But when he pushed the door open, he found her asleep on the massage table, a blanket pulled snugly over her lithe form. He'd always thought she looked like she could be a dancer. With those legs that seemed to go forever.
He never got to see her like this—unguarded. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with her when she was conscious. She blamed him for everything. Every disgusted look she aimed his way said it. For years it had been this way between them to the point where he'd learned her schedule and avoided their paths crossing whenever he could. She would never forgive him, and that made two of them.
She was only one of many mistakes he'd made in this house. But she was the first, the biggest, and possibly the most unforgivable. No, she wasn't the mistake. He'd made the mistake. He'd brought her into the house and failed to warn her about Brian. She'd been the one to pay for his mistake, almost with her life.
Shannon looked so uncharacteristically peaceful in sleep. Lindsay's gaze drifted to her hand hanging off the edge, and then something orange on the ground caught his eye.
He was sure for a moment his heart stopped.
An empty pill bottle laid on its side at his feet.
No. No no no no no no. NO. Not this way.
He felt for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. Respiration had slowed.
He scooped her off the table and raced up the stairs to his room. He put her in the giant tub, robe and all, and turned on cool water. He got in with her, not even bothering to take his shoes off. There was no time. He opened her mouth and shoved two fingers down her throat until she vomited up the pills. He aimed her over the rim, so she didn't get sick on the two of them.
She coughed and spluttered. Already he was rearranging his schedule in his head. He had to stay up with her all night. All his appointments would have to be shifted. He couldn't sleep until someone else could take over watching her to make sure she was okay... and to ensure she wouldn't do it again.
She started shivering—a good sign, all things considered. She was disoriented, those doe-brown eyes blinking innocently as if looking on the world for the first time.
And then she saw him, realized it was him, and her face closed off.
“You fucking bastard,” she muttered. “Always riding in to save me. Did you ever stop to think maybe I don't want to be saved?”
It didn't matter to him what she wanted. He couldn't be responsible for her death on top of everything else. So as long as he was in this world, he was determined she would be as well.
He stood and got out of the tub and kicked his ruined shoes off. Then he helped her out. He led her to the shower at the other end of the suite's bathroom.
“Clean yourself.” It wasn't a request.
She pulled the cotton robe more tightly around her body, her teeth chattering from the cold wet fabric clinging to her slight frame.
Now that she was conscious, his gaze dropped to her erect nipples protruding through the fabric. He tried to focus on her face instead. She'd been moments away from death and this was what he was thinking about?
Oh, yes.
His mind was consumed suddenly with thoughts of ripping that robe off and shoving her against the tile wall and fucking her until she stopped seeing death as an old lover she wanted to go back to.
He pushed the images away. “I said take a shower.” He said it with every ounce of firm command he could muster under the circumstances.
“With you standing there staring at me like a big freak? I don't think so.”
Lindsay's jaw clenched, and then his hands involuntarily did the same at his sides. Since she'd been damaged beyond the ability to sell only three days into her stay at the house, her training had abruptly stopped. She wasn't a nun, but she wasn't like the other girls, either. No discipline. No rules. She'd floated for years in a type of purgatory.
She was beyond punishment. Who would dare after what she'd been through? And now? With her barely back inside the embrace of life? Could he start now?
Lindsay took a slow steadying breath. No matter how much the guilt ate him up inside, he wouldn't let her play him.
“I'm not going to watch you. I have a mess to clean.”
She glanced at the floor where she'd vomited up the pills and looked suddenly embarrassed.
“I'm a doctor, Shannon. This is nothing to me. Get in the shower.”
“Turn around.” Despite her ordeal, her voice was firm and stronger than it should have been. A welcome relief.
He bit back the urge to make further demands as well as the desire to take her and spank that attitude right out of her. Instead he turned away. It was the least he could give her after everything.
Lindsay heard the robe hit the floor, the shower door open, and the water come on. When the door closed again, he turned around. He could barely make out her fuzzy outline through the mottled glass.
He sighed and went to get a mop.
59
Shannon couldn't stop shaking. And then she couldn't stop sobbing. She just stood, pressing her forehead against the tile, letting the warm water run over her. How close had she been to death? She hadn't seen a bright light or a tunnel. What if there was nothing? What if she'd almost walked into an eternal dark nothing? On purpose.
She cried because she'd almost died, and she cried because she was still here. She couldn't decide which fate was worse.
And why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Lindsay? Of all the assholes in the world to just happen along. Why was he always saving her? Why couldn't he just let her go?
The first time she hadn't needed courage. She'd already lost consciousness... already bleeding out. All that had to be done was... nothing. If no one had interfered, it would have been over. And this time? This time she'd thought about it and tried to work up the courage to do it. And then in some crazy mad moment, drunk on fear and exhaustion, she'd somehow found the will. Once the pills were down it was too late.
Before she could panic or regret, she'd started to feel calm and drowsy. It was so easy to just lie down and rest and not think about it. There was no time to second guess as peaceful oblivion had slowly wrapped its seductive fingers around her.
And then everything was peace. Finally.
Waking up in the tub with him was just as awful and jarring as it had been waking up eight years ago in bed wrapped like a mummy. She'd never thanked him. And she didn't plan to this time, either.
It was with some effort that she managed to stop crying. She heard him come back into the room. She couldn't let herself cry in front of him. She tried not to think about what he was doing out there. It was so mortifying. But he was no doubt the one who'd made her throw up.
To get those pills out of her stomach.
She could smell the bleach like he was cleaning up a crime scene.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” she asked, the water still pelting down on her.
“It's no one else's business. Finish up. I left you some clothes on the counter. Come out when you're dressed.”
Shannon waited until she heard the comforting click of the door before she turned off the water. He'd left a towel hanging on a peg. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the shower. She wiped the steam off the mirror and grimaced at her reflection.
Yep. They were still there. She turned this time and looked at her back. She hadn't looked in years. She regretted it the second she did. They weren't red anymore. Now they were white just like the ones on the front. Somehow they looked angrier and even more unnatural this color.