was a bad one. “I’m Cai Hunter.”

She stared at me for a moment, like I’d said something strange. “I know who you are, Dr. Hunter. Anyone with an interest in infectious diseases or the cutting edge of science today knows who you are.”

She looked down at my hand on her arm, and it was my turn to flush. I’d been moving my thumb over her skin without even realizing it. I had a moment to register how soft it was before dropping my hand. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, hoping the change of topic would distract her from my momentary lapse of judgment. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Addison Kilar.” She held out her hand, then dropped it before I had a chance to shake it.

“And you work here?”

“Sort of.”

She had an accent, I realized, and it wasn’t a Southern one. I couldn’t quite place it, but I’d heard it somewhere before.

“How does one ‘sort of’ work here?”

“I’m an intern,” she said. “It’s part of me finishing up my doctorate. Well, finishing up my thesis, more accurately. My advisor thought it’d look better if I was working here while writing rather than me not doing anything but still not able to finish the damn thing.” She looked away and fidgeted with one of her curls. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hunter. Sometimes my mouth just runs away with me. I’ll go get something to clean this up and then get another coffee for Miss Kemyss. You can give me a dry-cleaning bill, or I can pay for your shirt to be replaced. It was my fault for not watching where I was going.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “I wasn’t paying attention either. It’s as much my fault as yours.”

She shook her head. “It’s completely my fault. I was trying to work through some of my writer’s block.”

“You said you’re working on your thesis?” I drew her attention away from blaming herself. “What’s it about?”

“The link between genetics and infection.” She looked down at herself, and then at me again. “Um…I think I should find something I can use to clean this up.”

I shook my head, frowning. “You’re an intern, not a janitor. And at the CDC, that is what’s important. They have all sorts of guidelines they must follow and paperwork to fill out. In our labs, we have different procedures, but for public areas, we have to alert the janitorial staff and let them handle it.”

Her eyes widened. “For coffee?”

“To make sure the spill was indeed coffee and soapy water, and not something that would turn us all into zombies or wipe out the world.”

She looked as startled by my attempt to joke as I was.

“Okay. I’ll tell them what happened.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” The question burst out of my mouth, leaving me wondering if something had happened to my brain today to cause me to act so out of character with this stranger.

“No, I just got back from the lunch run.” An expression of horror crossed her face. “I’m so sorry! Miss Kemyss didn’t show me your office on my tour, and I completely spaced when I went around. I didn’t even think about your lunch–”

Something didn’t sound right. Why was an intern so close to finishing her doctoral thesis doing those sorts of errands? I needed to find out more information. Plus, it appeared she was working on something close to my own wheelhouse, and I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that I couldn’t benefit from another person’s perspective.

“I was just thinking about getting lunch,” I said. “Would you join me? I’d like to discuss your thesis, and perhaps pick your brains about a problem I’m currently having.”

Now she looked like she was going to throw up. Maybe lunch hadn’t been a good suggestion after all.

Or maybe her stomach was twisting like mine, without explanation.

“That would…I mean…thank you, Dr. Hunter. I’ll have to go ask Miss Kemyss, but I would be honored to have lunch with you.”

“Pansy? Why do you need to ask her about lunch?” Pansy wouldn’t have a doctorate student as an intern if she’d had an intern at all.

Her expression was puzzled. “She’s my supervisor. I’ll let her know I’ll be going to lunch as soon as I…” she looked down and frowned, “do something with my shirt.”

I managed not to scowl. I didn’t want her to think I was mad at her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Pansy, however, I was going to have a word with. “Pansy isn’t your supervisor. Interns at your level are assigned to specific doctors. You should have gotten a letter.”

“I did,” she admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. “It said I’d be working under you.”

I’d heard enough. “I’ll speak with Pansy and let her know that I’ll be taking over your supervision from here on out. Do you have another shirt to change into?”

Addison shook her head. “I didn’t think to bring one.”

“That’s always a good idea,” I said. “Because if it’s not coffee, it could be a contamination issue where all of your clothes have to be destroyed.”

She stared at me. “Does that happen often?”

I thought for a moment. “Three times since I started working here, but all precautionary.” I pulled my shirt away from my skin, only now just realizing how uncomfortable I was. “We keep a few extra items of clothing in the storage room down the hall and to the left, second door on the right. We just ask that anyone who has to take anything washes it and returns it; or replaces it with something new.”

She nodded.

“I’m going to change as well, and then I’ll meet you at the front doors in fifteen minutes. Will that be enough time for you?” She didn’t appear to be one of those women who took forever to get ready but looks could be deceiving.

“Yes, that’s plenty of time.” She smiled, looking relieved. “Thank you, Dr. Hunter.”

“Cai,” I said, returning her smile. “There are some people here who love to hear the word doctor before their name, but I prefer Cai.”

“I prefer Addison.” The color that had faded from her cheeks rushed back. “For me, I mean. I prefer Addison to Miss Kilar.”

“Now that we have that squared away, what do you say we take care of this mess and get some lunch?” I glanced toward the part of the corridor that would take me to Pansy’s office. “I’ll have Pansy call the janitors after I’ve cleared up this misunderstanding regarding your supervision.”

As Addison hurried off, I sighed. Pansy and I had gone to college together, and I’d tutored her on and off while she’d worked on her master’s degree in organic chemistry. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been accepted into the doctorate program, but that hadn’t stopped her from wanting to do some good in the world. She applied for a position at the CDC right after I was hired, and even though most of her job was compiling and recording data, it was important work.

Which was why I didn’t understand her current behavior. If Addison had been an undergrad or hired as an assistant, running errands would have fallen in her purview, but an intern with Addison’s qualifications should be working in a lab. I supposed it was possible that Addison hadn’t felt comfortable telling Pansy that she’d been assigned to me, but Pansy knew how things worked. She should have asked immediately if Addison knew who she was working under.

I wasn’t looking forward to reminding her that we had procedures for a reason. But, I told myself, it was better for me to talk to her about it rather than reporting her to HR. I understood that the rules and hierarchy existed for a reason, but in this case, I thought it wasn’t worth all the hassle when a reminder would do.

Besides, filling out the paperwork would take a couple hours at least, and I’d rather spend the time talking to my new intern about her paper and my experiment. I couldn’t wait to see what that brain of hers could do.