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She lay there struggling to catch her breath, and prayed she would fall back to sleep. Less than an hour later, she was sure she hadn’t fallen asleep, but was sure she was dreaming at the sight of Paul in her bedroom, tousled in jeans and a Northwestern tee shirt.
“I can’t believe you leave your door unlocked. Don’t you know this city is extremely unsafe for a beautiful young woman like you? Don’t you have any sense?”
Okay, so it wasn’t a dream.
“What are you doing here?” was the only response she could get out.
“You call me sounding like you are hacking up a lung and you expect me to just go back to watching the game? Do you have anything more decent to wear than that shirt? I don’t want Frank seeing you like that.” He began to rummage through her closet, and came out with an old top to a pair of flannel pajamas she used to wear. “Sit up, sweetheart.”
Not quite sure who Frank was and even why she was sitting up, she did her best to try, but was so weak that Paul did all the work. He pulled her up, took the shirt she wore off, and stuffed her into the flannel top. He yelled f
or Frank, and only a moment later, a man only a few years older than Paul, with light blue eyes and a gentle grin, came into the room. After attempting to order Paul from the room and then giving up, Frank’s diagnosis was almost immediate. No, she didn’t have the flu—she actually had bronchitis.
“Bronchitis? You were just going to stay in bed and not go to the doctor because you thought you had the flu. Again, do you have any sense?”
Frank shushed Paul and turned his attention back to Laura. “Laura, because of how quickly this came on and how badly you seem to be struggling, I want to go ahead and give you a shot. It will move this along and then you will only need another week of the antibiotic. Is that all right?”
She nodded, and moments later she felt the prick of the needle. All of the commotion was too much for her, and she drifted back to sleep.
***
Several hours later, she came awake with a start and a need to pee. She made her way to the bathroom on weak and trembling legs. A few minutes later, she opened the door to the bathroom to find Paul leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for her. “Paul?”
“Are you feeling okay?” He picked her up and walked her back to bed.
“You’re still here?” She was shocked as he gently tucked her into bed.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. How long has it been since you had something to eat? I have some fresh chicken soup, or maybe tea and toast. Frank said you wouldn’t be up for much, but I can get you anything you want.” While surprised to see him there, she was more startled when her stomach growled loudly.
“Soup it is. I’ll be right back.”
Laura’s shock lasted the whole night as he fed her soup, helped her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and then, at her small-voiced request, settled down with her for the night and held her while she slept.
The moment he slipped from bed, she knew it. He pushed her gently back down. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I wish I could stay with you, but John Pierce is only in Chicago today. I wish I could give him to Dan, but I don’t think he has the balls to tell John the difference between what he wants and what he can afford and just let the sale go. I’ll be back to check on you, though.” With a soft kiss on her head, he was gone.
***
Hours later, she was annoyed she hadn’t woken in enough time to shower so she didn’t look like hell. She was also annoyed that she still felt as weak as a kitten. After buzzing Paul in, she went to the door and told herself to stop being so damn happy he was there. The cool businessman suit was back on, but so was the look of concern.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he felt her for a fever.
“Better. What’s that?”
“More soup. It’s good for you. You were complaining your throat hurt last night, so I don’t think you’re ready for anything tougher. Something’s wrong,” he said with conviction.
“I’m just annoyed I still feel weak, and I wanted to take a shower but I couldn’t even turn on the faucet.” She called herself an idiot, and knew he would too.
“It’s okay. If you want to take a shower, I’ll help you.” He dropped another kiss on her head as he sat her down on the couch and then went into the bathroom. He came back with his suit jacket gone and his shirtsleeves up, and she could hear the shower on in the bathroom.
“Okay, let’s get you into the shower.” He picked her and carried her into the bathroom. Cautiously, he set her on her feet and undid her robe. His eyes darkened at the sight of her in a plain white tee shirt and hot pink panties. In quick motions, he removed her shirt and panties. His hand tight around her arm, he helped her into the shower, but almost immediately, without his strength, she slumped against the wall.
She told herself she would just give it another minute and then she would move. By the time that minute was up, Paul had undressed, stepped inside, and taken her into his arms.
“Sweetheart, you have to work with me.” She wasn’t quite sure how he managed it, but he had washed her hair and was soaping her body in a very short time. Cradled in his arms, her back to him, she reveled in his touch. Her body’s response to his touch was as automatic as breathing. She was gratified to feel his response against her ass.
“Laura,” he groaned in her ear. “You’re sick, damn it, and I am no saint. You have to stop it.”
“I feel better.” She moaned and moved to turn around in his arms. He swore and all but pushed her away, back under the stream of water.
