Page 8 of Purrfect Planning

Anything but dry toast in the morning makes me hurl. Princessa’s kitty treats are so disgusting that I’ve taken to using gloves to get them out of the package so that the scent doesn’t cling to my hands and a chip clip on my nose. The litter box is another glove job. And I use a mask and a small clip because the smell makes me want to chuck the litter box out a window and just buy new every time.

And as to work…I’m late every day and I can’t make it through a meeting without getting so sick that I’ve got perspiration dotting my forehead.

My best friend, Chrissy groans when she sees me walk through the door at the Rise and Shine Bakery. “You have got to go to the doctor, babe! You look like hell and it looks like it’s getting worse.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have time. There’s too much to do and not enough time to do it.”

“You should have said no to this wedding at the beginning,” she mutters. “This timeline is crazy.”

Nodding my head, I sigh and lean against the cool glass of the floral coolers. “I know. But it’s such a prestigious couple. This could make or break me.”

“So could whatever has you so sick. Go to the doctor…now!”

“Nope!” I shake my head and fist my hands. I can do this.

That resolve is firmed up even more when I glance over when the bell rings and find Micah standing there, all big and gorgeous and manly.

He doesn’t look tired. The bastard doesn’t have shadows under his eyes. I bet he can eat a full steak dinner and not throw up once!

His ice-blue eyes lock on me and there’s something hidden in them that makes my pulse jump weakly. A little thread of something sexy and soft. His wide shoulders and thick chest looks perfect to curl up into and I can practically feel his warm skin under my fingers again, hear his heartbeat in my ears as I curl up on him. The slight, dark trail of fur on his toned, masculine chest that leads down to the trail in his boxers and the way the bulge in them jumped when my fingers trailed across it.

And the smell of him. Spice and sweet. Like a shot of rum over my tongue.

My mouth waters and then that cold, dreadful feeling washes over me again.

Chrissy sees it and runs to hold my arm. “Oh shit! Get to the bathroom quick!”

I dodge around her and hit the doors so fast that they’re still swinging when I hit my knees and retch.

I’ve barely finished and I’m standing at the sink, running a wet cloth over my face when the door slams back into the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you, woman! Why are you still sick? Did you go see the doctor yet?”

He’s shouting and it echoes around the cool room, ringing in my ears and setting off the worst headache I’ve had in a long time.

“Would you stop yelling at her? She’s fine. She just needs to see a doctor and get some meds. No big deal.”

He points at me and the icy look in his blue eyes is white-hot with rage. “She’s so sick she can barely stand and she’s here to look at pastries? She needs to be home. I can take over this job.”

I slam my palms down on the sink and then turn to stalk over to him. “You are not getting rid of me. This is my job, buster! Mine!”

My head swims as I stand in front of him, poking him in the chest. His big, broad chest that’s moving side to side in a strange wave that’s making my stomach heave again.

“Aspen? Aspen!”

“She’s coming around. Aspen, how are you doing? Do you know where you are?”

I open my eyes and stare around me, wincing at the fluorescent overhead lights. Then I run my hand up to my head and see the paper bracelet on my wrist.

“I’m in the hospital?”

The kindly doctor smiles. “You are. You passed out.” He points over at a pale, shaken Micah. “This young man caught you before you could hit the floor.”

I snort. “Yeah. Okay. The dramatics aren’t really necessary. I just felt a little faint.”

I slip my feet over the side of the bed and sit up, reeling as soon as I do.

Micah catches me and turns me right back around to the bed. “I’m not looking to catch you again, sweetheart. Put that pretty ass back in that bed and let the man look at you. You need to find out what’s wrong with you and why you aren’t getting better.”

“I want him to leave the room,” I mutter under my breath, not wanting him to keep seeing me like this. I don’t want him to have more ammo to take my damn job.

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