“I’m borderline hypoglycemic. My blood sugar gets too low every once in a while. Pregnancy sort of messes with that and I have to be careful to eat regularly or I risk passing out.”

Rafael swore under his breath. “What if you were to pass out when you were alone?”

“Well, the point is to make sure I don’t pass out.”

He scowled and then checked his watch. Only five minutes had passed since he’d placed the order.

“I’ll be fine, Rafe,” she said softly. “My grandmother is a diabetic. I’m well acquainted with how to handle low or elevated blood sugar.”

The shortened version of his name, only used by his closest friends, slipped from her lips as if she’d used it a thousand times before. Coming from her, it sounded…right. As if he’d heard it before or maybe even encouraged her to use it.

He put a hand to his nape and looked away. Why couldn’t he remember? If he had truly been involved with this woman, and if, like she’d said, they’d formed some romantic attachment—he couldn’t quite bring himself to say love—then why would he shove her as far from his memory as he could?

She kicked off her shoes and then curled her feet underneath her on the couch before grabbing one of the cushions to snuggle into. It occurred to him that if they were a real couple he would have sat beside her and…cuddled. Or maybe offered her a foot rub. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to have swollen ankles or something?

Which further proved to him that the idea of him falling in love and spending four weeks wrapped up in one woman was just…ludicrous. He dated. He even had relationships, but they were on his terms, which meant that his female companions didn’t come to his penthouse. If they had sleepovers, it was done in one of his hotels. He certainly didn’t engage in cuddling or cutesy things that a man would do for the woman he loved.

But then she glanced up and their eyes met. There was something in her gaze that peeled back his skin and squeezed his chest in a manner he wasn’t familiar with. She looked…tired and vulnerable. She looked as if she needed…comfort.

Hell.

“Rafe, he got away with my purse,” she said quietly.

He nodded. The police had come to the hospital to take her statement but it was doubtful they’d find her attacker.

“I didn’t think…I mean everything happened so fast, and then at the hospital…” She lifted her hand in a helpless gesture that only made his desire to comfort her stronger.

“What is worrying you, Bryony?”