“That’s bad.”
“It is?”
“Ethan is a guy who likes things to go his way. And he’s not good at being sick. Makes him irritable as hell. If he’s not irritable, that’s bad.” She took the stairs two a time and Harriet followed more slowly, thinking that the two of them together in the emergency room must be a force to be reckoned with.
“His room is the first on the left.”
“Got it.” Susan pushed open the door and stood there for a moment. “Well hell, Black, what have you done to yourself this time?”
Ethan didn’t stir and Susan strode over to the bed. “Ethan?” She touched his forehead and her eyebrows rose. “You are one hot man, and for once I’m not talking about your pecs or your abs.”
“I took his clothes off.” Harriet had no idea why that admission should make her blush.
“Good move.” As Susan put her bag down by the bed, Ethan opened his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” The words were little more than a hoarse rasp and set off a coughing fit that lasted a full minute.
“Which one of our goddamn patients gave you that?” Susan leaned forward and hauled him into a sitting position. “Harriet? Can you hold him? I need to listen to his chest.”
Ethan grunted. “I don’t need—”
“I’ll decide what you need. Now shut up or you’ll make yourself cough, and if you give it to me I’ll kill you myself.” Susan pulled a stethoscope out of her bag. “Harriet?”
Harriet stepped forward, wondering how she was supposed to hold him upright.
She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hands on his upper arms, trying to hold him steady, but he swayed backward, the weight of him pulling her with him and she had no choice but to wrap her arms round him and pull him toward her.
She held her breath, not because she was afraid of catching something but because she suddenly couldn’t remember how to get air in and out of her lungs. She felt the pressure of his chest against hers, the width of his shoulders and the strength of his muscles.
Her face was close to his. She tried to keep her gaze fixed on the wall behind her but she couldn’t help noticing the stubble that darkened his jaw and the thickness of his eyelashes. He was shockingly pale but that didn’t stop her from wanting to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.
It occurred to her that this was probably the closest she was ever going to get to Ethan Black.
Susan finished her examination and propped pillows behind him.
“When you undressed him, did you see a rash?”
“No. But I wasn’t looking.” She’d made a point of it. Her imagination had been active enough by itself, without adding reality into the mix.
“I’m going to give you antibiotics.”
Ethan scowled. “I don’t need—”
“Did I ask for your opinion? You’re the patient, I’m the doctor. You’re going to take them.”
Harriet waited for Ethan to argue again but he seemed to have given up the fight. He lay with his eyes closed, as if the effort required to sit up had drained the last of his energy.
Susan opened her bag again and placed two small boxes by the bed. “Take two now.”
“I have Tylenol,” Harriet said. “Presumably he should have those?”
“Yes, and ibuprofen.” Susan dug in her back again. “It will bring the fever down. You can alternate them. Are you staying here tonight? He needs someone to check on him.”
Ethan opened his eyes a crack. “Don’t need anyone.”
“Yeah, I know that’s how you prefer to live your life. Not needing anyone.” Susan snapped her bag shut. “But right now, you need someone. So what you are trying to say is ‘thank you.’ Be nice to Harriet because if she walks out and I have to come back and sit with you, it won’t be fun.”
Ethan started to protest but ended up coughing again, this time so hard that even Susan frowned.