He raised his eyebrows. “Good. Because neither am I.”
Then he placed his palm over her forehead. “I don’t have a thermometer to take your temperature.” He sounded irritated. That was understandable. She’d vomited in front of him, forcing him to carry her up here, where she’d invaded his private space.
She attempted to sit, shocked by how much effort it took to move. Yep, getting home was going to suck.
“What do you think you’re doing? Lie still.” The strong command made her freeze, then she shook off the need to obey him. He wasn’t her Dom. He was her boss. Yeah, she had to obey him in some things. But not this.
“I think I better go home.”
He ran his hand over his face. Then he nodded. “If that’s what you really want, of course I can take you home. Do you have someone to look after you? Take you to the doctor if necessary? I’m going to send my driver out for a thermometer. Would you wait until it comes so I can check your temperature?”
He’d send his driver out for a thermometer? Wow. They lived such different lives. But the look on his face was genuine. He seemed to actually care. And she didn’t have anyone else to call on to help her. That hurt.
“Kinley? Is there someone I can call to meet us at your place?”
“I’m not that ill. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” But it would be nice to think someone cared enough to want to.
He frowned slightly. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone while you’re ill. Will you stay here? I promise I just want to take care of you.”
“Why?” She felt bewildered, uncertain, and desperately certain she was missing something. Maybe if she wasn’t feeling ill and foggy with fatigue she could have worked it out on her own. She needed him to tell her what she was missing.
A strange look crossed his face. “I’m not really sure. But I won’t rest knowing you’re sick and on your own. What if you try to use the bathroom, then slip and hurt yourself? I’d have to live with the guilt of knowing I could have prevented that by taking care of you. If it makes you feel any better, I could take you home and stay with you there.”
Nope, she really didn’t need him in her tiny studio apartment. She sighed. She knew when she was being manipulated. She also knew she was going to let him. Because truth was, she didn’t feel like being on her own.
“All right, I’ll stay. For the moment, anyway.”
“Thank you.”
James made the arrangements quickly. He called his driver, who didn’t complain at all about being interrupted at this time of night, and why should he considering James paid him a full wage and barely used him, to get a thermometer along with a list of things James had put together.
He couldn’t really think of a time he’d cared for someone who was sick. Sloan had always been the one to care for Sarah when she’d gotten ill. James had always been away or too busy. Guilt stabbed at him.
It was his fault they’d fallen apart. His fault they’d been betrayed. He could understand her betrayal of him. He could understand her anger. But it was the way she’d treated Sloan he’d never forget. Or forgive.
He stopped outside the bedroom door, a T-shirt in hand, and really thought about what he was doing. She didn’t know him. Not really. And she wouldn’t like him if she did. But she probably didn’t like him much anyway. He wasn’t exactly a nice guy to be around.
He didn’t know how to care for her. Not in all the ways a woman needed a man. He could be her Dominant, her lover, but could he be her man? Hadn’t he always left it to Sloan to make it to anniversary dinners, to be there when Sarah needed a hug or someone to lean on. Hadn’t he left it to Sloan to do the day-to-day stuff like listen to her about her day or make her dinner? He didn’t know how to cook. But he could order out. He could delegate more to free up his time.
He could do this. He would do this. Because he wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted someone.
He opened the door and leapt for her as she nearly collapsed at his feet.
“Kinley.” He managed to catch her before she hit the floor but slipped down onto his knees in the process, so she ended up in his lap. He stared down into her flushed face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She scowled. “I was trying to get up.”
“Why? I told you if you needed the bathroom to call me. Do you feel ill?” He tightened his hold around her, ready to stand and rush her into the bathroom. Not that he cared if she vomited everywhere, but he only had one spare bedroom. There was no way she’d be sleeping in the living room. That left his bedroom. A rush of possessiveness filled him at the thought of having her in his bed.
“And that thought doesn’t fill me with embarrassment, not at all. God, you’re my boss. You can’t be helping me to the bathroom.”
“Do you need to go?” He softened his voice. He got that she was embarrassed. They didn’t know each other well. That was to be expected. For now. In the future, she’d learn there would be nothing that was sacred. He would know everything about her. He had to. That was just the way it worked for him. Trust didn’t come easy. There were only two people he’d ever trusted. And of those, one was dead, and the other never wanted to see him again.
“No. Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes, and consternation filled him. He didn’t like that she was upset. He let out a sigh. It was difficult for him to push aside his own needs to protect and care for her and think this through rationally.
She didn’t trust him. She was weak and vulnerable and sick. What would make her feel better? What could he give her?
He wasn’t letting her go home alone. That was for certain. She needed care. She was stubborn. He also knew how reluctant she was to bother people. Like her boyfriend when her car broke down. He’d need to break her of that.