He rolled to lean over her. “Trust me,” he murmured, “you aren’t going to fall asleep. Not just yet.”
She looked wide awake when she reached up to welcome him.
Caitlin finally convinced Nathan that she had to leave. Fully dressed again, her hair still down, but brushed out of her face, she lingered just inside the front door for a final good-night.
“Drive carefully,” he said between kisses. “Maybe you should call me when you get there.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You are not my father. I’m quite capable of seeing myself home.”
“Maybe I just want to hear your voice again before I go to sleep.”
Refusing to be swayed by his blarney, she reached for the doorknob. “Good night, Nathan.”
He held the door closed for a moment. “I want to see you again tomorrow. Come spend some time with us. Isabelle loves seeing you.”
She bit her lip as she tried to decide how to reply. This was one of the very things she worried about in getting involved with Nathan. She didn’t want to become too much a part of Isabelle’s life and risk hurting her later. Isabelle had already lost too many people she cared about. “I really should do some work tomorrow.”
“Bring your files with you. It will be a good time for us to catch up on our consultations. Everything has been so hectic at the office lately that we haven’t had much time to talk.”
He had, of course, chosen the one argument she couldn’t easily counter. They did need to spend some time discussing business, especially the malpractice case, which was starting to get expensive. And it was difficult to find uninterrupted time at the office.
“I suppose I could come by for a little while. Do you think we’ll be able to talk about work with Isabelle here?”
“Sure. Give her a drawing pad and some markers and she’s happy for hours. Why don’t you plan to have lunch with us? I make a better-than-decent spaghetti sauce.”
It was a big step from an impromptu business meeting to a cozy family lunch. But the look on Nathan’s face told her he was prepared to charm her into accepting if she tried to decline. Just to save time and trouble, she said, “Fine. Thank you, I would be delighted to join you for lunch.”
His smile let her know he suspected her reason for conceding so easily, but he merely nodded. “About twelve-thirty, then?”
“I’ll be here. Good night, Nathan.”
He leaned over to give her one last, lingering kiss. “Good night, Caitlin.”
She didn’t sleep well that night, though she should have been exhausted. Her bed seemed too empty and her head too full of second thoughts and self-recriminations. And memories she knew would stay with her for the rest of her life.
Looking disarrayed in a frayed gray sweatshirt and faded jeans, Nathan jerked opened his front door almost before Caitlin took her finger off the doorbell. She hadn’t exactly dressed up for the casual visit, having selected a forest-green sweater and a pair of loose khakis, but he looked as though he had just crawled out of bed.
She had expected to be greeted with a warm smile, perhaps a kiss, but she was totally unprepared for him to reach out, grab her wrist and tug her inside so roughly she thought he might pull her arm out of its socket. “What in the—”
“Something’s wrong with Isabelle,” he broke in urgently, slamming the door closed behind her. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What are you talking about? What’s wrong with Isabelle?”
He took the heavy briefcase and tossed it aside. Though she gave a fleeting thought to the computer inside it, she was more concerned about Isabelle. Nathan almost dragged her to the den, where Isabelle was lying on the couch. “I think she’s sick,” he told Caitlin in a low, tense voice.
Extricating herself from his grip, Caitlin knelt beside the couch. Still wearing wrinkled yellow cotton pajamas, Isabelle seemed to be dozing, though fitfully. Her little face was flushed, her hair damp and limp. Her breathing seemed to be a bit wheezy.
Though she hadn’t the foggiest clue what she was doing, Caitlin reached out to rest a hand lightly on Isabelle’s forehead. Her skin felt as hot as it looked. “I think she has a fever.”
“Yeah, I think so, too. Does it feel very high to you?”
“I have no idea. Don’t you have a thermometer?”
“No.”
Isabelle gave a soft little moan and shifted restlessly on the couch cushions.
Caitlin looked anxiously up at Nathan, who hovered behind her, his face taut. “Maybe you should take her to a doctor.”