the tears from her cheeks, she hoped with all her heart that Brett had gotten tired of waiting and left the hospital to pursue other interests for the evening. She took pride in her job and had worked very hard to earn her position as a special investigative detective. When she was on duty, as she had been this evening, she never allowed anyone to see her as anything but a consummate professional. Ever.
But Brett had witnessed her weakness, her vulnerability. It would be humiliating enough to face him on Monday morning when she began interviewing the Connelly family. Tonight it would be downright impossible.
Tucking the prescription and blister packs of medication the doctor had given her for nausea into her shoulder bag, she pushed open the door of the tiny examining room and walked out into the hall. She almost groaned out loud. There Brett stood looking as tall and handsome as ever.
He whirled around at the sound of her footsteps, and the look on his face surprised her. She would have expected a sullen impatience about him for the inconvenience she’d caused. Her ex-husband, Michael, had always worn that look whenever she’d done something to interrupt his plans. But Brett’s expression held nothing but concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked, closing the space between them to place his hands on her shoulders. She found the warmth from his palms oddly reassuring.
She nodded but couldn’t meet his worried gaze. How could she? She was far too embarrassed. He’d witnessed her at one of the lowest moments of her life.
“Is there someone I should call?” he asked. “A husband or friend?”
Still unable to meet his gaze, she shook her head. “There’s no one.”
Placing his forefinger under her chin, he lifted her face until their gazes met. “I’m really sorry, Elena,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I should have listened to you when you said you weren’t up to having dinner with me. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being an insensitive fool?”
His gentle touch, the sincerity in his words and the apologetic look he gave her caused tears to flood her eyes again and a huge lump to form in her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a man apologize to her for anything, let alone ask for her forgiveness. In the entire four years of her marriage, Michael had only expressed regret a couple of times and he’d never asked for her forgiveness. Not the first time, when she’d discovered he was having an affair. Not the last time, when he’d told her he was moving out to live with the woman he’d been sleeping with for the previous six months of their marriage.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, forcing words past the tightness clogging her throat. “But you shouldn’t have waited. I’m sure you have more entertaining things to do with your evening than stand around the hospital.”
“No problem,” he said, smiling. He held her coat for her. “When we get to your place, I’ll call and have some food delivered.”
Elena shook her head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I’ll catch a cab and fix something for myself when I get back to my apartment.”
“The doctor said you needed to start eating regular meals and getting more rest.” Brett ushered her toward the exit at the end of the long corridor. “You can’t possibly do that if you have to cook for yourself. Besides, it’s late and you’re tired. You need to put your feet up and take it easy.”
“I’m used to fending for myself,” she argued. Tears were threatening again, and she had to get away from him before she humiliated herself further with a crying binge.
“It’s the least I can do. I feel responsible for you spending your evening in the E.R.”
As they walked out into the bitterly cold night, he put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her to his side to shield her from the brisk wind blowing in from Lake Michigan and the snow that had begun to fall. Before she could find her voice to tell him that he owed her nothing, he had her settled in the plush leather passenger seat of the Jaguar and was sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Do you think your stomach would be okay with soup?” he asked.
“I think so, but you don’t have to—”
“Elena, I do have to,” he interrupted. “I should have listened to you. But I didn’t, and my lack of sensitivity put you and your baby in danger. I’m really sorry, and I want to make it up to you. Please allow me to do that.”
That did it. The combination of his heartfelt apology, the self-reproach reflected in his blue eyes and her unstable hormones touched something deep inside of Elena that she’d thought long dead. Her eyes flooded with tears, and she quickly turned away before he noticed.
But it was too late. He had noticed.
He immediately pulled her into his arms. “Elena, honey, please don’t cry.” Brett held her close and caressed her cheek with his hand while she sobbed. “Everything is going to be all right. You and the baby will be just fine. The doctor told me that you need more rest, and I’m going to make sure you get it.”
Her tears fell faster. Great! Not only was she crying because of her pregnancy hormones, she was also shedding tears of utter humiliation that he’d witnessed her collapse at the restaurant and her teary breakdown now.
His warm embrace, the feel of his arms tightening around her to draw her to his wide chest, almost made her believe he meant what he said. Almost. But having been married to a man just like Brett, she knew better. Men would say anything to get themselves off the hook or to manipulate a woman into doing what they wanted.
But at the moment she was too tired and emotionally drained to protest. All she wanted was to go home, crawl into bed and forget this day had ever happened.
When she finally felt in control enough to speak, she gave him the address of her apartment building. “Please, just take me home.”
Nodding, he released her, started the car and shifted it into gear. “That’s not far from here. I’ll have you home in no time.”
Brett looked around as he pulled the Jag to a stop behind a waiting cab in front of a shabby four-story building. Although it was a respectable middle-class neighborhood, it was clear to see that her landlord hadn’t seen fit to keep his property maintained.
“Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Connelly.”
Brett’s brow rose at the formal use of his name and the hand she offered for him to shake. So she was trying to turn back time and return to a business-only acquaintance.
Well, that was just too damned bad, he decided, ignoring her gesture. He’d spent a good two hours in the E.R. worrying about her, and that, in his opinion, took them well beyond a business association.
Besides, whether she admitted it or not, she was extremely fragile right now. She needed someone to be there for her, to lend her moral support. And since he was partly to blame for her problems this evening, Brett felt obligated to see that she was comfortably settled before he bade her good-night. The fact that he liked the way she felt in his arms had no bearing on his decision at all.
Getting out of the car, he opened the passenger door before she could do it herself. He’d told her that he’d make sure everything was fine for her and her baby, and he had every intention of carrying through on his promise.
“Mr. Connelly—”
“Brett.” He smiled down at her. “I think we’re well past the formalities, Elena. Now, let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
The cold February wind whipped the falling snow into their faces, and he placed his arm around her to hold her close. He told himself that it was just to keep her warm, to shield her from the frigid wind. But her small body pressed against his felt wonderful and he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel without the cumbersome layers of their coats.
As they reached the steps to Elena’s building, a rotund lady in her fifties carrying