Through the Night (12 page)

Very gently, he tipped her head back, his brow furrowed in a deep frown as he brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Jesus, Valerie, why didn’t you tell me you’d have this kind of reaction?” he demanded gruffly.

“It’s never been this bad.” Then again, she’d never openly subjected herself to such a cursed and haunted environment. And, dammit, she’d really wanted to do this for him, wanted to give him that lead he wanted so badly to complete the rest of the cane.

She shuddered from the brisk elements that had seeped deep into her pores, and when he slipped his hands inside her jacket, then beneath her sweater to help warm her chilled skin, she moaned her appreciation. His external temperature was like a fever, and she couldn’t get close enough.

He caressed his flattened palm up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her, creating familiar sparks of electricity. “What can I do to help make it better?” His worried gaze searched hers.

His touch was helping immensely, restoring her circulation and making her burn in ways she might have welcomed had her head not throbbed so damn badly. “I have some meds in the room, but it’s going to take time for the migraine to ebb. Just get me back to the hotel so I can lie down in a dark, quiet room.”

“We’ll be there soon,” he promised.

After that, the rest of the trip back to San Francisco was a blur. She let Chase take care of her, mainly because she had no choice. She couldn’t think straight, and he was there to support her when she just wanted to collapse in a heap and let the pain consume her.

When they reached the hotel, he picked her up in his strong arms as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her from the taxi and into the lobby, then up to their room. Once there, he set her on the bed and tugged off her jacket, then found her migraine prescription in her toiletries bag, and the cold compresses for her head.

He made her lie down, covered her with the blankets, and drew the shades to block out the late-morning sun now streaming through the window. Then he returned to the bed, sat down on the edge of the mattress, and pressed those talented fingers of his to her temples.

Normally, she couldn’t stand physical contact of any kind when she was dealing with a migraine of this magnitude, but she remembered the magic he created with those hands when he’d massaged her feet on the plane, and it was so easy to succumb to his skillful touch.

But even as she gazed up into his dark green eyes, she knew that the light caress of his fingertips was more than just a means to soothe and heal her aching head. His touch connected them in ways she never would have thought possible: deep, emotional ways that defied a normal physical response. Anytime his hands were on her skin, he made her
feel,
and right now every stroke of his fingers enveloped her with his warmth, his caring, his tenderness.

The realization of just how deeply their bond went caused a stirring of panic, one that told her she was letting him way to close. But right now, she didn’t have the strength to pull away from him, and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to. Not now. She was utterly exhausted and at her most vulnerable, and he was going out of his way to make her as comfortable as possible.

She couldn’t be more grateful that he was there for her, and managed to whisper her appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Shhh. Close your eyes, breathe deep, and relax,” he murmured, his husky tone flowing over her like a hypnotic spell.

She did as he ordered, moaning softly as he managed to hit all the right pressure points, alleviating the worst part of the pain. A temporary comfort, she knew, but she’d take whatever relief she could get. Tomorrow, when she was in a better frame of mind, she’d regroup and shore up her defenses against this man who made her want too much.

Between his gentle ministrations, his seductive voice, and the migraine medicine finally kicking in and making her drowsy, she welcomed the black void of nothingness awaiting her.

*   *   *

Chase sat on the bed next to Valerie for a while longer, until he knew for certain that she’d fallen into a deep sleep, finally free from the insufferable migraine that had sapped every ounce of her energy and strength. But even then, he found it hard to leave her side.

He still couldn’t believe that she’d endured all the weird paranormal elements at Alcatraz for him. He had no idea she’d suffer such an adverse reaction, and he couldn’t stop the guilt that plagued him at how badly she’d been affected. As much as he wanted the information on the cane, he never, ever would have knowingly jeopardized her health and mental well-being that way.

He adjusted the cold pack on her forehead and brushed a few wispy strands of hair away from her face, his chest pulling tight with a tenderness he rarely experienced. Normally, he’d cut off the emotion before it had time to fully develop, but there was no stopping something that felt so natural and right with Valerie. Especially after what she’d just been through.

Chase wasn’t a dote-on-a-woman kind of guy in any situation, but seeing her so weak and pale and in such excruciating pain had scared the shit out of him—and made him feel so damn helpless when he hadn’t been able to ease her agony. All he could think of at the time was,
Please don’t die on me,
and knew that panicked thought had stemmed from his failure to save his best friend when he’d lain dying beneath Chase so many years ago.

He wasn’t about to let anything like that happen to Valerie. She’d seemingly made it through okay, and he couldn’t be more relieved. But until he knew for certain she was back to normal, he planned to stand vigil over her for as long as it took.

Chapter Seven

Valerie slowly, gradually awakened. Her heavy lashes fluttered open over eyes that felt gritty and unfocused. She squinted, confused and disoriented when she didn’t immediately recognize her surroundings.

Curled up on her side, all warm and snug in her covers, she didn’t move, focusing instead on Chase, who was sitting upright on the bed across from hers. His computer was open on his lap, the glow from the screen the only light in the room, and his fingers tapped softly on the keyboard as he worked.

With each moment that passed, her foggy brain began to clear and she remembered that she was in a hotel room in San Francisco with Chase, who’d taken charge after her splitting migraine had all but incapacitated her. The worst was over and she was feeling more human again. Now, all that remained was a dull ache—nothing a bit of ibuprofen couldn’t handle, thank God.

Other vague memories filtered through her mind, of Chase stripping off her cumbersome jeans and bulky sweater at some point and dressing her in her tank top and cotton pajama shorts so she’d be more comfortable, and he’d even been gentlemanly enough not to remove her bra. He’d fed her soup, made her drink water, and made sure she took her medication. He’d helped her up a few times when she had to use the bathroom, and afterwards she’d crawled back into bed and fell asleep again.

She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat, realizing just how well Chase had tended to her as she’d drifted in and out of consciousness, and she couldn’t help but be grateful for his presence. Nobody had ever cared for her that way, and it was a huge thing for her that she’d
let
him see her at her most susceptible, given that she just didn’t let people that close.

He hadn’t noticed that she was awake yet, and she took the opportunity to just watch him for a while. Something on his laptop had his full attention, and the bright screen illuminated his face and masculine profile, and the way his dark blond hair fell haphazardly over his forehead.

Her gaze lingered on his full, sensual lips, then leisurely traveled lower. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she was treated to a breathtaking view of his broad shoulders and bare, muscular chest, all the way down to a flat, toned abdomen dusted with a light sprinkling of hair that disappeared beneath the cotton sweat shorts he wore. His thighs were strong, lean, and tanned like the rest of his body, and his legs crossed at the ankles—and geez, the man even had great-looking feet.

He was so sexy, so sinfully gorgeous, he made her all warm and tingly in feminine places, and she had to resist the urge to shift her thighs to relieve the slow, pulsing ache between. Oh, yeah, she was definitely feeling better. Much better.

Even though she could stare at him in all his naked glory for hours, she decided to let him know she was awake and still alive. “Hey,” she said, her voice a bit hoarse.

He glanced over at her, his expression reflecting surprise that she was finally conscious, which was quickly replaced by immediate concern. “Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

“I’m much better. The worst part is over. The migraine is all but gone and I just have a light headache, which is normal after an episode.” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand between their beds, the glowing red numbers stating it was 8:49, shocking her with how long she’d been passed out. “I can’t believe I slept all day.”

“And night,” he said, a grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. “It’s Tuesday morning.”

“Wow.” She rolled to her back and stared up at the ceiling, finding it hard to process the fact that she’d been out for nearly twenty-four hours. “That’s certainly a first.”

“You obviously needed the sleep to recuperate.” He closed his laptop, set it aside, then stood up. “I kept the room as dark and quiet as possible while you were resting. Will the morning sun bother you if I open the curtains?”

“Go ahead. I should be okay.” She turned her head and stopped midstretch just as he started toward the window, and
holy cow,
his backside was just as magnificent as his chest. His skin was bronzed, smooth, and taut over muscle, making her wonder what it would feel like to dig her fingers into all those tendons and sinews in the throes of white-hot passion.

She curled her toes beneath the blanket and released a stream of breath that sounded more like a sigh. Yeah, that was a heady fantasy. She might have made it clear that she wasn’t going to sleep with Chase, but he was still pure temptation and glorious eye candy. And she was a woman who appreciated a man who was physically fit and oh-so virile.

He gradually slid the heavy drapes open, giving her eyes time to adjust to the sunshine pouring into the room; then he returned to his bed and sat on the edge facing her. This close, she had to force her gaze to stay above his neck. But then again, his piercing green eyes and the intent way he looked at her were just as inviting as the rest of him.

She sat up in bed, slow and easy, and was relieved when her head didn’t rebel with a jolt of pain. A positive sign that she really was okay. She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, certain that she looked a mess after what she’d been through.

If she looked like death warmed over, he was polite enough not to say anything. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I made you eat some soup last night, but that’s about all you’ve had. I ordered up breakfast a while ago. There’s a cart in the other room with an assortment of stuff on it.”

He’d pretty much thought of everything. “Food sounds good. Are you going to join me?”

“Sure. I had an omelet earlier, but I could eat a Danish.” He grinned.

Her mouth felt a bit fuzzy, and she desperately wanted to brush her teeth. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you out there.”

He left, giving her some privacy, and she headed into the bathroom to freshen up. After taking care of more urgent business, she gave her teeth a good scrubbing, washed the smudged makeup from her face, and brushed her tangled hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

Feeling more presentable, she met him in the adjoining room and headed straight to the cart, which was laden with a variety of continental breakfast items.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I went with the basics.” He picked up a small plate and set a cherry Danish on it, along with a few slices of cantaloupe. “If you’d rather have something cooked, like eggs or a waffle, I can call room service.”

She shook her head. “No, this is perfect.” She selected mixed berries, a croissant, and a container of yogurt that had been chilling in a bowl of ice, then put her plate on the dining table before returning to the cart for something to drink.

He poured himself a glass of orange juice and passed her a coffee mug. “I got both regular coffee and decaf, because I wasn’t sure if the caffeinated stuff would mess with your head after a migraine.”

Was the guy for real? She couldn’t believe he’d put so much thought into what she could eat and drink. “Actually, I can have caffeine in moderation. It can even help relieve the last remnants of a migraine.” She went for the full-strength brew, stirred in cream and sugar, and returned to the table, where Chase was already sitting.

She dropped a few of her berries into her yogurt and stirred, wondering how he’d spent the past day while she slept like the dead. He’d probably gone sightseeing or maybe did more of his research stuff. Heck, he might even have gone to one of those estate auctions Russ and Angie had mentioned.

The thought that he might have seen Angie again caused an unexpected twinge of envy that she had no business feeling in their working relationship, and she quashed her feelings.

“So, what did you do yesterday while I was recovering? Anything fun?” She forced a casual tone.

“I didn’t go anywhere. I was here the entire time. Day
and
night.” He took a big bite of his pastry, looking mildly affronted that she thought he’d bail on her. “I wasn’t about to leave you alone, not when you could barely walk or think straight.” Then he frowned at her. “Why do you look so surprised by that?”

His direct question startled her because he’d read her so accurately. “Probably because I
am
surprised,” she replied honestly. Her ex-boyfriend had always ditched her when she developed a migraine after one of her “episodes,” as he called them. He’d become impatient and annoyed, as if she purposefully summoned the headache just to irritate him, and she’d learned to handle the aftermath on her own.