Engaging the Bachelor (Pulse) (12 page)

“When did you first realize that everyone wanted something from you?” she asked, speaking in a whisper. He went quiet for a long time. Too long. She lifted her head and took in the pain in his eyes. She touched his face. “Carson?”

“That night, Gemma,” he whispered. “I realized it that night I took you on the pool house floor. You gave me something and asked for nothing in return.”

He was wrong. She’d taken from him that night, too. His warmth, his kindness…his body. In turn, she walked out the door.

“I’m fake, too” she said without thinking. Honestly, she was no better than the women from his social circle. She’d taken without giving and walked around pretending to be tough and untouchable—something she wasn’t.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

If he knew she was fake, did that mean he didn’t like her, either? Of course it did. Well, physically he liked her. He’d proven that over and over. But he didn’t
like
her, like her. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, a headache beginning at the base of her skull. Why the hell did that bother her so much? She wasn’t looking for anything from him.

“Carson.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not really a…I don’t…”

“Gemma.”

“Yeah.” She yawned again, his fingers trailing through her hair, pulling her under.

“Get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Her lids fell shut.

…

The light streaming in through the open curtains roused Gemma awake. She moved, but her muscles ached. Damn, she must have twisted something on the lumpy sofa. As memories flooded back to her, she stretched, blinking against the sudden light-headedness. What the hell? Slowly she inched herself up and looked around the apartment, now clean.

“Carson,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he said quietly and she turned to find him coming her way with a cup of coffee. Honest to God, the guy was just too good to be true. “Thank you.” She took a big sip. “Did you sleep?”

“A bit.”

She waved her hand around the tidied-up room. He’d cleaned up everything while she slept. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

She glanced down the hall, and unease filled her. If her mother kept this up, she was really going to hurt herself, and it would take more than stitches to put her back together again.

“I checked on her. She’s sleeping and doing much better.”

Gemma glanced at the clock. “We need to get going. You have to work.”

“Yeah, we should hit the road. I work the night shift, and should grab a few hours of sleep beforehand.”

Feeling guilty that she’d slept and he hadn’t, she stood, her legs a bit weak beneath her. “I’ll just check on Mom.” Hand on the wall for balance, she made her way to her mom’s room and peeked in to find her sleeping. She stepped up to her, looked over her stitches, and fixed the blankets around her.

“All good?” Carson asked from the doorway, and when she looked at him, seeing him all mussed and sleepy, her heart turned over in her chest.

“Yes.”

She left the room and followed Carson through the apartment. They stepped into the hallway and she locked the door behind them. The warm morning air washed over her as they walked to the car.

“Want me to drive?” she asked.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m fine. I’m used to functioning on little sleep.”

“Well, when you’re with me, you don’t have to. I can take care of you for a while.” She held her hand out. “Now, hand the keys over.”

He stared at her for a minute, the warm appreciation in his eyes playing havoc with her heart. “And you accuse me of being bossy.” His gaze moved over her face. “Actually Gemma, I would take you up on it, but you still look pale.”

“I’m fine,” she lied, her stomach churning slightly.

“Okay, tough girl.” He made a fist and nudged her chin. “Next time, you drive. I’ve got it this time.”

They both slid into the car, and Carson began the two-hour drive back home. She sagged against the seat, and he cast a glance her way.

“Does this happen often with your mom?” he asked quietly.

“Often enough.”

“Brought on by another ‘uncle’ going missing?”

“Pretty much.”

“She won’t go to counseling?”

“She won’t go anywhere near a hospital. You saw the way she reacted.”

“What about a private practice?”

“I’ve tried, but it’s too close to the hospital.”

“What if I try?”

An invisible band tightened around her heart. Tears pricked her eyes, and she turned to look out the passenger side window. “Carson, you’ve done enough already.” Christ, she was in way deeper than she should be. If she didn’t get herself together soon, he’d be taking her heart with him when he left at the end of the summer.

Chapter Eleven

Carson raked his hands through his hair, exhausted after a long night in the ER. It was close to noon, and he should have been out of there hours ago, but he’d wanted to stay and check on a patient first. Then he got cornered by Kellan James, the hospital’s CEO, and had to listen to his tirade for an hour. Fuck. The guy pissed him off. This was a hospital, not a fast food chain where they rushed clients in and out. Yeah, sure there were budget constraints, but Carson would be damned if he didn’t give every patient the care they needed, for as long as they needed. It made him want to quit the damn ER and open up his own private practice.

That thought stopped him cold. He’d never wanted to stay in one place before. So why was he all of a sudden thinking of putting down roots? Where the hell had the restlessness inside him gone? Was it possible that on some unconscious level, he’d spent all those years hopping from one place to the next because he was searching for Gemma—sweet, sexy Gemma who tried so hard to be fake to protect herself—and now that he’d found her, the edginess inside him was gone?

Well done, dumbass.

The last thing he should be doing is falling for a girl who made it perfectly clear she didn’t want a relationship. He shook his head to get it back on straight and headed out the ambulance bay doors. Still dressed in scrubs, he made his way to Score for two reasons. One, he was starving, and two he wanted to check on Gemma. Worry for her mother was taking its toll on her. She was definitely right about one thing—that neighborhood needed another shelter. If he opened his own practice, maybe he could do it close to her mom’s neighborhood and combine it with a shelter.

What the fuck am I saying?

He hurried along the walkway and stepped into Score. He blinked against the dimness and shot a glance around. He heard shouts from one table as they zeroed in on one of the many overhead TV sets, but Gemma was nowhere to be found. He checked the back lot and found her car. She had to be home, or possibly out for a run with Gracie. He hurried up the stairs to her place, and knocked. On the other side of the door, Gracie barked. He knocked again, and concern moved into his gut. “Gemma,” he called out.

He waited for a minute, debating whether to try the door or not, when her soft voice reached his ears. He backed up and looked at the stairs leading to the roof. “Gemma. You up there?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice a strained shout.

He dropped his backpack by her door, hurried up the second set of stairs, and came to a fast stop when he found her lying on her stomach, sunbathing naked. Thank you, Jesus. His cock throbbed as his gaze fell over her, taking in the slight arch of her back, the soft swell of her perfect ass.

Oh yeah, they were going to fuck. Right here. Right now.

“You’re very naughty, you know. Sunbathing in the nude where anyone could come across you.” His gut clenched to think that any one of the guys in the bar could come up here for a breath of fresh air. He didn’t want anyone else looking at her, touching her—ever. Fuck.

She mumbled, and he had to strain to hear it. “I’m a real bad girl, Carson. What would your mom think if she knew the real me.”

His heart stopped, because
he
knew the real her, and in that moment, only one thought remained. He
needed
her. He needed her today, the same way she’d needed him all those years ago.

“Gemma,” he whispered, his heart crashing a little harder against his chest.

She rolled over and the second he saw her face, he dropped to his knees. “Shit.” He put his hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s the sun.”

“Like hell it is.” He scooped her up, and she moaned.

“My head hurts.”

“I know.”

He wrapped her in the towel beneath her, carried her down the stairs and took her to her bedroom. He laid her out, and glanced over her body, taking in the rapid beat of her pulse, the pallid color of her skin, and those red watery eyes that had tears welling up in them. “First things first. We need to get your fever down.”

He hurried to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, then grabbed his backpack from outside. He rooted around his medical bag until he found some acetaminophen. Bottle in hand, he raced back to her but heard retching sounds coming from the bathroom. He backtracked and found her on the floor, her head hanging in the toilet.

“Gemma,” he said, setting the glass on the counter and kneeling beside her, his hands going to her shoulders to help her.

“Go away,” she said, then threw up again.

He gathered her hair and pulled it back, ignoring her protests. She whacked at him, tears streaming down her face as she heaved again. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“Carson, please.” She sniffed. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’m not leaving, Gemma. So stop arguing with me.”

He sat with her on the bathroom floor for at least a half hour. She was so weak, she could barely lift her head. Once her stomach settled, he grabbed the water and handed it to her. As she rinsed her mouth, he wet a cloth and ran it over her forehead.

“We need to get the fever down. Do you think you can take some medicine?”

“I’ll try.” He carried her to her bed and carefully set her down. She moaned and rolled, kicking the covers to her feet. Carson hurried to the bathroom to wet the cloth again, and grabbed the water and pills.

“Can you sit up?”

He put his arm around her and slowly lifted her. She whimpered at the movement. “Here, try to take these.” She took the meds, tossing them into her mouth and sipping the water.

“Yuck,” she said, coughing slightly as they stuck in her throat.

He held the glass up and forced her to drink more. “Got them down?”

She nodded, and he lowered her and grabbed the cloth. She quaked slightly when he dabbed her body, working to cool her heated skin.

He sat over her for a long time, and when she began shivering harder, he covered her up and tucked her in. She eventually settled and fell into a restless sleep. Exhaustion pulled at him—he, too, needed sleep.

He left her room, grabbed a chair from the kitchen and brought it back. Propping it in the corner, he sat in it and closed his eyes. Sleep came quick but didn’t last long. He was up again within the hour, helping Gemma in the bathroom. Christ, whatever had hit her, hit her good. Throughout the night, he managed to get a few more pills and a bit of water into her, and she fell asleep just as the sun was rising. Gracie was fussing in the other room, and while he hated to leave Gemma, she was resting soundly and Gracie needed to get out to do her business.

He leashed her and took her to the park, gave her a quick run and then returned. Gemma was still asleep so he plunked himself into his chair and closed his eyes. It was nearing noon when he woke, and Gemma was just stirring.

Not wanting to wake her, he put his hand on her forehead and felt her hot skin. Shit. She still had a fever. He had to work tonight but couldn’t leave her like this. He wouldn’t.

“Carson.” She blinked up at him, her eyes still glossy. At the sound of her voice, Gracie came into the room, nudging her with her nose. “Hey, Gracie girl.” She made a move to get up.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

“Gracie needs to go out.”

“I already took her out.”

“Oh.” She eased back down onto her pillow, and Gracie whimpered and curled up on the floor beside her. “Thank you. But why are you still here?”

“Because you’re sick.” He sat on the edge of the bed and fixed the sheets around her. “You still have a fever.”

She looked around, her gaze zeroing in on the chair in the corner. “Did you sleep in the chair?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” She smoothed her matted hair from her face. “You should have gone home.”

“No, I’m right where I needed to be.” He put his hand over hers and brushed his thumb over her wrist.

“You’re always worried about me but you need to take better care of yourself. You work too hard, don’t eat right, and don’t sleep right.”

“Yet you’re the one who’s sick,” he teased.

She lifted her hand like she was going to jab his chest, then dropped it again. Jesus, her energy was low. “And if you don’t take better care of yourself, you’ll be next. But don’t worry, as soon as I get better, I’m going to make sure you eat and sleep right.” Her eyes drifted shut and for a second, he thought she was asleep again. “I’m going to take care of you, Carson,” she whispered. “I’m going to make sure you eat right at work, and sleep well when you’re off. We’ve been having fun, and I haven’t given enough consideration to what you need.”

His heart missed a beat as the flu broke down her defenses. Open, honest, kind, and lacking artifice, this was the Gemma he knew and loved.

Loved?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and struggled to find his voice. “Speaking of work,” he said quietly. “I have the night shift again.”

She nodded. “Go, get some sleep. Gracie and I are just fine.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“To work?”

“No, to my place. If I could stay here and take care of you, I would. But we’re short staffed, and I need to be there for the patients.”

“You don’t have a place.”

He nodded. After he’d found Gemma, she’d become his priority over finding his own apartment. “You’re right, and maybe it’s time I rectify that. But for now, I’ll take you to my parents’. They have air-conditioning, and you’ll be much more comfortable until this fever breaks.”

“I don’t want them to get sick.”

“They won’t. They got a flu shot.”

She moaned, and he stood over her. She turned and pulled the blanket over her head, hiding from him.

“You know I can still see you, right?”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“No.” He pulled the blanket from her head.

“Carson, I’m fine.” Her voice was as weak as her body.

“If you won’t do it for you, will you do it for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I’m at work worried about you, I won’t be able to do my job.”

She pursed her lips and rolled over. A long time later, she whispered, “Fine. I’ll go. Not because you’re being a stubborn ass, but because I don’t want to keep you from your patients. And I like air-conditioning.”

He wrapped a blanket around her and scooped her up. “Did you just call me an ass?”

“A s
tubborn
ass,” she corrected.

He laughed, and drew her hot body in next to his.

She blinked, her glassy eyes going to his. “Wait, what about Gracie?”

“She’s coming, too.”

Her head fell against his chest, her breath hot on his neck. “Your mother will hate that.”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then she’ll hate me.”

“Why do you want her to hate you?”

“To make it easier when we end this fake engagement.”

Her words hit him like a sucker punch. He didn’t fucking want this to be over. Gemma was sweet, vulnerable, kind, and cared about his well-being. Cared about him, as a man, not for what he could do for her. Possessiveness ripped through him. She was a runner, afraid of getting hurt, but he wanted to give her everything she desired, and more importantly, everything she
needed
.

So what the hell was he going to do about it?