“I’ll stay two weeks and help you get done what you need to get done. But that’s all.” Her voice was like stone, and a resolve that belied her years shone from her eyes. “I can’t watch you kill yourself, so if you push the surgery off past two weeks, I’m quitting.”
For a moment, Gray’s stared speechless. “Th-the manuscript won’t be ready for publication in two weeks,” he tried to explain. “It has to go back and forth between me and the editorial team, and that takes ti—”
“Do they know about the tumor?”
She was relentless. In spite of himself, Gray wanted to smile. “They do, but they don’t know how serious it is.”
“Well, they’re going to,” she declared. “I’m sure they can fast-track that process if one of their bestselling authors is on death’s door.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Maybe you’re right. I’d have to talk to them about—”
“I’ll talk to them. You’ll work.”
“What?” he sputtered, close to hysterics. He knew Meredith could be stubborn and insistent and exacting, but he barely recognized the woman in front of him.
She was irresistible.
“You think you can—”
“I’m Gray Blakewood’s personal assistant. I can do anything.” She said it without a trace of humor, and Gray found himself beaming. He reached for her face, this time determined to kiss her, but as soon as their lips touched, she sprung from his arms.
“No, no, no.Noneof that.” Meredith stood before him, a good two feet away as if she needed to keep a safe distance. “We don’t have time for that.”
She said it as if kissing her wasn’t one of the greatest joys he’d ever savored. And he knew it was something she liked too because the color was again high on her cheeks.
“We don’t have time for a kiss?” he teased. “I can do a lot of kissing in two weeks.”
She glared at him. “Is this all a joke to you? Because I think this is pretty terrifying.” She stood ramrod straight with her fists balled at her sides, and Gray knew he’d gone too far.
“No,” he said, losing his smile. “It’s not a joke.”
Meredith nodded. “Good. Because if you don’t take this seriously, you’re not the man I thought you were.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
Bouncing on her heels, she couldn’t seem to contain her anger. “If you do — as you say — really,reallylike me, then you should care about my feelings.” She raised a hand and pointed to his house. “And you should care about those people in there who aredesperateto save you.”
He glanced back at the house and could have sworn he saw Bax’s figure retreat from the French doors.
Bastard.
“I do care,” he said, bringing his eyes back to hers.
“Good. Because I really,reallylike you too. And I like you because you’re thoughtful and concerned and giving.” She spoke in a rush. And her words encouraged him, but her eyes blazed with such heat, he thought she’d light him on fire. Like she could smite him. She looked torn between frustration and disappointment.
Gray felt he had to defend himself or risk losing her. “On a good day, I’m all those things.”
“I know.” Her voice waivered, and a little of the fight went out of her. The blaze in her eyes now burned with pain. “You’re like that on bad days, too. That’s why if I take your side — if I support you in gambling with your life — you have to know what it’s costing me, and you can’t treat it like a joke.”
Gray stood then. He reached for her hands, and he was grateful she didn’t pull away. “I won’t. I promise.”
She gazed up at him under her lashes, so hopeful, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. “Two weeks?”
“Two weeks.” It may not be enough time for his books, and it might be too much time for his head, but it was what she could handle. He wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Good.” Meredith squeezed his hands. “Now, give me your phone. I need to get to work, and so do you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
