she was under as both his assistant and live-in nurse, maybe she, too, needed a momentary outlet.
Some mindless, harmless pleasure. Enjoyed for a time, then it was over and forgotten.
He recalled the way she had felt in his arms, the way she sighed his name when she came. The way she had smiled at him as if she knew...
No, he wasn’t sure who he was attempting to delude with the hope that this incident was nothing more than an aberration. He didn’t buy it for a second.
Everything would change between them and it was his damn fault.
Brought down by a pair of skintight yoga pants. Who would have believed it?
CHAPTER TWO
Twelve weeks ago
ANNA STOPPED WHEN she entered Ben’s office and saw that he was dozing behind his desk. His color wasn’t good and the lines around his mouth had grown deeper. She could only hope his decline wasn’t a result of what they did on the couch a few days ago. She hated to think that maybe she had robbed him of the last ounce of energy he had left in his body.
She shook off the ridiculous idea and thought about how incredibly odd these past few days had been between them. She was still caring for him, cooking for him, handling his business for him. And he was still letting her. All without saying a word about...that night.
At first she had this crazy idea that maybe they didn’t have to talk about it. Maybe things had changed, and they could accept that change without having to rehash the obvious. They were lovers now. End of story. Anna was sure Ben would appreciate the least messy approach to making that transition.
Except she didn’t feel like his lover. She felt like...a ghost. An apparition without any real substance walking around his home.
Unless they were arguing—something they rarely did, but they seemed to be on the verge of it now. Because she was certain that, beyond what had happened between them that night, something else had shifted. She sensed he was hiding something from her and as much as she pressed him on it, he wouldn’t budge. There were moments when she feared that the doctors had told him something about his condition. A prognosis so horrible he wouldn’t share it with her.
That, too, seemed ridiculous. If his condition was worsening, the medical team would be giving him more aggressive treatment. It wasn’t as though Ben would simply surrender. No, he’d fight his enemy—in this case his body—to the bitter end before ever conceding defeat.
Ben Tyler would live. It was the only outcome she could, or would, accept.
And since he was going to live, and since they hadn’t done a very good job of simply making the switch from coworkers to lovers, it meant they would have to talk.
Anna had promised herself that she would wait until he initiated the subject. Since he had made the first move, it was his responsibility to step up and explain himself. All she needed to spark that conversation was a reference, a vague mention of what they did on that couch not five feet away from her, and it would open the discussion.
She was about ready to break that promise.
Three days and nothing.
The entire incident could have been a dream she had, if she hadn’t woken the next day with a faint soreness between her legs letting her know that what had happened had been entirely real.
She allowed him every excuse in the book. He was sick and didn’t have the energy to focus on how their relationship might have changed. Until his prognosis improved, he couldn’t commit to anything in the future. Her personal favorite explanation for his avoidance was that he was shy about admitting how he felt about her because before that night he’d never given her any indication he was attracted to her.
No, any sexual or romantic thoughts, she had been sure—almost sure—were entirely one-sided. Her side.
Looking at him now, thin and exhausted, the portrait of a man who appeared to be wasting away, it was hard to imagine the man as he had been when she first fell in love with him.
Ben Tyler then equaled power. Ben Tyler now equaled frailty.
The crazy thing was she didn’t feel any differently about him. And he certainly hadn’t been frail when he thrust himself deep inside her. So why didn’t he want to talk about it? She understood most guys didn’t like to do postmortems the day after, but this was slightly different.
What