Page 103 of The Player

For a second, he didn’t move. Then his hand came up and covered hers, and he held it against his chest.

Chapter Forty

Drew took the thermometer from Nicole’s mouth and tilted it toward the window.

“102.5.”

It had gone up since he got back from the store.

“I’m so cold.” She dragged the covers up under her chin, shivering. Drew brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. How the hell could she be shaking like that when her skin was this hot?

Neither of them had really slept. Sometime after three, she’d started shivering hard enough to wake him, and when he reached for her, she was burning up. Then she’d told him her period had started, too, because apparently the flu wasn’t enough. There hadn’t been so much as an aspirin in the house, so he’d pulled on his sweats and driven around until he found an all-night drugstore, then stood in the cold-medicine aisle turning over box after box, looking for one that said fever, aches, and cough. He’d come back with that, plus a thermometer, a few cans of soup, ginger ale, and the pads she’d made him say back to her twice before he left.

He set the thermometer on the nightstand beside the soup and picked up the water and the cold-and-flu tablets. “Here. Try to sit up.”

Nicole pushed onto an elbow and stopped there, eyes closed. “Everything hurts,” she muttered.

He slid a hand behind her back and eased her up against the pillows, then waited until she was settled before he shook two tablets into her palm. She swallowed them with a couple of small sips and handed him the glass.

“What else can I do?”

“You should go.”

That wasn’t what he meant. “Nicole.”

“I don’t want you getting sick.” Her voice came out rough, and she had to clear her throat. “You have that interview this morning. And New York.”

Their flight was tomorrow. He’d been trying not to think about it all morning, but there wasn’t any point pretending. She could barely sit up without help, so there was no way she was getting on a plane.

Nicole looked down at the covers. “I’m not going to be able to go.”

“I know, baby.”

Her mouth pulled tight, and she nodded without looking up. Then a tear dropped onto her shirt.

Fuck.

Drew sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her, but she put a hand over her face.

“I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for? You’re sick.”

“I know. I just—” She tried to take a breath, and it caught. “I really wanted to be there.”

“I wanted you there too.” He rubbed her back. “But it’s okay. You getting better is what matters. I’m not gonna have you dragging yourself through an airport sick as hell just to be there for me.”

That only made her cry harder. She wiped at her cheeks with both hands.

“Come here,” he said.

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Come here, Nicole.”

She leaned into him, and he wrapped her up, one hand on the back of her head. Her face pressed into his neck. He could feel the heat of her through his T-shirt, and every few breaths a shiver went through her.

He hated this. Friday, when he’d asked her to come to New York, she’d jumped into his arms and couldn’t say yes fast enough. He’d been thinking about it ever since: two days with her in New York before his parents got there, taking her somewhere nice, finally giving her the real date he owed her, seeing her dressed up for the ceremony. He wanted her there if he won. If he lost, he’d want her there even more.