“Then stay and let me thank you. But with my clothes on.” He glanced down at his open shirt and pants. “If that’s okay?”
She finally nodded, and relief rushed through him. As she left his bedroom, he walked over to the floor length mirror, taking himself in. He was a damn mess. Not just his clothes, or his ruffled hair, but his face, too. Pale from hunger because he hadn’t dared to eat carbohydrates without having his insulin to control the sugar r
ush, and the slices of cheese he’d swallowed down just didn’t cut it. Deftly fastening his buttons, he tucked his shirt back into his waistband and checked his appearance again. Better. Doing his best to rearrange his hair with his fingers, he walked over to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her sitting on the leather sofa.
So she hadn’t run. Brave girl.
“I poured you a glass of water,” she said, looking over at him. “It’s on the counter.”
“Thank you.” He offered her a smile and grabbed the glass, taking a healthy drink, then grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, attacking it like he was starving to death. “Are you hungry?” he asked, when he’d swallowed it down.
“A little.” She’d missed lunch to drive up here.
“I’ll have some sandwiches sent up.” He lifted the phone to reception and gave his order. “Would you like tea or coffee?” he asked, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.
“Coffee would be great.”
“Two coffees as well, please. Can you make sure it’s here in ten minutes?” he asked the woman on the other line. The banana should tide him over, but he needed to eat quickly after injecting. And anyway, he was hungry.
“Of course, Mr. Carter.”
He hung up, carrying another banana over to where Becca was sitting on the sofa, her body leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly on top of her thighs. She was staring out of the wall of glass. When he walked in front of her, she blinked, as though surprised to see him there.
“I expect you have questions.” He broke off a piece of the fruit and pushed it between his lips. His stomach gurgled as it welcomed the food.
“A few.” There was no trace of a smile on her face. Not anger, either. Just a bewilderment that he too was feeling.
Damn, she was pretty. No, nix that. Beautiful. He wanted to trace the straight line of her nose with his fingertip, then press it against her swollen lips.
“Where should we start?” he asked, her ignoring the drumming need for her.
“What type of diabetic are you?”
Well that was an easy start. “Type one.”
She nodded. “Why did you run out of insulin?”
He gave a rueful smile. “I thought I’d brought enough with me, but I was an idiot and ran out of my fast acting insulin. I should have packed more carefully. I usually do, but I was distracted as I left town.”
“Fast acting insulin?” she echoed. “What’s that?”
“I take two types, long acting insulin that keeps my levels regular during the day, and the fast acting insulin which I inject before mealtimes.”
She ran the tip of her tongue along her lip. “But couldn’t you have gone to a pharmacy here rather than call me?”
“I don’t have a prescription in the States yet. I’m using up my Scottish insulin. Which was one of the reasons I didn’t want you to tell my mother. Going to a doctor when I got back was the first thing I should have done.”
Becca tipped her head to the side. “One of the reasons? What are the others.”
“She worries about me and I don’t want to cause her any more anxiety.” He’d done enough of that over the years. “I figure what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“Why did you call me? Surely you could’ve gotten anybody to bring it up.” She was tracing a pattern on her thigh. It was distracting.
A half-smile pulled at Daniel’s face. “I couldn’t think of anybody else. I don’t have a lot of friends.” And maybe he’d wanted to see her. Even though she’d been the reason he’d left in the first place.
Her lips twitched. “Maybe you should be nicer to people.”
He bit down a smile. She knew how to push all his buttons. “Maybe.”