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“I wasn’t that out of it. I would have noticed the Jell-O.”
“Uh, flag on the play. You practically had a brain bleed there, champ. They caught it, gave you some anti-stroke meds, but no way are you getting out of that bed.”
It was a little like holding back the sun. He even eased the IV out of his arm. “Let’s go.”
“If you think I’m giving you your clothes—”
He stood up, out of the covers, wearing just his green hospital gown.
She stood there. “It’s going to get breezy.”
“I’ve been walking around naked in locker rooms for most of my life. Down hallways, into training rooms—you think a little breeze is going to hold me back?”
He stared at her.
She met his gaze.
“Okay, then, sweetheart, you ready to roll?” He held out his hand.
“Oh, for the love. Fine. But what’s the hurry?”
“Um, aside from the fact that someone is hunting you?”
“Give me a break.” She’d walked over to the tall closet where she’d hung his clothes. “By the way, the EMTs wanted to cut your clothes off. I told them this was Armani and that you’d take them apart.”
He was smiling when she turned holding his shirt, his jeans. “And I saved your ultra-cool Magnannis when they took them off at the restaurant.” She handed him the shoes. “I like the buckle.”
“Thanks. I got them on sale.” He had pulled on his jeans under his pajamas, then pulled off the gown, giving her another view of those abs, a fairly hairless chest, just the finest field of dark-blond hair.
Avert. Eyes.
She looked out the window. The hospital sat in the middle of the metropolitan area. Sure, a large park stretched out across the street, but no cool Greek ruins or city gates. Just a Starbucks across the street—praises—and a couple of fast food places. She’d picked up a pork gyro yesterday for dinner, and then this morning, while they ran tests, she’d found a place that made flat bread and had a gözleme with spinach and feta cheese.
So, she wasn’t suffering.
Outside, puffy clouds floated in a perfectly blue sky. Probably, Jonas would know the word for those clouds, but to her, it looked like a perfect day.
Not the kind of day to die.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Your tests haven’t come back yet, and…”
“It’s a good idea.”
When she looked back at him, he had his shirt mostly buttoned. She hadn’t noticed until now, but he hadn’t shaved, and he now wore a smattering of dark whiskers with reddish hints.
That and his fancy shoes, the white shirt—the man belonged in Greece, some sort of resurrected mythological hero.
He grabbed his jacket and turned to her. “Let’s go before they figure out I’m leaving.” He even touched her elbow, and then, crazily, slipped his hand into hers.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking out of here with mygirlfriend.”
“We can be dating without holding hands.”
“Not in my world.” Then he pulled her out of the room, strolling along, all the way to the elevator. Smiled at a few passersby. Then leaned one hand against the wall, facing her.
“What’s happening here?”
