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“You don’t know how I am feeling.” She laced her fingers through his and sent a warm glow in his chest. “Anything can happen.”
“Nothing will.” He tugged his hand away and bent to kiss her forehead.
“You’re really leaving?” She asked with a pout.
“Stop being such a baby.” He said mildly, brushing back tendrils of hairs that were clinging to her moist forehead. “Mrs. Elliot was on her way out when I came in. I am just going to change and go downstairs and make you some tea and plain soup to settle your stomach. How does it feel now?”
“The same.” She rubbed her hand over it. “I think I am just tired. We came back from the trip and jumped straight into work. And the renovations are kind of stressful.”
His eyes narrowed at that. “Cosgrove giving you a hard time?”
She shook her head. “He is a man of few words and those words are curt and to the point, but I can deal with him. It is just everything is kind of overwhelming.”
“You wanted it done before the holidays,” he reminded her.
“I do. Okay, get the tea and soup and hopefully, I will still be alive when you get back.”
“I had no idea you were such a drama queen.”
Her glare had him laughing as he headed out the room.
Chapter 11
As he made his way downstairs, the cool air of the house seemed to clear his mind. He entered the kitchen, the warm light casting a comforting glow over the familiar space. He quickly gathered the ingredients for the tea and started boiling water, the soothing aroma of chamomile and mint rising in the air.
While waiting for the water to boil, he began preparing a simple soup. He chopped vegetables with practiced ease, his thoughts wandering back to her. The worry in her eyes, the fatigue in her voice – it all tugged at something deep within him. He found himself hurrying, eager to return to her side.
Once the soup was simmering on the stove, he carefully poured the hot water over the tea leaves, watching as the liquid turned a delicate golden color. He set the tray with the tea and soup and made his way back upstairs.
When he entered the room, she looked up, her eyes a little brighter despite the weariness etched on her face.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice soft with relief.
“Of course I am,” he replied, placing the tray on the bedside table, “I promised you tea and soup, didn’t I?”
She managed to smile a small smile as he handed her the cup of tea. She sipped it slowly, closing her eyes as the warmth spread through her.
“It’s perfect,” she murmured.
“Good,” he said, settling beside her on the bed, “now, try some soup. It will help.”
She took a few spoonful, her expression easing as she ate.
“Still dying?” He asked teasingly as he removed his clothing.
“You don’t know what I’m going through.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” He started to laugh and stopped abruptly at the look on her beautiful face. His heart quickened and he could swear his blood had turned syrupy. She was not looking sexy or at least, he was certain she had not put much effort into the way she dressed.
The worn t-shirt had seen better days, and her hair was all over the place, but she was the most potently sexy woman he had ever seen and the look she was giving him was making him weak as a damn kitten.
“You cannot possibly…” His voice trailed off as she slowly put the cup away and tugged the shirt over her head. She was completely naked, her nipples already puckered. And he was as hard as the proverbial rock. “You’re sick.” He had the fleeting thought that he was more trying to convince himself than her.
“I feel much better. The tea and soup combination was an excellent idea.” She glanced pointedly at his obvious arousal.
“Sherrian, I am not a goddamned monster.” He growled as he tried to fight the heat raging through his body.
“This is a sure-fire way to sweat out the sickness.”