Page 42 of Enemies to French Kisses
The weave of the throw is soft under my fingers as I stroke his arm to wake him.
“Marc,” I sing into his ear. “You’ll be better in bed. Let’s move over, huh?”
His eyes flutter open and he faces me, looking lost and confused until recognition washes over him. He rolls onto his side, facing me, and reaches his top arm behind my head.
“Thank goodness you are here.”
My face is buried in the throw, pressed against his chest as he holds me firmly. His arm trembles and the weight of all that has happened in the last twenty four hours catches up with me.
I wrap my arm around him, too. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
* * *
I convince him,with difficulty, to move to his king-size bed in what would be better called a ‘chamber’ since it’s big enough to park five Humvees. Marc is out of it, which is scary. He can’t string much of a sentence together. Is that normal for a concussion? I have the phone number for the hospital service on hand, and I’ll use it if I have to. There’s something very real about sitting on an oversized chaise longue watching a man you thought you hated sleeping, all the while making sure he doesn’t die.
Certainly not what I thought I’d be doing on Saturday night after submitting our RFP. The world can be a very odd place.
My phone buzzes with Natalie’s name lighting up the screen.“All well? Sage-tervention needed?”
“I’m good. Normal that he can’t form a full sentence?”
“Stand by, checking with the girls.”
“Laura?”
I am up and out of that chair faster than a potty break during the Superbowl.
“I’m here. Are you okay?”
“It hurts.” The innocence in his voice kills me. I really should have recruited Vincent or Guillaume for this job. I must be run down with guilt and exhaustion, because every word out of this man’s mouth moves me to tears.
“It aches.”
“Where? Show me where it hurts.” I’m experienced with this part, the aches and growing pains Brian had all through middle and high school. Maybe I babied him too much, though he accepted it gladly.
But this is different.
“It’s my head.” He lifts his hand to the side of his head.
“Let me see.” I climb onto the side of the bed to look. Sure enough, the place giving him flack is where there’s an ostrich egg-sized lump. I lean over farther to make sure there aren’t any other unexpected culprits causing him discomfort.
His hand lifts to my cheek, his fingertips running down to my neck and a shiver comes over me. Time stops. My own breath echoes in my mind, a rumbling thunder warning of the lightening to come, but I’m in too deep to stop it. I’m lost in the sensation of his presence, of a world so different from the one I thought I lived in.
Softer than a butterfly’s wings, his lips graze mine. The kiss could have been from rose petals, but it wasn’t. It was him.
He closes his eyes, his arm tucking under him as he rolls away.
And snores.
Back to the overstuffed chaise longue I go, but there’s no chance I’m getting a wink of sleep tonight.
CHAPTER17
Laura
“I’m telling you,Nat. He thinks we’re married!”
I’m in one of the extra rooms hushed in the corner in case I disrupt Marc during his late morning nap. Delia is purring in my lap as I scratch her just the way she likes.
