“You are b—” he began but stopped. She watched him seal his lips shut and work his jaw before starting again. “—bound to be an excellent nurse. Are you this kind to everyone?”
Meredith thought of Jamie and gently withdrew her hands. “Hardly,” she said, getting to her feet.
“Then that makes me lucky,” he said, those potent blue eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you. That helped.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, picking up his glass again and backing toward the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
But Meredith needed more than a minute. Every inch of her skin thrummed with energy, and it took several deep breaths for the feeling to pass. She needed to be more guarded. More careful. Touching him… cradling him… looking into his eyes. She wanted to do those things for all the wrong reasons. He said she’d make an excellent nurse, but no nurse worth her salt would allow herself to cross the line of professionalism Meredith could easily picture crossing when it came to Gray Blakewood.
Besides, she reminded herself as she served their plates and buttered French bread, she had no business crushing on anyone. She had… done things… with Jamie just last night. What did that make her? What kind of woman shared a bed with the father of her child one night and then stared longingly into the eyes of another the next day?
“A slut,” she muttered aloud.
“What’d you say?” Gray called through the open bathroom and utility room.
Startled, Meredith said the first thing that came to mind. “I-I said ‘it’s hot.’” She immediately reached for the oven and turned on the broiler.
“What’s hot?”
“The broiler. I’m making garlic bread.”
A second later, she heard a soft “Yum” come from his bedroom, as though he’d said it just to himself. And then, low and gentle, “Be careful in there.”
Meredith set down the butter knife and went completely still. It had been years,years, since anyone other than Brooke had told her to be careful. She closed her eyes, gripped the edge of the counter, and let herself feel it. The blessing of care.
It was something she’d taken for granted growing up. Until it was gone. Meredith Ryan would never take it for granted again. And hearing the words from Gray made her all kinds of weak, so it was another few minutes before she could finish the garlic bread.
She found a set of crawfish trays in the long cabinet by the stove and loaded each with a plate, a napkin, silverware, and a glass of water. Balancing each carefully, Meredith returned to Gray’s room and placed a tray in his lap. “Here you go. I should have made a salad and some tea, but—”
“Stop,” he said, eyeing her sternly. “You cooked all morning. Don’t you dare think this isn’t wholly phenomenal.” He picked up his fork and twirled it through the pasta and sauce. Meredith turned to carry her tray back to the chair in the corner before he stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
She glanced back to see him holding his loaded fork midair. “I’m going to sit down.”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Uh, no. If I’m eating in bed, so are you. Otherwise, it’s just pathetic.”
Giggles erupted from her unchecked. He couldn’t be serious. “You’re joking.”
With his index finger, he jabbed at the spot beside him on the bed. “Come here.”
Meredith sucked in a breath, but she didn’t move.
“We’ll sit together here and have a picnic on this mattress or we’ll sit together in the kitchen.”
He was totally serious. And she was not about to make him get up. Meredith kicked off her ankle boots and climbed with her tray onto the foot of his bed, but she settled herself there by his blanketed feet. Leaning on the headboard next to him was out of the question. Way too intimate. And it would be too easy to touch him again.
She crossed her legs and rested the tray in her lap. He held his fork aloft until she picked up her own. Then he took a bite. Meredith watched him close his eyes.
“My God, woman. Where did you learn how to cook?”
She smiled but gave a little sigh. “I would love to say my mom taught me, but really, I learned from Leona.”
Gray took another bite, chewed, savored, and swallowed. “Who’s Leona?”
She’d just tasted her first bite, and she had to admit that her spaghetti sauce was better than any her mother had ever made. The secret was fire-roasted tomatoes.
“Leona is Jamie’s mom.”