She pressed a stethoscope to his chest and listened to first his lungs, then his heart. Nothing was out of the ordinary. In fact, the sounds were perfect. Even so, she glanced anxiously to the open door, waiting for Drake’s return. “Come on. Hurry up, please.”
Her mind churned. Maybe she needed to call an ambulance and have Harrison transported immediately to the nearest emergency room. However, if he was falling into a coma like her dad and Marian, he would want to be at home.
Of course, she hadn’t been present, had still been in Haiti at the orphanage, when her dad and Marian ingested the holy water and became comatose. So she didn’t know exactly how long Harrison had before the onset of the coma.
She rose to her feet, pressing her pockets in search of her phone but feeling only emptiness. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she dropped back down to the bed, breathless and weak. She was overexerting herself.
“Harrison.” She brushed a hand across his forehead, checking his temperature and smoothing his rumpled hair. “You need to wake up. Now.”
Since the moment he’d passed out in the vault, she’d gone into nursing mode, had thought of nothing but every medical procedure he needed. Even so, her chest burned with the urge to weep. Why had he done this? He was a perfectly healthy man with a long life ahead of him. He would have outlived her by decades.
Now she would most likely bury another person she cared about. She leaned in, letting her hand rest against his smooth cheek. “You can’t fall into a coma. I won’t let you.”
His eyelids flickered just slightly.
Her heartbeat stilled. Was he responding to her voice? Could he hear her? Maybe if she continued to talk to him, he’d work harder at clinging to consciousness.
“You know I need you, don’t you?” She bent low and pressed a kiss against his cheek, catching a whiff of his sandalwood aftershave. She loved his familiar scent as well as the smoothness of his jaw, the sleekness that came from having an old-fashioned shave every morning with a real razor blade and thickly lathered shaving cream.
She clasped his hand, and his fingers twitched against hers.
She sat up. He could hear her and was communicating as best he could. She had to keep him with her until the doctor arrived. Her mind scurried to remember all the information she’d reviewed about comas while Marian had been in one.
Physical touch. Yes, stroking gently was another technique that could work to communicate with coma patients.
She slipped off his glasses and then brushed his hair back from his forehead.
He didn’t react.
“Please never leave me.” Leaning across him, she kissed his other cheek.
This time, his breathing quickened against her neck. Though his eyes remained closed, she sensed her touch was getting through to him. She had to keep going, keep him reacting.
Maybe her method was unprofessional. But since it seemed to be working, she wasn’t about to give up. No one else was around to see her unconventional treatment. Besides, when he awoke, he wouldn’t remember anything she’d done. At most, he’d only have a vague recollection.
“Harrison, wake up.” She skimmed her fingers down his arm to his hand. The moment her palm pressed against his, he squeezed.
Her breath caught, and she examined his face, waiting for some other sign that he was reviving. She didn’t see any change in his expression, but hope began to twirl a slow waltz inside.
“Don’t give up.” She didn’t want him to die and leave her.
Was that how he felt about her? Was that why he’d been upset with her in the garden earlier? Because he wasn’t ready to let her go?
She understood now. With tears heating her eyes, she threaded her fingers through his. “I’m sorry, Harrison. I should have tried to understand your perspective and how difficult all this has been.”
She brushed a soft kiss across his lips. The move was platonic, wasn’t it? Just like the kisses to his cheeks were.
He pressed back so slightly she wasn’t sure she’d felt him.
She let her lips linger a fraction longer only to feel the movement again.
Her hope began to quickstep to a faster tempo. He was regaining consciousness. She could sense it. Before she could rationalize her actions, she let her mouth fuse with his more firmly.
She hadn’t kissed anyone since the summer vacation at the beach after her freshman year of high school, when her boyfriend had taken her for a walk along the ocean’s edge and told her she was beautiful. That was the last summer before Mom had taken a turn for the worse. Watching her mom’s suffering over the following months had forced Ellen to grasp the reality of the genetic disease she’d inherited. Ever since, she hadn’t allowed herself to get into a serious relationship, even though she’d had opportunities to do so.
After all, she’d seen no reason to give a man hope when there wasn’t any. She had no future to offer, even with the mature men who’d claimed her disease didn’t matter. They didn’t realize she’d end up a burden, holding them back from having a full life and eventually causing them grief.
Right here, now, none of that mattered. Nothing mattered except drawing Harrison out of oblivion and back to reality. If kissing him was the key to opening the door, she would use it to her advantage.
Besides, they were just friends. In fact, he was one of her best friends, especially after the past year of experiencing so much tragedy together.
But even as friends, she wasn’t immune to what a handsome man he was. She also wasn’t immune to the fact that he was one of the most eligible bachelors in England. He’d dated occasionally, but over the past year, he’d fended off advances from women, too busy and consumed with her care to make time for himself.
A part of her felt guilty for taking up so much of his life and leaving him no room for anyone else. But another part of her rationalized she would have done the same thing for him if their roles had been reversed.
And now, as a friend, she was obligated to do what she could to help him . . .
She moved slowly, delicately, drawing him further out of his unconsciousness. But with each tender stroke, she felt sweet warmth stealing through her, awakening her body to needs and desires she’d always refused to acknowledge.
Only when he released a soft groan did she grasp that he was kissing her in return and had lifted his hands to her back. His grip exuded an utterly irresistible strength, so that when he angled his mouth against hers, she felt like she was getting a taste of bliss.
He’s awake. Her brain registered the fact, but her overwhelmed senses didn’t process it, not until his hands slid to her hips. The caress sent a shudder of pleasure through her, enough to make her more fully aware that somehow the kissing had gone too far.
She froze and her eyes flew open. At the same moment, his dark lashes lifted, revealing his green eyes, half-lidded and filled with desire.
Did Harrison desire her?
Alarms went off in her head, and she dragged her lips away from his. For the duration of several ragged breaths, she hovered above him, his gasps coming in soft bursts.
His attention was riveted to her mouth. His fingers trailed up her spine to her hair, and she sensed he planned to kiss her again. Surely, he didn’t know where he was, or what was happening, or even that he was awake from his near encounter with a coma. He probably thought he was dreaming. Once he realized he was kissing her and with such ardor, he’d be mortified.