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Giving herself time to get her thoughts under control, she gradually unfurled off the papers, gathering them up in order. When she'd picked up the last paper, she had no more excuses not to turn around. She looked up, to see Desmond framed by the doorway.
"You've been busy," he said, nodding at the papers clutched in her hand. Was that a hint of censure in his voice? She double-checked the desk top, making sure she'd removed all traces of her activity.
"Mrs. Waters said I could use your study."
"Of course. You're my guest." Waving away her concern, he sauntered over to the desk and leaned against the edge. His hip rested inches away from her.
Her every sense registered his presence, from the hint of his spicy-sweet cologne brushing the air to the wash of heat radiating from him. Might he be equally aware of her? He'd seemed interested last night. But when he hadn't followed up on their kiss, she'd thought his attention was more likely because of what she could do for his daughter, than because he found Rebecca appealing. Had she been wrong?
"Did you get the results from Dr. Chen?" Rebecca forced her gaze up to his face.
"Yes." His broad smile told her everything she needed to know, about the results and about her appeal. "He's confirmed your suitability as a donor."
She shivered, as the reality of what she'd promised cast a sudden shadow over her. Desmond and his daughter would both be depending on her. What if she failed them?
Desmond leaned over and took Rebecca's hands between his, sharing his warmth. His touch sent threads of fire through her fingers, up her arms, and into her heart until her blood seemed to smolder. She stared at their clasped hands.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah. It's just— " She couldn't tell him how his touch affected her. "I hadn't really believed it would be a match."
"Are you having second thoughts?"
He let go and backed away. Her hands seemed twice as cold without his warmth.
She searched his face for a hint about why he'd moved away from her, but his normally expressive features displayed nothing. Even his eyes gave nothing away, dulling to a flat bottle-green. Yes, she was having second thoughts. Anyone would. That didn't mean she was backing out.
If he'd just give her a clue as to how important her possible second thoughts were to him, she'd know how to frame her answer. But maybe he had. Maybe his complete lack of display proved he feared that she would change her mind completely. And that he'd respect her wishes and let her go rather than trying to coerce her into staying if she no longer wanted to help. The thought of finally being the one in control of her situation gave her an unsought rush of power, tied to a responsibility she didn't want to bear alone.
"It would help if you told me what's expected from a donor. I mean, I know Gillian needs blood cells, but how's it all happen?"
A relieved smile transformed his face, and he extended one hand in chivalrous escort. She took the time to stack her pile of notes in the middle of the desk where they wouldn't fall, then let him lead her to the pair of leather chairs. He settled her comfortably in one, then he sat in the other and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Gillian needs a bone marrow donor, so she can create her own blood cells. The doctor will withdraw the bone marrow cells from the donor, and inject them into Gillian's blood stream, where they'll eventually be absorbed."
"So it's like the blood samples Dr. Chen's already done, only more so?" She relaxed. That wouldn't be so bad.
"Except the bone marrow isn't taken from the blood stream. It's drawn from the middle of the long bones in the leg."
"The middle of the bone?" Her voice squeaked. She couldn't help it. The cells they wanted were still inside her bones.
"Rebecca? You're very pale. Would you like a drink?"
"Drink? No." She didn't need false courage. She needed the real kind, and found it sorely lacking. "How do they get at the middle of a bone?"
"It won't hurt. They give you a local anesthesia, and the procedure will be over in a matter of minutes."
"I asked how they get at the mid
dle of the bone."
Desmond tilted his head and eyed her with suspicion. "Are you sure you want the details? You already look faint. Isn't it enough to know it won't hurt?"
"No. It's not enough. I can deal with the truth, however awful it is. Don't you see? It's not knowing that scares me, because I can imagine things that are a million times worse."
He nodded. "It's a simple operation. The doctor makes a small incision, chips the bone, and withdraws some of the cells. As soon as the anesthetic wears off, the donor walks away. That's it."
She stared at the wall of books, her thoughts churning. Local anesthesia. No hospitalization. How much could it hurt? Chipping bone. Incisions. It could hurt a lot.
