Nicolas

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Jamie woke with reluctance, not wanting to climb from the warm limbo he found himself in, feeling safe, secure. Arms pulled him a little closer, and he snuggled against the firm chest, resting his ear over the strongly beating heart. He wanted to stay there forever, but it soon grew stifling under the blanket; he pulled the edge down and blinked at the warm hazel eyes meeting his gaze. Who was this?

The stranger smiled and a hand crept out of the blanket, fingers brushing Jamie’s lips. “Angelo mio.”

What…Memory surfaced, and he pulled back a little, face heating when he realized they were both almost naked, the guy lean and strong and…hard, against him. Feeling out of his depth with the man he slid farther back, and fell off the edge of the couch onto his tailbone.

“f**k. That was graceful,” he muttered, embarrassed. He knelt and rubbed his sore back, not looking up until the man chuckled. Expecting ridicule, the concern and warm light in his guest’s eyes tugged at his heart.

“Are you all right? Sounded like you landed pretty hard,” the man asked with sympathy.

“I’m fine.” Jamie grabbed his jeans from last night and pulled them on, feeling more comfortable after he’d tugged his sweater over his head. He turned back and caught the guy’s enticing lips twitching with a smile. Blushing, he laughed at his own nervousness. “Sorry. I don’t usually wake up naked with strange men in my bed.”

The man leaned up on an elbow, looking interested. “Do you usually wake up with strange men?”

“No!” Catching the glint of amusement in his eyes, Jamie laughed again. “Okay, enough teasing. At least tell me your name so I know what to call you.”

“I’m Nico De Mira.” He reached out a hand. “And you are…”

“Jamie Brannen.” They shook, Jamie enjoying the roughness of the man’s palm in his own softer hand.

“Thank you for saving me.” Nico turned Jamie’s hand over and stroked a thumb over his wrist, adding under his breath, “Tesoro mio.”

Jamie’s lips parted, but he lost his nerve to ask what he meant when Nico let go of his hand. Then concern swept him when his guest covered his mouth on a deep, wet-sounding cough. The cough continued and Jamie dropped to the couch beside him, helping him sit up. Nico seemed breathless when it at last subsided.

“Are you okay? Let me get you some water.” Jamie trotted to the kitchen. God, that cough sounded bad. Bronchitis, pneumonia, some kind of infection? Grabbing bottled water from the refrigerator, he returned to the couch and tried not to stare at his guest. The blanket had slipped off Nico’s shoulders, revealing a sculpted chest and arms; not blatantly muscular, but Jamie would enjoy putting his lips on them. It took determination not to drop to his knees and run his hands over that sleek Mediterranean body, feel the sparse, dark curls adorning the man’s chest under his fingertips.

Not trusting his resolve, he sat on the edge of the coffee table and handed Nico the water.

“Grazie.” The man drank thirstily, and his hand shook when he returned the half-empty bottle.

Jamie nibbled his lips. “Is there anyone I can call to let them know where you are? Family or friends? Work?”

Nico shook his head before Jamie finished speaking. “There’s no one.”

Jamie had trouble believing him, but his curt tone warned not to probe further.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, not sure what to do for him.

A tiny smile touched Nico’s full mouth. “Not at the moment. I think I’ll sleep a little more, if you don’t mind, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Jamie’s heart plummeted, though he couldn’t say why. “Are you sure you’re well enough? You could stay a day or two…” His voice trailed off and he watched in fascination as a blush tinged his guest’s face.

“You’re very kind,” Nico murmured and stretched out on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Jamie stood, ignoring his racing heart as he tucked the cover around his shoulders. Nico’s dark lashes already hid his eyes, and after a moment, Jamie turned and added some more wood to the fire. Gathering Nico’s clothes from the floor, he placed their still-wet boots on the hearth. He knit his brows at the cut laces on Nico’s boots and fetched an extra pair from a kitchen drawer. After exchanging the laces, he then carried the laundry to the bathroom. A washer and dryer were tucked in a closet, and he started a load, stripping and adding his own clothing to the machine, keeping the satin panties he favored back for a separate wash.

He frowned as he watched the water rise. Where was the man going? Did he know someone in Alpena? A lover, maybe? Jamie shied away from that thought. Maybe Nico had friends in the area, though he’d denied it. That was probably it. They’d had a fight and Nico had taken the canoe out yesterday and maybe gotten caught in a current, unable to return to his own dock. He must be from one of the many cabins that dotted the shoreline of Thunder Bay.

Satisfied with that answer, he left the bathroom and crossed the short distance to his bedroom to dress, careful to be quiet and not wake his sleeping guest. Nico’s congested breathing concerned him. Did they need the doctor? Jamie rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Having hiked to the cabin, he didn’t have a vehicle with him. And his food had already been delivered for the month. It was only the sixth of December. There wouldn’t be another visitor to the cabin until sometime after the first of the year. And it was no use wishing he’d had the landline connected. He’d counted on using his cell phone, but inclement weather made service sporadic at best.

Dressing in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, he pulled on wool socks and noticed his chipped nail polish. The blue matched his eyes, but with no one but himself to care, he hadn’t taken the time to retouch them. Too late now. He shrugged and returned to the living area, braiding a blue ribbon into his long hair as he went. The fire was burning nicely and a smile tugged his lips at the attractive scene. The homey oak furniture blended well with the honey-colored stain used on the pine walls. Bright throw rugs dotted the hardwood floor. He’d even put up a small Christmas tree in a window near the fireplace, childhood ornaments glittering on the green branches. His heart warmed, though he didn’t want to admit the long form stretched out under the blanket on his couch added to his pleasure.

Nico still slept, and Jamie went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. After sorting through his supplies, he pulled out a container of chicken and rice soup to thaw for when his guest grew hungry. Jamie also took out his paint palette. Work might hold his attention, keep him from worrying about Nico’s cough. Patrick had never understood how he could become lost in his art, begrudging the time Jamie spent in the spare bedroom he’d converted into his studio at their apartment in Westport, Washington. But many times painting had proved his greatest comfort. Passing through the living room, he kept on into the dining area. He’d pushed the table to one side and it was now covered with his supplies. An easel stood facing the windows, holding one of his larger canvases.

Leaving the cold palette on the table, he went to the curtained picture windows. With a glance at Nico, still asleep, he shrugged, sliding the drapes aside. He had a commission for this particular piece, though his parents still refused to believe he could make a living selling his work. They’d never had much faith in his talent, upset when he didn’t choose a more profitable career. Too bad. Faint daylight flooded the dining area, though he wished for brighter sunlight to work by. Snow filtered through the surrounding trees, and already their tracks to the lake had disappeared.

Worry knotted his stomach. What if he had to get Nico to the doctor’s? John’s cabin was only a few miles away, but in this weather…Maybe the doctor would come to them? He crossed the great room and grabbed his phone from the mantel, and stared at the straight line of bars. No service? Why the f**k not? He groaned, remembering the snow piling up outside.

Okay, panicking wouldn’t help. Besides, maybe Nico would wake up feeling better. Jamie listened to the man’s labored breathing, his stomach tightening further. Did he know any first aid? Rarely sick himself, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Taking a chance, he filled the iron teakettle with water and set it on a hook in the fireplace, hoping the steam would help Nico’s breathing. He checked the first aid box and found medicine for colds and flu and acetaminophen. What should he give him? Helplessness swept him. What would he do if Nico grew worse? His ex-boyfriend, Patrick, had always told him he was useless in a crisis. Jamie might prove him right this time.

He went to the front door and pulled on boots and a coat, then stepped outside onto the porch, closing the door behind him. The wind had picked up, sweeping snow up the steps and within a few feet of where he stood. Worry creased his brow as snow continued to fall from the heavy clouds. Should he start for the doctor now, before the storm worsened? Might be the best thing to do.

With a glance at the snowshoes and poles hanging from their hook farther down the porch, he nodded, stifling a sigh as he went back inside the snug cabin. His gaze darted to Nico sleeping on his couch, and just for an instant, anger flashed through him. All he’d wanted was peace, time to finish his painting and to heal. His friends respected that. William, his best friend since high school, called sometimes to see how he was doing, and even that only happened on the rare occasion his phone picked up a signal. Shame washed through him. Of course Nico hadn’t meant to be swept into his dock. Thank God he had been, before the current took him out into the center of the lake, where exposure would surely have killed him.

Before changing into his winter garb, Jamie went over to the couch and knelt. Nico slept, but his face was pale and drawn, his lips white. Sweat slicked his dark bangs and pain pinched his features; a cough rumbled in his chest. Doubt ate at Jamie. Should he really leave the man alone while he went for the doctor? What if he woke up and needed something and no one was here?

What if he never woke up?

Panic seized him and he touched Nico’s face, needing to feel the life in him. Damn, the man’s skin felt hot and damp. He was fighting a fever, no doubt about it. Jamie went to stand up, but Nico’s lids fluttered open and glittering hazel eyes pinned him in place. A sweet smile touched those trembling lips.

“Angelo mio,” he whispered, then a fit of coughing gripped him, and Jamie slid an arm across his bare shoulders and helped him sit up. Nico was breathing hard when the jag passed, and he leaned his damp forehead against Jamie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, angel,” he said, the weakness of his voice tugging at Jamie’s heart.

“No need to be. Here, have some water.” Jamie grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and opened it. Nico’s hand shook when he reached for it, and Jamie helped guide the bottle to his lips. The blanket slid farther down Nico’s chest, and Jamie blinked at the sight of a copper n****e hiding in a swirl of dark curls. He swallowed, admitting to himself he’d spent too much time alone, especially if he lusted after a sick man.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, needing to get away from the tempting body under the afghan. “I have a delicious chicken-and-rice soup I can heat up. Then I’ll fetch the doctor—”

Nico grabbed his wrist, and Jamie winced at his painful hold. “No. No doctors. No one. I’ll be fine.”

Jamie stared at him. “But your cough…I don’t know what to do—”

“I said no.”

He jumped at the harsh tone, dismay stealing his happiness at having Nico there, filling his day. Men were rarely kind to him. He blinked at a sudden sting of tears and stood, not wanting Nico to see his hurt. An unexpected tug on his wrist pulled him down, and he sprawled awkwardly against Nico’s chest. Strong arms went around him, and before he could think, Nico had pushed him on his back, his lean body half covering him.

Warm kisses trailed over his face and Nico’s voice in his ear sent a shiver of pleasure through him. “Don’t cry, little angel. I was a brute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand. I only wanted to help.”

Nico’s gaze dropped to his mouth and Jamie’s heart fluttered, aching for the kiss he knew was coming. A tender smile crossed Nico’s face instead, and he brushed a thumb over Jamie’s parted lips. “You are helping, but I’m stronger than you think. Let me rest here today and tonight, and I should be well enough to travel by morning.”

“Of course.” Jamie pushed up and Nico let him go this time. He made it to the kitchen before the hurt swelling inside him brought a stifled moan to his lips. Desperate for a distraction, he struck a match and lit a burner on the stove. Copper pots hung over his head, and he soon had the soup warming on the tiny flames. He tried to ignore the tears blurring his vision, but Patrick’s words played over and over in his mind, cutting into his heart.

“You’re very lovely, Jamie.” Patrick lifted the long strands of his hair. But then he’d pulled none too gently, and an unexpected sneer coated his voice. “But if I wanted feminine, I’d take a woman to bed.”

That evening he’d found Patrick in the stairwell f*****g some guy from his office. Patrick hadn’t seen him, but Jamie came to dread taking the stairs, never knowing what he’d find. Painful months passed before Jamie admitted it was over between them.

“Will I ever be enough?” he whispered to the melting lump of rice and chicken. Twenty-seven years old and he’d never found anyone who could love him for himself. He wasn’t expecting love here, but it was hard to deny his heady attraction to his guest. Swallowing his self-pity, he hoped a stray tear didn’t make the soup as bitter as his thoughts.