I'll Be There Part 10

Cord tried to pull his mouth back into a straight line. "Sorry." She called him a name that he'd never heard a lady use. "Testy."

"Don't-"

Cord held up his hands in defeat. "Okay. You win. Sorry."

She blew several more times and then lay back against the pillows exhausted. Cord stuck the thermometer under her tongue and eyed the used tissues littering the bed. He weighted the wisdom of using a kitchen utensil to get them into the wastebasket. As if reading his mind, she gathered the tissues and held them out. He positioned the wastebasket under her hands, and she dropped them in.

"Men can be so helpless."

The thermometer beeped. Ignoring her comment, he removed it and looked at the reading. 101. "Down two degrees. Your fever's broken."

She pulled her damp shirt away from her skin and said, "Ya think?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"Really? It's served me well until now. And by the way, I'm guessing you wouldn't be too happy either if you were forced to wear wet clothes and lie under six hundred blankets."

"Take these." He pressed two pills into her hand.

"I need a decongestant."

She was impossible! He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "They're cold pills."

Cord eased an arm behind her shoulders and lifted her up, then held a water gla.s.s to her lips. She popped both pills into her mouth, which gave him a moment's concern given the fact that he thought she'd never get the pain pills down that he'd given her earlier. To his relief, she swallowed these with much more ease.

"Feeling better?"

"I feel like h.e.l.l and I want these wet clothes off and I need to use the bathroom."

Cord smiled again. She must feel better. "Anything else?"

"Yes. A bath would be lovely."

He pulled the covers back. Her damp t-shirt clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. He hated himself for the feeling of awareness that coursed through him. She was ill, for heaven sake!

He closed his eyes and lifted her into his arms. She surprised him by not protesting. Rather, she weakly rested her head against his shoulder. His heart constricted as he looked down at her. What the h.e.l.l was the matter with him? He wasn't the kind of man who went all soft over women, even if they were gorgeous and vulnerable. In his former line of work, he'd seen his share. So why did Jenny have this effect on him?

It only took a few steps to reach the bathroom. "You can't take a bath."

"Please. I'm so sticky."

He lowered her feet to the tile floor, but kept an arm firmly about her waist. "You're too weak. So, unless you want me to get in there with you to make sure you don't drown..."

Her gaze traveled leisurely from his face to his toes and back. "Interesting suggestion."

Ignoring that, he threw the washcloth into the sink. "Can you stand alone?"

"Maybe."

She didn't seem too confident. "Just take it slow." He guided her over to the toilet and lifted the lid. He untied the drawstring on her sweatpants and let them fall, revealing brief blush-colored lace panties. Cord clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Hang onto the counter so you don't fall when you sit." He turned his back to give her some privacy, but didn't leave the room.

"Um, would you wait outside if I promise to stay out of the shower?"

He looked over his shoulder, his traitorous eyes going straight to her long bare legs. He turned and went out, shutting the door behind him.

When he heard the flush, he turned and knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, please."

As soon as he opened the door, he saw her standing there leaning against the vanity. She swayed and grasped the edge of the counter with both hands. He was by her side in an instant, wrapping his arm around her waist. She grabbed his shirt and leaned heavily against him.

"Are you okay?"

"Give me a minute."

He held her securely in his arms, her face pressed to his chest. After a moment, he asked, "Do you feel up to changing?"

"Can I sit?"

He lifted her and carried her back to bed.

"I want to change. It's just that I feel so weak."

"It's all right." But she shivered, and he knew he had to get her out of that wet shirt and into something dry and warm.

He went back to the bathroom, got a fresh washcloth and ran it under the tap, then got one of his flannel shirts. Back in the bedroom, he put the wet cloth on the edge of the trashcan and sat next to her on the bed. He lifted her, pressed her to his chest and grasped the hem of her t-shirt. She offered no protest when he pulled it over her head. He took the washcloth and eased it down her back, pausing to unhook her bra.

Dear G.o.d, she was so beautiful. When she tucked her face against his neck, he felt his chest tighten again and had to fight against pressing his lips to her temple. She shivered as he eased the straps off her shoulders and quickly ran the cloth down her arms, then draped the flannel shirt across her back. If they were lucky, she wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow. He wondered if he would ever forget.

"Can you put your arms into the sleeves?"

She nodded, shimmied, handed him her lacy bra, and did as he asked. She leaned back, and when she looked up at him, he saw that she held the flannel material bunched in front of her, but his body and his brain had frozen when she'd handed him the bra. He tossed the washcloth back onto the side of the garbage can and dropped the bra onto the bed. His shirt dwarfed her lean frame. "May I?"

When her eyes met his, he saw trust and... awareness, despite her illness. Cord bit back a curse and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He found the b.u.t.tons while she held onto his forearms. He couldn't get the shirt fastened quickly enough. When he'd finished, he helped her lie down. Her deep blue eyes never left his.

He reached for the washcloth and held it to her flushed face. She closed her eyes and tipped her chin up, exposing the long line of her neck. He eased the cloth over her chin and down her neck to the soft hollow at its base. She inhaled sharply.

He pulled his hand away from her. "What's wrong?"

"Cold."

Cord pulled the blankets up, making sure to cover her entire body. "Do you need anything?"

Jenny rolled to her side. She blinked slowly, looking up at him through ridiculously long, inky lashes. At that moment, she could have asked anything of him and he would have moved heaven and earth to see she had it. But she simply said, "Just sleep." She closed her eyes and sighed, "Thank you."

It wasn't until her breathing became steady and regular that he could breathe normally again. Cord turned and propped himself against the footboard, fully committed to watching over her until he was certain she would be all right.

When Jenny woke, weak sun filtered into the windows beside the bed. A cheery fire crackled in the other room. She wondered where the marshals had taken her now. From the looks of it, she'd landed in a four-star resort. Mounds of pillows at her back, warm quilts, and a mattress that could only be described as a cloud made her consider never leaving the bed.

A tray on the bedside table held an ice-filled gla.s.s of golden liquid. Her tongue felt like a ma.s.sive ball of cotton and the drink looked wonderful. If only she had the energy to roll over and get it...

"Good morning."

She stared at the person standing in the door. Mmm... this resort came with a beautiful man who in another time could have been an Aztec G.o.d. And it appeared that he was here to see to her needs. She smiled. A notion ripe with possibilities.

His jeans looked faded and worn, and he'd made use of only a few of the b.u.t.tons on his flannel shirt. A delicious amount of smooth, dark skin lay exposed, and she took her time looking. She bit her lower lip to keep from moaning. He had incredibly wide shoulders. Long, silky black hair brushed them, and a dark beard shadowed his face, giving him an air of mystery and danger.

He moved toward her in the most provocative way, like a big, powerful panther stalking its prey. Jenny giggled. Maybe she was still asleep and dreaming.

When he reached the bed, he said, "Jenny? Are you awake?"

A frown marred his brow, but the imperfection made him look even s.e.xier.

"Jenny?"

"You're handsome, you know. Very s.e.xy."

He leaned down and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. It felt cool against her skin... which felt p.r.i.c.kly and hot. "Where am I?"

He sat next to her on the bed and plopped a thermometer in her mouth. "On Cole Craig's farm."

That sounded promising. "Are ve 'lone?" she mumbled around the thermometer.

"Yes, we're alone. Don't you remember coming here yesterday?"

Jenny tried to think, but it hurt too much. So, she shook her head.

The thermometer beeped and he removed it. "Am I sick?"

He set it on the bedside table. "You had a high fever when we got here last night. It's still a little high."

He touched her face again. Very soothing, his touch. Jenny closed her eyes and sighed.

"How do you feel?"

"My skin feels funny. Like it's sunburned."

"How's your head?"

"My nose is stopped up. I'm thirsty."

"Headache?"

"A little."

He picked up the gla.s.s she'd been eying earlier and held it up to her lips. The cool liquid slid down her throat. It felt like a waterfall springing up in a desert. See. He was a G.o.d. A very handsome, very s.e.xy G.o.d.

"Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. When he would have taken the gla.s.s away, she snagged his arm and pressed it to the side of her face. "Mmm..." His soft shirt had gaped open and she had a strong urge to slide her hand inside to test the texture of his skin. A long silver chain sparkled in the light and then disappeared behind the shirt. She took another sip of the ambrosia.

"Do you need me to help you into the bathroom?"

She shook her head. "I'm good." She traced the edge of his shirt from the collar to the first b.u.t.ton with the tip of her fingernail. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you know who I am?"

She nodded. "You're here to take care of me. Like the others."

"The others?"

She frowned and felt tears burn her eyes. "They're all dead now, I think. I hope that doesn't happen to you. You're too pretty to die."

He looked so familiar. But she couldn't remember where she'd seen him before, though she was certain that she had-seen him before. "Are you that actor, Keanu Reeves?"

He laughed. "No."

"You look like him." She touched his cheek, frowning. "You have scars, you know. The beard doesn't hide them."

He took her hand and tucked it under the blanket. "Rest."

Jenny shook her head. "Nope. Not sleepy. How'd you get them? Can I have some more of that?" She focused on the drink in his hand. He held it up to her lips and she drank. "That is so good. What is it?"

"Ginger ale."

"Tastes wonderful. So, how'd you get it?"

"It was in the supplies the sheriff brought."

"Not the drink, silly. The scars on your face." Really, couldn't he follow a sensible conversation? Maybe handsome men were like really beautiful women. Not much going on in the brains department.

"I'll get you some more medicine."

"Okay."

She watched him leave the room. He looked just as good going as he did coming. She looked around the room again. Behind her, there was old faded wallpaper with flowers on it. She rolled to the edge of the bed to look at the floor. Hardwoods covered by braided rugs. She reached down to touch it. Stiff and dusty. He wasn't a very good housekeeper.

"Ow!"

"Jenny!"

The dark G.o.d rushed into the room and knelt beside her. She leaned back against the bed and rubbed the top of her head.

"What happened?"

"The floor jumped up and hit my head."