The Naughty List Bundle - Kylie Adams [12]
Then, with a small sound, she dropped her head forward in defeat and covered her face with her hands. That was all it took to shake him out of his sensual stupor. Determined, he started forward, dredging up full doctor mode while burying his instinctive, basic urges.
But one fact rang loud and clear in his head.
Damn, he was in deep—and he didn’t even know her name.
3
SHE WANTED TO DIE. To just curl up and give up and not have to worry about another thing. She felt beyond wretched, more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life, getting more so with every second that passed, and she was so tired of worrying, of finding herself in impossible situations, giving up seemed the best option. She was just so damn weak, she couldn’t do anything.
So instead, she got obnoxious. Without raising her head, she asked, “Are you done gawking?” Her voice was a hideous thin croak, a mixture of illness, embarrassment and pain. It was all she could do to keep herself sitting upright.
“I’m sorry.” He crouched down and lifted her as if she weighed no more than the damn cat Jordan had been petting. Very gently, he placed her on the edge of the bed, then matter-of-factly skimmed her jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving her totally bare. In the next instant, he tugged the jersey over her head. He treated her with all the attention and familiarity he might have given a small child, even smoothing down her hair. “There. That’s got to be more comfortable.”
His voice sounded almost as harsh as her own; she couldn’t quite return his smile.
After pulling back the covers, he raised her legs onto the mattress, pressed her back against the headboard with a pillow behind her, then said, “Wait right here while I get some light.”
He was gone only a moment, but from the time he stepped out into the hallway until he returned, she heard the drone of masculine voices, some amused, some concerned, some insistent.
God, what must they think of her? She was an intruder, a pathetic charity case, and she hated it.
Sawyer returned with an old-fashioned glass and brass lantern, a flashlight and a small plastic tote of medicine bottles. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the brothers’ curious gazes. For that, at least, she was thankful.
“Now, back to business.” He unloaded his arms next to the bed on the nightstand, turning up the lantern so that the soft glow of light spread out, leaving heavy shadows in all the corners of the room. “The town is so small, we lose electricity with nearly every storm. It’s not something we get too excited over. By morning the lights will be on.”
Morning?
He shook the thermometer, and again stuck it in her mouth. “Leave it there this time.”
Oh, boy. He was done with stalling, now operating in total efficiency status. Well, fine. She didn’t want to talk to him away. Talking took energy, which she didn’t have, and hurt her raw throat and made her stomach jumpier than it already was. She honestly didn’t know how much longer she could stay awake. Lethargy pulled at her, making her numb.
He approached again, sitting beside her on the bed. He was so warm, heat seemed to pour off him. He gave her a stern look. “I’m going to listen to your lungs. Just breathe normally through your nose, okay?”
She nodded, and he opened the neckline of the jersey and slipped his hand beneath. He didn’t look at her, staring at the far wall instead as if in deep concentration. But his wrist was hot, a burning touch against her sensitive skin, contrasting sharply with the icy coldness of the stethoscope.
She forgot to breathe, forgot everything but looking at his profile, at his too long, too thick lashes, his straight nose, his dark hair falling over his brow in appealing dis-array. The lantern light lent a halo to that dark hair and turned his skin into burnished bronze. His jaw was firm, his mouth sexy—
“Normal breaths, honey.”
Oh, yeah. She sucked in a lungful of air, accidentally filling her head with his delicious scent. She immediately suffered