“Tell you what,” he said reluctantly. “You get in there and have a good soak, and I’ll go get some antiseptic and something for you to wear to bed, and then I’ll wait outside to make sure you’re okay.”
“That would be nice,” Holly said seriously.
She reached for the buttons on her nightgown and Alex backed away hastily. “Okay, then, I’ll be in the bedroom. Take your time, have fun, don’t fall asleep.” He got out of there fast and closed the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief.
Oh, boy, was this a bad idea, he thought to himself as he looked in his dresser for something to give Holly to wear. How long was she going to be here? Long enough to drive him insane with lust? Could lust actually drive a person insane? Maybe he’d be the first American male to test that theory. The first one committed to an institution after a week of living under the same roof with a woman he couldn’t have.
You asked for this, Alex thought grimly as he grabbed hydrogen peroxide and bandages from his medicine chest. He’d invited them to stay here. Both of them, he reminded himself. Let’s not forget the fifteen-year-old kid in the next bedroom. Even if Holly could be persuaded to sleep with him, which would never happen for about a hundred different reasons, the most important was that her son was staying here, too.
Alex sat down on her bed to wait for Holly to finish, and a few minutes later she opened the door.
“Hi,” she said, blushing a little and keeping a tight grip on the front of her towel. She looked a little more awake now, her face pink, her hair lying in damp red ringlets against her bare shoulders, with droplets of water still clinging to her skin.
Alex levered himself up and started to retreat toward the door. “The medicine and bandages are on the bed. I brought you some things you could sleep in, too. I wasn’t sure what would be the most comfortable, so I brought you a couple of different pajama tops and some T-shirts. No, um, underwear of course—” he coughed “—but there’ll be plenty of time to go shopping tomorrow. I’ll take you in the morning, when you wake up.”
She was frowning at him. “I’m going to work in the morning.”
At least when she was irritating it helped distract him from her body. “No, you’re not,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly.
“Yes, I am,” she said, speaking just as slowly and distinctly.
Alex sighed and tried to think of her weaknesses. “You’re just going to leave Will to cope with the trauma by himself?” Holly bit her lip and he pursued his advantage. “All I’m suggesting is that you take one day off to spend time with your son, so both of you can recover a little. Besides,” he added reasonably, “you don’t have anything to wear to work, unless you want to go in a pair of my pajamas. We need to take you shopping for one of those boring suits you like before you can go back.”
She was glaring at him, but he could tell he had her. “Fine,” she said grudgingly. “I will take one day off.” Her glare suddenly gave way to an enormous yawn. “I guess I should go to bed now,” she said, looking and sounding exhausted, and Alex nodded.
“Good night, Holly,” he said at the door.
“Good night, Alex.”
He closed the door softly behind him and went down the hall to his own bed, where he lay awake a long time before he finally fell asleep.
Holly woke up sore and aching and with a weary lassitude in every muscle. She opened her eyes, and memories of last night came flooding back.
There was a sudden weight in her chest, a clogging in her throat, a stinging behind her eyes. She turned her head into the pillow and cried for her home, for everything that had been lost. She cried for a long time.
After a while the tears stopped coming, and she rolled onto her back again. She lay there for several minutes, taking in deep breaths and letting them out again, watching the play of sunlight on the blue-and-green quilt. She turned her head to look out of the window and saw a huge maple tree right outside, glorious in October shades of red and orange and yellow.
There was a knock on her door, and when she called out, “Come in,” Alex was there.
He looked easy and comfortable in sweatpants and an old T-shirt. He had a pair of jeans over his arm, and he was carrying a tray.
“I must have done something right in a past life, after all,” she said, sitting up against the headboard. “At least men keep bringing me breakfast in bed.”
“Men?” Alex repeated with a frown, setting the tray down over her knees and sitting down on the foot of the bed. “What men? Who’s been bringing you breakfast in bed?”