Buttercup had hopped off Liam’s chest a while ago, taking a spot by the patio door where she could scowl at the seagulls and sandpipers scuttling around the beach.
At some point Liam had clutched a pillow to his chest (more’s the pity) and reclined lengthwise on the sofa. His lips were parted in sleep, but the flush on his cheeks had abated. Hopefully the meds had brought his temperature down.
As if sensing her perusal, he opened his eyes. He seemed a little dazed as his gaze swept over the room, then settled on her. “You’re still here.” His tone indicated that pleased him.
“Somebody has to take care of you. Feeling any better?”
“A little. What time is it?”
“Almost eleven thirty.”
He eased into a sitting position and winced. “Can’t believe I slept that long.”
“You need your rest. But you also need sustenance. I’ll heat up your breakfast.” She headed to the kitchen, microwaved his food, and was back a few minutes later with a steaming plate of eggs.
“Thanks,” he said when she handed him the plate. “You really don’t have to stay. I feel better and I’m used to taking care of myself.”
“You feel better because the Tylenol kicked in. And I’m sure you have plenty of women happy to nurse you back to health.”
He slid her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The guy was an enigma. He was photographed with beautiful women constantly, had a zillion zealous fans, and received constant media attention. Butsometimes she caught a look in his eyes or heard a tone of his voice that made her think...
Or maybe you just have a great big imagination, Chloe Anderson.
***
Liam shoveled a bit of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He couldn’t taste a thing, thanks to his congestion. He swallowed against a scratchy throat.
Chloe had headed to the kitchen to wash the dishes despite his objections. But it was kind of nice having her here. Kind of nice being taken care of a little, even if he didn’t really need it.
He coughed, then winced at the pain in his throat.
From her station by the patio door, Buttercup flicked her tail back and forth, condemning him with her eyes.
“It’s just a cold.” He sounded as if his head was stuffed with an entire cotton field.
A few minutes later Chloe returned to the living room and took his empty plate. “You’re looking a little better.”
“I feel better. Probably just needed some rest and food. Think I’ll grab a shower.” He stretched and stood. Maybe the steam would drain this congestion. “By then it’ll be about time to head to the set.”
“Are you sure you’re up to that?”
“Of course. And hey, I don’t wanna keep you, Chloe. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around here.”
She hesitated, her feet shuffling as she transferred the plate to her other hand.
“I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I don’t mind the company. I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“I’d actually planned to go straight to set from here since it’s on the way.”
The pleasure that streamed through him was only because hedidn’t want to be alone. “No worries then. Help yourself to the TV. The movie selection is pretty good.”
“Are you sure?”
He smiled at her hesitation. “Of course. Make yourself at home.” He headed upstairs, his tank emptying a little more with each step. He’d soon feel much better. His morning shower always revived him.
By the time Liam donned a pair of shorts, he was shaking from exertion. Or maybe it was chills. For sure the effort of running a bar of soap over his skin had completely wiped him out. He hadn’t even washed his hair.
He staggered to the bed and collapsed like a felled oak tree, wet hair and all, and just lay there breathing. Through his mouth. Because his entire head was congested. His muscles ached, his skull throbbed, hisskinhurt.
