His endearment felt like a caress. One that made her sob.
“You hired me to do a job, and I’m sick.” The words fell out. “I have to stay here and can’t take care of myself. I can’t do anything.”
“You’re sick.” His voice remained steady. “That’s not your fault.”
“I haven’t showered. I keep coughing. Now, I’m crying. This isn’t like me at all. I’m a h-hot mess.”
“No, you’re perfect the way you are.” He sounded sincere.
She glanced up at Blaise to find him staring at her. “Not perfect, but I do my best.”
He smiled, the soft curve of his mouth made her wish she didn’t look like one of the walking dead. Except she did, and if she were him, she’d fire herself and hire someone more professional.
Her shoulders drooped.
Feeling like a failure, she stared at the comforter.
“You go far beyond doing your best,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m supposed to have everything under control, but I haven’t even opened my planner today or checked my email or—”
“You have pneumonia.” He glanced at the other side of the bed. “Hang on a minute.”
Blaise reached over her legs, picked up her lunch tray, and carried it to the dresser.
Feeling cold, she pulled up the comforter.
He returned to the bed. “Scoot over.”
She did.
He sat next to Hadley, put his arm around her, and pulled her toward him. “This is better. Now, where were we?”
Playing space heater?His warmth surrounded her. She fought the urge to press against him, soak up his strength, cuddle.
She couldn’t forget—client.
“I remember. Pneumonia,” he said finally. “If you’re this sick and able to work, then you’d be an anomaly. One we’d need to replicate.”
She sighed, only to have to cough again. “I’m not used to feeling this way.”
He studied her—his face pinching and his gaze intensifying. “You remind me of myself.”
That was the last thing Hadley expected to hear. She stared at him through her eyelashes. “How?”
“You take care of people. Your sister. Your niece and nephew. Your assistant. Your clients.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Yes, but you can be a caretaker and still allow someone to take care of you, too.” His earnest gaze matched his expression. “Wanting or needing help doesn’t mean you failed or are weak. It only means you’re human.”
Hadley let his words sink in. Blaise didn’t seem like a caretaker type, but… “Robyn takes care of you.”
He nodded. “She does an excellent job as long as I keep her out of the kitchen.”
That brought a laugh. “Robyn mentioned she wasn’t much of a cook.”
“She’s beyond horrible. That’s why I have a chef, too,” Blaise explained. “When I was interviewing, I thought I’d hire one person to do everything, but once I met Robyn, I knew she was special. She didn’t act or dress like the other applicants. The first thing she said to me during our interview was she smelled mold and, no matter who I hired, they needed to take care of it right away or I could suffer long-term health consequences.”
