a nudge in the right direction. Finally, muttering and coughing, he rolled over and struggled onto his knees.
“Good,” she said. All men responded to praise, right?
Putting her arm around his shoulders, she urged him upward, her back screaming in protest. Fortunately, his brain got the message, and he finally stood all the way upright, albeit with a little stagger.
Slowly, carefully, she maneuvered him toward the open bathroom door. She had cleaned every inch of this luxurious space. It was now as familiar to her as her own. But somehow, with the master of the house sharing it with her, the area shrank.
Case noticed himself in the mirror. His mouth gaped. “I look like hell.”
“No argument there.” She steered him toward the commode.
Her patient locked his knees suddenly, nearly toppling both of them. “I don’t need your help.”
She counted to ten. “If you fall in here, you could kill yourself on the ceramic tile.”
“I’ll hold on to the counter.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t as if she wanted to be privy to a personal moment, no pun intended.
Case leaned on the vanity. Mellie retreated and closed the door. She hovered in the middle of the bedroom, half expecting any minute to hear a crash. Instead, nothing but silence.
At last the commode flushed and water ran in the sink. Finally, she heard something she hadn’t expected at all. “Mellie? I could use a hand.”
She opened the door cautiously and found him sitting on a bench underneath the window. His face was pasty white. He looked miserable. The fact that he had actually asked for help spoke volumes.
Without comment, she leaned into him and looped her arm beneath his armpit and around his back. “You ready?”
He nodded. It was hard to keep a professional distance from a guy when pressed hip to hip with his big, muscular body. Fortunately, the brief trip across the bedroom rug passed without incident. She managed with Case’s help to get him underneath the covers and settled with his head on a pillow.
Without thinking, she put a palm to his forehead to gauge whether or not his temperature was improving. Though Case was clearly befuddled, he raised one eyelid. “You should go home.”
His voice was hoarse and thready. She could barely make out the words. “I marked off my book today to work on your house. I’m cleaning the kitchen. It’s no trouble to check on you now and then.” It was possible he didn’t even hear her response. Already his chest rose and fell with steady, harsh breathing.
There was nothing she could do for him now. Instead, she returned to the kitchen and tackled the mess she had made. She had learned a long time ago that to completely overhaul a closet or a cabinet meant creating chaos in the beginning.
The rest of the day crawled by. Dr. Reese’s reference to bland foods was a moot point. It was all she could do to coax Case into drinking water and juice from time to time—that and keep him medicated.
At five o’clock she had a decision to make. She didn’t have a child at home or a husband waiting. If she’d been in the middle of something jobwise, she would have stayed an extra half hour to complete the task.
But the kitchen was mostly finished, no mess in sight. And Case’s request to put his house in order came with no timeline, no urgency. So there was no reason for her to hang around except for the fact that Case Baxter was sick and alone.
They barely knew each other...at least if you overlooked the not-so-subtle physical attraction and the way he had almost kissed her earlier in the week. Still, this wasn’t about flirting or finding a possible love interest or even indulging in some carnal hanky-panky.
Her current situation was dictated by the need of one human to help another.
Wow, even in her head that sounded like pretentious rationalization.
Finally, she worked out a compromise between her conscience and her sense of self-preservation. She would wait for Dr. Parker Reese to arrive, and then she would head home.
Seven o’clock came and went. Then eight. Then nine. The sun had long since set. Outside, the world was cold and gray. Case’s house echoed with silence.
Mellie lived alone, and she was perfectly happy. Why was she so worried about a man who chose to be a bachelor? He liked his freedom and his privacy. It was only because he was sick that she felt sorry for him. Surely that was it.
At nine thirty Case’s cell rang, with Parker Reese’s number appearing on the caller ID. Mellie had kept Case’s phone with hers, not wanting him to be disturbed.
She hit the button. “Hello? Mellie Winslow here.”
Parker sounded harried and distracted. “I am so sorry, Ms. Winslow, but we’ve had two moms check into the hospital in early labor and they’re having problems. I’ll likely be here most of the night. How is Case?”
“He’s sleeping. The fever is down some, but it hasn’t broken.” She’d found a thermometer in Case’s bathroom and had kept tabs on the worrisome numbers.
“You’re doing the right things. Don’t hesitate to call or text if he seems dramatically worse.”
“Oh, but I—”
Parker said something to someone in the background, unwittingly interrupting Mellie’s response. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his tone urgent. “Keep me posted.”
Mellie hung up and stared at the phone. How had she gotten herself into such a predicament?
She wandered down the hallway and stood in the doorway of Case’s bedroom, watching him sleep. Today was Friday. The only things she had planned for the weekend were laundry, paying bills and a movie with a girlfriend on Sunday afternoon. Nothing that couldn’t be postponed.
But what would happen if she stayed here? Case might be furious.
Then again, could she live with herself if she went home and something happened to him? He was wretchedly sick, certainly not in any shape to prepare food or even to remember when he had taken his doses of medicine. As long as the fever remained high, he might even pass out again.
Her shoulders lifted and fell on a long sigh. She didn’t really have much choice. Only a coldhearted person could walk out of this house and not look back. Even if Case hadn’t been handsome and charming and sexier than a man had a right to be, she would have felt the same way.
It was no fun to be ill. Even less so for people who weren’t married or otherwise attached. Fate and timing had placed her under the man’s roof. She would play Clara Barton until he was back on his feet. When that happened, if he tossed her out on her ear, at least her conscience would be clear.
Her bones ached with exhaustion. Not only had she worked extremely hard today, she’d spent a lot of time and energy on her patient. Suddenly, a hot shower seemed like the most appealing thing in the world. Fortunately, she kept spare clothes in the car for times when she needed to change out of her uniform.
Though it seemed like the worst kind of
