Asha couldn’t argue. She opened her eyes for a moment, but her lids were heavy and her body felt like lead. Reaching out her hand, she fingered the collar of Kade’s festive shirt, red with green designs. It felt like silk. “This is beautiful. It looks good on you.” The red only intensified the lightness of Kade’s hair and the depth of his blue eyes. Bold, powerful colors and ornate designs suited him. Being partial to light and color herself, Kade delighted her senses.
She heard Kade laugh before answering, “I always said if I ever found a woman who actually likes my shirts, I’d marry her.”
Asha wanted to answer, wanted to tell Kade never to marry unless his whole heart was engaged. She’d been in a loveless marriage, and she’d never felt more alone. Her eyes fluttered closed again before she could answer, the drugs and pure exhaustion finally dragging her into a dreamless sleep.
“Do you need us to come and talk to her?” Max Hamilton asked, his voice coming from Kade’s phone, which was on speaker as Kade shaved with the bathroom door closed. He didn’t think Asha would wake up anytime soon.
“No. She’s sick. I’ll talk to her as soon as she’s well enough to travel,” Kade answered protectively. The last thing Asha needed was a three-ring circus with all her possible relatives coming to Nashville to talk to her.
“Is she okay?” Max asked, concerned.
“Yeah. I think so. She’ll recover. I don’t know her whole story, but her life hasn’t been easy, Max.” Asha obviously traveled from place to place, making just enough money to get her to her next job. She had nothing, yet there was a sweetness about her that had Kade on edge every moment he was near her…and every moment when he wasn’t. What kind of life had she known? Everything she owned fit in one small bag and her purse. “I’ll get more information in a few days. She needs to rest and recover right now.”
Max’s deep sigh came through the phone line. “Get her well, Kade. Take care of her.”
Kade intended to do just that, and not because she might be Max’s half-sister. His possessive instincts were all his own. “She likes my shirts,” he told Max jokingly, wiping his shaven face with a towel.
“She needs her vision checked,” Max answered drily. “What’s she like? Does she look like Maddie?”
Kade paused for a moment, tossing the towel into the laundry pile. “No. She doesn’t look like either one of you, but she’s beautiful. Her father was an Indian immigrant, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be related. Her mother was American.”
“Does she have a birth certificate?” Max asked, obviously anxious to find out more about Asha.
“I don’t know. We didn’t have a chance to talk much about her past before she almost did a nosedive to the carpet. She collapsed almost from the moment I met her. Let me get her well, Max,” Kade answered irritably, not happy that Max didn’t seem to understand his main priority was to get Asha healthy. “I’ll get her to come to Tampa.”
“Thanks,” Max answered gratefully. “I don’t mean to push. I guess I’m just anxious to know. I’m glad you finally found her. I owe you.”
Kade was glad too, but for totally different reasons than seeing if Asha was related to Max. “I’ll remember you said that. I’ll keep in touch. I’ll get her to Florida as soon as I can.”
“How’s your leg holding up?” Max asked, the concern in his voice evident.
“It’s fine.” Actually, it ached like hell, but Kade wasn’t about to admit it.
He hastily ended his conversation with Max before his brother-in-law could pry any further. Or worse yet, put Mia on the phone to try to wangle more information out of him.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Kade’s eyes went instantly to the bed. Asha was still sleeping, but she was tossing restlessly. The sheets were tangled, thrown from her body, probably during a period when her fever had made her overly warm. He climbed onto the bed, touching the back of his hand to her cheek. Her face was slightly damp, but cool, her fever probably under control from the drugs he had given her before she’d fallen asleep.
Her body started to shiver, and Kade grabbed the sheets and blankets that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed. As he went to draw them back up, his eyes caught a small patch of red on the top of her right foot. Looking closer, he could see that it was actually an intricate pattern, a stylized butterfly trying to emerge from the confines of its cocoon. Kade knew tattoos, and as he traced the pattern lightly with his fingers, he wondered exactly what it meant. It was henna, the rendering already lightened with age, but he could still make out every detail.