“Tallie!” Sophy protested. “This is not a reconciliation. I’m here for the short-term. I live in California. George lives here. We’re getting divorced.”
“You could change your mind.” Tallie wasn’t going to give up.
“Good night, Tallie,” Sophy said firmly. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”
She took a quick shower, then put on the elongated T-shirt she’d brought to sleep in, brushed her teeth, washed her face and had just turned back the duvet on the bed when her phone rang again.
Again it was a local number, but not the same one. Surely Tallie wouldn’t be calling her back to continue the conversation on another phone. No. Tallie was determined, but she would know when to back off.
George?
Sophy felt her heart quicken. But she hadn’t given him her number. She probably should have, she realized, so he could call her if he needed her.
She punched the talk button. “This is Sophy.”
“Hey, it’s Sam.” She could actually hear him smiling.
And while she liked him and had felt comfortable with him, she felt herself stiffen. Was he, as George had suspected, calling her up to hit on her?
“Hi,” she said cautiously.
“Checking on my patient,” Sam said. “Figured I’d get a straighter answer from you than from him.”
Sophy breathed again, feeling foolish. “He’s alive. Grumpy. Annoying. I took the dog for a walk at one point and while I was gone he went downstairs to his office to work.”
“You’re going to have to keep an eye on him.”
“I will,” Sophy said, feeling guilty.
“Tonight. All night.”
“What do you mean, all night?”
“If he were at the hospital, he’d be on monitors. And he’d have someone awake and checking on him regularly. You don’t need to be awake, but you do need to wake up and check on him regularly. And you need to be right there.”
“There?” Sophy said warily.
“Wherever he is.”
“In bed.”
“Perfect. Wake him every couple of hours. Make him talk to you. Be sure he makes sense. Call me if there are any problems. Do what you have to do.”
And just like that, Sam was gone.
Sophy stood there and stared at the phone in her hand, feeling a strange compelling urge to throw it across the room. Then she felt another urge to pretend she hadn’t got the call at all, to just crawl into bed and forget it. She could set her travel alarm and go up and check on George every couple of hours like Sam said.
Yes, and what if he needed her?
He wouldn’t call her. Not if he needed her. He was too bloody-minded to admit he needed help. But what if he really did?
“Oh, blast,” she muttered and, pulling on her lightweight travel robe, then dragging the duvet and her pillow with her, she climbed the stairs to George’s room.
It was dark. It was silent. He was probably sound asleep.
She hoped to God he was. She padded over to the near side of the bed and began to make herself a nest on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
So much for him being asleep. She kept right on making her nest. Gunnar came over to see what she was doing. “I’m sleeping here.”
“On the floor?” George rolled onto his side and peered down through the darkness at her. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Sam called. He said I’m supposed to stay with you. Keep an eye on you,” she corrected herself immediately.
“Did he?” George sounded all of a sudden in far better humor. “Good old Sam.”
Sophy snorted. “Right. Good old Sam.” She sat down on the duvet. It had felt warm and fluffy on top of her on the bed. It felt flat and thin between her and the floor. At least she’d be awake to wake him up.
“Don’t be an idiot. Get up here and share the bed.”
“I’m fine.” She wrapped the duvet around her and snuggled down with her head on her pillow. Gunnar stuck his nose down and poked her cheek. She reached out a hand and scratched his ear.
“Sophy.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Like I was fine climbing all those damn stairs.”
“Exactly.” She kept her back turned and snuggled farther down. Damn this floor was hard.
George said a rude word and Sophy heard the bed creak. She ignored it. She ignored him—until she realized he had got up and was dragging the duvet off his bed and throwing it down on the floor beside her.
She rolled over and sat up in the darkness to see his white T-shirt in the moonlight as he eased himself off the bed and down onto the floor beside her!
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
White shoulders shrugged. “Being as stupid as you are.” He stretched out on the crumpled duvet. “Which is pretty damn stupid,” he muttered. “God, this floor is hard.”
Sophy grunted. “Then get on the bed. You need to be on the bed, George.”
“It’s up to you,” he said.
She glared. She grumbled. She wished she could just say, Fine, stay there, and let him be as uncomfortable as she was. But she doubted that was what Sam had had in mind when he’d said to keep an eye on George tonight.
“And here you are again, making me do what you think is best for me,” she pointed out.
“And sometimes I’m even right,” he said mildly.
Which, damn it, was actually true.
“Fine.” She flung back her duvet and scrambled to her feet, flung her duvet onto his bed and plopped down on top of it to glare at him, which might have been more effective if she could really have seen him and not just the shape of him in the darkness.
“Ah, sanity rears its ugly head.” George grunted and tried to shove himself up as well. It was harder for him. Served him right, Sophy thought. But then guilt smote her. He was only in this shape because he’d saved a child’s life, because he’d put his own life on the line.
“Give me your hand.” She offered hers.
Immediately he gripped it, his long hard fingers wrapping around hers as he tried to lever himself up. It was more complicated that she imagined. He didn’t have his boot on, so had to be careful of his ankle as well as his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you did this.” She shifted to get a better grip, had to move in to slide an arm around him to get enough leverage to get him to his feet. “Of all the stupid—”
“Your fault,” he reminded her. But as she could hear the words hissing through clenched teeth, she didn’t think he was enjoying it.
Neither was she. Having her arm around George’s hard body, being so close she could smell the hospital soap, the disinfectant and something male that she remembered as quintessentially George unnerved her more than she wanted to admit. She shoved, hauled, hoisted.
And at last he stumbled to his feet.
“Don’t do that again.” His arm was over her shoulders and hers, still