Stephen had been physically fit, but nothing like this. The sudden urge to smooth her hands over him, to search and explore and see if he was as hard as he looked was so strong she had to clutch her hands together to keep from reaching out.
“Okay, sure. Well, I hope you feel better.” She was rambling—she could hear it—and she backed away from the bed, suddenly needing as much space as possible from this all-too-tempting man. “I’ll get you some water.”
Jane fled the room, her heart racing, her feet nearly tripping over themselves in her urgency to get to the kitchen and away from Chris.
All three of her children sat at the table coloring, watching her with wide-eyed curiosity as she went to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water, then grabbed the aspirin.
“Is he okay?” Lexi asked.
“He’ll be fine.” She smiled at them, wishing she had someone else here to help. “I’m getting him some water and then I’ll finish dinner, okay?”
“Okay,” all three of her children sing-songed, and she thanked them silently for their patience. Something they definitely weren’t known for.
Chris was already drifting off back to sleep when she arrived at his bedside, and she placed the cold water bottle against his bare forearm, startling him awake.
“That was mean,” he grumbled, “but it felt good.”
“I’m sure. Here, take this, too.” She offered the aspirin, but he took the water from her first, uncapped it, and pr
oceeded to drink nearly half before he stopped.
And again, she felt like a fool for being aroused by him while he felt ill. But the way his big hand had clutched that bottle, his arched neck, the movement of his throat when he drank brought forth such a feeling of longing she almost ached with it.
“Thanks, Jane.” He held out his hand, palm up, and she set the pills there. He swallowed them with another gulp of water and then placed the bottle onto the bedside table, settling into the pile of pillows beneath his head. “I’m wiped.”
“Of course you are. Get some sleep; you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“You don’t mind my staying here, do you? It’s not going to cause any problems, is it?” His golden gaze locked onto her. He watched her carefully as she searched for the right thing to say.
He was sick, but the gossips might have a field day with this if they were discovered.
For once, she realized she didn’t care.
“Maybe I should go,” he added when she still hadn’t said anything. He tossed the covers back, giving her a glimpse of flat abdomen, black boxer briefs, and thick, muscular thighs.
“No, no, stay the night. You can’t drive like this.” She reached for the blankets at the same time he did, their hands brushing against each other’s, and she jerked away, her fingers landing on his thigh instead.
Cheeks heated, she yanked her hand back, let him pull the covers over himself.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her fingertips still tingling from touching him. That thigh had been hard, hot, and she wondered what it would feel like to have him pressed against her. In bed. Naked.
“It’s all right.” He rolled over on his side, facing her, a sleepy smile curving his lips.
Those very same lips had kissed her senseless not too long ago. The memory of that moment lingered, filled her thoughts more often than not.
“Thanks, Jane.” He closed his eyes, drifting off already, and she leaned over, snapped off the lamp with a quiet click. “For taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said softly, a pang in her heart.
She had a feeling if she let him, he’d take even better care of her.
…
Chris woke up a sweaty, disoriented mess. He blinked his eyes open with a start and stared into the unfamiliar darkness. It took him a minute to realize where he was, what had happened.
Tired, even a little feverish, the leftover vestiges of his flu bug. Jane driving him to her house, ushering him inside, and into her guest bed. She’d taken good care of him, checked on him twice before she’d gone to bed and then once more, in the middle of the night.
The last time she came, he’d feigned sleep, absorbed the tender care she’d shown him. The way she’d tucked the blankets around his shoulders, her cool hands touching his flesh. She’d tested his forehead, her fingers surging upward to thread through his hair, and then she’d run a single finger down his cheek.