Page 22 of Flynn

“Yes.” She was so tired; she welcomed his strong arms around her and the feel of his solid chest. Snuggling against the man she had every intention of booting out, Ryleigh closed her eyes as he strode from the room and bounded up the stairs.

“Where?”

“The door is open.”

Flynn made his way into the surprisingly ultra-feminine room, which had a thick valance and colorful quilt on the bed, and laid her against the pillows.

“What should I get you?”

“The soup.”

He frowned at her. “Are you certain you can stomach it?”

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “If I cannot hold the spoon, you can always volunteer to feed me.”

The idea was so appealing to him that he felt himself staring at her before turning and leaving the room.

Bounding down the stairs, he went into the living room to put the soup onto the tray and found himself standing there and staring at the faux fireplace with the pretty picture above it. He was very protective of her, so much he could admit even to himself. And seeing her leaning against that column had tugged at something in his heart.

Now that he was here with her, he did not want to leave, which was bothering him. And he tried to slide into bed next to her. He had carried her in his arms up the stairs, and the feel of her slender curves against him had sent a rush of lust straight to his loins. He would have to get out of here as soon as possible.

He had work to do. He was busy, and the office complex had some problems attached to it, so he needed to sort it out. He had meetings with his lawyers, something he had been avoiding and should no longer put off. While he was here playing babysitter, he was falling behind. But damn, if he did not want to stay.

Letting out a breath, he left the room and went back upstairs.

“I thought you were making the soup all over.” Her dark brown eyes were too direct, and she felt like they were staring into his soul.

“I had to make a call.” He lied as he placed the tray over her lap. “Are you going to puke again?”

She smiled wryly at his bluntness. “I won’t know until I have eaten. I suggest you stay clear just in case,”

Instead of doing so, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she lifted the spoon to her lips. A smile tugged at his lips as her eyes widened. “This is damn good. It’s the bouillabaisse?”

He nodded. “You never had it before?” He nodded in approval as she scooped up another spoonful and ate.

“No. I am not much of a soup person.”

His phone rang just then, and he excused himself to go over to the sofa to take the call. She had the opportunity to watch him discreetly as he spoke on the phone, his deep voice lowered. She found herself wondering if he was involved with someone.

She knew he had been involved in a scandal involving the woman he had been seeing and his uncle some time ago. But aside from that, she knew nothing about his personal life. He was tall, she realized, possibly topping six foot three inches, and his muscles were well-defined.

His shoulders were broad, the silk of his sweater stretched across the width, and his legs were long and powerful. She had felt his strength when he carried her up the stairs, and the scent of his cologne was still in her nostrils.

Dragging her eyes away from the raw masculinity he was exuding, she concentrated on the soup.

Chapter 6

She had cleaned the bowl by the time he was through with his call.

“I guess I was hungry.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement as he picked up the tray and put it away. “I guess you were.” He studied her face. “How do you feel?”

“Full.” She admitted, rubbing her stomach.

“I mean the nausea. Anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing so far. I feel much better like I can always go back to work.”