CHAPTER TWO
Chloe looked at the never ending pile of work on her desk and wondered what gods of the poor working girl she had pissed off in a previous life. Clay was in Denver arguing an important case, but it seemed as if her workload had tripled the last few days. What was the old saying, when the cat’s away the mice will play?
Well, dang it, she wanted to play a little bit.
Instead, she found herself taking dictation over the phone, scanning and emailing large sections of case files and, all in all, having just a rip-roaring good time. Not.
The phone rang, and she answered it, giving her usual greeting by rote. “Assistant U.S. District Attorney’s office, Chloe speaking.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end and Chloe stopped typing. “Hello, may I help you?”
“I’m trying to reach a Clay Montgomery, please.”
“This is his office, but he’s not in today. May I take a message?”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Chloe got a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was not unusual for someone in trouble to call Clay’s office directly. When her Spidey sense went off and her boss was in the office, she immediately transferred the call. Today, she didn’t have that option.
“This is his assistant, and I’d be more than happy to help you.” She kept her voice soft and even. She could tell the woman covered the receiver and spoke to someone else.
“Okay, I guess, it’s alright to talk to you. Mr. Montgomery was named as the emergency contact for Ethan—”
“Hollister?” Chloe’s breath left her chest and she felt her whole body go weak. It was a good thing she was already seated, or she might have just fallen to the floor. “Is he alright? What happened?”
“I’m afraid I can’t release any information other than that he’s at the emergency room of Baptist Memorial in Blessing.”
Chloe pressed her hand between her breasts as if she could slow the heavy pounding of her heart. “Of course, I understand. I’ll inform Mr. Montgomery.”
The nurse gave a call back number and Chloe hung the phone up with trembling hands. If they were calling Ethan’s emergency contact, that meant he was unconscious and in serious condition. The steady nerves that usually served her well were nowhere to be found.
But then, this was the first time she’d ever received such distressing news. Ethan was in the emergency room, which meant he’d been hurt, probably shot, maybe dying.
No, she couldn’t think that way, she cautioned herself. Right now he was still alive. She took a deep breath to calm herself. The first thing she needed to do was let Clay know. Even though he was in the middle of court, she sent him a text. She knew he’d want to know as soon as possible what had happened. Grabbing her purse, she hurried to the door. With daytime traffic, it would take her half an hour to get to Blessing. Twenty minutes if she caught the green and yellow lights. And drove well over the speed limit.
The traffic gods were on her side and she made the trip in a little over twenty-one minutes. Pulling into the parking garage, she whipped into a spot, uncaring that she edged the line.
Chloe entered the hospital almost at a run, her high heels clicking furiously against the tiled floor. She headed straight to the admission’s desk. Her hand clutched the edge of the countertop as she waited for the nurse behind it to acknowledge her. “Ethan Hollister. I’m here to see Ethan Hollister.”.
The woman looked up at her over her wire-rimmed glasses. “Are you related?”
Chloe hesitated before answering. She knew the ins and outs of the privacy laws. If she said no, they wouldn’t tell her anything about his condition or even let her see him. What exactly could she say? “I’m, umm...”
“Excuse me, did you say you were here for Mr. Hollister?”
Chloe turned around and saw a man dressed in a white coat. “Yes. Are you his doctor?”
“Yes, come this way, please.”
“But doctor…” The woman behind the counter started to protest.
“Don’t worry, Nurse Lane.” He took Chloe’s arm and led her away. When he was out of earshot, he asked. “May I ask how you know Mr. Hollister?”
Chloe quickly explained the situation about Clay being in court and unavailable. As the doctor pushed open the wide swinging door that would allow them into the part of the emergency room that housed the patients, they could hear the loud rumbled of voices coming from a room near the back.
Ethan’s deep baritone carried down the hall.
Chloe wasn’t a bit surprised when the doctor headed straight for the commotion. She gave a big sigh of relief. If he was capable of arguing with someone, he must not be too badly hurt. She knew it was mandatory for field agents to wear body armor when involved in a bust, but the ‘body’ armor didn’t cover the entire body.
The doctor opened the door to the exam room. “Will you please stop giving my staff trouble, Agent Hollister?”
“I will if they’ll stop trying to—” His words cut off when he caught sight of Chloe behind the doctor. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I, umm, I...”
Ethan frowned as Chloe struggled to speak. Hell, was he worse off than he thought? He must be if the sight of him had Little Miss Drill Sargent at a loss for words. He gritted his teeth and clasped a hand around the railing to heave himself up.
“Agent—”
“Ethan—”
He didn’t know why the sound of distress in Chloe’s voice bothered him, but it did. And the touch of her hands as she helped him sit up on the side of the gurney bothered him in a totally different way. How the hell could his body respond so fiercely when he’d just been shot?
He took a deep breath to suppress the moan of pain he wanted to let out. He knew exactly how. He’d wanted Chloe for a very long time. And as he’d lain there, getting patched up, he’d realized that she’d been the one he wanted to see.
But none of those things meant he was going act on his feelings.
Nope, that would be just plain stupid.
“Would someone hand me my pants?”
The doctor looked at him over the rim of his glasses. “You mean the ones the paramedics had to cut off so that they could stop the flow of blood leaving your body?”
Ethan glared at the middle-aged doctor who stood at the end of the gurney calmly writing notes in a chart.
“I’m perfectly fine to go home, doc.”
“I beg to differ, Agent Hollister. Although you were very lucky the bullet didn’t hit any bone or the femoral artery, you still lost a significant amount of blood and I just put a boatload of stitches in your leg. You need to stay at least overnight, maybe longer.”
“No way,” Ethan muttered under his breath. The bullet to his leg had been a through and through. The doctor had said another inch to the left and it would have hit—and possibility destroyed—his femur. He knew he’d been damn lucky, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stay in the hospital. He had a very good reason for hating hospitals. Memories of that night flashed through his mind, but he pushed them firmly back down like he always did.
“This isn’t up for discussion, young man. I’m having you transferred to a room as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’ll go get a nurse to give you some pain medication.”
Ethan shook his head, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Not only had he been shot, but he’d hit his head when he’d fallen on that damn can of food. “That’s not necessary. My leg feels fine.”
The doctor gave a small laugh. “Trust me, Agent Hollister, that local I gave you to stitch it up won’t last much longer and then it will hurt like hell. I’ll be back in a minute.”
The silence lasted only until the white-coated doctor disappeared through the door.
“I don’t know if you’re a jackass or just plain stupid.”
Ethan gave a deep sigh. There she was, he thought. His Chloe, ready to give him shit. “Where’s Clay?”
“He’s in Denver. He’ll be in court all week.”
“Right.” He’d totally forgotten about that. Ethan had been counting on his friend to take him home—against medical advice. Clay knew why Ethan wouldn’t want to stay in the hospital.
Ethan lifted his hand and realized it still held traces of blood. His blood. For just a second, he felt a little light headed.
“Ethan,” Chloe’s soft voice sounded in his ear. “Are you okay?”
Her face blurred as she leaned close to him, worry making her brows draw together.
He wanted to reach out and draw her close, but the blood on his hand stopped him. For some reason, he didn’t want Chloe to see it.
“Just fine, sweetheart. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“You really are a jackass.” She stomped away, taking a seat in the only chair in the room. Today, she wore a flowing black skirt with a deep, turquoise blouse that clung to her breasts. Damn, the woman was built. She had curves upon curves that called to something inside him like no other woman ever had. And she was pretty. Really pretty. Not beautiful. She had too much of that girl-next-door look to be called a classic beauty. Her hair was honey brown, sometimes reddish in the sunshine and her eyes were a light caramel brown. Her complexion was smooth and creamy, even without makeup. He’d seen her like that too. Without the demure office clothing and makeup.
He changed his mind about his earlier thought. She was beautiful.
“Alright Agent Hollister, here’s the medicine the doctor ordered.” A blond-headed nurse stepped into the room carrying a syringe. Chloe immediately didn’t like her. Why? Because she sported a huge smile aimed directly at Ethan. Chloe, she completely ignored. It gave her some satisfaction when Ethan waved her away. Until she realized why.
“I don’t want any pain medication,” he growled.
The nurse stopped her forward movement, a surprised frown on her face. “But the doctor ordered it.”
“Don’t care. I’m going home, and I don’t need it.”
Chloe straightened in her chair, her gaze roving over Ethan’s face. She could already tell that the strain of sitting up on the bed was getting to him. The fine lines around his eyes were bunched together and she knew instinctively he was in pain. And who wouldn’t be? Her gaze fell to his leg. A large white bandage covered his upper thigh.
“Ethan, let the nurse give you the medicine.”
He swung his head around to meet her gaze full on. “No.”
An involuntary smile formed on Chloe’s lips. He looked so much like a small, sullen boy that she couldn’t help it. She quickly wiped it away, knowing he’d hate even the thought that she was laughing at him. She gave him her sternest glare. “Yes.”
“I’m not staying here, Chloe.” He kicked away the sheet that had become twisted as he’d struggled to sit up. “Now someone get me my damn pants.”
Chloe gasped as the lower half of Ethan’s body was completely revealed. Thankfully, he still had on his underwear—a pair of black boxer briefs. Even that horrible white bandage did nothing to distract from the perfection of his legs. They were tanned and covered with a fine layer of black hair. Mmm, she thought.
The movement of the nurse once again toward Ethan had her quickly exiting her fantasy of him on a beach, those muscle-bound limbs stretched out, soaking up the sun and him wearing, well, nothing. Despite not having much of an active social—or sex—life lately, she did have a great fantasy life.
Chloe rose quickly, blocking the nurse’s forward movement. “Go find him a pair of scrubs, please.”
“But, the doctor—”
“Is going to release him.” She didn’t know why she was doing this, taking his side when she knew he needed stay, but she knew there was a deeper reason why Ethan didn’t want to stay in the hospital than simply being stubborn.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and saw the genuine smile of gratitude he gave her and knew she’d made the right decision.
It looked like she was going to take care of the man who could, with very little effort, make her fall head over heels for him—and ultimately break her heart.
*****
An hour later, Chloe pulled her car into her assigned parking space in front of her apartment building and shut the engine off with a grateful sigh. Being directionally challenged, driving wasn’t one of her favorite things and the heavy midday traffic combined with having Ethan’s big body sprawled in the seat next to her had tested the limits of her nerves. She’d been so tense that now her fingers hurt from the death grip she’d had on the steering wheel, and her neck felt as if she’d been carrying the car instead of driving it. The beginnings of a homerun headache pounded at her temples. Glancing at the big man beside her, she noted the white lines of strain around his closed eyes and the tightness of his otherwise mobile lips. He was hurting.
Sliding out, she closed her door and rounded the rusted and dented machine that she lovingly called ‘Betsy’. The black 1998 Toyota Camry had been bought as a family car and then given to her upon high school graduation ten years later. It had seen her through college, trips with her girlfriends and carried her faithfully back and forth to work for the last six years. Although it was nearing 300,000 miles, she couldn’t bear the thought of parting with it.
She opened the passenger door, her brow furrowing when Ethan didn’t stir. Leaning down, she touched his shoulder lightly. For the last hour, she’d watched him alternate between sitting stiffly and slumping in the bucket seat in his attempt to get comfortable. She would never admit her admiration for the dratted man, but she felt it stirring again as his eyes fluttered open. He was in tremendous pain, but his determination to control it, to ride it out, was amazing. In his place, she would have been screaming for the shot he’d refused. The doctor, reluctant to let him go, had given her a prescription which she’d had filled before they’d left. The medication was now tucked safely in the bottom of her purse.
“Where are we?”
“Home.”
“Can’t climb stairs,” he muttered groggily.
“That’s right, hot shot, that’s why we’re at my apartment,” she amended.
The doctor had released Ethan only on the condition he didn’t climb stairs, lift anything over two pounds and didn’t put pressure on his leg for any reason. Since Ethan lived in a pricey townhouse with an upstairs and had no relatives close by. Chloe, by default, had been volunteered for the position of nursemaid.
She bit her lip as Ethan made no move to exit the vehicle. How in the world was she going to get a man of Ethan’s size and weight out of her car and into her apartment? She couldn’t without his help.
“Ethan?” She prodded his shoulder lightly once more.
“For God’s sake woman, can’t you let me die in peace?”
Chloe couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her lips. She knew without a doubt that he was in a lot of pain, but the childish whine in his voice was just too funny coming from such a big, brave man.
He turned to glare at her, his brown eyes sparking with vexation. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Yep,” Chloe grinned, straightening.
“I’ve been shot, and you think it’s funny?”
“Not at all,” Chloe shook her head, continuing to look down at him. His facial expression was set to such a mutinous expression that Chloe had to fight the urge to smile once more. “You’re just being a little more babyish than I would have expected.”
“Bab…” His eyebrows drew together in a frown and he suddenly looked as irritable as a bear with a sore paw. “You can take me home. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Chloe heaved a deep sigh, knowing she had to control her impatience in order to deal with the situation. The situation being a big old baby-man. “You can’t be left on your own, Ethan. The doctor said you have to stay off of that leg for at least seventy-two hours to keep the wound from reopening and then you’ll need at least another week to ten days before you can put all of your weight back on it. Just get out of the car and—”
“No.”
Taking another deep breath, Chloe concentrated on counting to ten. His face was flushed, and perspiration had dampened the tendrils of his inky black hair. His leg had to be throbbing like a giant toothache and she was giving him grief. Her voice softened. “Come on, Ethan. Let’s get you inside. You can stretch out on the bed and get comfortable.”
“Are you going to join me, honey?”
Sinful brown eyes looked up at her as he tried to give her his wicked killer smile. The lines of strain had deepened around his mouth and the fact that his pain was intensifying kept Chloe from snapping at his trite question. He was simply trying to get at her. “No, you’ll have the bed all to yourself. You’ll have to get used to sleeping alone for a little while.” She couldn’t resist the little dig.
She grabbed the crutches the hospital had given her—and Ethan had wanted to refuse—from the back seat. And then, with as much grace as an elephant on roller skates, she managed to help him from the small car. Once on the sidewalk, she placed one crutch under his right arm and held the other. She kept an arm around his waist, feeling the weight of his arm around her shoulders. “Think you can make it?”
“Piece of cake,” he muttered, putting most of his weight on the crutch as they started the slow trek forward. Walking the distance to her building under normal circumstances would have taken no more than twenty steps; however, to Ethan, it looked like the longest mile. Although the early afternoon was cool, sweat beaded on his forehead and coated his upper lip. Gritting his teeth with determination, he kept moving. They were halfway there when a deep voice sounded in front of them. Ethan, still on edge from the shootout, tried to shove Chloe behind him.
“Hey, pretty lady, need some help?”
Ethan’s sudden movement almost had Chloe tumbling to the sidewalk. The weight of his arm felt like the world on her shoulders as it was. She knew he was putting most of his weight on his uninjured foot but, still, his heavily muscled body was a lot to carry. Especially for a fluffy girl that didn’t make it to the gym like, ever. Her neighbor, Brad Stanton, blocked the path, lightly holding the leash of the Doberman puppy he called Bruiser. The dog didn’t scare her half as much as the man.
Her eyes narrowed. Brad liked to think of himself as the apartment complex’s Don Juan. Standing just a few inches above her own five-six height, his slender, blond-haired, blue-eyed boyish charm had smitten most of the women in the building—including several married ladies—at one time or another. Lately, he’d turned his attention to Chloe. She’d resisted his efforts, politely at first, and then with more vehemence as he failed—or simply ignored—her not so subtle hints to leave her alone.
As she regained her balance, beside her, Ethan stiffened perceptibly. He had to be in agony and the thought made her tone sharper than normal. “No. I’m perfectly capable if you’ll just move out of the way.”
“Yeah, you’re real helpful, baby.” The appreciative glint in his close-set eyes made her skin crawl. Brad finally turned his attention to Ethan, his beady eyes narrowing in speculation. “I haven’t seen you around here, you just move in?”
Ethan gave a non-committal grunt.
“Here, you take Bruiser, Chloe, and I’ll help your, er, friend.” He made to hand over the leash of his dog, but Chloe shook her head.
“No, Brad, we’re fine.” The tone of her voice would have been obvious to a dead man that she wasn’t interested, but then Brad wasn’t dead, he was just a dumb jerk.
“You need to learn to take advantage of me, baby. I like to be helpful, too.” His tone implied using his absentee muscles to help Ethan into the building wasn’t exactly how he wanted to help Chloe. He edged closer and the dog obediently stepped forward.
“And I like to do things for myself,” Chloe said, the sharpness of her words stopping his forward movement.
The surprise lasted only seconds before he turned to Ethan, taking a different tactic altogether. “Hey, dude, you have to let me help here. Our little Chloe is—”
“Mine.”
The word had the effect of a snowball to the face. Part of Chloe wanted to laugh at the look on Brad’s face. His mouth opened and closed several times as he attempted to digest the single word, making him look like a fish out of water. The other part, the one that felt the impact of that single, yet so possessive word, to the very marrow of her bones, wanted to demand an explanation. What did Ethan mean?
Sanity returned along with a light breeze that lifted the trailing tendrils of hair from her neck. Ethan was smart. As a trained FBI agent, he’d read the situation, assessed it quickly and came to the same conclusion she’d come to months ago. Brad was a player. A no-good wanna-be con man. Ethan had chosen the quickest route to get him out of the way. He’d claimed the prize Brad had been playing for, effectively giving the other man no reason to linger.
“Hey, no harm meant, man.” Brad backed away with both hands in a surrender pose, the one holding the leash pulling the collar so tightly around the poor dog’s neck that it let out a yelp of pain. Brad ignored the animal’s pitiful cry. “Just trying to be helpful.”
He turned away, tugging on the leash as he pulled the animal along with him. Part of Chloe wanted to protest at the rough treatment of the dog. The other part, the one that won, wanted to get Ethan inside.
“Thanks,” Chloe muttered as she and Ethan shuffled forward. With her free hand, she opened the door to the apartment complex. The security buzzer had been broken long ago and the landlord had refused to fix it, despite the many complaints he received. Chloe wished he would, knowing her mother and father would feel better with another layer of protection between their baby girl and the big, bad world.
She wondered briefly what her father would think of her moving an FBI agent into her apartment. Not that he was going to find out if she could help it. Nope, if at all possible, this little escapade was going to remain her little secret.
“No problem.” Ethan managed to make it over the threshold and into the lobby with just his crutch. “You’d do the same thing for me if a honey was stepping into my space when I didn’t want her to.”
Despite the small ache his light words aroused in her chest, Chloe looked up at him with a dubious expression. “I find it highly unlikely, knowing your reputation, you’d ever want to be rescued from a willing woman. My place is this way.”
The walk down the hallway to get her one-bedroom apartment was fairly short, yet by the time they reached it, she was breathing heavily. Not only did she have to contend with the added weight of Ethan, but the hallway and lobby had just recently been cleaned. The odor from the cleaning products was causing her chest to tighten in an all-too-familiar way.
Chloe had been diagnosed with asthma during elementary school. She’d spent more time than she’d cared to remember in hospitals when she was younger while they were trying to get it under control. Maybe that’s why she’d taken pity of Ethan and gotten him out of there.
Ahead of them, a door opened just a crack and a small, almost timid voice spoke. “Are you okay, honey?”
Chloe forced a smile for her neighbor. Martha Bartley was eighty-six with white hair that she kept on top of her head in a perpetual bun, laughing blue eyes and barely a wrinkle on her pale skin. She retained a youthfulness that everyone in the complex envied. Unfortunately, she also liked to know everybody else’s business.
“I’m fine, Martha.” There was no way she could get out of introducing Ethan, so she made the introductions quickly.
“Well, aren’t you a fine looking young man? I bet women come out of the woodwork when you’re around. If I were just a bit younger I’d give Chloe here a run for her money.”
“I’ve got to get my friend inside. He needs to rest. Have a good day.” She cut the older lady off abruptly and turned Ethan away. She didn’t need to be reminded of Ethan’s prowess with the opposite sex by anyone, especially not an elderly matron who would probably come out the victor between the two of them if there were, in some far-fetched fantasy world, an actual contest between them to win his affections.
They reached her door and she allowed him to lean against the wall while she searched for her keys to let them in. With her focus sharply on her purse, she missed the tensing of his jaw.
“Don’t believe everything you’ve heard. Sometimes rumors are just that.”
“What?” Chloe looked up at him as she inserted the key into the lock.
“About me and women.”
Cool, unscented air hit Chloe as soon as the door opened, and she took in a deep breath, filling her lungs. “Well, rumor now has it that you need to be in bed and off that leg, so let’s get you there.”
Ethan frowned, knowing Chloe hadn’t taken his words seriously. He’d always known she thought of him as some professional, playboy Romeo and he hadn’t given her much reason to think otherwise, but for some reason, the idea bothered him now. As she maneuvered him into the apartment, he glanced around hoping to get a glimpse into what made Chloe the person she was. Although small, the place was clean and brightly decorated in shades of pale green and peach. It was a typical one bedroom layout. A leather sectional took up most of the space, separating the long front room into a living room and kitchen. As she led him past the counter, he noticed a coffee maker and, next to it, a donut box from a national chain. Next to that sat a half-eaten bag of Doritos and a small container of expensive dark chocolates. All his favorite things, he noted with an inward smile, giving a quick glance out the small kitchen window that overlooked the front of the building.
Off to the side was a short hallway with two doors. She opened the first one and stood aside so he could enter. The middle of the room was dominated by a queen-sized mahogany bed covered in a peach and green comforter and several matching throw pillows. A matching chest sat against the wall beside the door and a dresser took up the wall on the other side of the bed. The door on the left was, he guessed, the closet. The small nightstand beside the bed held a digital clock, a lamp, and a book. The cover, he was surprised to see, was a romance story. He’d have expected a crime novel to go with her sometimes tough exterior. Maybe there was more to Chloe than met the eye.
“Sit here.” Chloe more or less pushed him down to ensure he followed her orders. Ethan felt the bed give beneath his weight and held back a groan. It felt so good to be off his feet.
“My shorts will probably fit until we can get some of your things.” She turned away as she spoke, opening a chest drawer to pull out a pair of gray athletic shorts. When she spun back around, a triumphant smile on her face, Ethan couldn’t help the grin that quirked his own lips. She looked like a kid that had just found a dollar under the couch pillows.
“I’m sure what I have on will be fine,” he said, indicating the green scrubs with a flick of his hand. “Or,” he continued with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I can strip back down to my underwear.”
“Oh,” Chloe’s eyes grew big as she clutched the shorts to her stomach.
At the hospital, after the doctor had finally agreed to let Ethan go home, a male orderly had helped Ethan change his clothes. Or put his clothes back on. They had to basically destroy his jeans to get them off him to stitch his wound.
“Yep, I think I’d be much more comfortable in just my underwear.” Seeing the almost hungry look on Chloe’s face, he reached behind his neck to pull at the t-shirt he’d been wearing under his FBI jacket and bullet-proof vest. Those, along with his firearm, were stored safely in Chloe’s trunk. He’d give anything for a hot shower right now but knew that was out of the question. But, getting Chloe a little closer wasn’t. He dropped his arms to his side. “Could you help me?”
He looked up at her, not really having to fake the look of pain he knew would be in his eyes. Just as the doctor had predicted, the local was wearing off and his leg hurt like the seventh ring of hell.
“I, umm, sure.” Chloe laid the shorts across the footboard as she approached him. “I’ll just put these here for later.”
Ethan raised his hands above his head as she bent forward to grab the hem of his shirt. Her thick swath of hair fell forward, and the scent of fresh lemons wafted towards him. She always smelled so damn good. He eased his legs apart. “Come a little closer.”
Said the damn spider to the fly, Chloe thought, her eyes darting down to meet his smoldering gaze. She quickly raised hers, concentrating on the task at hand instead of allowing her fantasies to take over. She took a step forward, the outside of her thighs bumping against the inside of his. As she reached for a tighter grip on his shirt, her knuckles brushed the sides of his washboard stomach. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. Slowly, because the shirt fit his muscular frame like a loving glove, she eased the cotton fabric over his head. She stilled the upward movement of her hands for just a second when his face was hidden, allowing herself one undisturbed, unadulterated lustful view of his bare chest.
Her heart rate increased and her breathing became erratic. Damn, he was beautiful.
“Hey,” Ethan muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of the shirt. “Can’t breathe here.”
Neither can I. Chloe hastily tugged the shirt from his body, tossed it on the bed and quickly moved to turn away.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re breathing awfully fast.” Ethan’s large hands came out to rest on the rounded curves of her hips, holding her in place.
“It’s my asthma.” Chloe curved her arms upwards, covering her chest. While part of her terrible breathing could be attributed to her condition, she knew it wasn’t the real reason she couldn’t seem to draw a deep breath. No. That reason was sitting right in front of her—on her bed in stunningly perfected male glory.
Ethan’s brows turned downward. “I’m not wearing cologne.”
“No, you’re not. And thank you.” The very first time Ethan had visited Clay’s office he’d been wearing a very popular but strong-smelling cologne and had caused Chloe to have an acute attack. It had scared Clay and Ethan both as she’d had to use her emergency inhaler. Each man had been on the verge of calling for an ambulance before she’d gotten her breathing under control. Since then, Ethan had made certain not to wear cologne to the office.
“Then what is it?”
“Umm, they’d just cleaned the hallway when we walked through and...” She stopped to draw a struggling breath.
“Damn, I’m sorry, honey. Go get your inhaler.”
“But, your shorts?” Chloe hesitated even though this was her way out of what was becoming an increasingly embarrassing situation. What would she do once the scrub bottoms were removed and he was sitting on her bed looking like a male model in an underwear ad?
Nothing, she was sure, that she’d be proud of herself for in the morning.
“I can take it from here, Dollface.” He dropped his hands and Chloe backed uncertainly toward the door.
She nodded, quelling her panic as a vice seized her chest. “The bathroom is just across the hall. Call me if you need help.”
“Chloe, I’ll be fine. I’m grateful for all you’ve done but now I think I just need to sleep for about a hundred years or so.”
“Okay,” she repeated, loath to leave him alone. “Just remember not to put weight on your leg and—”
“Chloe.” His voice turned to a warning growl. “I’ve got my crutches,” he nodded toward the place where she’d set them next to the bed. “Now just close those curtains and take care of yourself. I promise you won’t hear from me for several hours.”
Chloe retraced her steps across the thick beige carpet to close the pale green curtains over the only window in the room. Immediately, the dim coolness made her long for a nap. It had been a long day and it wasn’t even two o’clock.
“I’ll check on you in a little while.”
“Go, Chloe.” He reached for the waistband of the borrowed scrubs. “Unless you want to help me completely undress.”
His words sent Chloe running from the room, closing the door with a resounding thud behind her. Once in the small kitchen, she took her spare inhaler from the cabinet and used it. Sagging against the counter, she waited for it to work, thinking it was going to be an interesting next few days.
And a real test of her good-girl control.