“Is it registered to you?”
“To a friend. She’s not feeling well and she’s not answering her phone or door. I just want to check in. Make sure she’s okay.”
Viv frowned. “A woman friend, huh?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Mmm.” She moved into the hall and around her cart. “I could get fired for this.”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
She inserted a master card key.
Luke turned the knob. “Thanks.” He gave her cheek a peck then slipped inside and shut her out. He eyed the spacious, elegant suite, the empty queen-sized poster bed.
His fricking heart rammed against his chest. “Rae!”
“In here.”
Luke found her in the bathroom, curled on the tile floor in between the tub and the toilet. His gut knotted as he stooped and palmed her pale face. “Did you faint? Are you hurt?”
“Just resting.”
“What?”
She met his gaze, wet her lips. “Woke up sick in the middle of the night. Dizzy, nauseous. I’ve been puking and … stuff … all night and morning. It stopped a while ago, but … weak. Thought I’d rest here awhile.”
He spied her cell phone, on the floor, within her reach. “Why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“You called?”
He thumbed on the screen. “You lowered the volume.”
“I did?”
Was she delirious? Luke pocketed her phone, adrenaline racing. She looked small and vulnerable and, short hair aside, a helluva lot like the dysfunctional woman who’d roped his interest back in October. The woman who’d fallen apart when that jerkwad college student had grabbed her ass and caused a scene. Luke weathered a swarm of emotions, most of them tender. Pulse kicking, he finessed her into his arms.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m putting you to bed then calling a doctor.”
“Researched on-line while I was still vertical. Symptoms indicate food poisoning. I think I’m okay now. Just weak. I wouldn’t have called, but then I got worried.” Her voice caught. “What if the baby—”
“I’m sure the baby’s fine.” He wasn’t sure at all, but he wanted to calm her. He laid her on the rumpled comforter, smoothed away her shaggy bangs, and felt for a fever. Her brow was clammy but cool. “Why do you think it was food poisoning? What did you eat?”
“Sweet and sour chicken. Had it delivered from that new Asian place. I was starving. Wolfed it down. If it tasted odd, I didn’t notice. But that had to be it.”
“You’re probably right. Haven’t heard the best things about King Chow’s.” Not that Luke considered every new restaurant as competition for the Shack, but he did take note. King Chow’s had opened their doors a month ago. Knowing how popular Chinese food was, Luke had asked Anna to add three Asian dishes to their menu. Those additions had paid off in spades. Then again, Anna was a gourmet chef.
Luke eyed a quart of bottled water on the nightstand. He poured a glass then eased Rae up against the pillows. “You need to hydrate. I know that much.”
She took the glass with both hands, sipped.
Luke sat beside her, nabbed his cell, and speed-dialed Doc Worton’s office.
“So much for keeping my pregnancy secret,” Rae said.
Luke’s call rolled to hold. He listened to sappy elevator music while watching Rae sip water. She’d scrubbed away the meticulous eye makeup and bold lipstick of Regan Devereaux. She’d dressed down in baggy pajama pants, a bright green hoodie, and fuzzy slippers. She didn’t look like the daughter of a Hollywood celebrity. She didn’t look filthy rich. She looked real.
And sweet.
His heart jerked just as the receptionist answered. “Doctor Worton’s office. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Leslie. Luke Monroe. Can I get a quick word with Doc?”
“He’s with a patient, Luke.”
“I need some medical advice.”
“Nurse Dunlap’s available.”
“Great. Thanks.” Jane Dunlap was a registered nurse and practiced alongside Worton. She was also another ex of Luke’s, although they’d never slept together. “Yeah. Hey, Jane.”
“Luke. Everything okay?”
He froze for a second wondering the best way to approach this while honoring Rae’s reputation. If he was too cryptic about a “friend” in need, Jane might pry and even if he skimped on details, he’d be setting himself up for gossip. Sugar Creek thrived on juicy dirt—real or embellished. “Here’s the thing. I think I got slammed with food poisoning. Spent the night gushing out both ends, if you get my drift.”
“Loud and graphically clear. Anything else?”
“Dizzy, sweating.”
“Classic signs. How are you now? Still throwing up?”
“No. All that ended about a half hour ago.”
“Feeling feverish or chilled.”
“Feverish or chilled?” he repeated.
Rae shook her head.
“Nope. Just weak as hell.”
“That’s to be expected,” Jane said. “When did it start? Did it last more than twenty-four hours?”
“About half that.”
“Sounds like a mild case of food poisoning or a plain old bug. Rest, drink lots of water, and try to keep down some chicken broth.”
“That’s it?”
“Based on what you’ve told me,” Jane said. “If the symptoms lasted longer than two days or if you had a high fever or if you were a child under three or a pregnant woman, I’d suggest seeking medical attention just to be safe. Doctor Worton has a full schedule today but if you’re worried—”
“No. I’m good. Thanks, Jane.” Mouth dry, Luke disconnected and glanced around for Rae’s suitcase. Not seeing one, he made a beeline for an antique bureau. Unlike his drawers at home everything was neatly folded, even her underwear and socks. He bypassed the silk and lace bras and thongs, opting for one of those cami tops and a pair of wool socks. Long-sleeved pullover, jeans …
He dumped his haul on the bed and peeled off her thin pajama bottoms.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you into some warm clothes.”
“Why?”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” He met her panicked gaze and tempered his own misgivings as he helped her into the jeans. “Just to be on the safe side.”
His heart did another funny jerk when she blinked back tears and said, “Okay.”
The closest hospital was in Pixley—a thirty-minute drive on a clear day. Given the icy conditions it would take longer. Rae was glad Luke was driving and not her. Not that she was capable of driving.
Rae couldn’t remember ever being this sick, feeling this weak. After helping her to dress (something she didn’t want to think about right now) and grabbing her purse, Luke had carried her to his car. She hated the way people stared as he whisked her through the lobby, but it would have taken them twice as long if she had tried to walk. At this point, she wanted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. She needed to know that she hadn’t put her baby at risk because of a stupid food craving.
Fear and guilt caused her to blurt her mind. “Admittedly, I only scanned one article on food poisoning last night, but it didn’t mention anything about a pregnancy risk.” Heart heavy, she slouched against the passenger door as Luke veered onto the main highway. “I should have called for help sooner. I just … I didn’t realize it was going to get so bad.”
“Shouldn’t you be traveling with a personal assistant or a bodyguard or two?”
She frowned, perplexed by the turn of conversation. “Why would I do that?”
Luke shrugged. “Paris Hilton. Ivanka Trump. Don’t heiresses typically travel with an entourage?”