Читать книгу The Texan's Business Proposition - Peggy Moreland, Peggy Moreland - Страница 7

While Vince slept, Sally got busy. Determined to see that her boss followed the doctor’s orders, she gathered every phone in the house, including his cell, and locked them, along with his laptop, in the trunk of her car. Using her own laptop to communicate with, she connected to the Internet site of the cable company that provided both his television and Internet service and had them temporarily disconnected—an easy feat, since her duties as his secretary gave her access to all his accounts and passwords. Next she visited the sites of the local newspaper and United States Postal Service and put a hold on his subscription and mail for the week.

Satisfied she’d done all she could to sever his ability to communicate with the outside world, she moved on to the kitchen. Since she frequently house-sat for Vince, she was fully aware of his fondness for junk food and wasted no time stuffing his nutrition-empty stash into garbage bags and hauling it all out to the street for the garbage collector to pick up. Thankfully she always brought her own groceries when she was required to stay at his house, and only hoped she had enough food left to feed them both, until she could make arrangements with the supermarket to have more delivered.

Having made the first step toward improving his nutrition, she focused her attention on possible means of escape, should he try to make a run for it. She collected his vehicle keys, as well as the spares he kept in the mud room, and locked them in the glove box of her car. She considered sneaking into his room and confiscating all his shoes, but opted to forgo that drastic measure until he proved himself a flight risk.

Flight risk? She smothered a laugh. She was definitely going to have to cut back on the number of Law & Order episodes she watched.

Taking her cell phone in hand again, she dialed Vince’s land phone and cell phone numbers and had his calls forwarded to her cell. As a last precaution, she muted the ring on her phone and hid it in her makeup bag in the guest room. Sure that she’d done all that was humanly possible to ensure Vince followed his doctor’s orders, she collapsed on the sofa, exhausted.

She’d barely closed her eyes, when she heard, “Sally!”

Groaning, she peeled herself from the couch and to her feet. It appeared the bear had awakened from his drug-induced nap.

“Coming,” she called wearily. When she reached his room, she found him sitting on the side of his bed, his clothes rumpled, his feet bare, his hair sticking up every which way. All-in-all, he looked like hell, which pleased her enormously.

She pasted on a cheerful smile. “Feeling better?”

He lifted his head to scowl at her. “Where the hell is my cell phone?”

To place herself out of harm’s way, she picked up his shoes and socks and carried them to his closet, which was as large as her entire apartment. “Gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

She slipped his shoes into an empty cubby and dropped his socks into the hamper. “Dr. O’Connor said you were to have no contact with the outside world.”

“Screw what Pat said. I want my phone.”

She opened her hands. “Sorry. Just following the doctor’s orders.”

He burned her with a look. “My doctor doesn’t pay your salary. I do.”

“I’m aware of that. But remember, this was your idea. You told Dr. O’Connor I could earn my salary at your house as easily as I could at your office. With the change in location, my duties changed, as well. For the time being I’m your caretaker, not your secretary, and I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

“I don’t need taking care of. What I need is my phone.”

“Sorry. It’s inaccessible for the week.”

He leaped to his feet, his face flushed with anger. The quick movement must have made him light-headed, because the color drained from his face and he began to sway.

Fearing he was having another attack, Sally ran to grab his arm and urged him back to the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Moved too fast, is all.”

She pressed a hand to her heart, then dropped it to fist at her side. “You really shouldn’t upset yourself like that. You just had a heart attack. Do you want to bring on another?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he grumbled.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked down her nose at him. “Oh, really? I could have sworn that Dr. O’Connor said you’d had a heart attack.”

“That’s how Pat earns his big fees. Makes up all kinds of ailments so his patients have to keep coming back to him.”

Sally shook her head sadly. “You are so in denial.”

He looked up to glare at her. “If I say there’s nothing wrong with me, nothing is.”

She turned away with a shrug. “Then there’s no need for me to stay. I’ll just give Dr. O’Connor a call and tell him I’m going home.”

She made it as far as the door before he stopped her.

“Wait.”

She turned and lifted a brow in question.

“Don’t call Pat. He’ll come over.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Damn right it is! He’ll just drag me back to the hospital.”

She wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “Probably.”

Grimacing, he dragged a hand over his hair, then dropped it with a sigh to grip the edge of the bed. “I guess you’d better stay.”

“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “My purpose in being here is to see that you follow your doctor’s orders. If you aren’t willing to cooperate, you really should be in the hospital where someone can look after you.”

He paled at the mere suggestion. “I can’t go back. I’ll go crazy, if I do.”

What little bit of patience she had for him snapped. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Vince. Don’t be such a baby. There’s nothing wrong with hospitals.”

“Spend a month in one and try telling me that again.”

Something in his voice told her he was speaking from experience. “You spent a month in a hospital?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid.”

Curious to learn more, she crossed to the bed and sat down beside him. “Were you sick?”

He gave her a bland look. “No. I was on vacation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Stupid question. So what was wrong with you?”

“Spinal meningitis. Spent a week at home in bed before the doctor admitted me. Another two weeks after he released me.”

She stared, unable to imagine the severity of an illness that would require a child to remain bedridden for almost two months. “How old were you?”

“Nine. Missed two months of school. Had to drop out of the summer baseball program.”

“Wow. That must have been tough.”

“It sucked big-time.”

“Were you left with any lasting effects?”

“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I hate hospitals.”

She hid a smile. “Yeah. I got that.” She rose. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. When did you last eat?”

“I don’t know. Sometime yesterday, I guess.”

“I’ll see what I can whip up.”

He stood, too, though more slowly. “Have I got time to shower?”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Are you sure you’re steady enough?”

“Positive.”

She hesitated a moment longer, then turned away, deciding the alternative—bathing him herself—wasn’t something she was willing to do.

“Fifteen minutes,” she called to him.

After showering, Vince felt somewhat better and definitely more alert. He pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, keeping his movements slow to avoid another dizzy spell. Not that he was sick, he assured himself. He was healthy as a horse. He’d simply experienced a little…blip in his system. Nothing to be alarmed about, and certainly nothing that required hospitalization. He’d kick back for the remainder of the weekend, watch a little TV. By Monday he’d be as good as new and ready to get back to work.

Having resolved his health issues in his mind—and mentally conceded to a twenty-four-hour vacation to appease his doctor—he headed for the kitchen where he found Sally chopping vegetables at the island, dressed in, of all things, a bikini. He squeezed his eyes shut, sure that his mind was playing tricks on him, but when he opened them, her breasts were still pushing at the tiny electric-blue triangles that covered them. Beads of perspiration dotted the valley between her breasts. His mouth suddenly dry, he wet his lips and would swear he tasted salt and coconuts.

“Vince?”

He snapped his gaze to hers. He swallowed hard, then stole a quick look to confirm what she was wearing, and found the bikini was gone, replaced by shorts and a top. Wondering if the bump on his head had done more damage than he first thought, he asked hesitantly, “Did you change clothes?”

She looked at him curiously. “Well, yeah. While you were in the shower. Is that a problem?”

He gulped again, not wanting to ask but needing to know. “Do you own a blue bikini?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

He held up a hand. “Just answer the question. Do you own a blue bikini?”

“You know very well I do, since I was wearing it this morning when you arrived home.”

He sagged his shoulders in relief. Thank God. He wasn’t going crazy. A little addled maybe, but he wasn’t delusional.

She slammed the knife to the counter. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

“I…I was testing to see if the fall had affected my memory.”

Though he could tell she didn’t buy his story, thankfully she didn’t question him further and began to chop again.

“I thought we’d eat on the patio,” she said. “It’s nice out.”

He glanced at the wall of doors that opened to the patio and saw that she’d already set the table outside. A candle flickered in a lantern on its center. Although he preferred to eat his meals in front of the television, he decided it best to be agreeable—for the time being, anyway. “Whatever.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Beer,” he said, and headed for the refrigerator to get it himself.

She put out a hand to stop him. “No alcoholic beverages.”

“Why not?”

She tapped a finger against her head. “Concussion, remember? No alcohol for at least forty-eight hours.”

He hitched his hands on his hips. “Says who?”

She pointed at a sheaf of papers lying on the corner of the island. “Doctor’s orders.”

He opened his mouth to tell her what she could do with his doctor’s orders, then clamped it shut.

“Doctor’s orders, my ass,” he muttered under his breath, as he headed outside. Okay, so he’d play their little game for a while, but then he was done. First thing Monday morning it was business as usual for Vince Donnelly.

“Here you go,” Sally said and slid a plate in front of him.

He looked down at the mountain of greens, then up at her. “What’s this?”

She sat opposite him and draped her napkin over her lap. “Baby spinach, broccoli florets, julienne red peppers with some grilled salmon tossed in. The dressing is my own concoction. Balsamic vinegar, virgin olive oil and a few spices.”

He shoved the plate away. “I hate salad.”

With a shrug, she popped a forkful of greens into her mouth. “That’s too bad, because that’s all there is to eat.”

Setting his jaw, he scraped back his chair and headed for the kitchen. He opened the pantry, the refrigerator, the freezer then stomped back to the door. “What the hell happened to all my food?”

She dabbed her mouth. “I threw it away.”

“You what?”

“My instructions included seeing that you ate nutritional meals.” She smiled and lifted her fork. “You really should try this. It’s pretty darn tasty, even if I do say so myself.”

Vince dropped his head back, in a silent plea for mercy. A weekend, he reminded himself. Less, since technically the weekend was half-over. His stomach chose that moment to growl, reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten.

Scowling, he stomped back to the table and snatched his plate in front of him again. With his nose curled in disgust, he stabbed a spinach leaf and poked it into his mouth, chewed. His taste buds exploded, registering the tart, smoky flavor of the balsamic vinegar and the unfamiliar spices in the dressing. He forced himself to swallow, then waited, half expecting the food to come right back up. When it didn’t, he scooped up another bite, shoveled it into his mouth.

“Listen to that.”

He glanced up to find Sally staring off into the distance, her lips curved in a soft smile. He looked around. “What? I don’t hear anything.”

She patted the air to silence him. “Just listen.”

He scooped up more salad and listened while he chewed. “I still don’t hear anything.”

“Probably because you’re accustomed to hearing it. Water tumbling over stone, the rustle of wind through the trees. Nature’s own symphony.”

He cocked his head and listened a moment, then resumed eating. “If you say so.”

“Some people find the sounds of nature relaxing. In fact, there’s an entire section dedicated to it in music stores.”

He glanced up to see if she was pulling his leg. “Seriously?”

Hiding a smile, she sipped her water. “Obviously you’ve never had a massage.”

“What does a massage have to do with anything?”

“Sounds from nature are a staple at spas. Masseuses play them in the background when giving massages.”

With a shrug he attacked his salad again. “Learn something new every day.”

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

He considered a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Don’t you ever turn the radio on in your car?”

“Yeah, to the stock report.”

“You really should try tuning to a music station.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing it’s soothing.”

He snorted a laugh. “You must like that longhair stuff.”

“Sometimes. Depends on my mood or the situation. I prefer rock when I’m cleaning house. Keeps me moving.”

“I’ll suggest that to my housekeeper.”

“How’s your head?”

He reached for the bottle of water she’d set by his plate. “Fine.”

“No headache?”

“Nope.”

“How’s your vision?”

“Twenty-twenty.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant, is it blurry?”

He blinked hard and opened his eyes wide, as if to test them. “Nope,” he reported. “Clear as a bell.”

“Would you like some more salad?”

He looked down and was surprised to see that he’d eaten every bite. He handed her his plate. “Why not?”

She set aside her napkin and rose.

“And put some more of that salmon on it,” he called after her. “That stuff’s not half-bad.”

When she returned, she set the plate in front of him, then opened her hand. Vince eyed the pill nesting on her palm. “What’s that?”

She took his hand and dumped the tablet on his palm. “Beats me. All I know is you’re to take one every night. Doctor’s orders.”

“You know, I’m a little sick of hearing that phrase.”

She shrugged and sat opposite him again. “You’re probably going to be sicker of hearing it by the end of the week.”

Scowling, he popped the pill in his mouth, chased it down with water. He shuddered at the bitter aftertaste it left in his mouth. “Satisfied?”

She smiled. “For now.”

By the time Vince finished his second helping of salad, his eyelids were heavy, his movements sluggish. Sally truly didn’t know what was in the pill she’d given him, but whatever it was, it obviously had the same sedative effect as the shots his doctor had given him at the hospital.