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“Do they make you sleepy?”
“A little, but not so much that we can’t talk.”
“When’s the last time you ate?”
She scooted a little on the bed to get comfortable. “I can’t remember. I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
“Then I’m going to make us a meal. We’ll eat and talk. Okay?”
“That’s not necessary. Armand can bring us a meal.”
“Nonsense. It’ll give me something to do.”
“’Kay,” she whispered, her eyes already closing.
Before he could do something insane, like kiss her, Gideon walked out of the room. He’d make them a meal, and while they ate, he’d explain to her how he’d messed up so supremely.
And then he’d take the wrath that was coming to him.
* * *
The most delicious fragrance wafting through the air, woke her. Glancing at the clock beside her bed, she noted her nap had lasted more than two hours. It had been exactly what she needed. She took a deep breath and then regretted it immediately as her ribs protested the movement. She lay still for a few moments, allowing the quietness to seep into her. Gideon was close by, and sometimes that was all she needed. She rarely admitted those kinds of thoughts, but today she couldn’t push them aside.
Everything had changed between them. Their relationship for so long had been forced simplicity. He’d been her partner, her best friend, her confidant. That was it. Any more would have caused problems they couldn’t afford. Now they were no longer any of those things, or if they were, those things had been altered.
What did they have now? She wasn’t sure. He owed her an explanation, and she could tell he wanted to talk. Question was, when it was all said and done, would there be anything left of them?
When she and Gideon first met, she had felt a deep connection. Her father had once told her that when you met “the one,” your heart recognized that instantly. Having endured that awful betrayal years ago, she knew her heart was too scarred for her to even consider trusting it.
What had morphed from that initial attraction had been the most profound connection of her life. And she had believed it had been the same for him. But had that all been a lie, too? Had he put on an act—read her need for that connection—and become what he’d needed to become? Bottom line: Had their relationship been real, or had it all been a manipulation?
“I can hear you thinking, you know.”
She smiled slightly. The man had the keenness of a dog sensing a storm. That sense of perception had saved her life more than once.
“Please tell me that that tantalizing fragrance wafting through the air is from what we’re about to eat.”
He appeared at her bedroom door. His short blond hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and he was dressed in a pair of tan chinos and a charcoal Henley shirt, looking both relaxed and very male. Unless they were in the field on an op, she was used to seeing Gideon in bespoke suits, but when he wore casual clothes, he did something to her heart. At six-three and about two hundred thirty pounds, this man looked good in anything.
Her mind immediately went to earlier when he’d walked into the living room wearing only a towel. No…not going there.
His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Mylan told me that today’s meal was to be tartiflette. Instead of cooking something healthy, I asked Armand when he brought my bag if we could have a couple of slices. It was delivered a few minutes ago.”
“I haven’t had that in years.”
“That’s because you eat like a college kid on spring break.”
“And you eat like a carnivorous rabbit.”
The old, gentle teasing felt good, familiar. They constantly taunted each other about their eating habits. She had to admit hers could be appalling at times. Gideon’s, on the other hand, was protein and vegetables always. They often shared from each other’s plates. It had started early, when they’d first begun working together and had become their routine.
“You want to eat at the table, or should I bring you a tray?”
She gingerly swung her legs out of bed and settled into the wheelchair. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you there.”
“You need help in the bathroom?”
She shot him an infuriated look, and he held up his hand in mock surrender. “Just trying to be helpful.”