Compromising Her Position (Compromise Me 1)

He started to tell Chelsea, but she burrowed under her blanket and said, “I’m s-so cold.”

No, she was burning up, but he remembered the frozen, achy feeling. “I know.” He aligned himself beside her in the bed, his front to her back, and gathered her close. She probably only sought his warmth, but she hugged his arm to her chest and clung to him like a little girl with a teddy bear. “The doctor will be here soon.”

She mumbled something that sounded like, “Tell him I can’t sail today,” and fell back to sleep.

No problem. He’d make sure Nick got the message. No sailing with Doctor Feelgood, today or ever.

He roused himself to answer a knock at the door a short while later, and experienced competing feelings of relief and annoyance at the sight of Nick standing on the doorstep. Yes, he was there to help, and if the good doctor had never hit on Chelsea, Rafe would probably have considered him a perfectly decent human being, but right now his whole “dedicated savior” image put Rafe on edge. Rumpled brown hair—too busy saving lives to bother with a trim—and clean hospital scrubs—wouldn’t want anyone to forget what he did for a living—and a calm, reliable smile. Why did he have to come off so fucking smug?

Because he senses you flew down here to be her rescuer, and fucked up in every way imaginable? He’d be right.

“You look much better,” the guy observed…smugly.

Rafe stepped back and turned to lead the way to Chelsea’s bedroom. “Yay for me.”

Nick laughed. “Flu’s been a problem on the island this winter.”

Rafe paused at Chelsea’s bedroom door and glanced back at him. “But now it’s Chelsea’s problem, and that’s on me.”

“Probably, yeah,” Nick agreed, smiling like a man enjoying an advantage. “But I’ll have her feeling better in no time.” With that, he brushed past Rafe and into the bedroom.

Oh, hell no, he wasn’t standing in the hall while Nick played doctor. He walked to the far side of the bed and leaned over her. “Chelsea,” he called softly.

“Hmm?” Heavy eyelids opened, and she looked at him. “Rafe,” she breathed out, just above a whisper.

“Hey, beautiful. How would you feel about letting Nick check you out?”

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and coughed. “I’m tired. You go ’head.”

Rafe kissed her flushed cheek and then sat near the foot of the bed while Nick sat down on the other side, close to the patient.

“Hi, Chelsea. Nice to see you again. Okay if I move you around a little to get a better look?”

She coughed a few times—a dry, hacking sound—opened her eyes and nodded. Then Nick scooted her into a sitting position. Chelsea’s robe gaped, revealing a lot of skin, and Rafe realized she didn’t have much of anything on underneath. The possessive feeling swept over him again, stronger than ever. He reached under the blankets, found her bare foot, and held it while Nick did the eyes-ears-nose-and-throat bit.

The possessiveness spiked dangerously close to violence when the doctor slid his stethoscope into the front of her robe, and moved it over her chest, listening to her heart and lungs. Chelsea’s cough cut that phase of the exam short, and Rafe mentally kicked his own ass. She sounded awful. She needed help, not some knee-jerk Neanderthal reaction from him.

Nick sat back and draped the stethoscope around his neck. “It was nice of you to tend to patient zero here.” He tipped his head toward Rafe.

Her eyes darted to Rafe, then away, as she settled against the pillows. “I manage the resort. Guest welfare concerns us.”

“Are you familiar with the expression no good deed goes unpunished?”

“Story of my life.”

“This chapter includes a first-class case of the flu.” Nick stood and tucked the bedcovers around her. “The good news is the patient will survive, and I give you the same prognosis.” He took a small amber bottle from his bag, shook two capsules out and handed them to her. Then he handed her the bottle of water from her nightstand. “Same thing I gave Mr. St. Sebastian.” He set the pill bottle on the small table. “Follow the instructions on the label. I’ll call tomorrow to check in, but reach out to me if your symptoms get worse.”

She swallowed the pills, chased them with an extra sip of water, and then murmured her thanks as she settled back against the pillows.

Rafe walked him out, noticing the starkness of the bare walls and generic Aloha-Hawaii furnishings. No pictures, no personal touches. Chelsea didn’t live here, she merely inhabited the space. Even he, who traveled more than he stayed put, needed a place to escape and recharge. Where was Chelsea’s? Not Montenido anymore. Not here. Did she have a place she considered home?

“Thanks for coming,” he said when they reached the front door. “My office will get in touch to settle the bill.”

Nick paused at the door, one shoulder propped against the frame like he had all the time in the world. “I’m not worried. So, the deal with you and Chelsea is—?”

“She’s mine.” Never mind keeping the Neanderthal in check.

The doctor’s eyebrows rose at the blunt declaration. He straightened and shrug