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Bedroom Diplomacy(34)

By:Michelle Celmer


“Out of curiosity, what do you wear to sleep?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Oh, well, that would be nice, too. “We have most of the night, so there’s no need to rush things. Would you like to start off with something to drink? I have iced tea and soda, or I could sneak down to the den and nab you a bottle of scotch.”

“I think I’d just like water,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Fine. I’m just a little tired. It was a busy week.”

It certainly had been. “Have a seat. I’ll get the water.”

She filled two of her nicer drink glasses with ice and filtered water, feeling a tiny bit nervous. Not about the sex—because they had no problems in that department—but because he was going to be there awhile. When they weren’t having sex, what would they talk about? What would they do? What if, when the sex was over, they got bored with each other?

Worst case, she could always pretend to fall asleep.

She walked back into the living room and set their drinks on the coffee table. Colin sat on the sofa, his head back against the cushion and lolled to one side, his eyes closed.

She sat beside him and touched his arm. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He blinked awake. “I’m sorry, did I drift off?”

“I guess so.”

He yawned. “I’m knackered.”

“Which means?”

“Exhausted.” He reached up and rubbed his left temple, wincing. “And I’ve got an awful headache.”

She folded her arms. “Isn’t that supposed to be my excuse?”

“It’s no excuse. I’m honestly not feeling well.”

He did look a little pale and his eyes were bloodshot. She pressed her wrist to his forehead. “Colin, you have a fever.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I suppose I should have anticipated this.”

“Let’s go,” she said, offering a hand to give him a boost. “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

He sighed and let his head fall back against the cushions. “Could you give me a minute before you kick me out?”

Kick him out? “I meant my bed, Colin.”

His brows rose in surprise.

“After all you did for me, did you honestly think I wouldn’t take care of you?”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, save me the tough-guy spiel. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me until you’re well. Now get up.”

“What about Dylan?”

“I’ll just keep the bedroom door closed and locked in the morning before we go down to the day care. He’ll never even know you were here.”

“And the staff?”

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell Betty to say that you’re in your suite, not feeling well, and don’t want to be disturbed. And if your flu is anything like mine was, you’ll be back to your old self by Tuesday when the senator is due home. Now let’s go.”

He took her hand and let her pull him up.

“You know, I really would be fine on my own,” he said as she led him to the bedroom.

“Uh-huh. Sure you would.” Men were notoriously big babies when they were sick. Of course, being a soldier, maybe he was tougher than the average guy.

She switched on the bedroom light and pulled back the covers on the bed. “I changed the sheets this morning, so they’re fresh. Is there anything you need from your suite? Pajamas maybe?”

He shook his head and looked longingly at the bed, as if he couldn’t wait to lie down.

“Go ahead and climb in and I’ll get you some ibuprofen.”

She got his ice water from the coffee table and grabbed the pill bottle. Colin sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in nothing but black boxer briefs, looking like a freaking underwear ad.

“We get a weekend together, and this happens,” he said.

“Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow night.” She tapped two tablets into her hand and gave them to him.

He swallowed them, then stretched out, so tall that his feet nearly hung off the bottom edge of the bed. She pulled the covers up over him, then sat beside him and checked his forehead again. He was really hot.

“Have I mentioned that I think you’re an excellent mum?”

She smiled. “I have my moments, I guess.”

“Take it from someone whose mum didn’t have a bloody clue. Dylan is lucky to have you.”

“Mine wasn’t much of a role model either. She left us for my father’s protégé. He walked out on his wife and daughters to be with her. All for a relationship that barely outlived the media circus it created.”