Chapter 7
Cole Turner had given Phoebe a headache never to forget. Her forehead throbbed as she takes a taxi to Carrie's house. Flurries of snow covered the windscreen and she switched on the wiper-blades. As she drives, she remembers the day's event at the office.
"Kate, please, you have to stay over at my place.. No one would be staying over at my house in New York.. and you're the only one whom I trust.. please.. I'll pay for your flight there..."
Phoebe rolls her eyes. "Fine Carrie. Stop shedding your fake tears.. but I do have to ask you how do you manage it.."
Occupying herself down at Carrie's house would blot out the what happen at the bachelor auction last night. It was perishingly cold and she shivered uncontrollably as she snapped on the central heating boiler in the kitchen and then went around switching lamps on, which at least created an image of warmth. She went back to the kitchen, where it was so cold and miserable that she abandoned the thought of cocoa and went straight upstairs to bed, wishing she hadn't agree to house keep Carrie's house.
She awoke in the middle of the night, muddled, not sure where she was, shivering and yet feverish, as if she'd has a bad dream. There was an eerie silence and her throat raged with thirst. She groped her way up from under the duvet to get a drink, and by the time she reached the bathroom she knew she was coming down with something.
"Flu," she groaned feebly, feeling for the radiator and dismayed to find it stone-cold. The taps yielded no water. She jumped nervously as an icy wind whipped the bare branches of a tree against the bathroom window. Already there were inches of snow piled against the sill.
In despair Phoebe realized there was no water because the same reason there was no central heating. Her head reeled with frustration. There was nothing she could do except to go back to bed and pull the duvet over her throbbing head.
As she staggered back to the cold bedroom, she was wishing more and more that she was home at the Haliwell mansion than being here in this cold house.
"Cole!," Phoebe cried. She tried to move her head but it felt as if it was in a vice. Why was she crying Cole's name? She didn't want him, she didn't need him...
"Lie still. Try and drink this"
Phoebe blinked open her eyes and then squeezed them shut again. The room has spun and the light had burned her eyes. She tried to turn over to slide out of bed but the bed was floating.
"Kate, sweetheart, stop thrashing and try and drink this."
She felt her head being lifted and a warm lemony drink being held to her lips. Phoebe swallowed and coughed and swallowed some more.
"Darling, listen; I'm going to try and dress you and take you away from here."
"I can't," she moaned weakly. "It's too cold."
"I know," the voice whispered close to her face. "That's why I want to get you away. There's no heating or water..."
The voice trailed away and Phoebe drifted into sleep again, feeling hot and cold and dizzy and weak. Later she lifted her heavy eyelids to find that the brightness had gone and there was darkness was Cole.
"Still feeling awful?," he breathed with concern.
He was bending over her, his dark hair was falling across his creased forehead, eyes dark and worried, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Cole was here but he couldn't be real. Was he an image conjured up by her fever? Her hand floated up to touch the firmness of his cheek, to soothe away the worry that tautened his face. She felt herself drifting away again and fought it, afraid that he might be gone when she eventually awoke. When she opened her eyes again she saw him kneeling across across the room at the fire place. She thought she must be dreaming or hallucinating.
"I'm not very good at this sort of thing," she heard him murmur a few minutes later, "but I'm going to try and bath you"
She lay like a rag doll as he bathed her face and neck with fragrant soft water, his touch smooth and gentle over her burning skin. The sensation was delicious and blissfully she shut her eyes. Water? There wasn't any; the pipes were frozen.
"There isn't any water," she croaked.
"Melted snow," he told her, his voice low so as not to distress her. "Scented with your perfume. Have you ever has a snow bath before?"
She smiled weakly. "Never. It's wonderful," she whispered.
As he bathes her face, he frowns as he washes away layer after layers of make-up. Women, he shook his head. Would do anything to look beautiful. He washes the cloth and turns back to her. As he leans closer, he notices how familiar she looks to him. He stops and tries to recall whom she looks like. He shakes his head. This is not the time to remember old memories.
When she awoke later, she was shivering. She felt pressure against her back. Cole was lying on top the bed alongside her. He lifted his head when she stirred.
"You're still shivering"
"Was I before?," she asked.
"A fewer again. I tried to warm you."
"I feel awful, Cole," she groaned. "I hate this flu. My body is sore and my bones hurt and I'm so miserable and cold"
"It's night and the temperature has dropped."
Phoebe felt him get up from the bed and she gave a whimper at the loss of his warmth.
"It's all right," he breathed. She felt him slide under the duvet. "Here, let me hold you"
She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him and nestling her head against his warm blue sweater. Cole was here wit her, holding her. He moved and slid his arms around her to gather her close to him. He held her gently yet strongly, she she felt the thud of his heart against her own and his mouth pressed in her hair. After a minute, his mouth moved against her hair, then the sensitive area behind her ears, and then suddenly his warm lips were grazing small kisses against her throat. Drowsy, she moaned softly. His mouth sought hers in the dreamy, floaty world she was entrapped in, where nothing matters, her revenge on Cole forgotten as she parted her lips for him, to draw him into her very being, to lose herself in his.
As he lifted his mouth from hers, she looks up and smiles at him but faded quickly when she saw him looking down at her with angry eyes.
"What's wrong?," she asks.
"Why have you been lying to me?," he demanded.
She shook her head, "What are you talking about?"
"Aren't you going to tell me why do you call yourself Kate Lynn, Phoebe Haliwell?"
