Ahhhhhh. His chest was not created for such heart-poundage.
Brandy shuffled up the side of the bed to his waist, and Zach just about fainted with all that intense heat leaking against his hip. He peeked under the crook of his arm, and blue eyes—like the sky, the sea, the cosmos in the garden—peered down at him. Dark hair framed his face so perfectly. This . . . this level of beauty was unlawful. Onlookers were at risk of accident with such distraction. And it all packaged the most decent person Zach had ever met.
“God, if you really mean to stay here, I’ve got to shower.”
Air shifted, and Brandy dipped, plucking Zach’s arm off his face with gentle fingers.
Heat throttled him. Just as well he had a low-grade fever to mask it.
“I don’t care what you look like.”
Of course you don’t, you unbelievably perfect gentleman. Lean any closer and I’m not responsible for the invasion that will meet your mouth.
Except, maybe Zach shouldn’t ruin what they had, for Brandy’s sake? It would make Brandy feel bad if he knew Zach had unrequited feelings. Zach didn’t want to unload that on him.
And Brandy couldn’t catch this awful cold.
Zach should . . . he shouldn’t.
“Please stay in bed, Zachary?”
Zachary. Oh, God help him. He was melting. How did Noah ever control these feelings?
He swallowed and swallowed some more. “You really took the day off for me?”
“I’ve been working a lot, recently. Too much. You’ve been right about that. About needing to find a balance. I didn’t need to go in today, and seeing you like this, I didn’t want to.”
Um. That was . . .
He bit his lip.
“If you’re sure I won’t drive you away with my stink . . . would you climb into bed next to me?” Zach hurriedly added, “Noah does, when I’m sick. I’m a drama queen; it always calms me down.”
Brandy’s eyes narrowed again, softly, like he was puzzling something in his head. Maybe the likelihood of his catching anything if he agreed.
“Or, I mean, the armchair next to the open window is fine too.”
Brandy smiled softly and started plucking open his nice clean button-up.
Zach scrambled into a sitting position, knees coming up to his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Taking off a layer.”
“Metaphorical layers only!”
An arched brow. Brandy continued removing his shirt, revealing the white tank top underneath. “If I’m climbing in bed with you, I want to be comfortable.”
“I changed my mind. The armchair. Definitely the armchair.”
Unexpectedly soft laughter fell from Brandy’s lips, and he loosened his pants.
Colourful boxer-briefs. Zach slammed his eyes shut. The bed dipped next to him, pillows were fluffed, and a bare leg briefly skimmed his.
Movement paused; the silence had a heavy thinking quality to it. Then Brandy said quietly, “I never thought I’d see this side of you.”
Frantically, Zach pinged his eyes open. Brandy was leaning against the headboard, propped up on his pillows. Zach pushed up to the same level. “What side?”
“The shy side.”
“I’m not shy. This is . . . this is the illness.”
Brandy met his eyes. “I never thought illness would look so charming on you.”
Charming?
Zach spluttered. “I’ll be better in a day or two. And there’ll be absolutely no more shyness.”
Brandy smiled and found his sweaty hand under the sheets. He squeezed, and electricity riddled Zach’s arm. “It’s okay, Zach. I understand.”
Understood what? His real feelings? Or the ones he blamed on illness?
He blanched. The latter. Right?
“You look pale. You should try to sleep.”
Like Zach would be sleeping any time soon. Or ever again.
A hand landed on his shoulder and massaged him. “Deep breaths. Relax.”
“The illness makes that very, very difficult.”
“Okay, how about this. You ask me questions and I’ll answer them.”
“That’s supposed to relax me?”
“Maybe lull you to sleep?”
“I wouldn’t want to miss anything you said.”
“If you do, I’ll tell you again sometime.”
Zach dared a glance at the genuine kindness radiating from Brandy. It all made him hotter. He slammed his eyes shut. “Okay, I’ll try to sleep, and you tell me . . .” That you’re completely in love with me. “. . . you tell me . . .” That you want, quite frankly, to ravish me, ill or not. “. . . what you’d wish for, if I could make it come true.”
“Ah. That’s . . . no longer necessary.”
Zach frowned, and Brandy’s finger smoothed his brow, a dazzlingly soft touch.
“You have to choose something.”
“Then I wish you’d never swerve to avoid a possum again.”
“If I make that come true, will you let me drive your car?”
Brandy’s hum was not the most promising.
“If this is going to last, you’ll have to trust me eventually.”
That finger again, nail skipping over his eyebrow. “You’re right. If I’m next to you, you can drive.”
“Brandy!”
“Take it or leave it, Zachary.”
“Don’t stop that forehead thing. It’s . . . relaxing. And . . . fine, I’ll take it. But so you know, I’d never bash up your car.”
