Page 8 of Nobody's Girl

“Damn right. Sweetheart, do you have any family we can contact?”

Sofia looked back at Ivo, her dark eyes huge, troubled as she shook her head, then groaned at the pain. Ivo and Desiree shared a worried look. “What about your home, darling? Is there anyone there, a roommate?”

“No home.”

Ivo felt his heart shatter. Oh, god, the poor kid. He stroked the back of his fingers down her face. “Can I get you anything, Sofia? Some water?”

“Head is burning,” she mumbled, and her eyes closed. Desiree patted Ivo’s shoulder.

“I’ll go get a cold compress for her head.”

Ivo nodded, not taking his eyes from Sofia. He pressed her little hand to his face. “I’m so sorry, Sofia.”

When Desiree had come back, and they had applied the cold compress to a sleeping Sofia’s forehead, Desi pulled Ivo out of the room. “I know what you’re thinking and I can see it in your eyes. You wanted to play the hero. That girl in there…she’s a street girl. She’s feral. Once she recovers, I’ll bet you any amount, she’ll take off – and probably take your wallet with her.”

Ivo shook his head. “She’s no street girl. Yes, she might live on the streets but it’s not somewhere she’s grown up. Did you see her fingernails, the condition of her hair? I bet you anything, it hasn’t been that long that she’s been homeless. And that accent – she’s American. Probably here illegally which is why she isn’t giving them any details. She has no-one, Desi. Don’t ask me to abandon her.”

Desiree sighed. She had known Ivo long enough to know he would give his last dollar to help someone else. And she wasn’t heartless…she could tell the girl in the hospital bed was in trouble. “Okay. Okay, Ivo, well here’s what we do. When she gets well, you can find her a cheap apartment and I’ll give her a job – off the books. That’s a gift for someone like her, and it’s not legal and we could get into trouble but what the hell.”

Ivo hugged her. “Thank you, Desi, you’re the best.”

She held him at arm’s length and studied him. “Don’t fall for her, Ivo. This isn’t a fairy tale.”

Ivo shifted. Sometimes Desiree could see into him too well. “I know. This isn’t that.”

“Good. Now, will you stay with her for the evening? I can bring some hot food for you both – the swill they serve in these places is not fit for human consumption.”

“You are the best,” he repeated and she smiled.

“You know it. Now, get back in there in case she wakes up. I’ll bring her some clothes – she looks about a size eight, right?”

Ivo shook his head. “I know nothing of these matters, Desi.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ll see you later, Ivo.”

“Bye.”

He went back to Sofia’s side. She was sleeping now, her face more at peace. An i.v. of morphine was hooked up to her arm and he could see her thumb already tensed over the button even in her sleep. Another i.v. of antibiotics was pumping into her veins, healing her – Ivo hoped. He wondered if the receptionist at the pool knew anything about her, then decided that would be overstepping his boundaries. Sofia would tell him about herself if she wanted to – all that mattered was that she got well. She didn’t owe him anything.

Sofia woke two days later with a raging thirst and a head that felt blissfully free from pain. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, adjusting to the light, relieved that it did not hurt her eyes anymore. She breathed in and looked around. A man…the merman, she remembered, had laid his head on her bed and was sleeping, dark shadows under his eyes. Sofia saw his fingers were entwined with hers, and gingerly extracted them. She had fallen, she knew that, and she had felt so sick. Okay, so that explained the hospital bed but why was the merman here?

She studied him. His dark curls fell loose around his head, his skin was live, swarthy, his eyelashes thick and dark. His face was at once both boyish and masculine, his beautifully-shaped lips sensual. She risked stroking her fingers through his soft curls. He was wearing a loose soft cotton shirt, white, and through the thin material she could see the outline of his firm body. She traced a half-moon scar at the side of his eye with his finger and he murmured, shifting. Sofia froze, her fingers still on his skin. He opened his eyes. Ivo, that was his name. He sat up, dopey and out of it. He focused on her face, felt her touching it. He gently pressed her hand to his face with his own, then turned his head to lightly kiss her fingers. It felt nice.

“Good morning, Sofia.” God, his voice, deep and sexy and accented. “How are you feeling?”

She nodded, suddenly shy. “So much better, thank you. I remember you brought me in…I have you to thank for this?”

Ivo shook his head. “I hit you with my car – not deliberately, I assure you, and thankfully not seriously. But you were already sick, the doctor’s say. Meningitis. Hence the motherload of tubes in your arms.”

Sofia looked down and grimaced. Then she noticed she was wearing pristine white pajamas and looked at him a little shocked. He smiled, holding up his hands.

“Don’t worry, the nurses bathed and changed you, not me. I would never disrespect you like that.”