Lies And Lullabies: Courting the Cowboy Boss

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 trespassing, she made use of one of the guest bathrooms and prepared for bed. She found a hair dryer under the sink and a new toothbrush in the drawer. In less than twenty minutes, she had showered and changed into comfy yoga pants and a soft much-washed T-shirt.

Case’s king bed was large and roomy, and he was passed out cold. She would get more rest there than if she slept in the guest room and had to be up and down all night checking on him.

That reasoning seemed entirely logical right up until the moment she walked into his bedroom and saw that he had, once again, thrown off the covers. The man might have the flu, but looking at him still made her pulse race.

She would have to set the alarm on her phone for regular intervals, because Case was still racked with fever. When she managed to get the thermometer under his tongue and keep it there for long enough to record a reading, it said 101.2 degrees. And that was with medication.

No telling how high it would go if left untreated.

She gave him one last dose of acetaminophen, coaxed him into drinking half a glass of water and straightened his covers. After turning on a light in the bathroom and leaving the door cracked, she stood by the bed.

When this was all over, he would be back to his bossy, impossible self. But for now, he was helpless as a baby.

Refusing to dwell on how unusual the situation was, she walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down carefully. Case was using two of the pillows, but she snagged the third one for herself. There was no way she was going to climb underneath the covers, so she had brought a light blanket from the other bedroom.

Curling into a comfortable position, she reached out and turned off the light.

* * *

Case frowned in his sleep. He’d been dreaming. A lot. Closer to nightmares, really. His head hurt like hell and every bone in his body ached. Not only that, but his mouth felt like sandpaper.

He had a vague memory of someone talking to him, but even those moments seemed unreal.

Suddenly, the shaking started again. He remembered this feeling...remembered fighting it and losing. Aw, hell...

He huddled and gritted his teeth.

Above his head, a voice—maybe an angel—muttered something.

He listened, focused on the soft, soothing sound. “Oh, damn. I didn’t hear the alarm. Case, can you hear me? Hold on, Case.”

Even in the midst of his semihallucinatory state, the feminine voice comforted him. “S’kay,” he mumbled. “I’m fine.”

Vaguely, he was aware of someone sticking something under his tongue, cursing quietly and making him drink and swallow. “You are definitely not fine.”

The angel was upset. And it was his fault. “Hold me,” he said. “I can’t get warm. And close the windows, please.”

The voice didn’t respond. Too bad. He was probably going to die and he’d never know what she looked like. Angels were girls, weren’t they? All pink and pretty with fluffy wings and red lips and curvy bodies...

Belatedly, he realized that if he survived whatever living hell had invaded his body, he might get struck dead for his sacrilegious imagination.

Suddenly, his whole world shifted from unmitigated suffering to if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. A body—feminine, judging by the soft breasts pressed up against his back—radiated warmth. He would have whimpered if it hadn’t been unmanly. Thank you, God.

One slender arm curved around his waist. “You’ll feel better in the morning, Case.”

The angel said it, so it must be true. Doggedly, he concentrated on the feel of his bedmate. It helped keep the pain away. Soft fingers stroked his brow. Soft arms held him tight.

Maybe he would live after all.

Seven

Case opened one eyelid and groaned when a shard of sunlight pierced his skull. Dear Jesus. If this was a hangover, he was never going to drink again. And if this was hell, he was going to beg for another chance to relive his thirty-six years and hope for a better outcome.

He moved restlessly. Even his hair follicles hurt. His chest felt as if someone had deflated his lungs. But his brain was clearer than it had been. Though he didn’t want to, he made himself open both eyes at the same time. Sitting in an armchair beside his bed was Parker Reese.

Parker hadn’t yet noticed that Case was awake. The other man was checking emails and/or texts, frowning occasionally and clicking his responses.

Case cleared his throat. “Am I at death’s door? Have you come to show me the error of my ways?”

His doctor friend sat up straight, his gaze sharpening as he turned toward the bed. “You should be so lucky. No...you’re going to be fine.” Even so, Parker’s expression held enough concern to tell Case that something serious was afoot.

“I didn’t know you made house calls.” Turned out, it even hurt to talk.

“I don’t. Here. Drink something.” Parker picked up a glass of ice water and held the straw to Case’s lips.

Case lifted his head and downed the liquid slowly, trying not to move more than necessary. “Seriously. Why are you here?”

Parker’s eyes widened, expressing incredulity. “Maybe because you’re half-dead with the flu?”

“Only half?” Case tried to joke, but it fell flat.

Parker pulled out his stethoscope, ignoring Case’s wince when the cold metal touched his skin. Listening intently as he moved the disc from side to side, Parker frowned. “We have to watch out for secondary infections, pneumonia in particular.”

“How did you know I was sick? Did I look that bad when I left the poker game last night?”

Parker sat back, his head cocked with a clinician’s focus. “Today is Saturday. The poker game was Thursday night.”

Case gaped at him. “What happened to Friday?”

This time Parker’s grin held a note of mischief that rattled Case. “You tell me. I’ve only been here twenty minutes.”

Case subsided into the warm nest of covers and searched his brain for an explanation. He remembered someone in the bed with him, but that someone definitely hadn’t been male. He’d been far too sick for any fooling around, so the woman he remembered must have been a dream.

He wet his chapped lips with his tongue. “No more jokes, Parker. Did I really lose an entire day? Surely you didn’t wait on me hand and foot. You’re a good friend, but not that good.”

Parker chuckled. “I’ll take pity on you. Yes, you lost a day. You’ve been out of it for thirty-six hours. And no. I wasn’t here to help, though I’m damned sorry about that. You picked the worst possible time to get sick. We’ve had baby after baby born at the hospital, some of them in worse shape than you, unfortunately. I haven’t even been to bed yet, but I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Then who—?”

Parker held up his hand. “Mellie Winslow showed up to work yesterday morning and found you semiconscious, burning up with fever. She stayed with you all day and all night. To be honest, you might have ended up in the hospital if it weren’t for her. You’ve had it rough.”

“Damn.” It was the best response Case could summon, and the most articulate. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he remembered someone helping him into and out of the bathroom. Mellie Winslow? Good Lord. “Where is she now?” he asked hoarsely.

“I sent her home so she could change clothes and get some rest.”

“Is she coming back?”

“I’d say that’s up to you. Mellie knows you like your privacy.”

Case winced. “Yeah, I guess she does.” He’d certainly hammered home that lesson when he hired her. “I don’t know why she stayed with me. I haven’t been exactly cordial.” In fact, he’d been a bit of a jerk the last time he saw her.

Parker shrugged. “I can hang around until midday. That gives you some time to think it over.”

* * *

By the time noon came and went, Case had managed a shower with only a little help, had consumed a modest breakfast and lunch, and had realized with no small dose of humility that he had a lot for which to be thankful. Maybe he could salve his conscience concerning Parker by writing another large check to the hospital. Parker got absolutely giddy when he talked about upgrading technology in the NICU.

But what about Mellie?

Parker was on the way out the door when his phone dinged. Case saw his buddy glance down and then look at him.

“What?” Case asked. “Who is it?”

“Mellie wants to know if she needs to come back. What should I tell her?” There was no judgment in Parker’s steady gaze.

“I barely know her,” Case muttered. “She’s not under any obligation to take care of me.”

“She’s a nice woman. You could do worse.”

“Nathan says Amanda will hunt me down and neuter me if I trifle with her friend.”

“Trifle?”

“You know. Play around with her.”

Parker shook his head in disgust. “I know what the word means. Are you tempted to trifle?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. She’s seen me at my worst.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’m pretty sure Mellie Winslow isn’t interested in my money.”

“We were talking about you and the flu. Have you changed the subject?”

Case leaned against the doorframe, his knees the consistency of spaghetti. “I need to get back in bed.”

“Yes, you do. Your color is lousy.”

“Tell her I’ll call her after I take a nap.”

“You sure?”

Case nodded. “Yeah. Maybe by then I’ll have had an epiphany.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Very funny.” Case held out his hand. “Thank you.”

Parker returned the handshake. “Glad I could help. If you get worse, don’t hesitate to call. Men make lousy patients. Being a hero in this situation is the worst thing you could do.”

“Duly noted.”

With Parker gone, the house was quiet again. Case stumbled back to his bedroom and fell facedown on the bed. Parker had made him swear to take medicine on schedule. Case intended to keep that promise, but first he had to sleep.

* * *

Mellie paced from one side of her smallish living room to the other. Dr. Reese had said that Case would be in touch. But Reese had contacted her right after lunch, and it was now almost five o’clock.

In the interim, she had put together a dish of homemade lasagna and baked that, along with some oatmeal cookies. The house smelled wonderful, but it looked as if she was going to be eating alone.

She could hardly expect Case to be grateful for her help. Men hated feeling vulnerable. Case probably loathed the realization that Mellie had played nurse. Besides, there was a chance he didn’t even remember her being there.

But Mellie remembered. Wow, did she. In the middle of the night when Case had finally stopped shivering and his temperature had moderated, she had relaxed enough to doze with him in her arms. She didn’t sleep deeply. But when she roused again and again to check on her patient’s condition, it had been a shock to find herself entwined with him in a quasi-intimate position.

Gradually, as the night waned, she’d felt something shift inside her. No matter how much she wanted to maintain boundaries for her own emotional protection, after this weekend she would never be able to look at Case the same way again.

The fact that he hadn’t called or even sent her a text this afternoon told her he wanted her to stay away. The loud silence hurt. Even though she thought she understood why he hadn’t made contact, her feelings were bruised. In truth, she might have to assign someone else to continue cleaning Case’s house. The situation was likely untenable.

Telling herself not to be maudlin and foolish, she wandered into the kitchen and found a paper plate and some plastic utensils. She was too tired to worry about cleaning up after herself, and since she had unloaded the dishwasher only an hour before, she didn’t want to make a mess.

She was moments away from scooping out a small serving of pasta when her phone made a quiet noise. Her heart pounding, she wiped her hands and glanced at the screen.

Are you busy?

It was Case.

No. Are you hungry?

She told herself she was only being a Good Samaritan. That she wasn’t throwing caution to the wind and launching herself willy-nilly into a situation that was wildly inappropriate. Feeding a neighbor in need was a Texas tradition.

Her phone buzzed again.

I’m starving.

I made lasagna. Would you like me to bring you some?

I don’t want to interrupt your evening.

She smiled in spite of herself.

It’s no trouble. See you soon.

Working rapidly, she covered the casserole dish and wrapped it in towels to keep it warm. The loaf of fresh bread from the bakery in town could be heated in Case’s microwave. Even if Dr. Reese had provided lunch for his friend, that was a long time ago. She didn’t want Case to wait any longer than necessary.

On the way out to the ranch, she lectured herself. Stay calm. Don’t let him bait you. Treat him like a brother.

There were two problems with that last suggestion. Number one—she’d never had a brother. And number two—her reactions to Case Baxter bore no resemblance at all to sibling affection. He disturbed her, provoked her and made her want things.

Unfortunately, the trip was not long enough to gain any real handle on the situation. Before she knew it, she was unloading the car and making her way up the steps of Case’s home. With her arms full, she had no choice but to ring the bell.

It was almost a full minute before the door opened. Case stood there staring at her, the planes of his face shadowed in the harsh glare of the porch light. “Please come in,” he said.

In the foyer, he insisted on taking most of the load away from her. As she followed him to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice the way his gray sweatpants rode low on his hips. In the midst of the cheery room she had worked so hard to organize, the lighting was better. Now she could see all of Case. His navy cotton shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white T-shirt underneath that clung to the contours of his muscled chest.

When she could tear her gaze away from all that male magnificence, she saw—as she’d suspected—that he was definitely not 100 percent. His eyes were sunken and his hair was askew. But he smiled.

“This smells amazing, Mellie.”

“I hope you like Italian food. I suppose I should have asked about your preferences before I fixed something.”

“I’m not a picky eater.”

He set the containers on the table and pulled out her chair. “Let me get you a glass of wine,” he said. But she noticed that despite his polite manners, he was weaving on his feet.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She resisted his attempt to make her take a seat. His skin was clammy and his hands unsteady. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Sit down, Case. Now.”

Surprisingly, he obeyed, but said, “I don’t expect you to wait on me.” The statement was a shade on the belligerent side.

She handled him the same way she would a fractious toddler. “You’re not well. Sit there and rest while I get things ready.”

He didn’t argue, but his gaze followed her as she moved around his kitchen. His eyes were dark, his unshaven jaw tight. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “For what happened when you were here before.”

She shot him a look. “You mean last night?”

His jaw dropped noticeably before he snapped it shut. Dark color slashed his cheekbones. “I don’t remember much about last night.”

For once, she had the upper hand. He was juggling a healthy dose of discomfiture. It was almost funny to see the suave, self-assured cowboy off his game. “Not much to remember.” She set a plate of food in front of him. “Eat it before it gets cold.”

He grabbed her wrist, not painfully, but firmly. Enough to stop her in her tracks. “I made inappropriate remarks about your clothing. I kissed you. I’m sorry.”

Resting her hand on his shoulder, she let herself lean on him. “Don’t be silly. You gave me a compliment. I was flattered. And the truth is, you’re not my boss. You were right. We’re equals. A man and a woman.”

“And last night?”

When she slept in his bed, holding him in her arms? “Last night was nothing,” she said. “You were sick. I couldn’t very well leave you here alone. I’m glad you’re on the mend.”

When she sat down and took a bite of her lasagna, she almost choked at the look on Case’s face. His laser stare made her squirm in her seat. There was no way he could know for sure. He’d been too feverish and addled to understand that she had held him like a lover, doing everything she could to give him comfort.

He finally picked up his fork, but he never took his eyes off her. “Parker told me I lost an entire day...that I had a very high fever. He said I might have ended up in the hospital if you hadn’t been here to look after me.”

“I think your friend exaggerates. It was no big deal.”

Case leaned across the table and put his hand over hers. “It is to me. Thank you, Mellie. For everything.”

Eight

Case knew he had shocked her. Hell, he had shocked himself. He wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy. Beneath his hand, Mellie’s fingers were soft and delicate. An impression at direct odds with what he knew to be the truth about the woman. She was strong and independent. She didn’t need a man to take care of her. Which made it all the more inexplicable that he had the strongest urge to do that very thing.

He forced himself to release her. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She had the look of a rabbit frozen in the grass, trying to appear invisible.

Mellie shook her head. “I’m not uncomfortable. But I’m trying to figure you out.”

When he made himself take a bite, he realized how hungry he was. He chewed and swallowed, weighing her words. “I’m an open book.”

She snorted and tried to cover it up as a cough. “Um, no.”

“Explain yourself, woman.” He waved a fork in the air. When Mellie smiled at him, he felt a tug of desire low in his belly.

“First of all,” she said, “you’re wealthy and available, but you don’t date. At least not in Royal.”

“How would you know that?” She had him spot-on, but that was beside the point.

“I have my sources.” Now her smile was wry.

“Go on.”

“You’re a self-professed privacy junkie, but you know everyone in town, and you are so popular and well regarded the powers that be elected you president of the Cattleman’s Club.”

“Liking privacy is not necessarily the same as being a hermit.”

“True.”

He circled back to the most promising point. “I’m flattered that you’ve studied me.”

Mellie shook her head. “Don’t be. Your ego is too healthy as it is.”

“Ouch.” He paused, realizing that he was deliberately flirting with Mellie. But his sexual overture wasn’t necessarily being reciprocated. “Ego is neither good nor bad. I think it’s a matter of degree.”

“And where would you fall on that scale? Somewhere near the top, I think.”

He stared at her, no longer amused. “You might be surprised.” Finishing his meal, he stood and poured himself another glass of wine, cursing the fact that his legs were wobbly. Sadly, it had nothing to do with the modest amount of alcohol he had consumed. How long was this damned flu going to keep him down? He had places to go, people to see.

At his best, he would have enjoyed sparring with Mellie Winslow. But he was definitely not at his best. He brought the bottle with him to the table and collapsed into his chair, trying not to let on that he was light-headed.

Mellie studied him. “You need to be in bed,” she said.

“Will you join me?” The words popped out of his mouth uncensored. His subconscious was an uncivilized beast.

His dinner companion gaped. Her mouth snapped shut as hot color reddened her cheeks. “What is it about men?” she muttered, the question apparently rhetorical.

Now he had her measure. If he wanted to keep Mellie off balance and not the other way around, all he had to do was give her the unvarnished truth about what he wanted from her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You’re barely able to stand, and still you obsess about sex.”

“It’s in our DNA. We can’t help it. Especially when a beautiful woman brings us dinner and plays nurse.”

“I wasn’t playing last night. You were sick.”

“I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to enjoy it.”

“Case!”

Now it was out in the open. He wanted her. And he was almost certain she wanted him, too. But he needed confirmation before he went any further. He would never pursue a woman who wasn’t interested.

“There’s a strong spark between us. But tell me you don’t feel it, and I’ll leave you alone. Am I wrong?”

He saw the muscles in her throat work as she sputtered and looked anywhere but at him. “You’re not wrong.”

Three words. Three damn words, and he was hard as granite. He studied her, unable to come up with a response. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. Instead, soft denim jeans outlined long legs and a narrow waist. In deference to the weather, she wore a pale green pullover sweater. The V-neck exposed a long porcelain-skinned throat and fragile collarbone.

A man could get lost nibbling his way across that territory.

Under other circumstances, he would have stripped her naked and taken her on this kitchen table. Tonight, however, he had to accept his limitations. “Sadly, I don’t have the stamina at the moment to follow up on that interesting admission.”