Luke’s call rolled to hold. He listened to sappy elevator music while watching Rae sip water. She’d scrubbed away the meticulous eye makeup and bold lipstick of Regan Devereaux. She’d dressed down in baggy pajama pants, a bright green hoodie, and fuzzy slippers. She didn’t look like the daughter of a Hollywood celebrity. She didn’t look filthy rich. She looked real.

And sweet.

His heart jerked just as the receptionist answered. “Doctor Worton’s office. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Leslie. Luke Monroe. Can I get a quick word with Doc?”

“He’s with a patient, Luke.”

“I need some medical advice.”

“Nurse Dunlap’s available.”

“Great. Thanks.” Jane Dunlap was a registered nurse and practiced alongside Worton. She was also another ex of Luke’s, although they’d never slept together. “Yeah. Hey, Jane.”

“Luke. Everything okay?”

He froze for a second wondering the best way to approach this while honoring Rae’s reputation. If he was too cryptic about a “friend” in need, Jane might pry and even if he skimped on details, he’d be setting himself up for gossip. Sugar Creek thrived on juicy dirt—real or embellished. “Here’s the thing. I think I got slammed with food poisoning. Spent the night gushing out both ends, if you get my drift.”

“Loud and graphically clear. Anything else?”

“Dizzy, sweating.”

“Classic signs. How are you now? Still throwing up?”

“No. All that ended about a half hour ago.”

“Feeling feverish or chilled.”

“Feverish or chilled?” he repeated.

Rae shook her head.

“Nope. Just weak as hell.”

“That’s to be expected,” Jane said. “When did it start? Did it last more than twenty-four hours?”

“About half that.”

“Sounds like a mild case of food poisoning or a plain old bug. Rest, drink lots of water, and try to keep down some chicken broth.”

“That’s it?”

“Based on what you’ve told me,” Jane said. “If the symptoms lasted longer than two days or if you had a high fever or if you were a child under three or a pregnant woman, I’d suggest seeking medical attention just to be safe. Doctor Worton has a full schedule today but if you’re worried—”

“No. I’m good. Thanks, Jane.” Mouth dry, Luke disconnected and glanced around for Rae’s suitcase. Not seeing one, he made a beeline for an antique bureau. Unlike his drawers at home everything was neatly folded, even her underwear and socks. He bypassed the silk and lace bras and thongs, opting for one of those cami tops and a pair of wool socks. Long-sleeved pullover, jeans …

He dumped his haul on the bed and peeled off her thin pajama bottoms.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you into some warm clothes.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” He met her panicked gaze and tempered his own misgivings as he helped her into the jeans. “Just to be on the safe side.”

His heart did another funny jerk when she blinked back tears and said, “Okay.”

* * *

The closest hospital was in Pixley—a thirty-minute drive on a clear day. Given the icy conditions it would take longer. Rae was glad Luke was driving and not her. Not that she was capable of driving.

Rae couldn’t remember ever being this sick, feeling this weak. After helping her to dress (something she didn’t want to think about right now) and grabbing her purse, Luke had carried her to his car. She hated the way people stared as he whisked her through the lobby, but it would have taken them twice as long if she had tried to walk. At this point, she wanted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. She needed to know that she hadn’t put her baby at risk because of a stupid food craving.

Fear and guilt caused her to blurt her mind. “Admittedly, I only scanned one article on food poisoning last night, but it didn’t mention anything about a pregnancy risk.” Heart heavy, she slouched against the passenger door as Luke veered onto the main highway. “I should have called for help sooner. I just … I didn’t realize it was going to get so bad.”

“Shouldn’t you be traveling with a personal assistant or a bodyguard or two?”

She frowned, perplexed by the turn of conversation. “Why would I do that?”

Luke shrugged. “Paris Hilton. Ivanka Trump. Don’t heiresses typically travel with an entourage?”

Amazingly, she didn’t detect sarcasm in his tone. The Luke who’d rushed to her rescue today reminded her of the charming man she’d initially fallen for, not the angry man who’d tracked her to Bel Air. “The last thing I want is an entourage. Yes-men. People who cater to your every whim while taking advantage of your prestige and fortune. Olivia’s cup of tea, not mine.”

“Then what about a bodyguard?”

“Why?”

“To protect you. Watch over you. You’re worth a lot of money. What if someone tried to kidnap you for ransom?”

“I don’t think that’s an issue.”

“What about the paparazzi? We’ve all seen how they hound celebrities. Look at what happened to Princess Di.”

“I’m not royalty. And I’ve made it a lifetime mission to avoid the paparazzi.” In spite of her anxiety, she managed a small smile. “I’m actually pretty good at it.”

Eyes locked on the road, Luke grunted.

“Are you worried about me?”

He caught her gaze and her heart fluttered. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

“Because of the baby.”

“That’s part of it.” He focused back on the road. “Hell, Rae. Seeing you down for the count, knowing you suffered through the night alone. Considering some of the more seedy ramifications of your new social status … I’d be worried about any woman in your position. You’re vulnerable.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She didn’t want pity. Nor did she want to be smothered by unwanted attention. “Sam said I’m a warrior.”

“Sam’s trying to get in your pants.” Luke held up a hand before she could protest. “Sorry. I won’t go there.”

“You already did.” Rae shifted her focus to the passing scenery. The snow-covered mountains, the occasional farm. She tried to lose herself in the beauty and serenity of the rural landscape, but there was no comfort to be had. Not with Luke tangling up her nerves and senses. How could he be so kind one second and a jerk the next? Although when she thought about it, almost every man in her life had treated her with a duality that made her head spin and her heart ache. She always ended up disappointed or hurt. Part of the reason she didn’t trust easily. Since their confrontation in Bel Air, she definitely didn’t trust Luke.

Yet he’d been her first cry for help.

Not Sam. Who’d only treated her with respect and kindness.

Luke.

“You okay, hon?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“What?”

She kept her gaze on the cold mountains, hoping to somehow freeze her heart. “Hon. You call every woman hon.”

“I do?”

“All the time.”

He fell silent for a moment then asked, “You think that’s chauvinistic?”

“I think it’s…” She closed her eyes, trying to wrangle a sensible argument. Right now she couldn’t come up with anything better than it made her feel ordinary. As if there was nothing special to set her apart from any other woman he’d ever flirted up or slept with. Which was sort of needy and pathetic on her part. “Never mind.”

They fell into a tense silence.

Luke turned on the radio, though he kept the volume low.

Alison Krauss.

Rae had always liked Luke’s taste in music. At the Shack he pumped in classic rock and country pop. She tried to focus on the soothing ballad, but her mind was fixed on her baby. Was she all right?

“How you feeling, Rae?”

Rae, not hon. A lump lodged in her throat. “Lousy.”

“Need me to pull over?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Stop thinking the worst.”

“I’m not…” She shook off the lie. “I can’t help it.”

“Think about something else. Tell me what’s up between you and your mom. Why are you on bad terms? What’s up with her husband?”

“I don’t have the energy.”

“All right then I’ll talk. Back in Bel Air, you asked about my family. How about I bring you up to speed?”

Weary, queasy, she sighed and relaxed against the leather seat. “Okay.”

“You know about Gram and Chloe’s café, Moose-a-lotta. It caught on like wildfire. Aside from themselves, they now have a staff of five. Chloe and Dev have been living together now for almost five months. She still hasn’t agreed to a wedding date, which drives my brother crazy, but she’s got some sort of superstition thing going on with her pregnancy and his past.”

Rae swallowed. “Chloe must be about six months along now.”

“Mmm.”

“And Monica’s expecting now, too. Sam told me. I’m so thrilled for her.”

“Everyone’s thrilled. Happened when Leo took her to Paris as a way of resparking their marriage.”

“And in the process they made a baby. Twins. How romantic.”

“You know Leo. Not a hearts-and-poetry guy, but yeah. What you said. Speaking of happy endings,” Luke said, skating over baby talk. “Rocky and Jayce are getting married—day after Valentine’s Day—and Gram and Vince are living together in Vince’s house. Daisy’s still copping to the ‘just friends’ living together for companionship thing. No one believes it, but no one pushes. Especially family.” He frowned. “Who wants to think about their grandma getting it on? Not me.”

Rae smiled a little. “Understandable.” She thought about Daisy Monroe, a feisty eccentric, and Vincent, the mild-mannered operator of Oslow’s General Store. They couldn’t be more opposite, yet somehow they clicked.