Page 78 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve

He smiled!

And I completely forgot what he said, but my face felt likeit was on fire. I think I just did something embarrassing, but I don’t care becausethat smile.

He was never unattractive before. But he usually looked about ten years older than he actually was because of the constant frown and creases between his brows, the always buttoned-up business attire, the perfectly groomed hair and face, and the no-nonsense tone he always took.

But outside of work, he was different. He not only acted different but also looked different. Better in both ways. Come to think of it, he’d been acting somewhat different at work too. He was a lot more complicated than I ever would’ve guessed.

And that smile.

“What?” I asked, unsure if he’d even asked me anything.

His face was full of concern again. “Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll fetch you some things. You don’t even have water in here.”

“I can take care of myself, Jeff,” I said, stifling a yawn. “You don’t need to be here.”

He winced, and then his face softened. “How often do you let people take care of you, Roxy?”

“What are you …” I trailed off. Why was he asking me that?

“It’s not a sinister question. I’m just sensing you have a tough time accepting help.”

“I don’t—” At his raised eyebrows, I sighed. “Well, doesn’t everyone?”

“Some people don’t find it hard to accept help. Apparently. Not that I’d know.” He rubbed his jaw. Did he have the faintest hint of stubble? I squinted and leaned forward to get a better look, but he moved back. “Roxy, I just want to help. Let’s not argue over this too. We can have this argument tomorrow, OK? Or any other time you want. Please just lie down, get comfortable, and wait for me to return.”

I stared at him with half-open eyes. Who was this man?

“Please?” he asked as one hand absently rubbed his sleeve.

“Hey, you don’t have to ask me twice,” I said, as thoughhe wasn’t being extremely confusing and weird (and, in turn, so was I).

“I did ask twice,” he muttered under his breath. But I heard him because he was inches from my face as he leaned over to pull the covers that were bunched up on the other side of the bed, gently tugging them up to my neck.

Had I ever been this close to him before? I could see the curve of his jaw, the rich swirls of color and shape in his eyes, the muscles in his … well, everything.

I could lean forward and …

My heart pounded in my chest.

No!

No, no, no.

Suddenly, Jeff reared back.

I bit my lip. At least, I think it was my lip. “What’s wrong? Do I smell gross?”

“No, you … you just had a look of horror all the sudden. I assumed I was the offender.”

“No, you don’t smell gross. Quite the opposite, actually.” I could still smell his faint woodsy cologne, kind of surprising for a guy like him but definitely not a bad thing.

He eyed me for a moment as the corners of his mouth lifted. “OK. Why the—you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll be back in a bit with a glass of water so you can take the medicine.”

“But—” I started and then stopped, realizing he wasn’t going to hear me. Or if he did, he’d ignore me.

What was he even doing here? This was so embarrassing. Probably much worse than I even realized because I was more than a little stuffy-headed and exhausted.

A minute later—or who knows, since I couldn’t trust my judgment of time now—Jeff returned with a cup of water and a separate cup of ice. When I raised my eyebrows, he set the cups on the nightstand and started to open the medicine package. “I know you like ice water, so I brought ice.”

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