Free Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) by Elizabeth Ruston Page A

might need to stand there for a long time before she started
feeling even halfway well again.  She had the flu, she didn’t doubt.  That
sick, passed out man on the plane the previous Friday must have given her the
bug.  Sarah had never been one of those germaphobic people who wore face masks
out in public, but she could understand the appeal.  She hadn’t been sick in
nearly a year.  This wasn’t the time or the place for it.
    She unhooked her bra, slipped out of her underwear, and stepped into
the shower.  The tile was dingy, the bathtub floor chipped in places, but it
was glorious, and she never appreciated hot water more.  She stood there
soaking up the heat, letting it penetrate her skin and bones, letting it wash
away the sweat and sickness until she began to feel almost human again.
    She thought she heard a sound, but the water muffled it.  She opened
her eyes and stuck her head out of the stream.  There it was again:  a soft
knocking on the bathroom door.
    Sarah jerked the shower curtain aside just in time to see Joe Burke
enter with an armful of towels.
    “Burke!  Get out!”
    “Good morning to you, too.”  He calmly laid the stack of towels on top
of the toilet seat.
    “Get out!” Sarah said again.
    “I’ve seen you in the shower before.”
    “Not lately.  What are you doing here?”
    “I thought you’d want a towel when you got out.”
    “No, what are you doing here —in my hotel room?”
    “Don’t you remember?” he asked.
    For one panicked second, Sarah thought maybe she’d blacked out—maybe
they’d . . . but no.  The last real memory she had was of puking her entire
life into the bowl of the toilet.  Even the most desperate man wouldn’t have
wanted a woman in that condition.
    And she doubted Joe Burke was desperate.
    “I slept on the couch,” he said.
    “What couch?”
    “Yours.  You walked right past me—didn’t you see me?”
    “When?” Sarah asked, still clinging to the edge of the shower curtain,
wondering how sheer its thin white fabric looked from the other side.
    “Right after you took off your robe,” Joe said.
    Sarah replayed the scene.  It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes
ago.  Had he really been right there?  And why?
    “You slept here?”
    “Yep,” he said.
    “Why?”
    “Mission of mercy.”
    “No one asked you, Burke.”
    “I know, but it seemed more fun than watching TV.”
    Sarah closed the shower curtain again and took a moment to collect
herself under the hot water.  Just that little bit of sniping had left her
exhausted.  She needed to crawl back into bed.
    “I’m getting out now,” she said, even though she’d planned on taking a
much longer shower.  “Do you mind leaving?”
    “I do mind,” he said, “but I’ll do it.”
    She stuck her face out again.  “You really slept here?  All night?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Why?  Was I . . . that bad?”
    “No, you mostly slept,” he said.  “Except for the times when you talked
in your sleep.”
    “I don’t talk in my sleep.”
    He shrugged.  “Must have been my imagination.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You know I don’t talk in my sleep.”
    “Whatever you say, Red.”
    “Don’t call me that.”
    Joe sighed.  “I can’t do anything right today.  I bring you towels—”
    “You barge in while I’m naked—”
    “I clean up your vomit—”
    “You didn’t,” she said, horrified.  “Please tell me you didn’t.”
    Joe shrugged.  “Feeling better?”
    Sarah thought about it for a moment.  “Some.  Yes, a little.”
    “You slept like the dead,” Joe said.  “I was hoping you’d wake up
better.”
    “The dead don’t talk in their sleep,” Sarah said, hoping he really had
been joking.
    “I heard my name a few times,” Joe said, “but it might have been
something else.”
    “Shut up.”  She jerked the shower curtain closed again and stood there
for five seconds more.  Then she finally shut off the water.  “I’m