Page 49 of Every Rose

She ran her fingertip along the line of his jaw, rough with stubble. He stirred and mumbled something but was soon deeply asleep once more.

She rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen where she started coffee. Then she followed her usual Sunday morning routine. She crept past him into her ensuite bathroom and showered, then grabbed clean clothes and dressed in the guest bedroom, which she mostly used as a home office.

She was in the kitchen enjoying her first cup of coffee and checking the news on her tablet when he walked in looking heavy-eyed and scrumptious. Naturally, he didn’t have any clothes with him so he’d pulled on his boxer shorts and wore her bathrobe over top.

He should have looked ridiculous.

He looked mouthwateringly delicious. “Coffee?”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t feel like asking how he liked his coffee, as though she were his waitress, so she poured him a mug and pushed the sugar pot toward him. “Milk’s in the fridge.”

He nodded, yawned and picked up the mug, drinking the coffee black.

She wished she still took a real newspaper so she could pass him a section, but she didn’t. No way to share news that arrived digitally.

He didn’t seem too bothered. He picked up his coffee and headed to the living room where he stood staring out at the view.

No way to tell what he was thinking from his profile. He remained silent. Finally, she said, “Should we talk about this?”

“Talk about what?”

She put down her coffee mug with a snap. “Why do men do that?Talk about what?I’m not interested in discussing local politics, the weather or religion. So take a wild guess.”

A flash of humor lit his face. “Sex. You want to talk about sex.”

“Well, not exactly what I was getting at but you’re on the right track.”

He stepped closer. “The sex was great.”

“It was.” Great didn’t even begin to describe it. Even though they’d barely slept she felt full of energy, her body still thrumming. “I mean–” She had no idea how to phrase what she was trying to say. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. But she hadn’t, and he was looking at her as though she was going to propose or something, so she snapped, “I mean, is this a one time thing?” No, that wasn’t it either. Why could she not think clearly?

He sipped coffee, regarding her over the rim of the mug. “Do you want it to be a one time thing?”

“Quit turning everything back on me. What doyouwant?”

“I want to have a shower and get my head together. I want to take you out for breakfast. But not in my tux. That’s what I want.”

“Kind of short-term thinking.”

“All I’m capable of right now.”

“Sorry, I’m being Type A about this. We don’t work together exactly but obviously our worlds are connected. I don’t want any awkwardness. I think we should be clear about boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” He looked at her as though she were speaking a language he was unfamiliar with.

“You know, figuring out how and when we can see each other and making absolutely certain to be discreet about this.”

“Why does it matter so much to you that no one know anything about this?”

“Because the hospital is a hot bed of gossip. I do not care to be the subject of gossip.”

“Hate to be the one to break it to you, but you already are.”

Shock had her eyes opening wide. “What?”

He shrugged. “People talk about how you walk down a hospital corridor like it’s a runway. You overdress. Stuff like that.”

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