The doctor breezed over the subject, instructing her to rest and treat the symptoms with over-the-counter fever medications.
Kara thanked him and gave him a tremulous smile before he turned to Simon, the two men talking quietly as they left the bedroom.
She sat up quickly, too quickly, and the room rotated for a minute before her head cleared. God, she was as weak as a kitten from the return of the fever and lack of food. She bent slowly and snatched her shoes from the floor, sitting on the bed to cram her feet into them without even untying the laces.
“ What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kara jerked up at the sound of the booming voice, her foot only halfway into her second shoe.
“ I need to get home,” she answered, uncomfortable now that she was alone with Simon. He was too big, too gruff, too demanding, too much of everything. There was something about him that made her feel off-balance, and it had nothing to do with her virus.
He swung her legs back onto the bed and pulled her shoes off. Damn. All of that hard work gone in seconds. Putting on those shoes had been an effort and she didn’t appreciate having to do it again.
“ You’re sick and you’re staying here,” Simon told her sternly as his dark eyes swept over her and he grimaced.
“ I can’t. I’m working tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”
“ You’re not working for at least the next week. I already called mom and told her to replace you.” His expression was disapproving as he covered her body with the comforter and sat on top of it, effectively trapping her. “ I also took the liberty of grabbing your keys from your backpack so that my assistant can go to your place and get you some clothes in case your roommate isn’t home.”
“ But I –”
“ Don’t argue! This discussion is over. I’m going to make you something to eat and you will eat it. Then you’ll go to sleep.” He stood and exited, the orders still reverberating through the rather impressive space of the bedroom.
Fuming, Kara sat up and debated whether she dared to spring out of bed and through the door of what looked like a condo. A very nice condo! The bedroom was spacious and decorated in shades of tan and black. Tan, plush carpet and masculine dark furniture dominated the room. The bed was enormous and sat on a frame of intricate black ironwork that supported a canopy of what looked to be tan silk with woven black and brown designs. It was a beautiful room, bold and dark, just like the man who owned it.
Did he really expect her to stay here? Yes, his mother was her boss and friend, but she didn’t know Simon and she wasn’t sure she liked him. He was bossy, impatient and expected people to jump when he said jump. Or stay when he said stay--sort of like a well-trained dog. Unfortunately for him, Kara didn’t take orders well. She had made her own decisions since her parents had passed away and the last thing she needed was a domineering billionaire calling the shots in her life. The only thing money meant to Kara was security. Other than that, she could care less about what money could buy; it was hard to miss material things that she had never had.
He called Helen to replace me? There was no way she could miss a week of work. Missing two days this week had already stretched her empty bank account. She relied on her tips to survive, and she didn’t get tips by sitting on her butt at home. She had missed two evenings because she had no choice. The virus had eaten her up and spit her out, leaving her prostrate on her bed and sicker than she had been since she was a child.
She sighed and leaned back against the pillows. She was so tired and so damned weak right now. All she really wanted to do was bury herself in this warm, comfortable bed and sleep until she wasn’t tired anymore. What would that be like? She couldn’t remember a time that she wasn’t exhausted. It had become normal for her to feel drained during the last four years; she only slept a few a night and her meals were sporadic, depending on what she could afford.
Kara looked up as she heard the clink of glass-on-glass and saw Simon coming into the room juggling dishes. She bit back a smile, thinking that it was a good thing that he was a computer geek, because he would never make it as a waiter. He had a glass in one hand and a plate in the other. A bowl was balanced precariously between his elbow and chest. She wanted to tell him it would be easier if he just put the bowl on the plate, but she bit back the suggestion.
“ I don’t know what you like,” he grumbled as he put the glass on the bedside table and handed her the bowl. He sounded cantankerous over the fact that there was something he didn’t know. “ Soup. Eat.”
Talk about a man of few words. He issued commands like a drill sergeant. “ Simon, I can’t stay here,” she told him softly as she accepted the bowl of steaming soup. Chicken noodle. Her favorite. Stomach rumbling from the tempting aroma coming from the bowl, she lifted the spoon and took a cautious bite. She could tell that it had come out of a can, but it tasted delicious and her rumbling stomach made her shovel it in like a starving woman.
“You are staying. Take these.” He scowled at her as he held up a hand and dropped two pills into her open palm.
Extra Strength Tylenol. She popped them into her mouth gratefully and reached for the glass. Simon handed it to her before she could reach it. She swallowed and handed the juice back to Simon’s waiting hand before replying, “ I have to work. I can’t afford to be off. I already took two days because I was sick. I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow.”
“You bet your sweet, exposed ass you will. I’ll make sure that you do,” he replied, his voice irascible.
Kara continued to eat her soup as she eyed his expression. He was serious. Dead serious. How did a sweet woman like Helen end up with a crabby-ass son like Simon? “You’re not my boss, Simon.”
“No, but my mother is and she agrees that you aren’t working. She didn’t realize you were still ill,” he told her, his expression surly. “Hell…I don’t know how she missed it. You have black circles under your eyes that make you look like a raccoon and you look dead on your feet. Mom’s definitely slipping. She can usually dig out any problem. Painfully, if necessary,” he rumbled, as though he were remembering a few of those painful experiences.
“I was feeling better earlier. And she was trying to help me find something to wear over my skirt,” she told him calmly as she finished off the soup.
“Where in the hell did you get that outfit? I’ve never seen you in anything but jeans,” he queried softly, dangerously. Kara quivered as his eyes roamed over the quilt, as though he could see her scantily-clad body through the material.