Is something wrong?’ Panic struck her and her hand flew to cover the precious duo nestling deep inside her. ‘Is it something to do with the babies? Has something shown up on one of the tests?’
‘No!’ he exclaimed, clearly startled. ‘I’m sorry, Sara, I didn’t mean to frighten you. As far as I know, everything’s still fine.’
‘So, what’s wrong?’ she demanded. ‘I can tell you’ve got something serious on your mind and … Is it Mum and Dad? I told you not to tell them about my accident. I was going to go and visit them as soon as I’m set free in the morning, so that they could see that I’m not—’
‘It’s not your parents,’ he interrupted, then sighed heavily and shook his head. ‘Sara, I’m sorry but there’s only one way to tell you this. When I got home this evening, I found Zara unconscious. She’d taken an overdose of barbiturates.’
‘Barbiturates?’ she gasped, reeling. ‘No! Not Zara. She wouldn’t.’ It was her turn to shake her head at the impossibility of what he was suggesting. Her sister might be selfish and egotistical but she wasn’t anyone’s fool. She’d seen far too many of her fellow models slide down the slippery slope of drug addiction, hooked when the desire for impossible slenderness came with an intoxicating high. With a few high-profile exceptions she’d seen it ultimately ruin their careers as model agencies and advertisers alike crossed them off their books.
Anyway, barbiturates were usually prescribed for people having difficulty sleeping, so they wouldn’t be any use to someone wanting to get high. Deliberate overdoses were usually confined to people who were depressed and that definitely didn’t sound like her vivacious sister.
‘There was no name on the bottle and the drug name was generic … possibly bought abroad or over the internet … and the bottle was empty when I found it on the floor beside her,’ he said quietly, and she could see from his expression that he was already blaming himself.
‘How long ago …?’ she began, only to halt in mid-sentence as a sudden thought struck her. If Zara had been at home, taking an overdose, then her crazy suspicion that it had been her own sister driving the car that had run her down this evening must have been just that … crazy. Unless she’d gone home after she’d done it and taken the drugs in her remorse … but, no, that didn’t make sense either. Nothing made sense. Not the fact that she’d been absolutely certain that it had been Zara behind the wheel of the car that had deliberately aimed at her, or the fact that she would have access to barbiturates or would deliberately take an overdose.
‘She was in a pretty bad way when I found her,’ he said, answering the question she would have asked if her brain had been working well enough to formulate it. ‘She was already comatose, her breathing and pulse rate both depressed, but when her stomach was pumped, there were a fair number of undigested tablets, so she must have taken them some time this evening.’
Sara’s relief that her sister couldn’t have been responsible for her accident faded with the realisation that there would still have been plenty of time for her to have returned home and swallowed the drugs before Dan had found her. But that begged the question: why would Zara do it, especially when Sara was expecting the child … children … that she’d begged Sara to carry for her?
‘Have you told my parents?’ Sara could only imagine the state her mother must be in, knowing that her beautiful perfect daughter had …
‘Not yet. I had to come and tell you first,’ he said simply.
Pleasure that he’d wanted to break the news to her before notifying his in-laws flowered inside her, only to wither to dust when he added, ‘I didn’t want you to get a garbled version if the news reached you through the hospital grapevine.’
That was more like the Dan she’d been working with for the last couple of years—logical and practical. Of course there hadn’t been a personal reason why he would have wanted to give her the news in person. When was she going to stop searching for traces of the connection they’d made when they’d first met? When was she going to come to terms with the fact that any feelings he’d had towards her had vanished the instant he’d met Zara?
‘Where is she? What treatment is she receiving? When can I visit her?’ she demanded briskly, forcing herself to be equally logical and practical. She tried to push herself up in the bed and fell back with a groan when every muscle and joint complained.
‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere yet,’ he growled as he carefully slid one arm under her shoulders and effortlessly lifted her up, supporting her while he positioned the pillows behind her.
Sara shivered. Every tiny hair had suddenly stood up in reaction to the warmth of his arm surrounding her. Not that her hospital room was cold. If anything, it was far too hot. But somehow it was different when it was Dan’s body heat in a wide swathe across her back where his strong arm held her, and as for the soft wash of his breath stirring her hair against her face and neck …
‘But …’ It was hard to get her thoughts in order when he was so close. Thank goodness they never did any more than brush against each other when they worked together, or she’d never be able to do her job properly. Still, she didn’t dare to take a full breath until he laid her gently back against the pillows and released her to step back a little from the bed. The last thing she needed was another lungful of that familiar mixture of soap and musk to contend with.
‘Sara, I’ll let you know as soon as they say she’s stable enough for visitors,’ he promised, his green eyes darkly serious. ‘At the moment she’s so deeply unconscious that she wouldn’t even know that you were there, and you wouldn’t be doing yourself any good either. You need to give your body time to heal.’
‘But you’re going to have to tell Mum and Dad tonight, aren’t you … about Zara, I mean?’
‘And that means I’ll have to tell them about what happened to you, too,’ he pointed out.
‘No! I’ll tell them, when I—’
‘Sara, think about it,’ he interrupted. ‘They’re going to want to see you … they’ll be expecting to see you when they arrive at the hospital, waiting outside ICU until Zara’s consultant allows you in to see her.’
‘But …’ She closed her eyes in defeat. He was right, of course. And she wasn’t in any fit state to be sitting around in the little relatives’ room all night.
‘Which would you rather—that they knew that you’d been involved in an accident or that they thought you couldn’t be bothered to be with them when they need you?’ he challenged, and she slumped back against the pillows, knowing that she couldn’t argue against that sort of logic.
‘You will tell them that the babies are OK, won’t you …? Oh!’ she exclaimed with a shadow of her usual smile. ‘They don’t know that it’s twins yet!’ She groaned as she tried to reach into the bedside locker for the precious picture of the scan. ‘Could you get the photo for me, so you can show it to them?’
‘Actually …’ He paused a second and she was startled to see a soft wash of colour sweep across the lean planes of his cheeks as he reached into his pocket to take his wallet out. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I asked the technician to print an extra copy.’
For Zara. Of course.
‘I should have thought of that … to get one for the two of you. After all, they’re going to be your babies,
