Christmas Eve (20 page)

Chapter Eighteen

With Eve bundled in her robe, Nick carried her inside. He dropped her boots by the door, then strode down the hall and gently placed his sated companion on the bed. Smiling down at her, he drew the covers up to her chin and tucked her in. She sighed, turned on her side, and quickly fell asleep.

He looked on thoughtfully.

Regardless of the effort he expended, he couldn't keep his eyes off Eve. His thoughts, either. Even the way she snuggled deeper in the covers turned him on. Although she'd only just left his embrace, he wanted to again lie beside her and gather her into his arms.

What had come over him?

Eve, filling his waking hours with laughter and desire.

He grinned, remembering their backwards plunge into the snow. Any other woman would have been furious with him. Not Eve.

In his arms she'd let herself go so completely that nothing he said or did surprised her. And some things she had done surprised him.

He liked that.

A lot.

Loved it actually.

The wholehearted way she'd thrown herself into this sexual fantasy he liked to play in his down time thrilled him to the core. But now it didn't seem like so much of a game.

Not with Eve.

This felt like for keeps. And that one fact freaked him out.

He hurried from the site of Eve in his bed to bank the fire and turn out the lights in the front room, everyday duties. Calming things.

And with his calm came sudden hunger. He would have to eat something. A sandwich piled high with cold cuts and cheese, with mayonnaise drooling over the crust of thick, dark bread? Cheese melted on this slice of pie? He scanned the snacking food he'd left out on the counter, starving beyond reason, but also sated and anxious to crawl into bed.

Beside Eve.

Damn
. She occupied his thoughts like no other woman he could recall.

He
should
sleep on the sofa tonight. Leave Eve alone.

Give his body and hers a rest, but it seemed that was not in the cards he held.

He was strong about everything else.

Why couldn't he be strong where Eve was concerned?

He should send her away.

Not yet. She fulfilled
all
his sexual fantasies and staying away from her was something he was
not
ready to do.

She'd mentioned something about having appointments tomorrow, obligations she couldn't afford to miss. He'd see about that. A generous offer of ready cash had a way of making previous obligations vanish into thin air, he'd learned.

Nick stuffed three deviled eggs in his mouth, then crept silently down the hall, turned out the light beside the bed and climbed in next to Eve. By now it was second nature for him to pull her into his arms, even though she was already asleep.

He did. The warm, secret places of her body adjusted to and comforted his. The rhythmic pace of her quiet breathing soon had his eyes drifting shut.

In the middle of the night he woke up, thirsty, reached for the water bottle beside his bed and sat up to drink.

Might as well go to the bathroom as long as I'm awake, or that will be next
.

He turned so his feet touched the floor and eased himself off the bed without turning on a light. Eve needed her rest. And this way, she wouldn't object when he woke her before dawn and campaigned for her to cancel her plans and spend another day with him. Grinning to himself, he walked noiselessly in the direction of the bathroom.

Once on his feet, a wave of dizziness hit him. Too much champagne, he supposed, or too much sex, although neither had ever bothered him before.

He put out his hand, feeling for the door jamb. He
should
be there by now.

Lunging forward feeling for the wall, he lost his balance and dived head first through the darkened opening.

Damn!

Pain burst in his skull as the sickening sound of soft flesh hitting a hard object followed him into darkness.

* * * * *

Eve woke, startled by...

I don't know! What?

Disoriented, she reached for Nick, her eyes heavy with sleep, and discovered the cover on his side of the bed thrown back, but still warm.

Where is he?

Then she remember the sound that had awakened her. Her heart clenched in her chest.

"Nick?"

She yanked on her robe and turned on the light. Blinded by the sudden brightness, she waited for her eyes to adjust, then looked around the bedroom.

Not in here. Then where?

The bath? Through the half-opened door a wedge of light from the light fell across Nick's bare foot. A foot that didn't move. Nothing about him was moving.

"Nick? My God, Nick?" She scrambled across the cold tile floor to kneel beside him.

He lay on his side on the thick bath mat, his head in a pool of blood. She gently shook his shoulder. "Nick? Can you hear me?"

He rolled onto his back.

And groaned.

Thank God. He's alive
.

She hadn't realized how terrified she was that his fall had killed Nick until her own breathing resumed.

A deep cut marred Nick's handsome forehead and a lump there was already swelling and turning blue. He needed ice, or at least a cold compress to slow the swelling. And the blood.

She turned on the cold water faucet and let it run, rinsing blood from her hands. The temperature outside was below freezing, the water coming through the pipes not much above. She wet a wash cloth and wrung it out.

"Here. Let me help." She pressed the cloth to his head.

Should she stop the swelling or stanch the blood?

Both?

She didn't have that many hands.

If Nick had hit his head hard enough to pass out, a doctor should examine him right away.

Call one to come up here? Did doctors still make house calls? She had no idea.

Call the paramedics?

Nick moaned again and tried to open his eyes.

"Nick, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can."

His pressure on her hand, weak at first, increased.

Thank God, he's coming around
.

She took his limp hand, let it flop down where the washcloth covered his temple. "Don't move that hand. I'll be right back."

She yanked her undies off the towel rack and pulled them on, still damp, from where she'd rinsed them out.

Oh, well.

Call the paramedics or take him to town? Either way she needed to dress.

"Don't move, Nick. I'm getting dressed."

She began a search for her bra.

Hurry
.

Where had she last seen it?

There, hidden beneath a pair of Nick's dress pants draped over a chair.

So much had happened since she'd knocked on Nick's door. And how in the world did her bra get under his pants? She hadn't worn it for days...

And he'd not worn those pants one time since she arrived...

Most of the time he hadn't worn any clothes.

Her rampant thoughts moved almost as fast as her fingers. She hurriedly zipped her skirt, then glanced around Nick's bedroom one last time, tears gathering in her eyes.

If she were ever to consider marriage, it would be to Nick.

The pallor of his skin frightened her. Head injuries could kill.

No. I refuse to let Nick die
.

Hurry
.

A noise came from the bathroom. She rushed back in.

Nick was on his knees, trying to stand. He'd dropped the blood-soaked wash cloth on the floor.

At first helplessly watching him, she eventually slid an arm around his waist and helped leverage him to his feet. He staggered, looked ready to collapse.

"Sit," she ordered, shoving the bench under him.

She wet another cloth and wiped his face. He made a pathetic attempt to nod and mumbled something unintelligible.

She rinsed out the cloth, bathed his face again, then filled a paper cup with water. "Don't try to talk. Drink."

"From which cup?"

Concussed? Eve's heartbeat stuttered. With head injuries, double vision was one of the danger signs.

Maybe she
should
call 911.

How long would it take them to drive up the mountain and find this place? While they looked, she could already have Nick in an emergency room being examined by a doctor, not an EMT.

Please, God, don't let him die
.

"We need to hurry," she said, wiping a trickle of blood from his face before wrapping his head with gauze to hold a thick sterile pad in place.

Eve tied her sleep-mussed hair back, then went to locate clean sweats. She carried her finds into the bathroom and knelt beside Nick. "Listen, Nick. You fell and cut your forehead. I'm taking you to the emergency room."

He nodded, his look dazed. She fitted the sweatshirt over his head, then threaded his arms into the sleeves. "There. Can you stand?"

He gave it a good try, but his legs wouldn't hold him up. She pushed him back down. "Now. Let's see if I can get these pants on you," she said, and guided a foot through one knitted cuff.

When she tried the same thing with his other foot, it wouldn't go in, and she saw that he had his ankle locked.

"Nick, could you help me out here? Bend your foot," she pleaded, and was rewarded with a half-smile.

Desperate, Eve tickled the bottom of his foot. He jerked it back out of her reach, but when she grabbed it again, his foot had relaxed. She threaded it through the elastic cuff.

Rocking back on her heels she inspected her handiwork. The fleece pants were bunched around his ankles, only covering his lower legs, but it was a start.

Put socks and house shoes on him before you make him stand
.

Hurry
.

"Don't move. I'm going to get your shoes."

She ran into the bedroom, grabbed the first pair of clean socks she found. Then, with his slippers tucked under her arm and her heart in her throat, she hurried back.

The crepe soles of his slippers probably were not intended for walking in snow, but she didn't have time to force his feet into boots. Kneeling in front of him, she pulled on the warm socks and shoes.

He hadn't moved, but his skin had turned a putrid grey. Eve's stomach churned.

"Okay, Nick. We're almost ready. See if you can stand up by grabbing hold of that towel rod."

Please be strong enough to support him and not pull out of the wall
.

Groaning, Nick slowly staggered to his feet.

"Good. Now, hold it right there while I pull up your sweats."

Even his penis looked pale, all drawn up in a knot. Not at all what her randy stallion usually proudly displayed. She carefully tucked Nick's genitals in their fleecy nest, then adjusted the drawstring at his waist.

"Later, Eve," he solemnly promised. "Croupier doesn't feel up to taking you to bed right now."

Croupier? Nick's ramblings don’t make sense to me. Another bad sign.

"We're going into the bedroom, Nick, but not for that. Stand up, nice and easy. It's all right to lean on me."

Hurry
.

With his feet spread wide and his knees not quite locked, Nick walked with a gangly gait, weaving his way to the bathroom door and into the room beyond.

"Sit here on the bed while I get our coats."

Eve scurried down the hall, uncertain whether or not to go out and warm up the car.

She'd better not. Left alone, Nick would likely stretch out and if he did, she'd never get him back on his feet. He looked so pale and disoriented it frightened her.

She grabbed her handbag, their keys and coats, and dashed back to the bedroom.

"Nick, where do you keep your wallet? The hospital will want to see a picture I.D. and your insurance card."

"Wallet," he mumbled. "Black pants."

In the same pants that had hidden her bra, still neatly folded over the back of a chair, she discovered Nick's wallet tucked into a hip pocket and pulled it out. "Found it. Want it in the pocket of your sweats?"

"Money..." He took the wallet from her, turned it over in his hands and began pulling out thousand dollar bills.

"No, Nick, you shouldn't need any money. In fact, I'd recommend you leave everything of value here."

As if he hadn't heard her, he kept pulling out crisp, new-looking bills. While trying to shove the money back in the wallet and the wallet into his pocket, Eve lost count of the amount.

"You... Keep. I always pay my bills on time," Nick murmured, again attempting to force the money on her.

"No, it's best to leave all your cash here," she said, raising her voice to be heard over his constant mumbling, but Nick had rolled all the bills together and was shoving them and the wallet at her.

"You earned it. Keep..." he said, looking annoyed and leaning to the left in his effort to remain upright.

"Okay. Okay. We'll discuss the money later. I'll keep it safe for you for now." Finally ready, she stood back to admire her handiwork. Nick was fully dressed, but did not look good at all.

She stuffed his belongings into her purse, then wet a clean cloth. "You need to get up, Nick."

Grabbing both hands, she helped him stand on wobbly legs. Then, with her arm around his waist, one of his arms thrown over her shoulder and weighting her down, Eve struggled to keep Nick upright as she guided his shuffling steps toward the back door where there were fewer steps for him to negotiate.

They struggled past the makeshift buffet with its wide array of food.
Later
. She couldn't take time to put the food away now. As they walked through the kitchen she reached across Nick to turn on the outside light. She didn't want them tumbling down the back steps,

Eve locked the back door and helped him down the three steps. He only stumbled once.

He had parked her car close to the house, most likely in anticipation of more snow.

She appreciated his thoughtfulness. Fewer steps were required to get him to the car, a blessing in the crisp night air.