One Kiss, Two Kiss, Red Kiss, Now You Kiss Read online

  Greg blinked once and returned to the present.

  “It’s about time,” Jill grumbled, wincing when she shifted her position.

  He stiffened. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “These stitches are already beginning to itch and they’re driving me crazy. Dr. Simmons must have gotten an A in needlepoint in medical school. Oh, would you do me a favor and call Cecilia and cancel my nail appointment?” She wrinkled her nose. “I have an idea that my nails will be completely trashed before I can get in to see her. Her card is in my phone file. And please call the dance studio and tell them I’ll be out for a while. I would also appreciate your bringing me my cigarettes.”

  Greg shook his head. “Nope. No way will a hospital allow you to smoke. Plus it will do you good to try a bit of abstinence.”

  Jill chuckled at that. “Funny, I never thought abstinence had anything to do with smoking.”

  Greg stayed for two hours, when Jill shooed him out, insisting he call up one of his lady friends and go out for dinner. She told him she wasn’t about to ruin all his free time. He vacillated over her suggestion until the phone rang and it turned out to be one of the men Jill had dated not long ago. He couldn’t believe that news could travel so fast. Not wanting to stick around and listen to her laugh and talk with another man, he returned home. But Greg didn’t call anyone. Instead he heated a frozen dinner in his microwave oven and spent the evening wondering why he was suddenly becoming so interested in Jill. It couldn’t be because both of them were suddenly on their own and Jill was now in a vulnerable position. Or could it?

  “Talk about gorgeous.” Gloria rolled her eyes expressively as she gave Jill a back rub that evening. “How can someone look so sexy and write children’s books? In fact, how can you concentrate on your own work when you have someone like him around the office?”

  Jill smiled, used to people’s surprise that such a good-looking man wrote books geared for young children. “I guess he does look more like the author of men’s adventure books or soft porn.” She half-turned when the thermometer was carefully placed between her lips. She turned her head slightly to watch the decimals on the square case Gloria carried first climb rapidly, then slow until the instrument read ninety-nine degrees. “That thing reminds me of filling up at the gas station.”

  Gloria laughed. “That’s a pretty good description.” She dropped the thermometer sleeve into the wastebasket and reached behind the bed for the blood pressure cuff. Ten minutes later she left, saying she’d be back later with Jill’s sleeping pill.

  “Terrific. I hope you realize I wouldn’t be able to sleep without it,” she grumbled, settling back under the covers.

  The next morning Jill’s first visitor was Dr. Simmons.

  “I don’t see any reason for you to keep your stitches any longer,” he said, walking into her room.

  “Those are the second best words I’ve heard yet,” Jill told him.

  “What are the best?”

  “You telling me I can go home.” She smiled hopefully.

  “Not just yet, young woman.” The gray-haired man carefully moved the covers aside and removed the dressing.

  Jill lay back, waiting for the first snip, and almost jumped when what she felt was the doctor pulling at her abdomen with steel pincers. “Ouch! Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Hold out your hand.” He dropped a tiny piece of curved metal in her palm.

  “A staple? Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s called a Michelle clamp,” he explained, continuing with his torturous extraction.

  “Ow!” she yelped. “Okay, that’s it, no more,” she ordered. “Just leave the rest in. I won’t mind a bit.”

  “You’d look pretty funny,” Dr. Simmons teased without pausing in his work.

  “Who cares? It will be a great conversation piece.” She gasped at the next pinch.

  “And you’ll play havoc with airport metal detectors, too,” he joked.

  “Have a heart,” she pleaded.

  Dr. Simmons held his hands up. “All done, and it wasn’t as bad as you made it seem.”

  “Fine. I want to be around when you have these things in you,” Jill grumbled, but there was just the barest hint of a smile in her eyes. “And I want to be the one to take them out.”

  “You can start walking now,” Dr. Simmons informed her. “In fact, you’ll find that you’ll feel a lot better once you get around more, but don’t overdo it.” He smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning and we’ll see how well you’re doing.”

  Jill spent the morning reading one of the books downloaded on her tablet and keeping an eye out for Greg. She didn’t want to admit that she was looking forward to seeing him. She could say that anyone would do to keep her from going crazy, but deep down she knew better. She wanted to see him.

  Contrary to her expectations, she was soon engrossed in her book and didn’t sense another presence in the room until a small stack of envelopes floated down into her lap. She looked up and smiled.

  “I hope you left the bills at home.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s all I could find,” Greg replied.

  Jill read each card and handed a few to Greg. One especially had her chuckling.

  “I didn’t know they made dirty get-well cards,” she commented, still giggling over the sexy message inside the card. “Where did Evelyne find it?”

  “Beats me.” He handed the card back to her. “How are you feeling? I’m glad to see that your color is back.”

  “My color is back due to my screams when Dr. Simmons took my staples out,” she groused.

  Greg shook his head, not understanding. “Staples?”

  “I guess the price of silk thread went up, because he used some very nasty metal clamps instead.” She held her pillow against her chest as she coughed. “And I thought having the flu was bad.” She pushed the pillow to one side, then pointed to a tall box that resembled a meter. “Good old Respiratory Therapy brought it up this morning,” she explained. “I’m to blow into it to keep my lungs clear.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I didn’t realize there was so much work involved in getting well.”

  “Carlysle called this morning to see how I was feeling.” She smiled at the memory of the slightly eccentric man who represented them with the skill of a viper. “I think he was just making sure I was still alive. He alluded to the fact that you could do all the typing for a while,” she said with a teasing grin. It was a fact that neither of them liked to type on their computers, so they shared the task, since they preferred going over their work from beginning to end instead of hiring a typist.

  Greg’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He couldn’t miss how Jill occasionally winced when she moved and how she bit her lower lip the one time she unconsciously tried to stretch her body. Yet the stubborn witch wouldn’t admit she hurt!

  “I’m still not used to my limitations,” she said with a sigh, reaching out to grasp his fingers. “Greg, I really appreciate you staying with me so much, but I feel guilty at taking so much of your time when I’m sure you’d rather do something else.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Such as picking up my dirty clothes?”

  “I don’t know. If you went that far, poor Mrs. Hathaway might have a stroke from the shock,” Jill said. “If it wasn’t for her and your present girlfriend, I doubt you’d find your furniture for all the clothes scattered everywhere.”

  “Okay, I get the message.” He shook his head. “Hey, shouldn’t you be walking by now?” Even he was surprised by the time he had spent with Jill, since he usually wouldn’t spend more than five minutes in a hospital unless he happened to be the patient. Now he was hesitant about leaving Jill alone. He picked Jill’s robe up from the bed. He smiled at the blue challis print flannel gown with lace edging the collar and cuffs. Her emerald robe had the same Old World look.

  Jill wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You have got to be kidding! Do you know how
long it takes me just to walk to the bathroom? It was bad enough that I had to call the nurse every time I needed to get out of bed.”

  “And now you have me.” Greg dropped the robe over Jill’s head and zipped it up. Her slippers were next placed on her feet.

  “My legs still wobble,” she cautioned him.

  “Then it won’t look funny if you hang on tight,” he said lightly, grasping her hands. “Come on, the exercise will do you good. This may be the only time you’ll get any.”

  “Sadist,” she muttered under her breath, standing up slowly, still feeling off balance. She gripped Greg’s hands tightly, afraid she’d fall without his support. At least the prickles in her legs had lessened. “Haven’t you read the reports that say even a person who jogs on a regular basis can have a heart attack?”

  “Just take your time,” Greg prompted quietly, sensing she was talking to hide her fear of collapsing.

  “I don’t need to walk, you know,” she argued, taking her first step. “I’ll be doing plenty of it for the next fifty years.”

  Greg’s smile curved his lips. “Dr. Simmons said you need to walk, so we’ll take a nice stroll down the hall.” He kept one arm tucked securely around her. With his head bent, he could smell the light scent of her cologne. Today her hair was twisted into a loose knot on top of her head.

  “This happened at the wrong time,” she lamented, trying to ignore the tingling sensation along her calves and thighs as they slowly made their way out of the room.

  “I don’t think emergency surgery can be planned according to your social calendar.” Greg’s attention was momentarily diverted by a shapely red-haired nurse who walked past them.

  For the first time in their partnership Jill felt a twinge of jealousy that Greg looked at other women the way a man studied a woman he was interested in while he barely glanced at her. This feeling was new to her, especially since they had taken each other pretty much for granted during the past five years. She also knew it wasn’t a feeling she should have. She silently resolved to start livening up her social life as soon as she was free to get out on her own. If she took it easy, she was positive she could be back to her old schedule in a couple of weeks.

  Their walk along the hallway was leisurely as they spoke about inconsequential subjects. Anyone who looked at them would think they were an old married couple; Greg’s arm was looped protectively around Jill’s waist, and she leaned familiarly against him.

  When they returned to Jill’s room fifteen minutes later, they found four people waiting there.

  “Darling, you don’t look sick at all!” A woman with jet black, wildly styled hair and equally wildly shadowed eyes exclaimed. She held out her arms, draped in vivid fuchsia dolman sleeves, and embraced Jill.

  “Hello, Sofia.” She greeted the woman with a smile and flashed Greg a wry expression at Sofia’s theatrics.

  Greg rolled his eyes in disgust. He wondered if he could ask a nurse for the use of an oxygen tank so he wouldn’t have to smell the strong jasmine perfume Sofia used. He felt suffocated from the many heavy scents mixed in the small room and irritated by the noisy talk and laughter.

  “Give her a chance to get back in bed,” he ordered curtly. “In case you’ve forgotten, Jill had major surgery only two days ago.” He scowled at the two women and two men who had all been talking at once.

  Sofia’s brightly painted lips pursed. “Jill, dear, how could we forget?” she cooed, stepping back to allow her to reach her bed. The woman’s dark eyes spewed hostility in Greg’s direction. From their first meeting the two had disliked each other; Greg, because he felt Sofia used Jill unfairly, and Sofia, because she knew Greg saw her for the heartless soul she was.

  Greg remained in the doorway feeling split in two directions. He wanted nothing more than to get away from Sofia, but his other half urged him to remain to ensure that Jill’s thoughtless visitors wouldn’t overtire her.

  Jill smiled and thanked them for their flowers and cards. At the same time she couldn’t help looking over at Greg. He had made no bones that he wasn’t fond of some of her friends, especially Sofia and Drake.

  Sofia was the epitome of a bohemian artist. The woman of indeterminate age painted pictures that were nothing more than splashes of nauseating color on canvas that commanded a great deal of money.

  Drake was in his forties, with no visible means of support save a family trust fund that more than covered the cost of his elaborate parties and bar bills.

  Taffy—the name was incongruous for a woman in her mid-thirties—and Ray were nothing more than hangers-on.

  Jill didn’t count them as true friends or even close acquaintances, but they had helped brighten her life during some dark periods. She looked at Greg, silently pleading with him to understand.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jill.” His speech was harsher than he intended.

  She parted her lips to object, but the cold expression in his eyes told her he wasn’t going to give in.

  “All right,” she conceded quietly. “Thanks for coming by.”

  “Don’t worry, Greg, we won’t overtax the dear.” Sofia’s lips were slightly curled back.

  “I certainly hope not.” He turned away before he said words he wouldn’t regret.

  For the first time in many months Jill found herself not enjoying the foursome’s eccentric conversation, interspersed with malicious gossip about mutual friends. She felt tired and found herself wishing to be alone. After a while she used the excuse of experiencing discomfort, and they left with promises of seeing her again when she was discharged. Ten minutes later Jill had to call the nurse and ask if she could be given something for the pounding headache that she had received from the loud talk that had surrounded her.

  That night Jill took the sleeping pill the nurse had brought in to her and was ready to turn out her light when the phone rang. She quickly prayed that it wasn’t her mother and picked the receiver up.

  “Hello?”

  “They didn’t overtire you, did they?”

  Jill smiled at the crisp sound of Greg’s voice. “The only person who overtired me was myself,” she admitted, feeling she would be better off not to tell him about her earlier headache. “I then had a quiet dinner comprised of strained soup of an unknown variety, vanilla ice cream, orange gelatin and hot tea.”

  Greg chuckled. “Not even a candy bar for your sweet tooth?”

  Jill gave an unladylike snort. “Hardly. As if that’s not bad enough Killers in Orange is missing five pages from the ninth chapter. It’s frustrating to get to a good part and be left hanging.”

  “How you can read that gore and not have nightmares, I’ll never know. I have a luncheon engagement, so I won’t be over until the afternoon.”

  “With Rita?” she asked before she could stop to reconsider. “I hope you didn’t get down on your knees to ask her to take you back. It’s so demeaning.”

  He could sense the broad smile on her lips. “Shouldn’t she call to beg me to take her back?” he retorted. “Good night, Jilly Bean.”

  Jill groaned. A former boyfriend had christened her with the whimsical nickname and, unfortunately, Greg had not only heard it once but used it when he wanted to get a rise out of her. She hung up without saying another word.

  She switched on the television with the remote control button, pleasantly surprised to find one of her favorite horror movies being aired. She settled back to watch and later, when she fell asleep, dreamed of a dark-haired man carrying her into a mist.

  Greg stepped over a softball mitt lying in the middle of the living room and walked into the bedroom. He carried his glass of hearty burgundy into the bathroom and set it on the counter while he took a long hot shower. When he later got into bed, his damp towel was discarded next to the bed and the half-filled wineglass placed on the night table next to a glass that had held juice that morning. He looked around the cluttered room and knew that Mrs. Hathaway would mumble more than usual when she cleaned his rooms the next day. />
  He pushed two pillows behind his back and reached for his glass. Greg decided it was time to question his sanity. He had worked with Jill in pretty close quarters for the past five years, and now was not the time to think about her seriously as a desirable woman.

  Greg knew enough about Jill’s private life to know that men found her an exciting woman to be with. He had met some of the men she had dated over the years when they had stopped in during the day to take her to lunch. A few times she didn’t return all afternoon, but he had never thought to question her about how she spent those hours, just as she never had the times he had been gone.

  Greg sipped his wine, wondering why his and Jill’s love lives never seemed to bear the right kind of fruit. He couldn’t remember either of them finding someone who could change their minds about the single life. Jill had thought she found someone in Josh, until something happened to break them apart, and after that she didn’t seem to care about seeking a man who wanted commitment.

  He set the glass to one side and promised himself to take his dirty glasses into the kitchen before Mrs. Hathaway arrived in the morning.

  Rubbing his hand over his face, he suddenly grinned, remembering Jill’s sounds of surprise when he mentioned he had a luncheon date. He hadn’t informed her that his engagement was with his accountant, but the thought of the lovely Marcia would only have heightened Jill’s suspicion that good old Greg was on the prowl again. He pulled the covers over himself and settled down to a good night’s sleep.

  “Why can’t I go home today?” Jill demanded of the tolerant Dr. Simmons. “My temperature has been normal for two days, I’m eating this horrible food you’re serving me, and I’m behaving so well the nurses probably think I’m nuts!”

  He shook his head. “It’s much too soon, Jill. And you forget that your temperature still fluctuates during the day. You’re also not as strong as you think you are. You’re going to be severely restricted for six weeks.”

  “Six weeks!” She had been certain she would be returning to full activity in a couple of weeks. “You can’t do this to me,” Jill pleaded. “Please, let me go home. I promise to be good.”