“Glenda?” he asked.
“No.”
He ignored the answer, perhaps because he wasn’t really awake. “What the hell are you doing here? You can’t sleep with somebody else and then come back to my bed.”
She caught her breath, wishing she hadn’t heard.
“I’m not Glenda,” she whispered, but she could tell that he wasn’t aware of who was in bed with him.
“It’s all right,” she soothed. “I think it’s time for your antibiotic. I’m going to get you a pill—and some water.”
When she tried to ease off the bed, he closed his fingers around her upper arm.
“I trusted you,” he said. “And you didn’t give a damn about that, did you? Or maybe I was just too stupid to figure out what was going on.”
She didn’t want to hear what he was saying, but at the same time, she did, because it explained a lot about his closed-up emotions. It looked as though another woman had hurt him badly, and that had put his guard up.
Then he’d met Elena Reyes, and right from the start, she’d done things to make him suspicious. And she’d kept on doing them because of her brother.
She silently cursed Alesandro for getting her into this mess. And for getting Shane into it. If it was within her power, she vowed that she was going to get the two of them out again.
Shane’s grip on her arm relaxed, and she eased her hand away. When she was free, she climbed off the bed, trying not to disturb him as she left the room. She used the bathroom, then went downstairs and looked at the food supplies in the kitchen. It was well stocked, considering that it probably wasn’t used very often. There were several packages of milk that could keep in a cabinet until they were opened. Also coffee, cereal, and a number of canned and frozen foods ranging from soup to man-sized dinners.
She smiled when she found chicken soup. The universal medicine for convalescent patients.
She opened a can of vegetable soup for herself and took a mug of it upstairs, along with the antibiotics. Then she sat in the chair across the room, waiting for Shane to wake up. She was relieved to see his color was better, and she couldn’t help watching him as he slept, taking in details she hadn’t been able to study when he’d been watching her. She loved his thick, dark lashes and the curve of his well-shaped lips.
He slept restlessly for several hours, but finally his eyes blinked open, and he looked around, focusing on her.
She crossed to him immediately. “How are you?”
“Better.” He tried to push himself up and winced.
“You shouldn’t get up.”
“I have to pee. You probably don’t want to look around for a urinal.”
“I will, if you need it.”
“I’d rather you help me up.”
Because she knew that his dignity demanded it, she crossed to his side and helped him sit up, then held out an arm so that he could pull himself up. He slowly eased out of bed, and as the covers fell away, she realized he was naked except for the bandage around his middle. Following her gaze, he looked down.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She helped him slowly across the room and into the bathroom. He leaned against the wall, his face pale, and she had to bite her lip to keep from upbraiding him for getting out of bed.
“Close the door,” he said in a low voice.
She stepped out of the room, closed the door, and waited, listening to the sounds from inside. When he’d flushed the toilet, she knocked. “Okay?”
He managed a hollow laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”
She stepped inside, and they reversed the process, the trip back to the bed even slower. She helped him under the covers, and he lay with his eyes closed. The walk across the room had obviously taken a lot out of him.
She thought he might have dozed off when he said, “I’d like some clothes.”
Arguing was only going to use up more of his energy, so she opened the closet and inspected the contents. “How about a long-sleeved shirt?” That would cover down to his hips, and they could worry about putting pants on him later.
“Yeah.”
She took down a flannel one and brought it back to the bed, where she helped him sit up and get his arms into the sleeves. When she was finished, she checked the bandage and was relieved to see there was no more blood oozing out.
Then she worked the buttons on the shirt and left him leaning against the pillows while she brought over antibiotics and a glass of water. When he’d taken the pill and drunk some water, she helped him ease down into the bed.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
“You should sleep.”
“Yeah.” She heard the exhaustion in his voice. Then his eyes snapped open. “Where’s the gun?”
“On the dresser.”
“Put it on the nightstand.”
“I’d rather not.”
He gave her a sharp look. “And your reasoning is?”
“You were…upset about something…” she said, not wanting to go into details.
“What?”
“Someone named Glenda.”
“I was talking about her?”
“A little in your sleep.”
“That’s great.”
Changing back to the main topic, she said, “I think it’s better if you can’t wake up and grab the gun.”
He considered that statement for several seconds, and she waited with her breath shallow. If he didn’t trust her, he’d insist on having the weapon within reach.
Chapter 21
Long seconds passed before Shane murmured, “Okay.”
Elena let out the breath she’d been holding. At least that was something.
His eyes closed again, and he was asleep within minutes. She started for the chair across the room, then reconsidered. She needed to sleep, because she would be no good to him or anyone else if she was too tired to think straight. But she didn’t want to leave him. The bed was queen-size. Plenty of room for the two of them. She pulled back the covers and eased onto the far side of the mattress. At first she kept her arms at her sides, but when he didn’t wake, she stretched out the arm nearest him until they were lightly touching. She liked the contact, and she would have snuggled closer to him, but she wasn’t going to focus on her own needs. Her top priority had to be taking care of him and making sure he got well.
She woke in the night and knew that he was awake.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Better.”
His arm was still next to hers, and she felt him reach for her hand and link his fingers with hers. The gesture felt intimate, the most intimate thing they had done since they’d made love.
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice.
“About what?”
“About being so crappy to you.”
“You had your reasons,” she murmured.
“Don’t make excuses for me. I know you were worried about your brother. That turned out to be entirely justified.”
“But I should have told you what I was planning to do.”
“You didn’t because you knew I would stop you.”
“Yes.”
She heard him swallow. “You said I was talking about a woman. It was my wife. I went through a messy divorce about a year ago.”
She felt her heart start to pound. “Oh,” was all she managed to say, shocked that he’d told her about it. But maybe the darkness and the intimacy of lying next to her made him feel safer about talking.
“She cheated on me,” he went on. “Starting when I was deployed. And I think that made me mistrustful of women in general. I was looking for reasons not to trust you.”
“I gave you a lot.”
He tightened his hold on her hand. “Stop trying to cast yourself in the worst possible light.”
“I haven’t stopped feeling guilty about looking through Arnold’s desk and then taking that phone.”