“You’re burning up with fever and you don’t know what you’re saying. Although, it’s refreshing because now I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
He didn’t sound so happy about that, though. She glanced up to find him frowning as they left the bathroom, and he strode down the passage. Why is he so angry?
“Because you seem to have some misconceptions about your weight, and I’m not happy you came to work while ill.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make the time up.”
“I’m not worried about you making the damn time up,” he snapped as he entered the elevator. “You shouldn’t be working if you’re unwell.”
“I thought it was just a headache when I left home. You should really put me down before you hurt your back.”
“Kinley,” he growled.
What did I say now? Boy, he’s in a touchy mood.
“I am not in a touchy mood. Woman, you know how to push my buttons like no one else.”
And he thought he wasn’t in a touchy mood?
“I’m going to put you down so I can grab my card. I can’t enter the floor to my apartment without swiping it.”
She nodded, regretting it as her head spun. He placed her on her feet but held her still as she started to tilt over. “It’s good you have so much security. Can’t be too careful when you’re as rich as you are.”
He stilled, and she worried she’d said something wrong. What had she said? Oh, he probably thought she was after his money. She scowled at him. “I’m not after your money.”
“I never said you were,” he replied mildly as he pulled her back into his arms. She smacked at his chest.
“Stop that! Put me down.”
“If I put you down, you’ll fall flat on your ass. “
“I will not! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing that for a long time.”
“Yes, you take such good of yourself that you came to work when you were ill.” He walked out of the elevator. She attempted to look around but every time she moved her head it pounded and made her feel like vomiting. He walked down a short hallway.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“What was your boyfriend thinking, letting you come to work like this? He ought to be shot.”
“He doesn’t know I’m ill,” she protested, not sure why she was defending Sloan.
James placed her down on a bed. She sank into the plush comforter with a groan of delight. It felt so good to be lying down. And this bed was so soft and comfortable. Very different from her hard bed with her thin mattress.
But she couldn’t lay there. It was her boss’s bedroom. Well, probably not his bedroom. She looked around noting how impersonal and tidy it was. Spare bedroom. It didn’t make a difference, though. She shouldn’t be here.
She attempted to sit, and he gently pushed her back.
“Hey!”
“Stay still.”
“I can’t be here.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Why? Will your boyfriend get jealous?”
She sighed, closing her eyes. “No, he won’t.”
“What an idiot,” he muttered.