Nine

      “Almost there,” Eric said, his voice low and close to her ear.

      All Sofia could do was nod miserably as she leaned heavily on his arm.

      “I can walk,” Meryl protested weakly from just ahead of them.

      “I know you can,” Steve replied, sounding almost normal, “but no one needs to watch you bounce off the walls.” With that, he swept his wife’s legs out from underneath her and cradled her to his chest.

      It wasn’t much of a comfort that Sofia wasn’t the only one who’d suffered mightily on the flight to St. Louis. The landing had been a terrifying exercise in flying during a storm and there’d been no way to push back against a panic attack. It’d been so bad that she’d forgotten how to breathe and had actually blacked out for a second.

      Steve had gotten sick and Meryl looked like she needed a doctor. Even Eric, who was no doubt used to flying all over the place in that tiny aircraft as well as riding the waves on his boat, looked a little green around the gills.

      Sofia’s legs felt like rubber bands and her heart was still skipping at a weird rhythm—and they’d been on the ground for almost forty-five minutes. She hadn’t had the strength to protest when Eric had slung his arm around her waist and held her up. She leaned into him, barely managing to keep hold of the bottle of ginger ale. She wasn’t sure it was helping. She had no idea where her luggage was and she honestly didn’t care.

      “I know it’s going to push us off schedule,” Eric said loudly so Steve and Meryl could hear him, “but I think we all need a break. Can we afford two hours?”

      “No,” Meryl said, although she sounded like she was trying not to cry.

      “Yes,” Eric said more firmly. “Look at it this way, Meryl—no one would expect us to have landed during that storm, anyway. We had a flight delay, that’s all. We still have all day tomorrow, too.”

      Meryl moaned pitifully, which made Steve croon to her.

      The sound made Sofia’s heart skip another beat, but not due to motion sickness. It was good, old-fashioned jealousy. God, she missed having someone who’d pick her up—literally or figuratively, it didn’t much matter—when life knocked her sideways.

      Just then, Eric leaned down to her, his arm tightening around her waist and his voice for her ears only. “There’s your room, Sofia.”

      And even though it wasn’t the same and Eric wasn’t hers, she leaned into him even more because she felt terrible and Eric was the strength she needed right now and whatever happened this weekend, they would always be friends. Even if she fell a little more in love with him, they were friends.

      The Nortons’ room was across the hall from hers. “Where’s your room?” she asked as Eric fumbled with her key card.

      “Next door.” He got her door open and basically set her inside, one hand still around her waist. He pivoted back to where Steve had gotten his door open. “Take as long as you guys need,” Eric said quietly, as if Meryl wasn’t right there. “It’s better to be late than be ill during the meetings.”

      “I’ll be fine...” But Steve closed the door and cut off Meryl’s weak protest.

      Eric pivoted Sofia into her hotel room. “I’m so sorry I’m such a mess,” she said, knowing it was pointless to apologize but apparently unable to help herself.

      Eric snorted as he sat her on the bed. “I’m sorry the flight sucked. That was one of the roughest landings I’ve ever had. Wasn’t entirely sure the plane was going to hold together.”

      Her breath caught in her throat. She’d wondered the same thing, right about the time she’d stopped breathing. “Maybe we can take the train home?” she said, trying to make a joke and failing.

      “The weather is supposed to be clearer on Sunday,” he promised. “If it looks bad, we can make alternative arrangements.” Then he knelt before her and picked up one of her feet. Sofia was aware that her pretty new silk top was plastered to her back with sweat and the rain had done a number on her hair and she probably looked one step removed from a drowned rat. She certainly didn’t feel much better than one.

      But then Eric moved. Slowly, he slid the cuff of her trouser up and pulled her brand-new Stuart Weitzman flat off her foot. There wasn’t anything strange about him seeing her bare leg. It was just a leg. God only knew he’d seen that and more back when they’d spent half a summer splashing in a pool.

      But the fact that Eric was removing her shoes for her? Undressing her?

      Heat flashed down her back again, which was just ridiculous. This was not a seduction. She looked like hell and felt worse and they were supposed to be getting ready for meetings with the mayor and the board of aldermen and she was not letting Eric distract her with all his tenderness and certainly not with these...

      Eric’s fingertips gently caressed her calf and stroked along the top of her foot. The touch sent sparks of heat arcing up her body, burning her with desire. Her eyes fluttered shut and she had to brace her arms against the bed to keep from toppling into him.

      His hands moved over her ankles, up her calves again. He warmed her skin with his palms, a strong and steady touch, and she couldn’t help but think back to that kiss in the car, the one that had managed to awaken every single sexual need and desire she’d locked away over the last year and a half.

      With Eric kneading the muscles of her legs, slowly moving up higher and higher, she no longer felt clammy and sick. She felt...

      Good. Warm and safe and cared for. God, she’d missed feeling this way.

      “Sofia,” he said, his voice soft.

      She wasn’t sure if it was a question or not. And honestly, it didn’t matter. They were friends, weren’t they? And friends helped each other out. They had fun together. They comforted each other when things went wrong—and that plane ride had been very, very wrong.

      Friends didn’t let something like a few billion dollars or a private jet or luxury clothing get in the way of a friendship.

      And really, once the trappings of money were removed—weren’t they just a man and a woman? Weren’t they made to fit together?

      God, how she wanted to be comforted. To be touched like Eric was touching her now. She wanted to be the one taking the attention and affection instead of giving them.

      “Sofia?” he said again, his voice sending low flutters through her belly.

      Really, no matter what the question was, the answer was simple. “Yes.”

      His hands slid to a stop on the curve of her calves. Funny how she’d never really thought of calves as being particularly sensual until now. “Will you lie down and rest for a bit?”

      She