Chapter 46

Harrison had just finished dressing Nathaniel's wound. The injury had worsened, infected and inflamed. The moment he lay down, his temperature spiked dangerously high.

He was shaking violently from chills. She cranked up the thermostat and piled every blanket she could find onto him, but his teeth kept chattering. Beads of icy sweat dotted his forehead, his lips drained of color.

A petty part of her thought he deserved this. Why hadn't he bothered to treat his wound properly when he'd taken Isabella to the hospital?

She administered an antibiotic shot to help his system fight, but the fever would have to run its course. Once it broke, he'd recover.

Harrison hesitated, then slid under the blankets beside him.

His skin was like marble against hers - shockingly, unnaturally cold. She couldn't just watch him suffer. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her slender frame against his back, trying to transfer her warmth.

Careful of his injury, she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

Nathaniel felt her immediately. The way her soft curves molded against him, separated only by thin layers of fabric. Then her small hand began tracing idle patterns across his abdomen, fingertips brushing over each defined ridge of muscle with deliberate, teasing strokes.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Harrison," his voice scraped raw, "I'm sick."

She knew. That's exactly why she was doing this. If basic physical stimulation could help regulate his temperature, she'd try it. She wasn't Isabella though - no guarantee this would even work.

Instead of answering, her explorations grew bolder. Her palm slid upward, coming to rest over his pounding heart. The contact sent electric currents through them both.

Nathaniel felt her growing restless against him, her touch turning from therapeutic to tantalizing despite his weakened state.

His restraint shattered. He seized her wrist, a rough growl tearing from his throat. "Harrison, stop."

Pressed flush against him, she could feel the exact moment his body temperature began rising. The way his muscles tensed beneath her touch.

A flush crept up Harrison's neck. "Your body doesn't seem as indifferent to me as you claim, Nathaniel."

He went rigid. The last thing he wanted was to acknowledge this visceral reaction to her.

Truth was, she'd stirred him before. Now, fever-addled and vulnerable, his body responded to her with humiliating immediacy.

He rolled toward her abruptly, jaw clenched. "You're impossible." A tempting little vixen.

First she'd drugged him in the shower, teased him with those maddening kisses. Now she was tormenting him while he was defenseless with fever.

Nathaniel clung to this justification for his desire. What man could resist her like this?

His skin burned where they touched. Mission accomplished, Harrison calmly closed her eyes. "Sleep."

Nathaniel lay stunned. Was she seriously going to leave him like this?

Exhaustion eventually pulled him under. In his dreams, he saw her - the girl from years ago.

During a mission gone wrong, betrayed by his own teammate, he'd plunged from a crashing plane into dense wilderness. Bleeding out as enemies closed in, vision blurring, he'd collapsed certain death was coming.

Then a child appeared through the trees, clutching a tattered doll.