“No.”
“Medication?”
“No.”
“Did you eat?”
Silence.
He stared.
“When?”
She looked annoyed.
“Lunch.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“I know what time it is.”
“Apparently not what food is.”
She glared.
He had now definitely crossed into employment-danger territory.
But her face was pale.
Her hands were trembling.
Rain had soaked through the elegant satin dress beneath her evening coat.
The Single Dad had seen exhaustion like this before.
His late wife used to become shaky when treatment days stretched too long and she refused to eat.
“Low blood sugar?”
he asked.
“Possibly.”
“Any diabetes?”
“No.”
“Chest pain?”
“No.”
“Trouble breathing?”
“No.”
“Head injury?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
He looked toward the hotel.
“We’re going inside.”
The CEO lifted one eyebrow.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“I can manage.”
She pushed away from him.
The world immediately tilted beneath her.
His hand returned to her waist.
This time she did not argue.
A hotel attendant ran outside with an umbrella.
The Single Dad recognized him.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
He pointed toward the pickup.
“My son’s in the back.”
The attendant looked.
The boy waved through the rain-streaked glass.
“Keep an eye on him for five minutes?”
“Of course.”
The Single Dad opened the rear door.
His son looked from his father toward the CEO.
Then back.
“Is she hurt?”
“She needs help getting upstairs.”
The boy leaned sideways.
His eyes widened.
“Isn’t that your boss?”
The Single Dad closed his eyes.
The CEO heard.
She looked toward the child.
Then toward him.
The boy continued:
“The scary boss?”
“Okay.”
The Single Dad shut the door.
The CEO stared.
“Scary?”
“He is eight.”
“He seems observant.”
“He watches too much.”
Her mouth curved slightly.
That was the first time he saw her smile.
It changed her face completely.
They entered the hotel.
The night clerk recognized her and nearly dropped a stack of papers.
The CEO lifted one hand before he could summon half the building.
“No calls.”
“But—”
“No.”
The clerk looked at the Single Dad.
He looked back.
“I’m just getting her upstairs.”
The CEO’s suite occupied the seventeenth floor.
The elevator ride was quiet.
She leaned against one wall.
The Single Dad stood opposite her rather than hovering.
Water dripped from both of them.
Her hair had begun drying in loose waves.
Without the parking-lot darkness, he saw how exhausted she really looked.
Not intoxicated.
Not confused.
Simply pushed far past whatever limit she had ignored.