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It was best to stick to the basic facts for the moment and leave the rest until he was a little more able to get his head around it. Gabriel was clearly not quite in control of his tongue yet, and if the most important thing on his mind was that she was beautiful, then that was just a sign that he hadn’t woken up properly. The shiver that his words had produced was both unnecessary and inappropriate.
‘You’re going to be all right.’ Clara decided to skip the part about what was wrong with him.
‘Am I? Really?’ He frowned.
‘Yes, you are. You might have a headache and you probably don’t remember what happened last night—’
‘Yes. I have a headache. And I don’t have a clue how I got here.’
‘The disorientation will pass, too.’
‘When...?’
‘Soon. You’re going to be fine.’ Clara reached into her bag, taking out one of the plastic bottles she’d brought with her and cracking open the seal. ‘Would you like some water?’
His gaze seemed to be following her every move. ‘Yes, please...’
She opened the packet of drinking straws from her bag, putting one into the bottle and leaning over to hold it close to his mouth. His fingers closed around hers, light and caressing. His touch was just as electrifying as his words had been.
But she wasn’t here to experience the delights of Gabriel DeMarco’s dark gaze. If all the rumours were true, there were more than enough women who were happy to share those things with him. She had a job to do and when her boss had called her at one o’clock this morning, it had been immediately obvious that being chosen for this was an opportunity. A high-profile client, in an extremely sensitive situation.
‘Take it easy. Not too much...’ He was gulping the water down as fast as the straw would allow, and she pulled the bottle away from him for a moment. His fingers tightened around hers, stopping her from taking the bottle back completely.
‘Thank you. May I have some more, please.’
‘Slowly, this time.’
He drank again, and when the bottle was half-empty he let her take it away from him. ‘You know I’m a doctor?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Gabriel DeMarco’s file contained a lot more information than that about him.
‘Then you’ll know that I’ll understand whatever you tell me about my medical condition.’
The facts, maybe. The hows and the whys, probably not. But he seemed to be getting more and more agitated and it was clear that he wasn’t going to just rely on her and go with the flow. Clara had to think carefully, and give him the information he needed without sending him into a panic.
‘You inadvertently ingested a drug last night. It’s not done you any lasting harm, but you’ll be feeling a little groggy for a while.’
‘What drug?’ Clara hesitated and he reached for the call button at the side of the bed. ‘If you won’t tell me...’
‘All right.’ The last thing she wanted was any contact with the doctors and nurses, beyond what was medically necessary. The fewer people who remembered him being here the better. ‘Flunitrazepam.’
His hand moved to his face, massaging his temples with his fingers and thumb, as if he was trying to get his brain to work.
‘It’s not possible to inadvertently ingest flunitrazepam. It’s manufactured with a blue dye these days, with the specific aim of making it difficult to slip into someone’s drink.’ His fingers wandered to his throat as a thought seemed to occur to him.
‘You have a sore throat? That’s because you were given activated charcoal last night by feeding tube. Your friends, Dr and Mrs Goodman, were with you the whole time, until I arrived.’ Clara tried to reassure him. The uncomfortable realisation that something had happened last night and he had no memory of it was going to dawn on him any moment now.
‘I remember... I think. I was going to Grant and Sara’s place for dinner. Where are they?’
‘They’re at home. Sleeping, I imagine, I didn’t arrive here until four in the morning.’
‘And what exactly is your part in this, Clara?’
He was rapidly coming to his senses. She was no longer the angel with the beautiful hair, she was someone who had to justify her presence to him. It was almost a disappointment, but in professional terms it was probably just as well. Clara reached into her bag for the bundle of identification papers.
‘I work for Gladstone and Sullivan Securities. You recognise the name...?’
‘Of course. My father’s company has used you for years.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘Please tell me I haven’t done anything that requires that level of discretion.’
