“I’m calling for a doctor,” Jake says, once I’ve heaved myself dry.
He disappears for a moment to get his phone, then he’s back beside me. I curl up in his lap on the bathroom floor, listening to him barking orders down the phone as he gently strokes wisps of hair from off my damp face. And I begin to feel worse and worse with each passing moment.
“Ugh,” I groan, blinking my blurry eyes against the daylight.
Rolling over, I find Jake beside me wearing his boxer shorts, propped against the headboard, his laptop on his knee.
Glancing at the screen, I see a spreadsheet filled with numbers.
Minimising the spreadsheet from my view, he sets his laptop on the bed and scoots down to face me.
“How you feeling?” he asks. Lifting a hand to my face, he runs his fingers gently over my cheek, brushing my stray hair back.
“Like I spent the whole night throwing up. What time is it?” I croak, rubbing my sore eyes.
“One p.m.”
“Christ, I slept the whole morning away.”
“You needed it.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m so thirsty,” I say, turning my head, looking for the glass of water I’d left on the bedside cabinet.
“I got rid of it,” Jake says. “It was warm. I’ll get you something fresh.” Before leaving the bed, he kisses my forehead, then gets up and heads for the minifridge.
He opens a bottle of water. Helping me to sit, he hands the bottle to me.
I still feel so weak. My limbs are like jelly. I lean back against the headboard and gratefully gulp the water.
“The doctor left you some medication to take once you’d stopped throwing up. You still feel sick?”
Still drinking from the bottle, I shake my head.
Jake grabs a pill bottle from my bedside cabinet, opens it up, shakes two tablets out, and hands them to me.
I pop the pills in my mouth and quickly wash them down with water.
I gag at the harsh taste the pills leave on my tongue. “I hate taking pills.”
“Poor baby,” he soothes.
“Remind me never to eat prawns again.” Ugh, just the thought of them turns my stomach.
When the doctor arrived by seaplane a few hours after I’d started throwing up—dragged from his bed due to Jake’s incessant demands that I be seen by a doctor straightaway—he checked me over and concluded I had a mild case of food poisoning.
We figured it was the prawns. Jake doesn’t like them, and they were the only thing he hadn’t eaten.
“Do you want me to have the chef fired?” he asks.
If I thought he was joking, I’d say yes, but knowing Jake as I do, I know he would have the poor guy fired. I don’t want that to happen. It’s not his fault I ate a dodgy prawn.
“No.” I smile, and reaching my hand to his face, I rest it against his cheek.
Closing his eyes briefly, he presses a kiss to my wrist. “Do you want to try and get some more rest?”
“No, what I really want to do is get clean and brush my teeth. I feel skanky.”
“Skanky?” He grins, glancing at me through his dark lashes. “Do you just make these words up?”
“No.” I stick my tongue out at him. “You’ve just forgotten how to be British.”
With a chuckle, he rises from the bed. “I’ll get the shower ready for you.”
Jake disappears into the bathroom, leaving me sipping my water.
I rest my head against the headboard and close my eyes to the sound of the water turning on in the bathroom.
Jake doesn’t want children.
It’s like a whisper in my mind, coming from out of nowhere.
My stomach clenches. I can’t think about that now. I’ll think about it later.
One thing it does remind me to do is take my contraceptive pill. A pregnancy is not something I want happening right now. Or ever, as the case may be.
Reaching down, I grab my bag off the floor and get my pill out.
I’m just swallowing it when Jake reappears from the bathroom. Moving across the hardwood floor, he comes over and takes the water bottle from my hand, putting it down.
“You ready for your shower?”
“Yep.” I slide my jelly legs to the side of the bed to stand, but before I get a chance, Jake picks me up, lifting me into his arms.
“I could have walked,” I say, resting my head against his chest.
“No point testing out the theory while I’m here to take care of you.”
Jake steps into the huge double-headed shower and sits me down on the wide ledge at the far side.
The steam from the water soothes me instantly.
Jake hands me my toothbrush; it’s ready with toothpaste on it. Smiling at his preparation, I start to brush my teeth while he kneels before me and sets about removing my shorts and panties.
When I’ve finished brushing my teeth, I spit into the running water, rinsing my brush under the shower, and set it on the ledge beside me.
Standing, Jake leans down and takes hold of the hem of my vest and eases it up. I lift my heavy arms, allowing him to pull it over my head. He tosses it to the floor outside the shower, along with the rest of my clothes.
I see his eyes sweep over my naked body. And I don’t miss the erection he’s sporting when he removes his own shorts. Well, the size of it would be hard to miss.
I love that even sick, I can still turn him on.
“Even sick and skanky, I can still turn you on.” I smile up at him.
“Even sick and skanky,” he murmurs, cupping my face. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to my lips.