Page 67 of Passionate Defense

Chilling one minute and sweating the next, she switched between heat and AC on full blast as she fought the rush hour start-of-the-weekend traffic. His BMW wasn’t in the garage when she pulled in. Beating Ethan home almost never happened. Lanie slogged up the stairs, taking time only to kick off her shoes before falling face-first on the bed. Other than coughing, which hurt her already sore throat and aching head, she didn’t move until she heard the garage door go up and that was only to answer when Ethan called for her.

“I’m in the bedroom.”

Her voice cracked as she croaked like a sick frog, which started her coughing again. She rolled onto her side and searched blindly in the drawer of the bedside table for a stray cough drop, moaning as every bone in her body, even her teeth, hurt. Ethan appeared in the doorway and stared at her in surprise.

When the coughing spell passed, a wave of weakness overtook her.

“Baby,” he murmured softly as he approached.

“Stay away. I’m sick and don’t want you to die, too,” she whined, taking the high road for his health because she loved him so, but wanting his pampering, which he excelled at.

“I’m not staying away when you need me. Besides, when have you known me to be sick?”

It was true. She got a cold or the flu every year, but in the three she’d known him, he’d been immune.

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed and laid his hand on her forehead. “It must have come on suddenly. You seemed fine this morning.”

“I’m miserable,” she said with a sniffle then sneezed—twice. He passed her the box of tissues from the nightstand. Coughing again, she took two and blew her nose. “I woke up with a tickle. By noon, I couldn’t breathe, and it felt like I had razor blades in my throat. When I left at four, I had a pounding headache. Now look at me, Typhoid Lanie.”

“Poor baby. You didn’t have the energy to get undressed. Let me help.” He twisted and slipped off her shoes. Next, he unzipped her skirt, rolled her over, and unbuttoned her blouse. Despite her protests, he sat her up and removed both it and her bra. When he stood and crossed to her dresser to get a nightgown, she flopped onto her back, lacking the strength to sit up.

He returned with a long-sleeve nightshirt, a gift from her mother she hadn’t ever worn before.

“I’ll burn up in that. Can you get the sleeveless pink one?”

He was back in a flash, slipped it over her head then lifted her and settled her fully in bed with her head on the pillows. Ethan stroked the hair back from her forehead. His cool hands felt good on her skin.

“You feel warm. Have you taken your temperature?”

“No thermometer.”

“What about cold medicine?”

“I felt too bad to go by the drugstore, and I have nothing to take other than those disgusting eucalyptus cough drops.” She pointed to the two remaining lozenges on the nightstand, which had been around for a while. “I found them in my coat pocket months ago and put them in the drawer. They’re old and must have melted at some point because the paper stuck like glue. There was lint on one, and I didn’t have the energy to pick it off. It’s gross, but I was desperate.”

“I’ll make you some hot tea with honey and lemon then I’ll go to the pharmacy for supplies.”

He tucked her in, pulling the covers up to her chin as she shook with a chill. Leaning closer, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “You definitely have a fever. Try to rest.”

She must have dozed because it seemed like she only shut her eyes for a sec before he returned with a hot cup of tea.

Since he’d gone to the trouble, she dutifully took a sip, but it tasted awful. She tried to set it aside, but he insisted, “Drink all of it, Lanie. You need fluids.”

While he was gone, she couldn’t choke down the tea or sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she woke up in a coughing fit. And she was restless, kicking off the covers one minute then shivering and pulling them up to her ears the next. When Ethan returned, he stood next to the bed, staring down at her with concern.

“I feel terrible.” Her stuffed-up nose made it sound like—I feew tewwibow. “My bones ache, and I’m restless. One minute I’m on fire and sweating buckets but freezing and chilling the next.”

As if to prove her point, a flash of heat swept over her and she threw off the covers, pulling her clingy chemise away from her damp skin.

“Hang in there, baby. I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy.” He sat at the bedside and removed a six-pack of bottled water from his bag, frowning as he placed it on the nightstand. “You didn’t drink your tea. It would have soothed your throat.”

“My stomach is too queasy. I think I’m dying, Ethan.” Aching deep in her bones, she rolled on her side and, curling up in a ball, peeked at him over a pile of covers.

“I’m sure it’s a virus. Let’s get your temperature first.”

He unloaded his bag full of jars and small boxes and then tore open a package. As he removed a probe thermometer, rather than an ear or forehead scanner, she emphatically shook her head. “No way, Ethan. I’m too sick to play, and you are not getting anywhere near my rear end with that thing.”

“Hush.” He showed her the label. “See, it says oral. I asked the pharmacist if they had anything else, but he said the flu on top of Strep and a wave of RSV had pretty much wiped them out. Be a good girl and hold this under your tongue until it beeps.”

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