realized she’d been in that treatment room. Had seen him. How many other patients had he walked by without noticing? Another brick of guilt settled into place. “I’m sorry. I’m normally so busy, I don’t stop in there all the time.”
Putting her fork into her bowl, she reached out and touched his hand. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I’ve just learned how important it is to eat a balanced meal.”
She was right. Again. He often preached to his patients that they needed to strengthen their bodies as much as possible to help during the chemo treatments as well as to aid in the fight of their disease. That meant making healthy choices when it came to food. And yet, just like a pulmonologist who indulged in the occasional cigarette, Greg was unwilling to abide by his own advice.
“I don’t have cancer, but I also don’t cook.”
She picked up her fork again, avoiding his eyes this time. “That’s why there are places like Piazza Toscana.” The comment, unlike her lighthearted ones from a few moments ago, was tight, as if …
I don’t have cancer.
How damned insensitive could he be? She’d spent a year undergoing chemotherapy. Hadn’t known for sure if she’d live or die.
Maybe she was right. He worked so hard that he no longer paid attention to social conventions or cared how his words might affect someone else.
No, that wasn’t right. He did care.
Setting his plate onto the chair next to him, he shifted sideways to face her. “Hey.” He waited until she looked at him before continuing. “I’m sorry for saying that. There’s no good reason, other than I’m tired and not thinking straight.”
She blinked, and he wasn’t sure whether the light was playing tricks on him or if there’d been a trace of moisture rimming her lower lids. But when he looked closer, it was gone.
“How long will you be at the hospital tonight?” she asked.
“About an hour.”
Glancing at her watch, she set her own plate to the side and went over to the low sofa and picked up one of the leather pillows. Coming back, she lowered herself to the padded loop carpet at his feet.
His mouth went dry as she set the pillow down and patted the area next to her. “It’s only seven. Why don’t you stretch out for a while? Take a quick nap. I promise I won’t let you sleep longer than an hour.”
Was she crazy? After the thoughts that had just gone spinning through his head? There was no way he was going to lie down on the floor and—
Even as the words slid through his mind, a wave of exhaustion washed over him, staggering him with its force.
It was the food. The heavy meal was making him sleepy.
What would it hurt? If his eyes were shut, he could block out her face. No more trying to make small talk. No more worrying about how he was looking at her. About what her kneeling on the floor with that pillow had made him imagine.
Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he’d done as she’d suggested and stretched out on his back, his head on the pillow she’d laid next to her hip. Every muscle in his body seemed to go boneless, and he glanced up to see her leaning over him with a smile. Her fingers brushed across his forehead, the touch light. Comforting.
He pulled in a deep breath. Let it out.
“Close your eyes, Greg. I promise I’ll be right here.”
Even as his lids seemed to obey her every command, a tired sense of triumph went through him.
He’d been right. She’d said his name. Again.
CHAPTER THREE
THE trill of Hannah’s watch alarm registered in her ears, but it took her brain a little more time to place the sound.
Opening her eyes, she punched a button before noticing Greg’s dark, mussed hair, his even darker eyes regarding her with a slight smile. He was upside down. No, wait. She was. Hadn’t she been sitting up while he’d slept? Why were they now reversed?
Ack. Because she’d fallen asleep, too. Had evidently just keeled over sideways and was lying on the floor, looking pretty much like she’d looked sitting up. Bent at the hips, legs straight out.
Greg’s lips curved higher. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one who was tired.”
Only he didn’t seem tired. Not anymore. His eyes glittered with life, and the dark circles beneath them had eased. He also looked much more relaxed. Or was that still due to the topsy-turvy world she’d awoken into? Maybe his smile was really a frown.
“Did you sleep well?” She cleared her throat when her voice came out as a hoarse squawk.
“Like a rock. Good thing you set that alarm.”
He could say that again. She’d only set it so she wouldn’t be tempted to wake him with the proverbial kiss. Like a reverse Sleeping Beauty. That analogy fit her current mixed-up thought processes to a T. “Sorry. I had no idea I was that tired.”
“I should be the one saying sorry. I don’t expect you to keep the same hours I do.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she should be moving. “Don’t you think I’m capable of it?”
He gave a soft laugh. “Oh, I know you are. I just don’t want you to run you off before I’ve …”
His words trailed away.
“Before you’ve what?”
“Before I’ve proven I can take better care of myself.”
That made her smile. But when she did try to sit up, the awkward angle at which she’d been lying made her back muscles give a warning twinge. She eased back down, licking her lips as she waited for the spasm to pass.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Lord, what was she going to do? She couldn’t very well wave him off and send him on his way while pretzeled on the floor. What if she couldn’t get up after he left and he returned in the morning to find her still here? Still folded like a crazed contortionist? “I’ll be fine in a minute. My … er, foot’s asleep.”
He angled away, his gaze sweeping down her pants’ legs. He reached down and plucked off one of her white leather slip-ons and then the other. “Which one?”
“No, don’t touch it!”
Okay, that screech hadn’t been exactly the calm tone she’d been going for. But her feet were seriously ticklish—one wrong move and she’d wrench her back even further.
“Shh. I won’t.” He propped himself on one elbow as he continued to regard her. “Your foot might keep you from walking but it wouldn’t keep you from sitting up. Why didn’t you at least get a pillow for yourself?”
