Beauty and the Brooding Boss / Friends to Forever. Nikki Logan

stopped her in her tracks.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ALEX sat by the French doors.

      Actually slumped was a better description. Kelsey rushed towards him.

      “Are you all right?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Eyes closed, face paler than before, he was leaning forward with a hand cradling his forehead. His walking stick lay discarded by his feet. “It’s your head, isn’t it?”

      “Go away,” he groaned through motionless lips. “I’m fine.”

      “Liar. You look like you’re ready to pass out.” He looked up at her with glazed eyes, proving her point. “I’m calling your doctor. What’s his name?”

      “No doctor.”

      “Are you crazy? This could be a complication from your injury.” Like a blood clot or something. Her insides froze at the thought he could be seriously hurt and she hadn’t realized.

      “It’s not a complication, it’s a migraine.” His eyes closed again. “I just need to sit for a while. Regain my equilibrium.”

      From the looks of him, that might take a while. Kelsey didn’t think a person could look more miserable if they tried. She remembered when Rochelle, her second foster mother, would get migraines. She’d kick all the kids outside for the day, no matter the weather. “And no making noise either,” she’d order.

      At her worst, Rochelle had never looked as miserable as Alex.

      Remembering Rochelle made her think of something else. “Do you take anything? Some kind of prescription?”

      Alex made a rumble deep in his throat. “Upstairs. In the bathroom.” He continued speaking that stiffjawed manner, as if the mere act of talking hurt.

      “Do you want me to help you upstairs,” she asked, reaching for his elbow, “so you can take—”

      “No!” He said the word forcefully, so much so he winced immediately, and dropped to a whisper. “I just need to sit. Alone. Please leave.”

      “And let you suffer? I don’t think so. Where upstairs do you keep your prescription?”

      “My bathroom medicine cabinet.”

      “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

      She dashed upstairs, making her way to the bedroom next to hers. Alex’s room was exactly as she expected, chic and dark and very masculine. Rust, beige and brown, like a fall landscape. Magazines and books covered what looked like an expensive, king-size bed.

      She walked into the bathroom, momentarily envious of the airy modern style. The scent of wood and clove hung in the air telling her Alex had been there recently. A plastic sleeve, presumably worn to keep his cast dry, hung from the shower rod and the mat in front of the shower stall was still damp. Suddenly she was assaulted by the image of Alex standing under the stream, water cascading down his body …

      Blushing from the inappropriateness, she shoved the image away. Now was not the time to start some kind of weird, useless fantasy. She found the prescription bottle in the medicine cabinet. Grabbing it and a glass of water, she headed back downstairs.

      Alex hadn’t moved. If he hadn’t shifted uncomfortably when she walked back into the room, she’d have thought him asleep. “Probably a little late for this to kill the pain completely, but it might help a little. Hold out your hand.”

      He grumbled, but did what she asked.

      Kelsey smiled at her victory. “Now, how about you lie down? Do you think you can make it to the sofa?”

      “I’ve got a headache—I’m not paralyzed.”

      Good to see the headache didn’t spoil his charming demeanor. She watched as he eased himself into an upright position. Body bent, shoulders and head stiff, he shuffled across the floor like an arthritic old man. It was all she could do not to wrap her arm around his waist and help him. In fact, if she wasn’t certain he’d bite her head off, she would have.

      Instead, she followed quietly while he made his way across the room and eased himself onto the sofa.

      “Are you sure you don’t want to go to your room? You’d be more comfortable in a bed.”

      “Too many stairs,” he mumbled. “I’ll be fine here.”

      The couch was too small and too pillow-laden to accommodate his lanky frame, so he’d ended up with one leg propped on the floor. His cast rested on his chest, while his good arm lay slung across his eyes. The helplessness of his position tugged at her heartstrings.

      “You can leave now,” he said.

      She could. But she didn’t. Drawing closer, Kelsey noticed his skin was covered with gooseflesh. In spite of the fact the afternoon sun poured through the windows heating the room, he was shivering.

      “You’re still here,” he said in a low voice.

      “And you’re cold,” she replied back. “Would you like a blanket?”

      “No.”

      God, he was stubborn. What was he going to do, lie there and shiver? Did he know how pathetic that looked? She looked around for something she could use as a blanket. A dozen pillows and no throw. Remembering the extra blanket in her room, she ran up and got that, tucking it gently around his torso, being careful not to jar him too much.

      “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

      “Because you’re shivering.”

      “I mean, why are you sticking around?”

      “Oh, that.” Why indeed? Truth be told, she couldn’t explain, other than it hurt her to see him suffering. “What can I say? I have a rescue complex.”

      “In other words, I’m another cat.”

      The medicine was starting to kick in. Still, even thick with sleep, there was no mistaking the resignation in his voice as if he didn’t believe someone could sincerely care. It made Kelsey think of the other night, when he was watching the rain.

      Her heart ached a little more.

      “Do you need anything else?” she asked. “Water? A phone?”

      “I’ll be fine. You can leave with a clear conscience.”

      “Thanks for the permission.”

      He didn’t respond. Sleep had claimed him. Kelsey watched as his breathing slowly evened out.

      Two hours later, she was still sitting in the living room, watching. She’d told herself she was only going to stay a few extra minutes. To make sure he was truly asleep before heading up to her room. But the longer she sat, the more she couldn’t tear herself away. Couldn’t stop studying his face. The way his brow smoothed in sleep or how his lips parted ever so slightly. Nestled among the pillows, he had a gentle serenity about him that, when awake, he hid from the world.

      Unable to help herself, she tucked the blanket around him a little tighter. He smelled of clove and woods and sleep, and she had the overwhelming urge to lean closer and bury herself in the scent. Her fingers longed to stroke his cheek. Dear Lord, he was beautiful. She couldn’t deny her attraction if she tried. But beneath the attraction, she sensed something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The sensation stirred inside her, faintly, tentatively, afraid to make itself fully known. She was afraid too. Because she wasn’t sure if she wanted the sensation to go away.

      Alex slept through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. At some point, Kelsey considered waking him so he could go to his room, but she didn’t. He looked too exhausted to disturb. Plus downstairs she could keep an eye on him.

      At least that’s what she told herself.

      She’d been joking about the rescue complex. Truth was, she didn’t