Kate’s fever came back that night, shortly after they finished eating dinner. She’d started shivering and her head throbbed. Ian watched as she reached for the bottle of Motrin on the coffee table, and as soon as she swallowed the pills, he pulled her toward him and stuck the thermometer in her ear.
“One hundred and two,” he said. “At least it’s not as high as yesterday.” After wrapping her in a blanket, he pulled her head into his lap, stroking it the way he had the day before. His large, warm palm skimmed softly across her temple and she sighed.
He held the remote in his other hand, and he flipped through the channels, stopping on Bridget Jones’s Diary. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, he draped his arm across her chest in a way that made her feel content. She’d never met a man who could be so infuriatingly intrusive yet so caring and tender.
When the movie ended, Kate slipped into the bedroom to get ready for bed. She also put on fresh sheets, and Ian appeared in the doorway as she was pulling on the last pillowcase.
“Comfortable as it may be, does this mean I’m not sleeping on the couch?”
“It’s up to you. If I haven’t gotten you sick already, sharing a bed with me will probably increase your chances of coming down with it. But if you do, I assure you I’ll be happy to assume the role of doctor.”
“Actually, I’d prefer you assume the role of nurse, in a low-cut uniform, of course. And I’m definitely signing up for the Vicks rubdown and the sponge bath.”
“I never doubted that for a single minute.”
“However, I show no sign of any symptoms, which I find somewhat disappointing because that means you may not need to attend to me. Shame.”
“Damn your luck,” Kate said, crawling underneath the covers. Being upright had tired her, and she was ready to return to a horizontal position.
After Ian locked up and shut off the lights and TV, he returned to the bedroom and stripped off his T-shirt but left his sweatpants on. He turned off the lamp on Kate’s nightstand and climbed into bed. Nudging her onto her side, he spooned her, tucking an arm underneath her breasts. Kate might not have been feeling her best, but she wasn’t dead, and the sensation of Ian’s body pressed up against hers was more than a little arousing.
“Looks like I’m sleeping with you on the third date after all,” he said.
“You got me,” she said, laughing softly.
“If someone else messages you through that dating site and asks you out, are you going to say yes?”
Kate smiled in the darkness. “Maybe. But probably not.” She pulled his arm in tighter and said, “Night, Ian.”
When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. She hadn’t felt him get out of bed, but she’d slept better than she had the previous two nights. Whether that was because she was finally on the mend or because he’d been next to her, she wasn’t sure.
She padded into the kitchen to start the coffee. The phone he’d given her was sitting on the counter where she’d left it the night before. He’d sent her a text at 8:03 a.m.
Ian: Felt your forehead before I left, and you were cool. I’ve got some work to do, but call me if you need anything. The streets are a mess, so don’t leave the house. I’ll know if you do. Just kidding. Not really.
CHAPTER NINE
Kate and Helena were busy running through the checklist for Thanksgiving. “I feel bad abandoning you,” Kate said, although she knew Helena was more than capable of running things on her own as she’d recently demonstrated when Kate was sick.