The Last First Kiss (Harlequin Special Edition) (16 page)

Worried, he quickly swabbed an area on her hip and then sank the needle completely into her flesh, dispensing the medication. He knew it was going to be painful.

Sure enough, her eyes flew open, a cry of protest rising to her lips.

“The fever should start going down soon,” he promised her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took out his cell phone.

“Calling…for…backup?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’m calling your mother to tell her that we won’t be there.” He didn’t want the woman worrying when they didn’t show up.

Her eyes felt as if they were on fire. She closed them, unable to look at anything. “Don’t…tell…her…I’m…sick,” Kara begged weakly. “She’ll…be…here with…chicken…soup.” Struggling to stay conscious, she added, “She’ll…worry… I…don’t…want…her…to…” Her breathing was growing increasingly labored. Kara struggled to open her eyes again, but all she could manage were narrow slits. They shifted accusingly at him. “You…put…something…in…that…shot.”

He
had
put in a little something extra. It was intended to make her sleep. “Only way I can have my way with you,” he told her.

It was the last thing she heard before everything faded to black.

It figured, Dave thought as light slowly began to slip into Kara’s bedroom, dutifully chasing away the shadows and sending night packing. Even a predominantly unconscious Kara was a handful to deal with.

She’d opened her eyes several times during the night, plying him with questions and heaping accusations on his head that told him she was hallucinating, skipping around in time.

And then there was that one instance…

Oh, he didn’t doubt that her mind had been wandering then, and that her hold on reality had been weak. But hearing her, someone else would have sworn that she was at least
relatively
lucid.

He argued with himself, saying that she was ill and didn’t really mean what had come out of her mouth at that point. But even so, he
really
had wanted Kara to mean it.

Delusional or not, he committed every word she’d uttered to memory. Because he wanted it to be true.

In the middle of tossing and turning on the bed, her eyes had suddenly flown open as her mouth was simultaneously engaged.

“I should have never started this. No, never started this,” she told him with such feeling, for a second he thought she’d made some kind of miraculous recovery.

But then he realized that she was having a conversation she’d begun in her head. With him? With someone else? He had no way of knowing. But he intended to try to get as much as he could out of her.

“Started what?” he prodded. Exhausted, he’d stretched out on top of the covers and was lying next to her on the bed. He leaned in a little closer. Her voice was barely audible.

“This pretending thing with Dave. It’s not pretending anymore,” she admitted with a heartfelt sigh that went right through him.

Holding his breath, Dave asked, “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” he pressed.

“Because I love him,” she blurted out almost accusingly. Certainly not happily.

Hearing her, it was, he thought, not unlike the sensation a soldier might feel throwing himself on a grenade that was about to detonate and blow his buddies to kingdom come.

Dave could have sworn he felt the rumble going right through his entire body, mushrooming out from the center of his chest and reaching his fingertips and toes. Did she actually mean—?

Cautioning himself against getting caught up in all this, he broke in to say, “You what?”

“Love him,” she repeated with effort, her voice fading even more. “I…love…Dave… And…he…hates me.”

Busted!
he thought, more pleased than he could recall ever being in his lifetime.

Out loud he did the best he could to comfort the young woman who’d once taken such glee in showing him that she was the “better man.”

“No, he doesn’t,” he told her.

But his words, he saw, fell on deaf ears. She’d lapsed into unconsciousness again.

Up until that point, he’d grabbed only the slightest of cat naps. After Kara had said what she had, unconscious or not, Dave found that he couldn’t sleep at all.

So he lay beside her as dawn turned into morning, replaying her words over and over again in his head.

She loved him. She’d said so. Drifting in and out of consciousness, devoid of any inhibitions, she’d professed her feelings. That was good enough for him.

Now, as he sat up, he looked at the still-sleeping Kara and then slowly shook his head. Who would have thought that he and Kara would
ever
be anything other than a couple of squabbling acquaintances?

Rousing himself, he moved to the edge of the bed and then came around to her side. She’d slept fitfully for the most part, but even without a fever, she had a tendency to move about the bed restlessly.

A moving target whether she was awake or asleep, he thought, his mouth curving slightly.

She was right about the charade. If she’d never made up her mind to undertake this fabricated romance to teach their mothers a lesson, he might not have ever discovered that he could be moved to such heights, never discovered that he had the capacity to feel so deeply. In essence, being with Kara, making love with her, had taken his black-and-white life and enhanced it with a whole rainbow of colors.

So much so that he didn’t think he could ever go back to black and white again. He’d come too far.

In that respect, he thought as he got up and ran his hand through his hair, she’d ruined him. Taken his life and turned it upside down as well as inside out. The tranquility he’d once treasured was no longer golden. It was boring. Everything was boring without Kara in it.

Who would have ever thought he’d be this happy about being ruined? Certainly not him.

And now, he knew, he was going to have to do something about it.

Chapter Sixteen

H
er eyelids felt like lead.

Kara had been struggling to open her eyes for what felt like forever. It had really been only ten minutes, according to the clock on her nightstand, since she’d first pried them open only to have them shut on her immediately. But now she was really awake.

Or at least getting there.

It took her several seconds to orient herself and realize that she was in her bed in her room. She needed another couple of seconds to realize that it was daylight, which meant that she must have been out for a long time. The last thing she remembered was sitting on her sofa, feeling like death warmed over, and it had been evening.

She didn’t exactly feel much stronger now, but at least her brain was returning to the land of the living and actually working.

The first thing her brain did was let her know that she wasn’t alone. Startled, it took her exactly one erratic heartbeat to recognize the owner of the back she was looking at.

Dave.

What was he doing here?

She vaguely remembered that he had come to pick her up last night. Hadn’t he gone home? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember if he did or not. Couldn’t really remember much of anything beyond opening the door to let him in. Details after that felt as if they were lost in a fog.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” she asked, her voice sounding really raspy to her ear.

Surprised, Dave swung around. For a second, she thought she saw relief wash over his features, but then it was gone and he looked austere again. Or maybe still.

“Apparently I seem to like yours better.” Crossing back to her, he put his hand to her forehead. It was cool for the first time since he’d arrived. The worst of it seemed to be over, he thought. Even her cheeks weren’t as pink as they had been. “Looks as if your fever finally broke.”

A few vague memories floated through the back edges of her mind. She remembered he’d looked concerned. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

Hadn’t they agreed to stage the breakup last night? He was supposed to be out of her life, not hovering over her. She didn’t get it. “Why?”

Feelings, especially his own, had never been something he could easily talk about. Dave shrugged. “I had nothing else scheduled after you canceled on dinner at your mother’s.”

She recalled being dizzy and feeling hot all over. “I didn’t exactly cancel,” she protested.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re right. What you did was pass out.” A small smile curved his mouth.

“My mother,” she remembered suddenly, replaying some of his words in her head.

He was way ahead of her. “Was duly notified and gently instructed to refrain from arriving here with a pot of chicken soup.”

Kara’s eyebrows drew together in a confused line. “Why would you do that?”

She really had no recollection of last night, did she? “Because you asked me to.”

She shook her head. Nothing was really coming together in her mind yet. It was all just disjoined pieces bobbing up and down. “I don’t remember saying that to you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. A semismile barely passed over his lips and then receded as if it had never been there at all.

“You probably don’t remember saying a lot of things to me.”

Kara stiffened. There was something about the way he said that that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The rest of her felt as if it had just been put on red alert.

“Like what?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Things,” he replied vaguely. “No need to go into them now.”

Just the way he said it, she knew she needed to find out what she’d said.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

His eyes held hers for a moment, and she felt her stomach take a dive off the high board. “You really want to go into this now?”

Oh God, he was daring her to ask. This had to be worse than she thought. But what could she have told him and not remembered? She would have happily believed he was bluffing just to get under her skin, but she knew him. He didn’t bluff. There wasn’t going to be any peace for her until she knew what he
thought
he knew.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Tell me. Now. Please,” she added in case he was waiting for her to humble herself.

The smile on his lips went clear down to her bones. She braced herself.

“You told me you loved me.”

She wasn’t braced nearly enough, she realized as every system within her screamed,
Mayday! Mayday! Damage control!

She grabbed at the first excuse she could. “I was delirious,” she pointed out so quickly, he almost got whiplash.

The smile on his lips told her he knew better. “You were uninhibited,” he corrected. Before she could protest, he put the tip of his finger to her lips to still them and made his case. “To the casual observer, you don’t seem to be uptight and repressed, but it turns out that you really are. At least as far as your feelings are concerned.” And he, Dave thought, could fully relate to that.

The best defense, her father had always told her, was a good offense. So she forged ahead, although not nearly with as much verve as she would have liked. “I wouldn’t throw rocks if I were you.”

“No rock throwing,” Dave assured her. “I’m just making a very logical observation. Why is that, do you think?”

“That you think you’re being logical?” she asked him with a dismissive sniff. “I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“No,” he said patiently, “I’m asking you why you’re afraid to let your feelings out, afraid to let anyone know that you even
can
feel.” He took his best guess. “Someone walk out on you, Kara?”

She resented his probing. Resented, even more, his hitting so close to the truth. “Since when did you become a shrink?”

“Since when did you become afraid of a straight answer?” he countered.

She’d had enough of this. Throwing back the covers, she was about to storm out of bed and the room, praying her knees wouldn’t buckle under her, when her plan was instantly aborted.

She had nothing on beneath the blanket.

Stunned, she threw the blanket back into place, anchoring it down with her arms, and glared at him accusingly. “You took off my clothes.”

There was a reason for that. “You were sopping wet,” he explained.

Why would she be sopping wet? “What did you do to me?” she demanded.

He gave her a quick summary. “I gave you an injection to break the fever. You were perspiring so much your clothes were almost soaked right through. All I did was get you out of your wet clothes.”

He made it sound completely altruistic. “And nothing else?” she asked suspiciously.

“I applied a few wet compresses to your forehead, but the shot did most of the work. And as for what you’re implying, tempting though you might look to me, I prefer you awake if I’m going to be doing anything that requires tacit consent.”

Her heart believed him. Her mind was having trouble. Especially in light of the expression on his face. “You’re smirking,” she accused.

It was always going to be like this, he thought. A constant battle, heated or otherwise. And now he understood what had been missing from those other relationships that never went beyond a few steps. Passion. Passion had been missing. All those other women had been too much like him, too orderly, too blandly agreeable. They were black-and-white, and Kara, incessantly argumentative Kara, was the rainbow that he subconsciously craved.

“No, I’m not. That’s called a smile,” he informed her.

A smile at her expense, Kara thought. Because, temporarily out of her head, she’d blurted out her true feelings.

She tried another approach. “I can’t be held responsible for anything I said when I was ill,” she protested. When he said nothing, some of her ardor slipped away. “You were really here the whole night?”

He nodded. “Yes, I was.” And then he added, “And the next day, as well.”

She stared at him, utterly stunned. “The next— How long have I been out?”

He looked at his watch before answering, “A little less than thirty-six hours.”

“Thirty—six—” No, that had to be wrong. “You’re just making that up,” she protested.

“I could carry you into the living room, put on the news channel. They always run the time and the date in the lower right-hand corner of their broadcast.” He rose to his feet as if he was going to pick her up and make good on his suggestion. Upset over losing a day, Kara waved him back. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever slept so long.

“I believe you.”

He laughed shortly. “Nice to hear you’re that trusting.”

She wasn’t accustomed to his sounding like that. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

“Sorry.” He inclined his head. “Didn’t mean to invade your home territory.”

She deserved that, she supposed. He’d been nothing but kind and obviously caring even if she’d been out for most of it, and as a reward for his behavior, she was being combative.

But, in her defense, she wasn’t used to being the one who needed help. “Why did you do it, Dave?” she asked.

He wasn’t sure exactly what part she was referring to. “Do what?”

“Why did you stay here with me? You could have just put me into bed and left me there.”

Did she really think that? “You were sick, I’m a doctor. It’s kind of self-explanatory.” Not to mention that she had “thoughtfully” gotten sick on a Friday night. That afforded him the weekend to watch over her.

“No, it’s not. Most doctors would have called a family member, or, if the person was really sick, they would have called an ambulance and had the person taken to a hospital.” This was definitely above and beyond the call of duty.

This, she realized, was something a friend did for another friend.
Or a lover,
a little voice whispered in her head.

“I’d rather not have you haunting my hospital,” he quipped.

That was the kind of flippant thing she would have said to him. Kara picked at the sheet, pulling it in tighter around herself. She kept her eyes down as she asked, “I really said…you know?”

“Yes, you really said ‘you know,’” he confirmed, amused.

Kara blew out a breath. “I’m surprised you’re still here, then.” He looked at her, puzzled. “Hearing something like that from me, I would have expected you to run for the hills.”

“Why?” he asked. “Love shouldn’t make a man run. Your mouth, on the other hand, well, that’s another story.” He paused for a moment. He had nothing to lose by pushing this and hopefully everything to gain if she stopped playing games and told him the truth. “Why are you so afraid of love, Kara?”

“I’m not afraid of love,” she denied indignantly with a toss of her head. She instantly regretted the latter.

“You’re also not much of a liar,” he observed. “I’m waiting.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he could wait until hell froze over, but she knew him well enough to know he would. And besides, he didn’t deserve that. Not after he’d been so selfless.

So, with a sigh, she answered his question. It wasn’t easy. “When my father died, I saw my mother all but completely fall apart. I was never so scared in my life.”

He could well imagine. “But she didn’t, did she?” he pointed out.

“No, but—” That wasn’t the point. The point was the horror her mother had felt. The horror of being left behind to live, to take one step after the other, in a world that no longer contained the man she loved. The
only
man she’d ever love.

“And she has her memories of life with your father, doesn’t she?” Dave continued.

“Yes,” she grudgingly admitted. And then her eyes widened as she looked at him. “Are you going to tell me that ‘it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’?” He wouldn’t even dare think about that now, she silently threatened.

His broad shoulders rose and fell in a careless shrug. “Alfred, Lord Tennyson seemed to think so,” he told her. “Who are we to disagree?”

That was all well and good in poetry, but this was real life. And real life brought with it scars. “I don’t want to ache the way my mother ached.”

“She ached because she’d loved. There are far worse things than death,” he told her.

She couldn’t imagine there being something worse to endure than the death of a loved one. “Such as?” she challenged.

“Being alone,” he told her simply. Being alone the way he’d been alone—until she returned to his life. That was when he came to understand what he’d been missing all along. Her. “There are no guarantees in life, and no one lives forever.” He looked at her and knew that there was only one way to play this. It was all or nothing. He didn’t usually take risks, but then that was why his life was all but flat-lining. It was time to take that risk. “All I can do is promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

She had to be hearing things. “You love me?” Kara asked incredulously.

Why did she look so surprised? He would have thought that she at least suspected as much. “That didn’t occur to you? Say, around the second time we made love?”