No, he wasn’t going to think about those texts. Texts that he shouldn’t have responded to but had because it had been late and the media party he’d attended had been boring. Normally he would have entertained himself with a bit of casual flirting, but he’d found he was unexcited by the longing looks a number of the female party-goers had cast in his direction. Very unexcited.
In fact, come to think of it, he’d been supremely unexcited about the opposite sex in general since Christie and Joseph’s wedding. Since he’d danced with Judith Ashton. Which was crazy because he’d told himself over and over again nothing was going to happen with her.
You didn’t reply to those texts because you were bored, fool.
No, of course he hadn’t. He’d replied to those texts because he’d wanted to. Because he’d loved her responses. Because he wanted that acknowledgement of the chemistry that burned between them. Then she’d gone quiet. Which meant in all likelihood her battery had died, nothing more sinister. Yet he wanted to be sure. He’d never forgive himself if something had happened to her and he hadn’t checked.
Caleb leaned on the doorbell. Hard.
Five seconds later, the door opened with a jerk and Judith stood on the threshold. His mouth opened to demand answers for her previous silence, but then he took in her appearance and the words died unsaid. She wore a loose, faded T-shirt and a pair of men’s plaid flannel pajama pants. Her hair was damp and the ends were curling. Very messy and un-Judith-like. Especially the pallor of her cheeks and the dark circles under her blue eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, instantly concerned. “You look terrible.”
Her gaze was wide as she took him in. Then she flushed a dull red. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“No, you’re not. You look sick.”
“Well I’m not, okay? Not technically.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here, Caleb?”
Why was he here again? Oh yeah… “I wanted to talk about those texts you sent me last night. You went quiet.”
Her flush went an even deeper red. She leaned against the doorframe and pinched the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. “My phone ran out of juice. Could we not do this now?”
He really didn’t like that pallor. She was starting go a tad green. “I thought you said you weren’t technically sick.”
“I’m not. I’ve just got a headache.”
“Bullshit. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine, I told you.” Her hand dropped. “Please go away.”
Oh no, he wasn’t going anywhere. “If you’re fine, then you won’t mind filling me in on just what you meant by kissing me, starting with my mouth.”
Judith muttered something low and particularly vile sounding. She pushed herself away from the doorframe then abruptly stilled. Her face went even whiter than it was already.
“’Scuse me,” she muttered. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she turned and dashed back into the apartment.
Not technically sick, his ass.
Caleb stepped into the apartment, kicked the door shut behind him, and followed her down the short hallway. Distinct retching sounds were coming from what surely had to be the bathroom.
He didn’t hang around outside, just pushed open the door. Sickness didn’t bother him, not after months spent looking after his mother before the cancer that had made her so ill eventually killed her. Or the years spent cleaning up after his father’s vodka binges.
Judith was already pushing herself to her feet from where she’d been crouched over the loo, chucking her guts out. “Go away, Caleb!” she groaned. “God, can’t you do what I tell you to for once in your stupid life?”
“No, honey pie, I can’t.” Keeping it business-like, he crossed over to the basin, ran some cold water over a washcloth, and brought it over to her. “Here. This’ll help.”
She didn’t argue, grabbing the cloth off him and pressing it over her face.
“You should be in bed,” he told her, absently pushing back a damp piece of black hair from her forehead.
“It’s just a hangover,” she said, her voice muffled.
Yeah, well, he’d had his suspicions. Christ knew he’d seen enough of them to know. “I thought you didn’t like drinking?”
“I don’t. And I won’t ever, ever again. Drinking sucks.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “I’ve heard that one before. What happened?”
“Marisa came over last night. We went out. I had a couple of margaritas.”
“More than a couple from the looks of things.”