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“I’m not pregnant. Let’s leave it at that.” Sarcasm bit into her words.
“Maybe you are and don’t know it.” Why he persisted he wasn’t sure. Maybe because the thought that she might be bothered him so greatly that he wanted to be one hundred per cent certain that she wasn’t.
“I am not pregnant. End of story.” She blew out an exasperated breath, dropped her head against his dashboard and rolled it back and forth slowly, before sitting back up to stare blankly ahead. “Men are so dense.”
Wondering at her actions, he frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you were oblivious when you should have...” She trailed off, closed her eyes and put her hand to her head, wincing as if in pain again.
“Headache?” he guessed, wondering why breathing suddenly felt easier at her assurance she wasn’t pregnant, wondering at her comment and wishing she’d finished it.
She nodded. “I think one is coming on. If you’ll take me somewhere to where I can lie down for a minute, I’m sure it’ll pass.”
She was looking pale again and as if she’d like to bring up anything in her stomach. “You need a bag or something to barf in?”
“Very technical term there, Dr. Lane, and, no, I don’t need a barf bag. I haven’t eaten anything since early this morning.”
Why hadn’t she eaten? Sure, they had been busy at the hospital, but she was supposed to have had a lunch-break. How had he not noticed that she hadn’t taken one?
“That’s probably why you feel so poorly and is likely what triggered your headache. Hypoglycemia is serious business, Brielle. You shouldn’t play around with your health. You know better.”
Eyes closed, face squished, she shook her head and pointed towards the road. “It’s not hypoglycemia. My blood sugar is fine. I’m fine. Just drive.”
Ross wasn’t sure where he was supposed to take her, but a place to lie down was a requirement he didn’t have a lot of choices on. He took her to the furnished apartment he’d leased for the three months he’d be in Bean’s Creek.
Despite her protests that she was fine to walk, he carried her inside, laid her on his sofa, pulled her tennis shoes off and propped her feet on one of the throw pillows that had come with the apartment.
“I’ll be back in just a minute,” he promised. “Don’t move.”
Eyes closed, she grunted in acknowledgement of his comment. He fetched a glass of orange juice and a couple of tablets to knock out her pain.
“I don’t recall you having issues with headaches. How often do you get these?” he asked when she’d settled back on the sofa. He placed a cold, damp cloth on her forehead and stroked loose hairs away from her face.
“Almost never.” Hating that his touch felt so good, Brielle closed her eyes, willed her body not to respond to the gentle strokes of his fingers brushing over her face, her hair.
“Sometimes hormonal changes can trigger headaches.”
“Stop it, Ross. I am not pregnant,” she repeated, enunciating each word with emphasis.
Really, could the situation be any more ironic? When she’d been pregnant with his child, he’d failed to notice the changes to her routine, to her body. Tonight, when she’d merely felt ill, he’d immediately jumped to that conclusion. Men.
“Are you dating anyone, Brielle?”
Grateful that her eyes were closed and he couldn’t read the truth in her eyes, she held her tongue in check.
“I suppose you’re not answering because you think the answer isn’t any of my business. Maybe you’re right that it’s not. But what you do feels as if it’s my business.” He sighed and it sounded so weary that she opened her eyes, her gaze instantly colliding with his intense blue one.
“I want what you do to be my business, Brielle.”
His admission surprised her.
“Tell me how to make that happen.”
Oh, how sweetly seductive his words were to her heart and yet... “Because you’re here, I’m here, and you have three months to kill?”
“I’m here because of you,” he owned up, his gaze not wavering from hers. “You have to know you’re why I’m here. The only reason I’m here.”
She knew that. On some level she had known. Yet her heart did a jiggly dance in her chest all the same.
