Consequences

Part 79

Isabelle wasn't sure what the correct etiquette was in circumstances such as these. The man had arrived with a bag of clothes, so clearly he intended to stay. She had offered him a bed, so clearly she trusted him. His eyes told her he was asking about more than staying. Hers told him she was more that interested in having him in her bed. Softly Isabelle announced, "I feel heaps better." Ok, so maybe they both knew where the silent unspoken conversation was heading, even if neither wanted to be explicit about it. Was that a good thing? Should they be tip-toeing around each other? Wasn't it time to be up front about what they wanted?

Doug nodded. His shoulders dropped in relief. He hadn't realized he had tensed waiting for her response. "You look better." His eyes did a quick track over her features. Her face was flushed. A second passed.

Isabelle licked her lower lip and decided she ought to see if she could get this conversation back onto normal tracks. An everyday conversation is what was needed, before she self combusted by simply looking at the heat in his eyes. Take a step back. Why asked her heart? Be sensible advocated her head.

"I spent most of the day in bed." Isabelle looked up at him. "Tomorrow I'll be back up to speed." Was that a sufficient signal to give him the green light? Or did she have to be more explicit? Now was not the time to wish she'd read the chapter on bedroom etiquette for that first encounter! The thought nearly had her giggling hysterically. How to make a fool of yourself 101, she thought as she decided the best course of action was to stop talking! Let him do the leg work here!

"You don't want to rush things." Doug told her quietly. That had Isabelle blinking in consternation. Had she misread his signals? Maybe she'd interpreted them to suit her wish list. Doug wondered about the flash of concern that raced through her eyes. "Give yourself a chance to recover fully. Don't rush it." He advised. It was poor reasoning he knew, but the longer she took to get better, the longer he got to stay here. And the longer he stayed her the better his chance at getting her to forgive him and give him another chance.

Isabelle wasn't sure whether to read his statements as a put down or a genuine comment to get better. Maybe she had been too forward. The man was, she knew, one who did all the running. Practically throwing yourself at him was not a good idea, her heart told her head. Too late.

But before she could decide whether to obtain clarification they both heard the doorbell. Isabelle got to her feet when the doorbell pealed, she held out a few notes, "Would you mind getting that?" It would give her a minute or two to think about what to do about the situation she had created.

Doug ignored the money in her hand. He wasn't sure that she was taking his advice seriously. So he made sure she understood his position. "Isabelle, I'm serious, I don't want to see you burn yourself out by running around before you are well enough. Are we clear?" He put his bag down by the door and waited for her to respond. She looked at him, one of her haughty looks, he decided, given her chin had tipped up, and her eyes held challenge.

"I'm not going to burn myself out and I'm not running around." She told him without dropping her gaze.

"Ok." He conceded. "I just want you to get better, without making it worse. Ok?" Doug hoped she would see that he had her welfare at heart.

She smiled, then nodded, suddenly more than grateful to learn that he genuinely cared. Maybe the signals weren't so much mixed as in transition, she thought. Only time would tell. Her stomach rumbled, which reminded her that they had left the Pizza guy at the door. Just then the doorbell rang again.

Isabelle's gaze softened. "Would you mind getting that. Pizza, remember. Here you'll need this to pay the guy." She held the money out to him again.

He looked dismissively at the notes she held out to him and then flashed her a disgruntled look. "I can afford to pay for a pizza." He grumbled. With that he stepped through the open door and headed for the front door.

Five minutes later Doug and Isabelle sat down to eat. She poured him a glass of wine and poured herself a glass of juice. Then she flipped open the carton that had been delivered five minutes earlier.