Unfortunately.
“Come in,” Sara called.
He stepped inside her spacious bedroom. The room appeared the same way it always did. Tidy and classically stylish, full of the antiques his mother had spent so many hours collecting at estate sales. The lights were low, casting a soft glow on the small woman huddled, sans book, surrounded by pillows in the center of the enormous bed. He’d expected her to be reading under the covers. More than once he’d walked past her open door and caught a glimpse of her with her face in a book, reading glasses perched on her nose. So cute. But tonight she hunched under the sheet, the high collar of a nightgown encircling her neck.
“Sara?”
“Don’t come closer.” She fumbled for a tissue from the box on the nightstand, getting it to her nose just as she sneezed. “Sorry. Sick.”
“Since when? I saw you this afternoon.”
“Must be some kind of tsunami virus or something. Knocked me on my ass at dinner.”
He set down the apples on her nightstand and reached for the light blanket tossed on the rocker beside the bed. Late August in Pennsylvania could be unpredictable, and tonight had turned cool. “Here,” he said, draping the blanket around her shivering shoulders. “Want me to turn up the heat?”
“No, you and Kim will roast. I’m fine. God, what a pain.” She grabbed her glass of water, knocking off her box of cold meds in the process. “I can’t be sick this week.”
“Yeah, the sanctuary will have to close if you’re not there for a couple days.” He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed down the blanket, avoiding the temptation to keep touching her. Even through thick layers of cotton, her body proved almost too much for him. Her eyes couldn’t quite focus, her cheeks were pink with the beginnings of a fever and she’d pulled her long, brown hair up in the messiest topknot he’d ever seen. She was still the most beautiful woman he knew.
She sneezed again and rubbed her eyes, looking positively woeful. “It’s a super busy week. We have the big fundraiser coming up. Which is why I texted you, by the way.”
She sounded a little stuffy. Absolutely adorable. He grinned. “Need a date?” he asked, hoping it was true.
“Not a date,” she said hurriedly. “Just someone to go with me. Kim insisted it be you,” she added.
He reached for his apple and crunched it, watching the way her gaze lingered on his mouth. He chewed slowly, licking his lips between bites. “If Kim insisted, I think I’m busy.”
“Come on, Brad. I didn’t mean that.” She glanced at the other apple. “Is that for me?”
“Mmm-hmm. You look kind of weak. Want me to feed it to you?”
She laughed, though her laughter soon turned into a pitiful cough. “How can you feed me an apple?” she asked, her voice scratchier—and sexier—than normal.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Without reaching for her apple, he leaned in and lifted his to her mouth, raising his brows when she shot him a questioning glance. “Now you take a bite.”
“I have germs.”
“I love Sara germs,” he said, nudging her chin with the apple.
Shaking her head, she grinned. “Fine. Don’t cry to me when you get sick too.” She took a quick bite and drew back, lapping up the droplets of juice that slipped over her full lips. “Dammit, I can barely taste it.”
“You didn’t get enough.” He bit in and turned his head, lowering his face to hers. Her eyes widened. “Open up,” he murmured, slanting his mouth over hers before she had time to argue.
Her lips parted, and he tasted a hint of cherry cough syrup before their tongues tangled in the briefest, hottest kiss of his life. She accepted the apple and swallowed, her tongue retreating from his too fast. He chased after it, licking the inside of her mouth with tender strokes designed to cause her to relax. Again her tongue slid against his, almost as if she were collecting the last of the juice. Then she pushed him away, gently but firmly.
“I’m sick,” she reminded him, her warm breath puffing against his cheek.
“So you keep reminding me.” He returned to his apple, hiding his smile at the sound of her forced breathing. Unaffected? Not hardly. “Want more?”
“Of the apple or you?”
“Whichever.” His gaze roamed her face. “A minute ago you looked cold. Now you look too warm. Wonder how that happened?”
“Brad,” she said, her tone weak and soft. “I can’t deal with you when I’m loopy on cold meds.”
“You could try going with it.”
“Going with what?”