About to gulp down the hot beverage, he looked up, frowning, as Goldie turned green.
She bolted from the table before he could utter a single word. Gael rushed after her—only to hear the bathroom door slam shut before the sound of violent retching sounded from within.
His gut tightened in alarm. ‘Goldie?’
More retching, followed by a low, miserable moan. He knocked on the door, turned the handle. It was locked.
‘Open the door, Goldie.’
A grunt filled with discomfort, then a cough. ‘Um...no, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘You’re not fine. You’re vomiting.’
He absently wondered why that observation filled him with alarm, why the helplessness assailing him grew with each futile second.
A half-laugh sounded. ‘Yeah, I think I’m aware of that little fact—’ Speech ended and retching restarted.
He resisted the urge to ball his fist and pound the door open. ‘Dios, why did you lock the damned door?’
No answer. More vomiting.
He had to satisfy himself with waiting for her to finish emptying the contents of her stomach before she answered.
‘Because I didn’t want you to see me.’
‘Modesty is the last thing you should be concerned about if you’re sick. Can you open the door—por favor?’ He tried his most reasonable voice.
‘No. I... I’m feeling better. I’ll be out in a minute.’
Argumentative Goldie was back. Short of breaking down the door, Gael could only grit his teeth and resign himself to pacing the hallway until he heard the sound of the lavatory flushing and a running tap.
When she didn’t emerge for another five minutes his anxiety swelled higher. ‘Damn it. Open the door!’
‘Sir? Can I help with anything?’ The solicitous butler had appeared behind him.
Gael curbed the urge to demand the spare keys to the bathroom, accepting that perhaps he was overreacting. Goldie had mentioned having a stomach upset after some food two days ago. He could still hear movement and the occasional splash of water, so she hadn’t passed out—or worse.
‘No, we’re fine. If I need anything I’ll call.’
He waited until the butler had left, then returned to the bathroom door. ‘You have two minutes to come out, guapa. Then I’m coming in.’
‘Okay, fine.’
He hesitated for a second, then returned to the patio. He poured a glass of water and downed it, then poured one for her in case she needed it.
He knew less than a minute had passed, so he forced himself to the balustrade to stare unseeingly at the view. He was overreacting. Goldie being sick might disrupt the movie’s shoot, but it wasn’t something they couldn’t overcome.
But if it was more than a stomach bug...if she was falling ill with something else...
When his practised deep breathing barely calmed his flailing control, he cursed under his breath.
‘Gael?’
He whirled away from the view, his relief at seeing her standing there more welcome than he knew it should be. Her hair looked tumbled and a touch wild, as if she’d run her hand through it several times without a single care about the way she looked—which put her firmly in a unique category far from most of the women he’d dated.
Framed in the light spilling from the living room, she was a gorgeous sight, despite the paleness of her face. A sight he wanted to see more of. Much more, he realised. And accepted. Perhaps he’d been too hasty to consign them to being just temporary room-mates. The chemistry between them was beyond electric. It was unique enough to warrant further investigation. Exploration of the best, carnal kind.
Prising himself off the low wall, he walked towards her. Saw the mixture of horror and acute trepidation in her eyes. And froze.