Her hands stilled on the box. “How’s Alix?” she asked.
“Napping. Fever’s gone. My guess is she’ll be raring to go in about”—he glanced at his watch—“one hour.”
“Then you go on and get some rest. I’ll handle Alix.”
He sneezed again. She looked at him in concern. “Feeling okay?” she asked.
“Just tired. So if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your offer.” At least if she had to watch Alix, Griff could be sure she’d still be there when he woke.
“Go on.” She prodded his back with her palm. “Despite that nasty temper of yours, I might have lunch made when you wake up.”
“Is that your way of saying we’re still partners?”
“It’s my way of saying you might get another chance.” Her lips twitched as she tried to suppress a smile. “Speaking of chances, is that your third or fourth?” she asked.
He opened his mouth to reply and she snapped his jaw shut with her hand. “Quit while you still have a partner, partner.”
Her dark-eyed gaze settled on his, unnerving him.
“Go get some sleep,” she said in a husky voice.
He let his finger trail over her moist lower lip before turning and doing as she suggested. He didn’t trust himself not to touch further. At this point, a solitary nap was the safest place for him to be.
He awoke with a scratchy throat and a pounding headache. His skin hurt to the touch. He groaned, which only caused the first two symptoms to increase in severity. A hangover, which he hadn’t had since his college days, would feel better than this.
Chelsie knocked.
“Come on in.” He propped himself up higher in bed.
“You must have been exhausted, because you slept through lunch and dinner. I figured I’d wake you so you could at least have something to eat before I left.”
“How’s Alix?” he asked.
“What’s wrong? You sound like a frog.” She walked to the side of the bed and snapped on a table lamp, causing him to squint until his eyes adjusted to the light. “She’s fine. She woke up, played all afternoon, watched a video or two, and went back in for the night.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “And I slept through all that?”
She nodded. “You look awful.”
“Thank you. I can’t remember the last time a woman’s compliment turned my head like that.”
“Be serious. Your eyes are glassy, your face is flushed. How do you feel?”
“As lousy as I apparently look.”
“Where do you keep the aspirin around here?”
Grateful that she seemed to be taking charge, he gave in to his aching muscles and leaned back onto the pillows. “Bathroom medicine cabinet. Through that door,” he said, and pointed to the master bath.
“Someone should have told me that baby-sitter and nursemaid would be part of the partnership agreement. I would have upped my percentage.” He was about to dispute that, then realized he couldn’t. Apologizing seemed like the next best alternative. But she softened her words with a genuine smile before heading in the direction he’d indicated.
“You probably caught some form of what Alix had. Open up,” she said, upon exiting the bathroom.
He complied and she cut off any answer by sticking a thermometer in his mouth. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
She left as briskly as she’d come, giving him only a brief moment to view her from behind. Her jeans fit like a coating of paint and those legs seemed to grow in length each time he looked. If he felt feverish before, he’d hate to view the thermometer now. He closed his eyes and settled in to wait.
“Open,” she said a few minutes later.
“You sure you weren’t a drill sergeant in another life?”
“Cute.” She paused to read the thermometer and frowned. “You’ve got a fever, Griff.” She handed him a glass of orange juice from the nightstand. “You stay put.”
“And who takes care of Alix?”
“As if you didn’t already know. It’s Saturday night, so neither one of us has any pressing work engagements tomorrow. Give yourself twenty-four hours for the fever to break. By then, you’ll be on your feet and Mrs. Baxter will be back first thing Monday morning.”
“She’s out till the following weekend.”
Chelsie shook her head. “She called to check in. I told her what had happened and she’ll be back.”
“Good.”
“But for the next twenty-four hours, you’re stuck with me.”
It was what he’d wanted all along, but her physical presence wasn’t all he needed, and her no-nonsense attitude irritated the hell out of him. Never mind that he’d caused her to withdraw. He desired the woman who melted in his arms, not this wind-up nurse doll.
She grabbed the empty glass from his hands and her gaze raked him over from top to bottom.
“You’re still in last night’s clothes. Change and I’ll make you something light for dinner.” She turned towards the door. “I can last a measly twenty-four hours,” she murmured.
He knew she hadn’t intended for him to hear.
“Chelsie?”
She glanced over her shoulder. He smiled as he devoured her with his eyes. “You’re about to find out how long twenty-four hours can be.”
* * *
Chelsie knew Griff’s prediction of a long twenty-four hours had been said with the express intent of making her squirm. Despite his illness, the predatory look in his eyes accomplished his goal. However, he hadn’t counted on his fever rising and his comfort level declining, making him ill equipped to do more than groan, complain, and drive her crazy. Amazingly, Alix slept on. After dinner, Griff, too, had fallen asleep.
By the time Chelsie had unpacked most of her office, cleaned up the kitchen, and finished the laundry she’d found piled in a heap on the floor, the clock read nearly midnight. After looking in on Alix, she decided to check Griff once more before collapsing on the couch in the den. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, and Chelsie didn’t feel right invading Mrs. Baxter’s privacy by borrowing her bed.
With only the hall light to guide her, she tiptoed into Griff’s bedroom. She stood at the foot of his bed and glanced down at his sleeping form. His bare chest rose and fell in steady intervals. She smiled, appreciating the changes wrought by sleep. With the tension gone, a carefree expression softened the lines in his face and relaxed his features. Even the razor stubble added a roguish charm.