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СКАЧАТЬ still didn’t say anything, he shrugged and made his move. Sticking out his hand he crossed the room toward Sophy. “Hi, pleased to meet you. I’m Sam Harlowe.”

      She took Sam’s hand, smiled warmly back at him. “George’s doctor.”

      “For my sins. And every once in a while—though not necessarily at the moment—his friend. And you are—?” He still had hold of Sophy’s hand.

      “I’m Sophy,” she said. “McKinnon.”

      “Savas,” George said flatly from the bed, loud enough and firmly enough that they both turned toward him. He raised his chin and didn’t give a damn if the top of his head blew right off. “George’s wife.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      “EX-WIFE,” SOPHY corrected instantly, staring at George in astonishment. “You do remember that, don’t you?”

      George folded his arms across his chest. “I remember no one has filed for divorce yet.”

      “You said you would. If you don’t, I will,” she told him fiercely, then flicked a glance at Sam Harlowe. He was, of course, watching this exchange with the fascination of a man with courtside seats at the U.S. Open.

      “Well,” he said briskly, smiling as he did so, “I’ll just leave the two of you to discuss this, shall I? Nice to meet you, Sophy.” He squeezed her hand again, then raised a brow and gave her what could only be described as an “interested” look. The smile turned into a grin. “Let me know when you get your marital status figured out.”

      She didn’t blame him for being amused. From the outside it probably was amusing. From where she stood her marriage to George was anything but. But she managed to give Sam a wry smile in return.

      “I’ll do that,” she said, not because she intended to, but because it would obviously annoy George.

      “See you tomorrow,” Sam said to George with a meaningful arch of his brows.

      “Not here,” George said.

      “No,” Sam began.

      But George cut him off. “You said I could go home if I had someone to stay with me.”

      “You don’t.”

      “Sophy will do it.”

      “I—”

      George turned his eyes on her. “Payback,” he said softly. “Isn’t that what you came for?”

      “You said—”

      “I didn’t know, did I?” He was all silky reasonableness now. “I thought I’d be out of here today. No problem. But Dr. Dan here—” he gave a wry jerk of his head toward Sam “—thinks I need someone to watch over me, hold my hand, wipe my fevered brow—”

      “Kick your bony ass,” Sam suggested acerbically.

      George didn’t even glance his way. He sat in the bed, the bedclothes fisted in his fingers, his unshaven jaw dark, his eyes glittering as his gaze bored into hers. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?”

      She’d certainly like to kick his ass right now. Unfortunately she doubted that’s what he meant. “What are you talking about?”

      “Rent-a-Wife. It’s your business,” he reminded her, as if she might have forgotten. “I’ll ‘rent’ you.”

      Sam goggled.

      Sophy gaped. She couldn’t even find words.

      George could. “It’s simple. Perfectly straightforward. Like I said, it’s what you do. I mean, you did come and offer, but if you’re going to renege on your ‘payback,’ fine. I’ll hire you instead.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous.”

      He gave her a perfectly guileless look. “Nothing ridiculous about it. It’s sane, and reasonable. A suitable solution to a problem.” George was in professor mode now. She wanted to strangle him.

      He looked at Sam. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

      Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I—” And Sophy thought he might deny what George had said. But then he shrugged helplessly. “That’s what I said. You can go home if you get someone to keep an eye on you. If you take it easy. If you don’t do stupid stuff. No straining. No lifting. No running up and down the stairs. No hot sex,” he added firmly.

      “Well, damn,” George said mildly while Sophy felt her cheeks burn. He gave Sam a quick smile, then turned his gaze back on her. “Dr. Dan says I can go home.”

      Sophy ground her teeth. He’d boxed her in. Made it impossible to say no. But, why?

      It wasn’t as if he wanted to be married to her. Clearly he didn’t. Just this morning he’d been vowing—promising!—to file for divorce. And now? She pressed her lips together in a tight line.

      “How long?” She didn’t look at George, only at Sam.

      “Depends,” Sam said slowly, and she could see him go back into his doctor demeanor as he thought about it. “He needs to remain quiet. Besides the concussion, which he will still be feeling the effects of, he has a subdural hematoma.”

      He went on at length about the blood spill between the dura and the arachnoid membrane, telling her it was impossible to know how extensive the bleeding could be, that it might organize itself in five to six days, that it could take ten to twenty for the membrane to form. The longer he talked, the more detailed and technical Sam became. Sophy heard the word seizure and felt panicky. She heard the word death and her sense of desperation grew.

      “Then this is no small matter,” she summarized when Sam finally closed his mouth.

      “No, it’s not. So far he’s doing so good. But we’re not talking about Mr. Sensible here.”

      They weren’t? George had always seemed eminently sensible—sensible to a fault almost—to Sophy. She looked at him, then at Sam.

      “I’m giving you worst-case scenarios.” Sam assured her.

      “Thanks very much,” she said drily.

      “But it’s necessary. It’s why I won’t let him go if he’s going to be alone.”

      There was silence then. Sam waited for her answer. George didn’t say a word, just stared at her with that “is your word good or not?” look on his face. And Sophy wrestled with her conscience, her emotions and her obligations.

      “So you’re saying it could be days,” she said finally.

      “Honestly it would be better for him to have someone around for several weeks. Or a month.”

      “A month?” Sophy stared at him, horrified.

      Sam СКАЧАТЬ