Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

This was going nowhere. He wasn’t about to get sucked into a circular debate about what he’d done and why he’d done it.

“Lila, you have the flu. The best thing for you right now is to rest and drink plenty of fluids. Arguing is not part of that formula. Now I’ll get you some water—or tea if you’d prefer. Your job in this is to take care of the ‘rest’ part.”

Lila made a disgruntled face. “I don’t like tea,” she told him.

“Water it is,” he responded, heading out to the kitchen.

A couple of minutes later Everett came back with a large glass of water. He propped her up with one hand beneath her pillows while he held out the glass to her with the other.

Lila took the glass with both hands and began to drink with gusto.

“Sip, don’t gulp,” he cautioned.

“I know how to drink water,” she informed him, her voice still raspy. However, she grudgingly complied with his instructions. Getting her fill, she surrendered the glass.

Taking it from her, Everett slowly lowered her back down on the bed.

Lila’s head felt as if it was floating and there were half thoughts darting in and out of her brain. Her eyes shifted in his direction.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked.

His back was to her as he put the glass down on the bureau. Turning around, Everett looked at her quizzically. He had no idea what she was referring to. “Did I enjoy what?”

“Undressing me.”

Her voice was even lower than it had been before and he could hardly make out what she was saying. He filled in the blanks.

“I did it in my capacity as a doctor,” Everett answered.

Confusion furrowed her brow. Nothing was making sense. “Meaning you didn’t look?”

Everett had deliberately divorced himself from his feelings while he’d gotten her out of the wet clothes and into the jersey. But not enough to be completely unaffected by what he was doing. However, he wasn’t about to tell her that. That would have been deliberately buying trouble in his opinion.

Instead, he said, “Only to make sure I didn’t rip anything.”

Her eyes narrowed further as she tried to look into his. “I don’t think I believe you,” she whispered.

The next moment, her eyes had closed and within a few seconds, she was asleep again.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back, gently pushing her hair away from her face and tucking her back under the covers. “I wouldn’t believe me either if I were you.”

He’d gotten her out of her clothes and into the jersey as quickly as he could, but that didn’t mean that doing so hadn’t stirred something within him even though he had tried his damnedest to block out those thoughts and feelings.

He had been functioning as a doctor, but he was remembering as her lover and that image was really difficult to shake.

The next time Lila opened her eyes and looked around, she saw that she was alone.

It had all been a dream, she thought with a twinge of disappointment.

She struggled into an upright position, her body aching and protesting every movement she made.

She stifled a groan. She felt as if she’d been run over by a truck. A truck that had deliberately backed up over her then taken off after running her over again.

She struggled to focus, her head throbbing, impeding her thoughts.

How did she get here? The last thing she actually remembered was being in the restaurant—sitting opposite Everett.

Everett had been part of her dream, she realized.

All these years and she was still having dreams about Everett. Strange dreams.

She needed to get up, she thought.

Just as she was about to throw back her covers, Everett walked into the room carrying a tray.

He smiled, pleased to see her up. “You’re awake.”

Lila’s mouth dropped open as she stared at him. “I didn’t dream you.”

He set the tray down on the bureau for the moment.

“You dreamt about me?” he asked. He was practically beaming.

She became instantly defensive. “What are you doing here?”

“We went through this last night,” he reminded her patiently. “Don’t you remember?”

“I thought that was a dream.” She was repeating herself, Lila thought. She held her head. It was really throbbing. “I feel awful.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you don’t look awful,” he told her. “But you are sick.”

“No, I’m not,” she protested. She tried to throw the covers off again and found that the single movement was exceedingly taxing to her strength. What the hell had happened to her? “I have to get ready for work,” she told Everett defiantly, wanting him to leave.

Everett carefully drew her covers back up. “No work for you until you get well,” he told her, leaving no room for argument.

Didn’t he understand? “I’ve got people counting on me,” she told him.

“And if you turn up, you’ll be infecting those people.” She tried to get up again and this time, he held down her hands just enough to keep her where she was. “Are you familiar with the story of Typhoid Mary?”

Was that what Everett thought she was? A woman who wantonly infected people? “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Lila,” he told her. “But I am trying to get through to you. You’re sick.” Everett told her, enunciating every word slowly. “You have the flu.”

She felt like hell warmed over, but she still protested, “No, I don’t.”

His eyes met hers. “Which one of us went to medical school?” he asked her in a quiet, tolerant voice that only served to infuriate her.

She blew out an angry breath. “You did,” she said grudgingly.

Everett smiled. She had made his point for him. “You have the flu,” he repeated.

“I can’t have the flu,” she insisted. She looked up at Everett, her eyes pleading with him.

This had to be good, he thought. “Why?”

Exasperation throbbed in every syllable. “Because I just can’t.”

Everett decided to play along as if she had a valid argument that needed exploration. “Did you get vaccinated?”

“No,” Lila admitted, mumbling the word under