She wasn't at all sure he'd make it to the doctor's office on his own, but Philip wouldn't let him go wandering off in a sinus-fueled haze. "I'll just walk with you down to the lobby," she said. "Philip will be waiting there with the car."
He stood and swayed. Bri reached out to catch him but he managed to stay somewhat upright. "Please hand me a tissue," he said.
She handed him the whole box and a trash can to save his small room from further pollution. "I doubt the doctor's office will be open so early," he said after he'd blown his nose.
"It's almost ten in the morning. Most doctors--"
He scoffed. "It's just past six." He stood again and crossed the room to grab his suit jacket. He pulled it on. "This is ridiculous. I'm fine. I need to get to work. Tell Philip he can take me to the doctor later this morning if I'm still not feeling well."
She turned on the screen to his phone and held it up to him. "It's five minutes to ten, Mr. Cassidy. Your phone doesn't lie."
He squinted and leaned forward to read his phone, but lost his balance and fell onto her, almost knocking her to the ground. She managed to keep her feet, her bones groaning with the pressure of the large, muscled, and very heavy man. He wrapped his hands around her waist and steadied himself, but didn't move away. "You smell so good," he said. One hand dropped down to knead her ass.
"And you are a snotty, dizzy mess who needs to get to the doctor." She pushed and managed to get him upright again. "Come on. Philip is waiting."
He straightened and nodded. "Right. The quicker I get to the doctor and get drugs, the quicker I can get back to work."
"Good. Where are your shoes?"
He swung his head to look for them and lost his balance again. The room was small enough that Bri just had to give him a small shove to make sure he landed on the bed and not on the hard floor, the coffee table, or on her. "You sit. I'll find your shoes."
She got him into shoes and out of the room. He leaned on her all the way to the elevator and down to the lobby, alternating between kissing her neck and reminding her of the long lists of tasks and meetings he had to get accomplished that day. Laughter bubbled, but she managed to hold it down with a combination of good sense and genuine worry. Surely he just had strep or a sinus infection, but what if it was something more serious and she'd been laughing at him?
She handed him off to Philip with a promise from the other man to make sure he got to the doctor okay and didn't fall over and hit his head.
She waved them off and went back to her desk, where she adjusted Jude's calendar as best she could to insure he had the entire day free. She called Raymond, who was working in marketing that week, and he advised her to clear Jude's schedule for the next few days. Jude didn't get sick often, but when he did it was bad and lasted more than just twenty-four hours. "It's because he works himself ragged," Raymond said. "And he won't learn to delegate a damn thing. I've been trying to get him to drink elderberry syrup every day, but he calls it hippy crap and claims it upsets his stomach."
"Okay," she said, feeling a bit better. "Maybe I can sneak it into his coffee or something."
Raymond sighed. "I tried that, and he caught it immediately. If I knew how to bake, I'd put it in muffins."
She hung up and went to work clearing Jude's calendar for the rest of the week. Luckily, there was nothing terribly pressing scheduled, but Jude would probably still fight her on the changes if he found out about them.
Once that was done, the project interrupted several times by phone calls, an hour had passed. She texted Philip to find out how it had gone at the doctor's, but got no immediate response, so she was entirely unprepared when Jude shambled into the office, his hair sticking up in about fifty different directions, his tie askew, and his eyes barely open.
She ended her phone call as quickly as possible and hurried into his office to find him staring at his computer screen, his mouth slightly open like he couldn't breathe through his nose. "Jude, how did it go--"
"Oh, good," he said, turning his head to look at her at sloth-like speed. "Someone has changed my password, can you find out what it is?"
She didn't have access to Jude's passwords and didn't think anyone but him and, maybe someone in IT, had the ability to change his password without hacking his system, but she thought it might be better if he didn't get on his computer and try to work in his current state. He was likely to sell the casino or try to send money to a foreign prince. "I'll get right on that. What did the doctor say?"
He scowled. "That doctor is a quack. He claims I just have a severe cold. He wouldn't even prescribe me anything harder than acetaminophen, orange juice, and bed rest."
She sat in a chair in front of his desk, putting herself at his eye level. "Sweetie, don't you think you should take his advice?"
He glared. "I'm not taking the advice of a quack. Whatever I've got is ten times worse than a cold. I could die and that idiot wouldn't even care. He . . ." He drifted off as a plane flew past, about a mile away, outside his office window. "How do planes stay up in the air? I mean I know it's physics and science and there's a very good explanation for it, but it's always seemed like magic to me." He returned his attention to Bri. "Do you believe in magic?"
Since the first night she'd spent in his arms, she absolutely believed in magic, but she was pretty sure that wasn't what he meant. "Even if the doctor is a quack, honey, if you're as sick as you think you are, don't you think you should go back to bed?"
His eyes narrowed so much she doubted he could see her. "Are you suggesting I'm not as sick as I think I am?"
"Not at all. That's why--"
"Then why are you talking to me like I'm a child?"
Because you're acting like a damn child, she managed not to scream at him in frustration. Instead she changed her tone, brisk, professional. "I've rearranged your schedule so that you're free to take a few days off to relax and recover. Ginger in accounting is pregnant and Blake in human resources is immuno-compromised since he started that new treatment for his cancer. It would be best for everyone if you didn't spread this human plague, which seems horrible by the way, I don't know how you're still standing, around the office."
His head bobbed a few times as she spoke, like he was fighting sleep. "Blake has cancer?"
"Yes. He has prostate cancer, but it was caught relatively early and he has every chance of making a full recovery."
He nodded. "That's good."
"Yes, but you wouldn't want to decrease his chances of survival by giving him this highly contagious, debilitating disease you've contracted, would you?"
"I suppose I could work from my room."
Bad idea, terrible idea, but telling him that probably wouldn't go over well. "Great idea," she said with a clap of her hands and a broad smile. "Why don't you gather up what you need, and I'll go down to your room with you."
"I'm perfectly capable of making it to my room on my own."
"Of course you are, but didn't you want to continue our discussion about how good I smell?"
Even sick, he managed a wicked smile. "I do."
#
Bri rolled her head on her shoulders and stood to stretch. Her phone pinged with another text from Jude and she almost groaned aloud. She shut down the office phone and her computer before she looked at his message.
It was the fifth from him in the past hour, the one-bi-jillionith from him since she'd convinced him to go back to his room. She'd taken him lunch and cold medicine, she'd answered his texts about the possibility that the pain in his head could be an aneurysm or whether the air conditioning in his room might be broken because he was freezing one moment and burning up the next. That question had sent her running down to his room to check his temperature, on the off chance his doctor really was a quack and Jude had something more serious, like the flu. His temperature had barely crept above ninety-nine degrees. She'd been more relieved than she liked to admit, even to herself. She was kind of fond of the big baby and didn't want to lose him. Okay, so maybe she was
more than a little fond of him, but she would deny how much she felt for him as rigorously as she denied that chocolate wasn't medicine. At least until she got back to Towle.
His latest text asked when she'd be done with work so she could cuddle with him.
She hurried down to his room, excited to see him, even if he was snotty and grumpy. She let herself into his room, only to find him sprawled on his bed in a mountain of tissues, fast asleep.
Given her evening adventures with Jude, she always kept a bag, packed with a few changes of clothes, with her. She changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt, ordered Jude's favorite cheat day pizza from room service, and curled up next to him on the bed, her Kindle in her hands.
The couple in her romance were finally giving in to the sexual tension that had been driving them through the whole book. They were in a public place, a gazebo, just yards from a garden party she'd dragged him to as a favor to a friend. Anyone could walk up and see them, but he lifted her onto the railing of the gazebo as he dropped to his knees and told her to hold on. Caught up in the book, a delicious warming starting in her belly and sinking lower, she didn't notice Jude move until she felt his warm hand on her skin, his fingers sliding under her shirt.
She slammed the book shut and lay back as he moved his hand higher and gripped her bare breast.
A knock at the door made them both freeze.
"Don't answer that," Jude said, sounding more like his bossy, alpha self.
"It's pizza." The words were mostly groan as he tweaked her nipple.
"Leave it," he shouted at the door. "We'll get it in a minute."
The knocking stopped, and Jude coughed. He sat up, bending over as the cough wracked him. She patted his back until he'd gotten it under control and, when he looked at her, his expression was actually sheepish. She never thought she'd see him less than certain and confident about anything. "Guess I'm not ready for yelling."
She rubbed his back. "Why don't you rest? I'll get the food and some cold medicine to help with that cough."
"You don't need to stay with me. Really. I'll be fine on my own, and I don't want you to get sick."
He did look better than he had that morning, but she couldn't help but think of the text messages he'd been sending her all day. He wasn't in any state to be left alone. "Mind if I stay long enough to eat? I'm starving, and I've only got pasta at home." And precious little of that. Last time she'd checked, she'd only had a quarter of a box left. Max hadn't bothered to replace what he'd eaten.
"Yeah," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Okay."
She grabbed the food from outside the door and brought it over to the bed, along with a bottle of cough syrup. "How much of the cold medicine have you taken today?"
He flipped open the lid of the pizza box and groaned. "Damn, I'm hungry." He grabbed a slice and ate half of it in a single bite. When he'd finished chewing, he frowned at her. "Did you ask me something?"
She had already put down the bottle of cough syrup and picked up her own slice. She laughed. "It's fine. We'll talk about it after we eat."
They ate in silence for a while, and Bri relaxed. It was nice, hanging out with Jude with no agenda. She basked in the moment, enjoying it for the fluke it probably was.
"I should be sick of pizza," he said. "We ate so much of it when I was a kid."
She almost choked on a glob of greasy cheese. If they never hung out in bed eating pizza, they absolutely never talked about their real lives or their childhoods. She'd made sure of that. "But you still love it," she said, opting not to push for more.
"I do. Both my parents worked so hard for everything we had, and they rarely had time to cook, much less sit with us for a family dinner every night, but those pizza dinners when they were home, or even when it was just me and Isla . . ." He smiled, a bit wistful. "I have a lot of good memories associated with pizza."
"Isla always crowed about how lucky she was to have the house to herself so often and the freedom to do whatever she wanted."
His smile widened. "Isla's always been good at ignoring the less pleasant aspects of life, but it was hard on her, too. Maybe harder than it was on me."
"I'm sorry. That must have been--"
He waved a pizza-laden hand through the air, nearly knocking her in the face with cheese and sauce. "Don't do that. It was shitty that they worked so much, that we ate so many dinners alone, but it could have been worse. You didn't exactly have it easy." He paused to eat a few more bites, then looked at her, his eyelids heavy. He dropped his slice into the pizza box and laid back on the pillow. "It made a difference to Isla and me to have you and Max over so often. It made the house feel less empty and lonely. Max was like a brother to me and you . . ." His lashes dropped to his cheeks as his eyes closed. Just as she started to slide off the bed, his eyes popped open again. "Isla never complained to you about them being gone so much? They missed her high school graduation."
"Isla and I . . . I guess our friendship has always been about pretending the bad doesn't exist. We were each other's escape."
"Like what we've been doing with the made-up lives. Right." He shook his head. "I blew that plan out of the water tonight." He yawned. "I'm so tired. I'm sorry. I'm not myself right now."
"It's okay." She put the pizza box on the nightstand. "You should rest."
He wiped his face and hands with a napkin and tossed it on the floor with the rest of the tissues. He laid back on the pillow and closed his eyes, but they popped open again. "Wait, I'm supposed to get cuddle time."
She smiled and stood. "We'll cuddle all you want when you're feeling better."
He squinted up at her. "Thank you for the pizza and for taking care of me today."
"Of course."
He closed his eyes again. "What did you need to escape from?" he asked. "I mean, I know your family struggled with money, but from what Max said you were all pretty close and happy."
"Yeah, we were." They'd always been tight, but there'd always been tension, too. Worries about money, worries about whether or not they'd have enough to eat. Bri had gotten a job to help out as soon as she could and so had Max. Their parents had fought, usually about money, but there hadn't been any violence or cruelty. "Everyone needs to escape from real life, though. It's fun."
"It shouldn't be that way," he said, his voice getting softer, his body sinking into the bed. "Real life should be a fantasy."
She laughed softly. "Now you're really not making any sense."
He opened his eyes, looking more alert. "It makes perfect sense, Brianne. You're smart and resourceful. You should make your real life whatever fantasy you've been carrying around."
She sighed. Easy for a billionaire to say. "Goodnight, Jude. Get some sleep." She wouldn't share his bed unless he asked, but she had every intention of sleeping on his couch, just in case he needed her.
"Good night, sweetheart." It was the first time he'd called her anything other than Brianne and it was probably the virus talking and not him, but the simple word pulled at something fragile in her and she fell just a bit more for him. Wished just a bit harder that they could have a real future together.
Just when she was sure he was asleep, he opened his eyes again and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "I know you don't want to talk about reality, but I'm going to use my invalid state as leverage and ask again, how's your mother?"
She dropped her head back against the headboard and sighed, but the truth was that she wanted to tell him. She trusted him with her life and with all her secrets and that wouldn't change, not even when she had to walk away from him. As for her other concern, about sharing too much leading her to get too close to him, well, it was far too late for that. "When you fired Max, his girlfriend was pregnant."
His eyes widened and he went a bit green.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "This discussion can wait."
"No. I want to hear this. I want to know everything. I just . . . Why didn't he tell me?"
She sat on the edge of the bed. "It's pos
sible he didn't know, yet. I'd have to talk to him to get the details. What I do know is that his daughter was born premature and almost died."
"Shit. I'm so sorry. Is she okay, now?"
"She's wonderful," she said. "And perfectly healthy. But she was really sick in the beginning and her mother, Lizzie, couldn't handle it. She left Max and their daughter, Addy."
"Max is a single dad?" He shook his head like he couldn't picture it.
"No. Shortly after Lizzie left, Max took off, too. He claimed he was looking for work, but he never came back. I dropped out of college to help Mom take care of Addy."
He stared at her for several long moments. "I'm an asshole. All this time I've been feeling like the victim and you've been taking care of Max's daughter and your mom. You gave up everything, while I felt sorry for myself."
She wasn't sure if it was the cold making him more melodramatic or if he really believed what he was saying, but she couldn't help but smile. "You had no way of knowing. All you knew was that Max had stolen from you and betrayed you. You had every right to feel like a victim."
"I didn't have every right to cut you out of my life," he said. "You said your mom was sick?"
"Yeah. She was. She had a severe case of pneumonia and almost died. She and Addy are visiting my aunt Louise in Colorado, and I took the opportunity to come here and work."
"To pay her medical bills?" he asked, his lids heavy again, though he was clearly doing his best to focus and understand.
She could have said yes and left it at that, but after all the lies and misunderstandings, she wouldn't do that to him. "That and to save our house from foreclosure."
"Do you have enough money to do that?" he asked.
"Not yet. Let's not talk about that right now. You're exhausted."
"We'll talk about it when I'm feeling better. You should leave before you get infected."
"I'll just stay until you fall asleep." It was a lie, but she doubted he'd remember.
How to Lasso a Billionaire Page 18
