She didn’t voice the depth of her concern to the oncologist, but the heavy dread beat inside of her. Infections of any kind were a danger to a patient like Chloe, and often the cause was not an environmental factor but actually originated with the patient.
Dr. Richards appeared to sense something of her unease. He smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry, Cathy. Whatever is causing the cough will be isolated and treated.”
Cathy nodded. “Yes, I know.” Chloe will be fine. Chloe will be fine.
Chapter Twenty
At the beginning of his affair with Winter, Michael had been completely blasé. However, over the passing weeks and months, his attitude had insidiously and inexorably eroded. He couldn’t put a finger on when it had happened, but it had. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop recalling her fresh, womanly scent, the soft feel of her flesh, or the way that he felt more alive whenever he was with her. He baldly acknowledged to himself that his interest in her had become much more than about the incredibly satisfying sex.
Winter was a complexity that had begun to fascinate him. Her intelligence, her fire, her quiet strength, all had deepened for him into a consuming passion. He had even gone back to buy that damned silver sickle-moon necklace for her, though he hadn’t decided when to give it to her. He had seen the glowing expression of appreciation in her eyes and had watched it slowly fade. When she had suggested the substitution of a gift card instead, he had concluded that she had thought the necklace was too extravagant a gift for her to accept. Perversely, he had wanted her to have it. He had not made a big production when she settled on the less-expensive bracelet. Instead, knowing that she had no idea of the worth of the necklace, he had loaded the gift card with the full price of the piece. He wanted her to be aware that he valued her.
He was puzzled by his own deepening interest in the woman. He wanted to know things about her. Who was she when she wasn’t with him? What was her life as a single mother like? How old was her daughter? What were her secrets?
The most startling thing to him was that he just wanted to be around her, even without the sex. It was the reason why he had invited her to come over to cook dinner together, making it clear that it was to be an evening with no strings attached. Winter seemed delighted by his suggestion. She volunteered to make the entrée, and he had agreed, pleasantly surprised when she brought the ingredients for home-baked lasagna. It was his turn to surprise her when he offered to chop the onions that were to be put in to brown with the meat. “Are you going to cry?” she asked.
“What do you think I am, a girl?” he retorted, making an exaggerated swipe across his tearing eyes. Winter laughed at him, her face lighting up. While they talked, Michael offered to open the wine, and she accepted a glass of red from him. She tasted it, complimenting him on the selection, but soon exchanged the wineglass for a whisk. She whipped eggs into ricotta cheese and then drained the hot lasagna noodles.
Michael sipped his wine, leaning against the counter. He watched her assured movements as she alternated layers of cooked noodles with the meat sauce and egg-and-cheese mixture. She was relaxing to be around, he mused. She had a way of making wherever she was comfortable and homey. He didn’t pursue the interesting thought, instead commenting, “My mouth is already salivating.”
She laughed at him, her hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s the whole point behind good comfort food!”
He heard the ring of his cell and reluctantly excused himself to answer it. He listened for a moment. “Yeah. Okay, Darryl.” He closed the phone. “Sorry. Darryl is in New York. He needs some specs that are at the office faxed to him. I’ll have to go in. I hate to leave you like this, Winter. Will you be all right here until I get back?”