Page 50 of Fighting for Julia
Fresh from a recent shower, Miguel stepped out of the bathroom. He wore only a royal blue towel around his waist. Julia’s mouth went dry. She stared at his broad, muscular chest that tapered into a well-defined six-pack. Imagining what lay beneath the towel caused her heart to pound and her pulse to race. Julia raised her eyes. Despite his illness, Miguel regardedher with a lazy expression that indicated they were sharing similar thoughts.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry for barging in on you. I—I thought you’d still be in bed.” Julia set the tray on a dresser. “Oh, um, I’ll bring you some clean clothes.” She paused for a moment. “Oh, um, you didn’t get your stitches wet, did you?”
“No, ma’am.” His voice reflected his amusement.
“Oh, um, okay. Give me a minute.” She hastily backed out of the open doorway.
Dear God! She’d need more than a minute to compose herself after seeing Miguel’s lean and muscular body draped only in a towel. She couldn’t believe she sounded like an innocent schoolgirl who’d never seen a half-naked man.
“Oh, um?” Julia muttered as she chose a comfortable pair of sweatpants, T-shirt, and—oh, God—boxers for Miguel. “How immature!”
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she entered the bedroom through the adjoining bathroom. Miguel perched on the edge of the bed. Naughty thoughts crowded into her mind. If he weren’t ill, she’d push him back, yank that towel from his waist, and make love to him. A rush of desire hit her so hard that a flush crept into her face and heat settled in her core. Julia tamped down the images she conjured and set Miguel’s clothes within arm’s reach. She didn’t dare get too close to him. And not because of Covid. Julia wondered if Miguel could read her thoughts and her turbulent reaction to him.
“I’ll get dressed in the bathroom.” He glanced at the tray of food. “You’d better eat your eggs and toast before they get too cold.”
“Yes, okay. I will.”
Julia carried her plate and cup of coffee to an old-fashioned wooden rocker by a window that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. A small accent table with three legs and covered in a light bluetablecloth provided support for her plate and coffee. She ate her eggs and a piece of toast and sipped her coffee while she gazed at the marvelous view below her.
Miguel joined her, and she turned her head toward him. He’d dried his hair, and except for the paleness of his face, one would not suspect he was sick. He stood strong and upright.
“Jules, I am not immune nor indifferent to you. When I claimed you as my woman, I meant it. But—but I need to know ifyouwant to be claimed like that…by me. If you think I’m a man who’s worth it.”
Unexpected tears burned in Julia’s eyes. Miguel’s humble and vulnerable confession struck her to the core of her soul. Did she want to be claimed by him? Yes. Did she think he was a man worth it? Yes.
“Miguel…my answer is yes. But I have to know if…if you’re ready and able to open your incredible heart to…to me. To…to the possibility of love…”
There. She’d said it. The dreadedLword. She knew she’d risk her heart to love Miguel. Would he risk his?
Their gazes met, locked, and held.
Miguel’s countenance softened into an expression of wonder. “I’m ready. I already have. And if I weren’t sick, I’d prove it to you.” Desire flared in his eyes. “But right now, I think I’d better lie down. I feel woozy.”
Julia leaped to her feet and helped him into bed. He propped himself up against the headboard. She placed the tray of soup, crackers, and hot tea on his lap and encouraged him to eat. “You need to get your strength back.”
He flashed a wicked grin. “To pursue more pleasurable activities than chasing Axis and Axalia.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
Miguel fell asleep after he ate. Julia returned their dishes to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. She planned amenu for tonight’s dinner, threw their clothes into the dryer, and stepped outside on the deck to enjoy the early spring weather in Laguna Beach.
Checking her cell phone, Julia discovered text messages from Trey and Tex. The grisly scene at the hospital had made national news. Both Trey and Tex had kept her and Miguel’s identities out of the press. Tex had erased any security camera footage that captured their involvement, along with records of Miguel’s admittance to the hospital, and Trey had used his considerable influence to suppress dogged reporters from digging too deeply. He had warned them that what occurred was a matter of national security. But he promised them an exclusive story once he was able to release it.
After she called Trey to describe what had happened and inform him that the only reason why they were still at the hospital was due to Miguel catching Covid, Julia contacted her mother, who’d surely heard the news.
“Julia!” Relief flooded her mother’s voice. “Are you and Miguel safe?”
“Yes. We’re in Laguna Beach with Brielle. Mom, I haven’t seen the news. How bad is it?”
“Sweetheart, it’s bad. Five nurses, three medical technicians, and several patients lost their lives.”
“Oh, God, no. And the men who attacked us?”
“Eight dead. According to information we’ve gleaned, two escaped. We have one in custody who survived being shot. He’s not talking, but his tattoo identifies him as a soldier in General Escobar’s army.”
“Mom, we weren’t supposed to be there, but Miguel contracted Covid.”
“As if being shot wasn’t bad enough. How is he?”
