He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure this is food poisoning?”
“What else could it be?” Her brows came together.
“Well, it’s been almost a month since we were together.” His voice trailed off as he scrutinized her expression.
Emma eyed him through her long bangs. “And?”
“Are you pregnant?”
Four
Pregnant? Emma’s queasiness now originated from a whole new source. Foreboding surfaced like a rash. Her focus narrowed to the irritation of a persistent itch that wouldn’t go away, no matter how long or hard she scratched.
She had food poisoning. Nothing more.
“We used protection,” she reminded him, her voice a noon shadow.
“It’s not one hundred percent effective.”
Oh, and wouldn’t he love that. He’d have even more leverage to get her to marry him if she turned out to be pregnant. Closing the door on her doubts, she glared at him. “Go away.”
“I’m not leaving you like this,” he said. “I’m going to get you some water.”
“No, please.” While she acknowledged that her body could use some fluids right now, she didn’t want Nathan around while she felt so weak and helpless. It was just too easy to lean on him, let him handle things. And before she knew it, he would have her agreeing to marry him. “Just leave me in peace.”
“You can’t afford to get dehydrated.”
She hid her face in her arms. “I really don’t think I could keep anything down.”
Although exhausted by her rough morning, Emma suspected that Nathan wouldn’t leave until she proved that she could take care of herself. Hoping her stomach could take it, she began pushing to her feet. Before she could stand upright, Nathan bent down and swept her into his arms. Too shocked and too weak to protest, Emma gripped his shoulders for stability. The short walk to her bedroom reminded her how many times in the last three weeks she wished she’d stayed at his condo that night. Would he have carried her to bed like this?
He set her on her feet and kept one arm around her waist as he swept the covers aside. “For the last month I’ve been looking forward to getting you into bed,” he said, the grim, unyielding businessman morphing into a handsome snake charmer. “But this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
She quashed the amusement his comment produced. Gorgeous, cheeky and way too sexy for his own good, she resented that he seemed to know exactly what to say to make her forget that she’d been up and sitting within arms’ reach of the toilet since just before five o’clock when she had been overcome by nausea.
“I’m in no condition to flirt with you,” she told him as a wave of dizziness hit her.
His wry grin faded as he pulled the covers over her. “Can I get you anything?”
She clutched the edge of her comforter and stared up at him. Her stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with food poisoning.
“No. I’ll be fine.” She probably should thank him for taking care of her, but he’d entered her home uninvited and had stumbled upon her in the most humiliating of moments. No, she didn’t have to feel one bit grateful. If only he’d go. “I’m going to sleep for a while.”
She shut her eyes, to block out the concern tangling with humor in his dark gray eyes, and hoped he’d take the hint. Retreating footsteps told her that he’d left her room, but she couldn’t relax while sounds of him moving around the loft reached her ears. He returned to the bedroom and placed something on the nightstand beside her. She spied a glass of water within easy reach just as she heard the front door to the apartment open and shut. Although every muscle protested, she slipped out of bed and slowly crossed the living room to slide the dead bolt home.
Her legs shook with the effort of retracing her steps across the expansive space. She caught at the door frame leading to her bedroom as her vision darkened. Gulping air, she shuffled five steps and dropped into bed, pulling the covers over her. As her body went limp, sleep claimed her at last.
When she woke late that afternoon, the food poisoning seemed to have run its course. Feeling weak and shaky from low blood sugar and lack of water, Emma swung her legs out of bed and sat up. While her head swam, her stomach barely reacted at all. With a faint, relieved smile, she headed for the kitchen. A piece of toast and a cup of herbal tea sounded like heaven. The smell of cooking brought her up short.
Emma pushed her sleep-tossed hair out of her eyes and gaped at the man standing in her kitchen. Nathan had replaced his expensive business suit with thigh-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved blue sweater that emphasized the capable strength of his torso.
His gaze swept over her. She’d caught a glimpse of herself as she’d passed her dresser mirror. It wasn’t pretty. She waited for his expression to reflect disappointment. But as he perused her ancient but comfortable cotton pajama bottoms and lingered over the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her equally worn T-shirt, only appreciation altered the curve of his lips.
Her nipples tightened, driving a spike of longing straight to her core. She crossed her arms over her chest a fraction too late. His smug grin confirmed that her body’s involuntary response hadn’t gone unnoticed. Why couldn’t he disapprove of her appearance just this once? It would give her a firm base to build resentment on. Instead, she felt all mushy and weak-kneed.
“I see you’re up.” He stirred something in a pot on the stove, something that smelled heavenly. “Feeling better?”
“You left.”