Page 27 of Doc Hollywood

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted,” she replied before a yawn cracked her face.

“I assumed your side is the right, as all your chargers were there?” Taylor indicated to the bed, and it was clear he had politely slept on the left side.

“It is,” Clara confirmed and fell face-first onto the mattress, groaning in happiness as she felt some of the aches and pains begin to recede.

She then yanked the duvet from under her and snuggled into it. Her exhaustion overtook her so quickly that she was only dimly aware of the other side of the bed dipping and Taylor climbing into it.

Clara woke up to her alarm blaring. She reached over to turn it off and snuggled back into the warm arms encircling her. Her eyes immediately closed again, and she drifted back to sleep.

The next time the alarm went off, there was a grumble of complaint from the warm body holding her, and she stuck her arm out again, snoozing her alarm once more. Then she snuggled back into the warm embrace.

The person holding her stiffened slightly, which dragged Clara’s mind out of its deep sleep.

“Taylor?” she whispered.

“Yeah?” His sleepy voice rumbled back, and she could feel the vibrations in his chest where it pressed against her back.

“Are we spooning?” Clara asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

She knew they definitely were, as she was quite obviously tucked against him, with his left arm thrown over her andaround her waist and his right arm under her shoulder, reaching down to her hand where their fingers were entwined.

“Yeah,” Taylor whispered back.

“Thought so.” She lay there, her eyes staring at the far wall. But she made no attempt to move. “Is your arm numb?”

She felt the laughter that welled up in Taylor before she heard him chuckle.

“Absolutely no feeling in it whatsoever.”

Clara began to chuckle as well, the tension broken. “Sorry about that.”

She sat up to free his arm and realised that his hand was still on her stomach—her normal, non-Hollywood, non-flat stomach. She also became aware that not only was his hand on her stomach, but in his sleep, he had put it under her pyjama top, and it was sitting on her bare skin.

Heat flooded through her, and she turned so she was facing him. This was a mistake, as now not only was his hand on her bare skin, she was also faced with his matinee idol good looks, which were not diminished by being rumpled from sleep.

Her eyes widened fractionally when she noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she had a close-up view of his perfectly chiselled chest.

Taylor quickly removed his hand from her stomach and shook his other arm, obviously trying to get the feeling back into it.

Clara stared dry-mouthed as the muscles in his torso contracted and flexed as he moved. She was dumbstruck, never having been that close to someone in such peak physical condition. It made her feel even worse about her own slightly soft middle.

Clara cleared her throat a couple of times before she could get any words out. “Do you remember that happening?”

Taylor ran his hands through his hair and wiped his eyes. “No, sorry. I was so tired I passed out again as soon as I got you.”

“Yeah, me either,” she breathed, gazing at his face, trying to keep her eyes away from his unclad muscles. “We can approach this one of two ways.” Clara was ever practical and had already thought about how to move forward.

Taylor nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”

“We can either act super embarrassed and avoid each other, which won’t be hard as you only have this week in the hospital, and I can find someone else for you to spend the days with. Or, we can ignore it and behave like the grown-up I would one day like to become and move on exactly as we would have if it hadn’t happened.” Clara turned her head away slightly as she spoke and surreptitiously wiped the corner of her mouth to make sure there wasn’t any drool.

Taylor barely let her finish before he blurted, “Definitely option two.”

Clara froze. A small part of her was insulted that he had been so quick to want to wipe the events out, but the rational part of her mind soon shouted at that ridiculous corner of her brain, and she said, “Excellent. I agree. Option two is the better one. I’ll go and get showered and dressed in the bathroom. Then, by the time you’re ready, I’ll have some coffee made for both of us.”

Clara strode off into the bathroom, purposefully not looking back at the large man lying sprawled in her bed. But the skin on her back crawled, and she was very aware that he was watching her.

She closed the door quietly and took a deep, steadying breath, which, despite her best intentions, was shaky.

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