She hadn’t seen him since that awful day in the food court, when she’d nervously admitted her feelings, worried he might panic and reject her. Instead he’d sneezed. They’d thought nothing of it until the redness and swelling started, and then she and three other people in the area had gone scrambling to find a phone to dial 9-1-1. Most of them thought he’d swallowed a peanut, some reason that was logical and safe and had nothing to do with love. But then, after hearing the news from the doctor as she lurked outside his hospital room, logical and safe were nothing but faded hopes.

She’d left the hospital without saying goodbye. Now, she was a scientist, working in one of the top research labs in the country. Her coworkers could depend on her to work late hours, to remain detached and calculating. Distant. Her dream of going into theater, of being a Broadway star, had been replaced by the cold comfort of lab equipment and sterile procedures. She didn’t dare be loved, or love her job.

Her love could kill.