Bastien did consider how risky it was to be wandering naked around the apartment, with an equally naked Terri in his arms. But then, it had been even more risky to make love in the living room, where either Vincent or Chris could have come upon them at any time. Fortunately, they'd been lucky in that respect, and he could only hope his luck held out. Bastien was too exhausted to bother dressing himself, let alone her, and it didn't appear she was in any shape to dress herself. He had definitely worn the poor woman out with his demands, he thought with satisfaction, though she had been equally demanding.
He managed to make it all the way to the master suite without running across either Vinny or Chris. After setting Terri down in his bed, he made a quick trip back to the living room for their clothes. Bastien was aware that she would be terribly embarrassed should the others find that evidence scattered across the living room floor in the morning and guess what had happened. He wanted to spare her that.
Bastien heard knocking as he started back to his bedroom, and glanced up in alarm to find Chris standing at the end of the hall outside the master suite, rapping loudly. Afraid the noise might wake Terri, Bastien picked up speed to reach the man and stop him from knocking again. At the last moment, he remembered the clothes he carried and glanced down. He'd bundled them all together, not bothering to separate them. Spying Terri's lacy bra on top, he tucked the clothes quickly behind his back to hide this indicator of what they'd been up to.
"Chris!" he hissed as the fellow raised his hand to rap on the door again. "What are you doing up?"
"Oh, Bastien." The editor turned, opened his mouth to speak, then noticed his nakedness. He let his breath out on a vexed sigh. "What is it with you and your brother? Did you guys spend your summers at nudist camps while growing up or something? Don't you guys have any decorum at all? Sheesh."
Bastien glanced down at himself, started to bring the clothes back around to cover his nudity, but at the first glimpse of white lace, quickly tucked them behind his back again.
"Never mind that," he said with a scowl. "Why are you knocking at my door at"—he glanced at his watch, the only item he still wore—"at two o'clock in the morning?"
"Oh." Reminded of his purpose for being there, Chris sighed and absently rubbed his stomach. "I'm not feeling too well, and I wondered if you had anything like an antacid or something. I don't think that casserole I ate agreed with me."
Bastien peered more closely at the man, taking in the pallor of his skin and the way he was trembling. Then he breathed in, noting the acrid scent of Chris's breath. "It more than disagreed with you, didn't it?" he asked grimly. "You've been sick."
"A couple of times," the editor admitted.
"Any stomach pains or diarrhea?"
Chris grimaced in answer, and Bastien nodded. It was just as he'd thought. "Go get dressed," he instructed, moving past him to the door of his suite.
'I'm not the one undressed," C.K. pointed out dryly.
"In your street clothes," Bastien clarified. He glanced at the editor's boxers and T-shirt, which had obviously been pulled on to come out into the hall. "You're going to the hospital."
"I'm sure I don't need to go to the hospital," C.K. protested.
Bastien arched an eyebrow. "Chris, your symptoms suggest food poisoning. And with the streak of bad luck you've been having lately—not to mention the fact that you only ate two hours ago, yet it's already hitting you hard—I'm guessing it's going to be a serious case. Go get dressed."
Grumbling under his breath, the editor turned away and moved back toward his bedroom. Bastien waited until he'd stepped inside, then opened the door to his own room and slipped through, not at all surprised to find Terri standing near the door. The sheet from the bed was wrapped around her sarong-style, and there was concern on her face. Chris had obviously woken her with his knocking. She had probably heard most of their conversation.
That was good, he decided. He didn't have to wake her up and explain.
Chapter Thirteen
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"Food poisoning."
"Mmm." Bastien nodded solemnly.
"Bloody food poisoning," Vincent repeated, with a combination of disbelief and disgust. "The guy is a walking disaster. This is what? The third time he's been to the hospital in a week?"
Terri stirred in her seat and glanced at the men on either side of her. "Has it only been a week?"
Vincent frowned. "Hasn't it? Kate brought him to the penthouse last Friday. It's Friday again. Really early Friday," he added, scowling at the clock on the emergency room wall.