In the Cards(49)

“How’s he doing? What’s the rash? Is his fever breaking?”

She forces me into one of the chairs in the hallway. Her grim expression offers no comfort whatsoever. “Honey, in all likelihood your friend has contracted a serious staph infection. We’re testing for MRSA.”

“The superbug?” My eyes widen. I vaguely recollect several terrifying reports from a few years ago. If I recall correctly, the mortality rate can be as high as forty percent. My ears thrum. Additional tests are needed to determine whether or not it’s affecting his organs. If I want to see him, I have to wear a face mask, gloves, and surgical dress. Her voice fades in and out as my brain struggles to grasp the facts and circumstances.

“He’s fairly incoherent now from the high fever. But if you want to see him for a few minutes, I’ll show you in.”

“Yes, please.”

I cover myself with the stiff, green hospital gown and cap and snap on the sterile gloves. The nurse hands me a paper mask and then leads me into his room. She checks his temperature and makes some notes on his chart before leaving us alone.

He’s asleep. His skin looks pasty and damp. I feel numb, but eventually sit on the edge of the bed and touch his side.

“Levi, it’s me, Lindsey.”

He stirs but doesn’t wake up. His body’s throwing off heat like a potbellied stove. I wipe his damp hair off his forehead. Staring at him, it’s hard to believe I’ve known this man for only a few weeks. It seems like so much longer.

“Levi, can you hear me?”

Lethargically, his eyes open. I’m not sure whether he recognizes me in my Kermit the Frog getup. At first he seems confused, but then he catches my hand.

“Lindsey.” The outer corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles.

Relief slashes through my fear. I return his smile, forgetting my mouth is hidden behind my mask. Words fail me, so I touch his chest in comfort.

He lifts my hand to his lips. “Go back to sleep, darlin’.” The tender gesture surprises me. Go back to sleep? What’s he imagining we’re doing? He folds my hand under his cheek and turns his face toward me, closing his eyes again.

He looks so weak and helpless. Tears mount in my eyes. I want the cool, confident Levi back. With my free hand, I sweep the hair off the other side of his sweaty face. He’s scorching hot, but his eyes flutter open once more.

“Come here, pretty girl.” He kisses my wrist slowly, sucking on it with his hot mouth while his thumb traces little circles in my palm. Even with the barrier of the prophylactic glove dulling the sensation of his thumb’s rotations, his searing tongue sends my pulse rocketing and creates a gentle ache in places nowhere near my hand.

Oh, God, Jill’s right. I do care for him—very inappropriately. And what of him? Is this behavior an expression of his subconscious desire or simply fever-induced delirium? My disloyal yearnings launch me straight into self-reproach.

“Levi, I’m leaving now. I can’t stay. I’ll visit tomorrow, okay?”

“Stay.” He stops nuzzling my wrist and holds my hand against his chest. “I don’t like it when you go.” Closing his eyes, he drifts back into dreamland, leaving me to wrestle with my response to his words and actions.

“Levi, I have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

Gently, I slip my hands free of his. He twitches slightly as he loses his grip on me. He stills again in a heartbeat.

I slink out of his room and run to my car in tears.



I’m amazed I made it home without getting in an accident. I don’t remember a single red light or other car on the road. My mind is still overwhelmed with confused thoughts and desires as I drop my purse on the dining table.

Last week, I nearly ran back to Rob at the first sound of his voice. I miss my home, the energy of New York, my family and friends. If I return now, I could easily slide back into the familiar patterns and rhythms that always worked for me. I could take the leap of faith to trust Rob again. We’d elope and get on with our life. These past few weeks would hopefully fade from memory by Christmas.

But Levi energizes me. He keeps me on my toes. He doesn’t pander to me, or tell me what to do or believe. He shoves me outside my comfort zone. It’s simultaneously terrifying and awakening. And he’s sinfully good-looking. Rob’s handsome, but few men have Levi’s extreme sex appeal.

Regardless of these attributes, Levi doesn’t fit in my life. My parents would never accept him. Plus, the depth of his painful problems is intimidating. If he were interested in dating me—which I doubt he is—it would be too risky anyway.

He’s thirty and unlikely to change. In fact, he prefers life his way. He’s a recluse—no anchors. I can’t get caught up in Levi. Until tonight, he’s never shown any interest in me, and he’s delirious now. Nothing he muttered can be taken at face value.