Page 24

Mackenzie
Ipull another tissue out of the box, wiping at my nose as I scan through my emails. Mrs. Daniels wants to change the cake design for her husband’s sixtieth birthday party, a woman is interested in a consultation for her wedding in six months, and thank God I pleased Danielle with my suggestion of using the private garden at Worthington Place. Gabriel was true to his word and got the okay from his friend. I could kiss him for that.
Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, I’m just grateful.
I close my eyes as that familiar tingle of a sneeze coming on creeps up, frantically grabbing for another tissue to contain it.
“You look awful.”
I glance up, Gabriel’s broad frame filling my office doorway in a slate gray button-up that sets off the black of his hair. “You’re early.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the display. “No, I’m on time.”
My eyes zero in on the lower corner of my laptop, taking a moment to focus since my head’s pretty fuzzy. He’s right. Where did the last hour go? Did I space out that much? “Um, just give me a sec.” I close my planner on the desk in front of me and reach for my purse on the floor, wincing as the movement sends a sharp ache through my head. When is that cold medicine I took going to kick in? Or did I actually take it?
I dig through my bag, finding the package unopened. A groan escapes me as I realize I’ve been suffering needlessly all this time.
“What’s wrong with you?” He takes a step forward till he’s at the edge of my desk and leans in to lay the back of his hand against my forehead.
My eyes flutter shut at the coolness of his skin. Oh, blessed relief.
“You’re burning up. Mackenzie, what are you doing here?”
His admonishment doesn’t hold quite the same effect it would at any other time. I’m just too tired to care much at the moment. “What do you mean?” I surreptitiously run a hand under my nose where it’s leaking a little. “I’m working.”
He steps back, crossing his arms over his chest. The action serves to make his biceps pop. No, I can’t handle that right now. “You’re sick. You should be home in bed resting.”
I sigh, rolling my shoulders gingerly. There must be an anvil attached to them with how much they ache. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him, giving a half smile, even as my cheeks strain with the effort. “I’m totally ready to go pick out a tux with you.” As soon as I can summon the strength to get out of this chair.
He shakes his head emphatically. “We’re not going anywhere. Except back to your apartment. Come on, I’ll take you home. The town car’s just outside.”
I waver for a moment, the thought of returning home and sleeping practically making me break out in full body goosebumps with how good it sounds, but I have to regretfully decline. “I can’t. I have too much to do.” At least if he refuses to go get fitted for a tux today, that clears up some of my schedule.
“You can’t work yourself into the ground,” he insists.
“There’s no one else to do it.” One thing I’ve discovered in owning my own business is there are no sick days. It would put me too far behind or have me lose clients. I already work weekends too.
“I’ll take care of it.”
I stare at him, not sure I heard him right. “What?”
“I’ll do whatever’s so important you can’t spend one day recuperating.” He picks up my planner, my fingers itching to grab it back from him. I don’t let anybody touch my planner. Ever.
“I appreciate your offer, but this is my business. My livelihood.”
He narrows his eyes. “I bet you can barely stand right now.”
I rise above the urge to prove him wrong, staying seated. It was already an ordeal making it here this morning.
“Do you think your clients want to see you like this? Death warmed over?”
My fingers skim the side of my face. If he points out the dark circles under my eyes from tossing and turning all night or how the skin under my nose is peeling from wiping it constantly, I can’t be responsible for any harm that may befall him.
I avoided Diana earlier, knowing she’d probably give me grief, but I didn’t expect this from him.
“Really, I’m-” I pause as a hacking cough escapes me. I desperately try to hide it in the crook of my elbow, but I’m not fooling anyone.
“Let me help you.”