Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,23
the appeal. She hadn’t been sick in nearly a year. This wasn’t the time or the place for it.
She unhooked her bra, slipped out of her underwear, and stepped into the shower. The tile was dingy, the bathtub floor chipped in places, but it was glorious, and she never appreciated hot water more. She stood there soaking up the heat, letting it penetrate her skin and bones, letting it wash away the sweat and sickness until she began to feel almost human again.
She thought she heard a sound, but the water muffled it. She opened her eyes and stuck her head out of the stream. There it was again: a soft knocking on the bathroom door.
Sarah jerked the shower curtain aside just in time to see Joe Burke enter with an armful of towels.
“Burke! Get out!”
“Good morning to you, too.” He calmly laid the stack of towels on top of the toilet seat.
“Get out!” Sarah said again.
“I’ve seen you in the shower before.”
“Not lately. What are you doing here?”
“I thought you’d want a towel when you got out.”
“No, what are you doing here—in my hotel room?”
“Don’t you remember?” he asked.
For one panicked second, Sarah thought maybe she’d blacked out—maybe they’d . . . but no. The last real memory she had was of puking her entire life into the bowl of the toilet. Even the most desperate man wouldn’t have wanted a woman in that condition.
And she doubted Joe Burke was desperate.
“I slept on the couch,” he said.
“What couch?”
“Yours. You walked right past me—didn’t you see me?”
“When?” Sarah asked, still clinging to the edge of the shower curtain, wondering how sheer its thin white fabric looked from the other side.
“Right after you took off your robe,” Joe said.
Sarah replayed the scene. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes ago. Had he really been right there? And why?
“You slept here?”
“Yep,” he said.
“Why?”
“Mission of mercy.”
“No one asked you, Burke.”
“I know, but it seemed more fun than watching TV.”
Sarah closed the shower curtain again and took a moment to collect herself under the hot water. Just that little bit of sniping had left her exhausted. She needed to crawl back into bed.
“I’m getting out now,” she said, even though she’d planned on taking a much longer shower. “Do you mind leaving?”
“I do mind,” he said, “but I’ll do it.”
She stuck her face out again. “You really slept here? All night?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why? Was I . . . that bad?”
“No, you mostly slept,” he said. “Except for the times when you talked in your sleep.”
“I don’t talk in my sleep.”
He shrugged. “Must have been my imagination.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“Whatever you say, Red.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Joe sighed. “I can’t do anything right today. I bring you towels—”
“You barge in while I’m naked—”
“I clean up your vomit—”
“You didn’t,” she said, horrified. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
Joe shrugged. “Feeling better?”
Sarah thought about it for a moment. “Some. Yes, a little.”
“You slept like the dead,” Joe said. “I was hoping you’d wake up better.”
“The dead don’t talk in their sleep,” Sarah said, hoping he really had been joking.
“I heard my name a few times,” Joe said, “but it might have been something else.”
“Shut up.” She jerked the shower curtain closed again and stood there for five seconds more. Then she finally shut off the water. “I’m getting out,” she called, knowing he was still in there.
“Can’t wait.”
“Burke, this isn’t funny now. Thank you for the towels. I mean it—I appreciate that. But now you’ve had your fun . . . ”
Had he really cleaned up her vomit? Fun. Right.
“Sure you don’t need some help in there?” Joe asked.
Sarah’s jaw tightened. “Very sure. Get out.”
“I had them bring you a new robe, too,” he said. “I knew the other one would probably be a toxic waste site.”
“Shut up,” she said again, feeling like a child for saying it. But he was egging her on like they were twenty years younger. If he was going to act like a fifth-grader, so could she.
“I’m going to order some coffee,” Joe said. “Interested?”
Sarah stood behind the shower curtain, shivering. She needed a towel more than she needed to win the point.
She pulled the curtain back enough so that she could reach out toward the toilet seat, but Joe beat her to it. He handed her one of the thick towels, and smiled when she met his eye.
“I like your hair,” he said.
Her hand flew to the mass of curls the water had activated.