LITMIR.BIZ

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      A strange man was trying to get into her hotel room.

      She saw he had a gun.

      Her gut instinct said to run the hell away from him, but inside that room was the only weapon she had to save her father’s life and many others. She couldn’t leave it.

      Dropping into a fighting stance, she waited.

      The man gave her a look like she was crazy and raised his gun. She lashed out with a kick aimed at his weapon arm. His arm jerked out of position, and a bullet ricocheted off the wall six inches from her.

      She didn’t stop.

      He fell to the floor. Jane kicked him once more, then hurried past him. Fumbling to open her hotel door, she rushed in and slammed it closed behind her, then reached for the phone to call security.

      Someone was clearly after her – and her antidote. But who?

       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Katherine Garbera has had fun working as a production page, lifeguard, secretary and VIP tour guide, but those occupations pale when compared to creating worlds where women save the day and wounded hearts are healed. Writing romantic suspense novels is the perfect job for her. She’s always had a vivid imagination and believes strongly in happily-ever-after. She’s married to the man she met in Walt Disney World’s Fantasyland. They live in Central Florida with their two children. Readers can visit her on the web at www.katherinegarbera.com.

      Deadly Desire

      KATHERINE GARBERA

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      This book is dedicated to my sisters,

      Linda Beardsley and Donna Sutermeister, who

      shared many journeys all over the world from

      our backyard – too bad that tunnel to

      China never paid off! Thanks for the good

      times and great memories!

      Acknowledgements

      Thanks to Dr John Walden, who was so generous with his time and knowledge of the Amazon. Any mistakes are my own.

      Thanks also to Dr Michael Miller, who answered my questions on infectious diseases and virology. Again, any mistakes are my own.

      Special thanks to Eve Gaddy, Nancy Robards Thompson and Beverly Brandt, who were my cheerleaders! And to Matt who is always so supportive and believes in me when I start to doubt.

      Chapter 1

      Dr. Jane Miller, virus hunter.

      The words echoed in her head as she exited the elevator in the bowels of the Centers for Disease Control headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. Entering the deepest part of the building always made her feel like some sort of superspy. Maybe it was the fact that security was as tight here as it was at the White House.

      Whatever the reason, she always heard the 007 theme in the back of her head as she moved through the hallways. She passed by labs that worked with lower-level infections, such as a new strand of the flu, before reaching steel-reinforced doors with a sophisticated security scanner. The security guard smiled at her. He’d worked at the lab for about a year now.

      “Good evening, Dr. Miller.”

      “Hello, Stan.”

      He had a nice face. He was a doting grandfather who’d embodied all the things she’d always kind of longed for when she thought of family, but had never found. “Working late again?”

      “You know how I am when I get a new problem to work on.” She didn’t say anything else, leery that he might inadvertently pass along the fact that she was doing research on something sent to her by her father. Doctor Rob Miller was persona non grata as far as the CDC was concerned.

      He nodded at her. “But it’s been three months and you’re still working eighteen-hour days. You’re always warning me about the effects of exhaustion.”

      The truth was, she was burning the candle at both ends hoping that what she’d discovered was somehow an error. “I know, but this time…I just feel like I need to work on this project around the clock.”

      “We’re used to emergencies,” he said.

      She shrugged. How could she explain to him what she didn’t really understand herself? She only knew that the virus her father had sent her needed her attention. She’d received the samples almost too long ago—in the world of infectious viruses, three months could be a lethal amount of time.

      She remembered when she’d received the plainly wrapped brown package. It had seemed innocent enough, but she’d recognized the angular handwriting on the outside and opened it with trepidation. Anything from her father was suspect. The CDC and her dad went way back, but the relationship was no longer one that either side liked to acknowledge.

      Why had he sent it to her?

      Jane flashed her badge at the reader on the wall. Then she removed her glasses and leaned forward for the eye scan. She didn’t like it, but had gotten used to it. Finally she could withstand the laser scan without blinking. The doors opened and she stepped through.

      She slipped her glasses back on and noticed the biohazard warning sign that stood next to the door to the women’s locker room. She entered the facility and changed from her street clothes into scrubs. In order to enter the lab, everything had to be removed from the skin out. Jane changed as quickly as possible.

      She then made her way to a second set of scanners. Adrenaline and nerves warred for control of her body. Adrenaline won. It had been a long time since she’d had anything new in her hands. Once the doors opened, she stepped inside the ultraviolet-light chamber and waited a moment before exiting. She paused again, preparing to enter the level 3 labs.

      She flashed her badge one more time. Security had always been tight at the CDC and with the ever-present threat of biological warfare looming on the horizon, it had grown even tighter in recent years. The guard at this station was new and he took her ID badge and read every bit of information on it. He also had her remove her glasses for him.

      She knew what he saw. A rather average-looking woman with curly red hair. In her ID photo, it looked darker, almost auburn. Her eyes were wide-set and the exact same warm brown color as her mother’s had been. Jane herself had no real memory of her mother’s eyes, but her father had mentioned it often enough when she’d been a girl.

      Finally, she entered a holding area that contained the space suits. She went to her stall and pulled on the one that had her name emblazoned on it.

      She exited the room and walked a short distance to the decon—decontamination—showers, which brushed over her. Then she pressed her thumb to a keypad and the door opened. “Welcome, Dr. Miller.”

      The computer voice reminded her a little of the

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