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      In my late teens and early twenties I had the most fabulous group of friends. We’ve all grown older, maybe a little wiser, and families and continents keep us apart.

      So, to the nights in the Metro, Sullivans, Club de Mar and Ayr Beach Promenade with Julie Paton, Gillian Lapsley, Joyce Kane, Jaki Lynch, Shona Kennedy and Marianne Stevenson. I’ve never laughed so much.

      Whose turn is it to drive?

      And to @stephenfry, @justinpollard and the lovely elves at QI who gave me sleeping sickness just when I needed it!

      CHAPTER ONE

      VIOLET WAS SHAKING in her shoes—literally.

      The walk to the director’s office had never seemed so long. On every one of the thirty steps her legs felt more like jelly and her brain like laundry on a permanent spin cycle.

      Her hand gripped the piece of paper in her hand tightly—the only evidence that she’d actually done any of the work she was supposed to have completed days ago. The three sentences didn’t exactly help her defense.

      But inside her, next to her churning stomach, rage was building. Rage against Evan Hunter, her boss.

      It was his fault she was in this situation.

      He’d asked her to find out background information on her brother, Matt Sawyer, who’d been at the heart of the most prolific outbreak in the history of the Disease Prevention Agency. Granted he hadn’t known Matt was her brother, but that did nothing to quell the anger in her belly.

      She’d used her other work as an excuse not to comply with Evan’s request. Plotting the potential spread of the suspected smallpox virus was surely more important than finding out about the ex-DPA doctor who’d made the preliminary diagnosis. Too bad Evan didn’t feel that way.

      Her legs trembled as she reached the door.

      Stay calm, she repeated in her head. Erupting in front of the director would do nothing to help her cause.

      But there was a surprise. Evan’s broad shoulders immediately towered over her. It seemed like he was waiting for the director too.

      There he was. Blocking her way to the boardroom. His arms were folded across his chest. In another world she might have found him attractive.

      In fact, a few months ago and after a couple of glasses of wine, she had found him attractive and had ended up locked in a heated embrace that neither of them had admitted to or acted on again.

      Evan could certainly turn heads. His tall frame and broad shoulders, combined with his dark brown hair and blue eyes, attracted female attention wherever he went.

      To say nothing of the sexy three-day stubble currently on his chin.

      Too bad he was about to be her executioner.

      So why did he look a little twitchy?

      “What are you doing here?”

      She jerked at the tone in his voice. “I could ask the same of you. The director sent for me.”

      “He did?” Evan looked surprised. Surely he’d initiated this by complaining about her?

      “Why do you think we’re here?”

      Evan’s eyes met hers. They were steady, uncompromising. “I can only guess it’s about the report I sent him.”

      She could feel her stomach turn over. “What report was that?”

      “The one about Matt Sawyer—you know? The one I asked you to write days ago.” He shot her a steely glare. “It seemed a remarkable coincidence that a former DPA employee was around when a provisional smallpox diagnosis was made.” It was almost as if he was trying to bait her.

      “What’s the supposed to mean?” The words were out before she could stop herself.

      “Oh, come on, Violet.” His words were frustrated. “You must appreciate that the chances of smallpox occurring naturally are virtually impossible. All situations in our current plan are around a terrorist attack. What are the chances of a former DPA employee being around when it happens? You were asked to compile a report of Matt Sawyer’s recent history. It was essential that we found out exactly where Matt Sawyer had been and who he’d been consorting with.”

      Violet couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Consorting with? You’ve got to be joking, Evan.”

      But he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You ignored my requests for information—even after I gave you a warning. That information could have meant the difference between preventing a terrorist attack and putting more lives at risk. You still haven’t handed over any information on Matt Sawyer. What exactly have you been doing with your time, Violet?”

      The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface was threatening to erupt. Idiot. The man was clearly an idiot. And the implication in his words meant she couldn’t think straight any more.

      “You honestly thought that Sawyer was a terrorist? That idea actually crossed your

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