Page 14 of In the Heir (Westerly Billionaire 1)
He held two pills toward her. “Take these. Do you want me to call Spencer?”
She dutifully swallowed them. “No. It’s just a fever. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” She met his eyes and saw the same stubborn look he’d had the night he followed her home a week ago. Had it been that long ago? “I don’t mind being alone.”
“He should be here.”
Alisha put the glass of water on the bedside table and flopped back. She was shivering but too tired to do anything about it. Her feverish brain defaulted to honesty. “Don’t call him. I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to lie. I just want to sleep.” She sighed in bliss when she felt him place a light comforter over her.
“What are you lying about?” he asked in such a gentle tone that she answered him without hesitation.
“Everything.”
“Does that include why you’re marrying him?” The corner of the bed dipped beneath his weight.
Double shit. Alisha’s eyes flew to his. “When my mother passed, I swore I’d never lie again. For anyone. It eats away at me. Do you know what I mean?”
He frowned. “I think so.”
Her eyes closed again and the rest drifted out of her like a confession. “But some lies are good, right? I mean, if they help people. That’s all I wanted to do—help Spencer. I didn’t know it would become this . . . all of this. I should have thought it through. How will Stephanie feel when we divorce? Can we tell the truth after he gets his inheritance? Will they hate me for lying? Spencer is counting on me, but I don’t know if I can go through with this.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye. “He has been so good to me. Your whole family has. I would do anything for them. I want Spencer to have his money. He deserves the same kind of chance you had.” She turned on her side and cried softly into the pillow.
“Shh,” Brett said from beside her as he placed a hand on her back. “I’ll make sure Spencer has what he needs. Go to sleep.”
He continued to speak to her, but his voice sounded far away. She knew she should force her eyes to open again, but she didn’t want to think about how wrong it was to have him there. She didn’t want to worry about Spencer or Brett at that moment. Normally, she wouldn’t be able to sleep with someone hovering over her. She never allowed herself to feel vulnerable like that.
That day, though, it was comforting. She fell asleep on her side to the soothing touch of Brett gently rubbing her back.
She woke in a sweat a few hours later. Instantly Brett was beside her, laying a hand on her forehead. “Looks like the fever broke. Good.”
Her eyes fluttered as she strove to remember why he was there with her. Bits and pieces of their conversation before she fell asleep came back to her. She took his hand in hers. “Brett, what I said earlier . . .”
“Yes?” he asked, his expression inscrutable.
“Please don’t say anything to anyone. Spencer is counting on me.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but didn’t promise anything. “How do you feel?”
“Better.”
“You still look like shit.”
She smiled weakly and dropped his hand. “You’re an ass.”
“I called my doctor. He’s coming by on his way to dinner.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s done.”
She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
“When you have a dick they call it commanding.”
Alisha chuckled. Brett was funny. Who knew? And nurturing. She was still trying to get over the fact that he’d spent the day at her house while she likely snored her fever away.
Unless I’m still sleeping. She brought a hand self-consciously up to her hair and groaned at her tangled mane of curls. If this were a fever-induced dream, I’d look better, and he’d be naked. Her face warmed at the thought, and she looked away.
I guess I’m feeling better.
“What are you thinking?” he asked and sat on the edge of her bed again.
She shook her head and regretted the move when her forehead began to pound again. “Nothing.” That I can say. “Thank you for staying.”
He smiled. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
It almost felt as if he was flirting with her, but Alisha told herself she was imagining it. In his own words, I look like shit. He’s not here because he’s attracted to me. “It’ll be our secret.” Only after the words came out of her mouth did they sound wrong. “I didn’t mean to make it sound . . .”
“Alisha, about what you said earlier—”
The sound of her doorbell ringing cut off whatever he was going to say. He looked down at his phone and said, “That’s Dr. Earl.”
Alisha sat up and was going to stand when Brett stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll get it,” he said. “No need to get up.”
“I didn’t realize doctors still made house calls.”
“Then you don’t know the right doctors,” he said with a smile that told her he was throwing her own words back at her.
“I guess not,” she said. Brett left the room to let the doctor in, and Alisha adjusted the comforter around her. Or the right men. This wasn’t her first rodeo. She’d known her share of men, slept with a handful of them, even fancied herself in love once or twice. None of them had ever taken care of her when she was sick. As she looked back at her relationships, she realized she was as much at fault as they were. She didn’t let them close because she didn’t want to need them.
It was different with Brett.
But he’s Spencer’s brother, she reminded herself.
A man who is now and will always be off-limits. So enjoy the idea of him, but it can’t go past that. She scooted to sit on the edge of her bed.
A thin white-haired man with an easy smile and a small leather bag followed Brett into Alisha’s bedroom. “Let’s take a look at your sick friend.”
Alisha stood to greet him, but felt weak as she did. She raised a hand to her wild hair, embarrassed to be meeting anyone looking the way she did. “Thank you for coming to see me. It’s probably just a virus that’ll be gone by tomorrow. I’m Alisha Coventry.”
“Dr. Earl.” He put his bag down on the corner of her bed. He looked around the room, then back at her. “I didn’t realize you went to school for medicine. Where’s your diploma?”
Alisha’s mouth rounded in offended surprise until she saw a spark of humor in his eyes. “I’m a kindergarten teacher. This isn’t my first cold.”
“Ah,” he said as he nodded in agreement. “You work in a petri dish of germs, so you’re a pro at this. Why don’t I have a look anyway?”
Brett stayed by the door while Dr. Earl took Alisha’s temperature, looked down her throat, and took her blood pressure. She had a feeling Brett would leave the room if she hinted that she didn’t want him there, but he stayed in case she needed him.
She answered question after question from the doctor and was relieved when he started gathering his instruments. “Probably a virus. Sounds like you’re over the worst of it and hopefully it’ll be gone by tomorrow,” the doctor said, then wagged a finger at her. “But don’t go getting cocky. If you’re still sick on Monday, give me a call.”
“I will,” Alisha said and took the card he offered her.
He gave her one last assessing look that ended on her left hand. “So when is the wedding? I hope I’m invited.”
Alisha quickly covered her engagement ring with her other hand. “Oh, we’re not—” We’re not . . . What struck Alisha silent was the sadness that accompanied her denial. We’re not engaged.
We’re not anything.
And we can’t ever be.
“I’ll walk you out,” Brett said smoothly and led the doctor out of the room.
Alisha covered her face with both hands. What am I doing?
Beside her bed her phone beeped with an incoming message. Spencer.
Rachelle said you’re sic
k so I won’t come by. Unless you need something.
She wrote back: I’m good. Sleeping it off.
Hey, I’m sorry about Monica.
Don’t be. It didn’t bother me.
You said that, but I’m still sorry. You’re doing me a favor by marrying me, and I’m acting like a complete ass. I was thinking with my dick and not my head. I should have thought about how it might make you feel. I won’t do anything to embarrass you while we’re married.
About that. Alisha took a deep breath and typed: I’m not sure we should get married. Before she had time to hit “Send,” though, another message from him came through.
I want you to know how much I appreciate you doing this for me. You are the most generous and caring person I know. All joking aside, I owe you big for this.
Alisha deleted her last message instead of sending it. The talk they needed to have would wait until it could happen in person.
