One Kiss, Two Kiss, Red Kiss, Now You Kiss Page 4

  Dr. Simmons shook his head again. “Not yet. As it is, you’ll have to be careful because you’ll have to climb stairs. You will have to make sure you go up and down as little as possible. I would prefer that you only travel the stairs once a day. I also don’t want you driving for ten days after you get home.”

  “How am I supposed to get around?” Jill demanded.

  “I’m sure Greg will drive you anywhere you need to go,” he assured her.

  Jill sighed, seeing this was one battle she wasn’t going to win. “When do I get to go home?” she asked quietly.

  “You’re still running a bit of a temperature. I’ll discharge you in two days, if all goes well.” Dr. Simmons patted her hand. “Just relax and enjoy this unexpected vacation.”

  “Vacation?” She made a face. “My idea of a vacation is a beach bungalow in Hawaii.”

  “Then you’re in luck.” He beamed. “Your room has a terrific view of the bay.” With that he walked out of the room.

  Jill glared at his retreating figure with as much venom as she could muster in her weakened condition. “Smart-aleck doctors do not deserve to have their bills paid right away,” she muttered, picking up a magazine.

  But the magazine couldn’t hold her attention for long and she finally gave up, hoping a walk along the hall would curb some of her restlessness. Jill slipped her robe and slippers on and walked slowly, occasionally smiling at a nurse or one of the other patients who obviously had had the same idea.

  She stopped at a set of windows but couldn’t see much of anything due to the low-hanging fog that refused to dissipate. Jill pressed her cheek against the cold glass and looked out into the gray mist that resembled Greg’s eyes. She wished she had been bold enough to ask Greg whom he was having lunch with. Would it prove to be one of those afternoon-long meals, or was it business? She shook her head, deciding her preoccupation with Greg was due to her semi-invalid state. She needed something to focus her overactive imagination on, and who better than Greg, with the many women who enjoyed cooking meals for him and straightening up his cluttered rooms?

  Jill’s brow wrinkled in a frown as she silently scolded herself for thinking about him so much. It always seemed that the times she was between boyfriends, Greg had had someone to keep him busy, and when he had been free, she had had someone in her life; they were never on their own at the same time. Perhaps it was for the best, she thought. Or was it really? Were they better off keeping their relationship purely on a business basis? Jill guessed that she’d never really know.

  She finally straightened up and returned to her room, deciding to call her friend, Evelyne, and have a lengthy chat on the phone. Evelyne suffered from a strong phobia of hospitals and found it next to impossible to walk into one without breaking out in a cold sweat. Jill respected that fear, and the two women had kept in touch over the phone during the past few days. Evelyne had already promised to see Jill once she returned home. But her friend wasn’t home, and Jill’s spirits did not improve. Finally she opened her book and began reading again. Every time she turned a page, she checked her small travel clock sitting on the night table. Time had never passed so slowly.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jill felt far from cheerful when a smiling Greg walked in, still carrying the scent of the damp air from outside. She didn’t have to look at her clock to know it was past four. She had glanced at it when she heard his voice out in the hallway as he spoke to one of the nurses.

  “Obviously you had a successful lunch,” she said.

  Greg grinned. “Sorry, I was never one to kiss and tell.” He dropped into the nearby chair, his dark eyes twinkling with humor. “Marcia chose a German restaurant that opened recently. You’d like it.”

  “Marcia.” Jill looked as if she had bit into something sour; she knew the woman only too well.

  “She’s a nice woman,” Greg told her.

  “I’m sure they said the very same thing about Lizzie Borden and Lucrezia Borgia.” She collapsed back against her pillow. “I’m sorry, Greg; I’ve been feeling cranky all day.” She thought that sounded like an excellent excuse for insulting a woman she didn’t like anyway.

  He looked down at his hands in his lap. “It’s probably your inability to get out as much as you’re used to,” he murmured. “I understand one of your favorite boutiques had to declare bankruptcy this morning. It’s amazing what can happen with the loss of just one patron.”

  She wished she had the energy to shake her fist at him. “Cute, Richmond, real cute.”

  Greg dug into his jacket pocket and drew out a square package. “Don’t say I never brought you anything.” He tossed it into her lap.

  Jill opened it and squealed at the chocolate delicacies staring back at her. “Thank you!” She promptly hid the box in the night table drawer. “Mustn’t let the nurse catch me with contraband,” she whispered theatrically.

  He looked down at the tablet lying open next to her along with a garish cover. He shook his head in wonderment that someone who looked so sweet and fragile would read such grim books. “How can you stand to read them?”

  Jill’s eyes sparkled. “There was a great horror movie on TV last night; ghouls and plenty of vampires.” She raised her eyebrows expressively. “Not to mention other nasty creatures of the night. I loved it.”

  “I didn’t know Sofia had made a movie,” Greg commented with a straight face.

  Jill’s laugh escaped before she could stop it. “Come to think of it, there was one witchy type who reminded me of her.” She ran her fingers through her hair, enjoying the clean feel of the strands. “I was able to take a shower today and it was wonderful! I didn’t know I could get so excited about taking a shower.”

  “Depends on who you’re taking it with,” he murmured.

  Jill put her hands over her stomach as she laughed. “You’re getting terrible!” she accused, but her laughter took the sting out of her words. “I swear your depraved nature is showing more and more.”

  “Must be the company I keep.”

  “True, Rita did look a little on the kinky side,” she replied with a straight face.

  Greg’s visit continued with the same lightheartedness on the surface, but there was something else occurring between them, perhaps because they were both aware that they were free agents at the same time. From the beginning of their partnership they had been aware that they found each other attractive, but it was an unspoken agreement that a love affair just wouldn’t work for them if they wanted to keep their business relationship on an even keel. For five years it had worked—until now. The tension hanging between them was unusually thick when Greg left.

  Jill was ecstatic the morning Dr. Simmons announced she could go home. In her excitement she barely listened to his instructions and the reminder to see him in a week’s time.

  “Now, no going to your dance class for quite a while, young woman,” he cautioned, wagging his finger at her.

  “No problem there,” Jill assured him airily. “The way my legs feel right now, I don’t think I could try a plié without falling flat on my face.”

  She had already called Greg and was waiting for him to pick her up. The details concerning Jill’s discharge turned out to be more complicated than her admittance. It seemed to take hours before an aide finally wheeled her out to Greg’s car, with her flowers set in an accompanying basket.

  During the drive to the house Jill discovered that hills and a sore stomach didn’t mix. By the time Greg helped her into the house, she was fully prepared to hate him for life. She was also positive he had hit every pothole and found every bump during the trip.

  “Too bad you didn’t hit Lombard Street so my insides could end up a total disaster,” she grumbled, then yelped when Greg suddenly swung her up in his arms. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you won’t moan and groan every step of the way.”

  Jill linked her arms around Greg’s neck before she could lose her balance. She had never b
een in such close contact with him, save for casual kisses, and she discovered it wasn’t so bad. She could smell his aftershave, which reminded her of the woods after a cleansing rain, and found their faces close enough so that she could see a faint red speck where he must have nicked himself shaving that morning. For one brief moment she was sorely tempted to nibble on his earlobe, but she resisted the urge.

  “You’re showing your romantic side, Greg,” she teased lightly, tugging on a lock of his hair with an ungentle hand. “My, my, is this what you do with all your lady friends? It must have been difficult with Rita, since she’s a bit”—she paused dramatically— “top heavy.”

  “If you weren’t sick, I’d drop you on your lovely tush,” he retorted, carrying her into her bedroom, where the covers had already been pulled back. Greg set Jill down on the sheets and put her suitcase on the cushioned chair. He pulled the infamous peach nightgown out and held it up. “Would you like me to help you slip into this?”

  “No, thank you, I think I can handle it all by myself,” she cooed back. “Besides, I thought your forte was assisting women out of their nightgowns, not into them.”

  “True, but in your case I’d force myself to do the proper thing,” he said with a smirk.

  “You probably haven’t done the proper thing since you were in kindergarten,” Jill retorted. “Now if you want to help me, I’d appreciate a pitcher of ice water.”

  Greg nodded and left the room. He came back a few minutes later carrying a tray laden with a pitcher, a glass and a plate of butter crackers. He set it on the night table and looked down at Jill. “If you need anything, give a holler,” he told her. “We got the galleys yesterday for our spring book, so I thought I’d begin going over them.”

  “I’ll proof them,” Jill offered instantly, knowing it wasn’t one of his favorite jobs.

  “You don’t worry about a thing; just rest,” he replied. “I’ll see you later.”

  After Greg left, Jill changed into a nightgown— not the peach one—and wandered into the living room. She curled up in a corner of her muted rose, ecru and turquoise plaid couch and sorted through her mail. As the rest of the day passed, the time moved rapidly, between reading her mail and talking to friends on the phone. Before she knew it evening had come and her stomach reminded her that the dinner hour had come and gone. The passing of the day had also sapped what little energy she had, and she was finding it difficult to combat her lethargy to go and search for some food when someone knocked on her front door and opened it.

  “Ready for some dinner?” Greg asked.

  Jill pursed her lips in thought. “Dinner, dinner,” she mused. “Oh, I guess you can stay long enough to drop it off.”

  “Too bad, because I come with the meal.” He entered carrying red and white cardboard boxes that sent out the enticing aroma of chicken. Jill’s mouth watered.

  “I’ll get the plates,” she offered instantly, starting to rise from her corner.

  “No way.” He shook his head, setting the boxes on the coffee table and proffering a paper bag that held a package of paper plates and plastic eating utensils.

  Jill’s lips twitched. “I see you brought your best china. How considerate of you.”

  “Only quality for milady.” He opened the cellophane wrapper and withdrew two heavy plates with a yellow scrolled design along the border. “Even spaghetti sauce doesn’t leak through these.” He loaded each plate with chicken, coleslaw and biscuits and handed the smaller portion to Jill. “Do you want Diet Coke?”

  “Yes please.” Jill was still amazed at the feast he had brought.

  Greg pulled a package out of his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the glass-topped teak coffee table. “I also got your prescriptions filled.”

  By then Jill was speechless. “I forgot all about those,” she murmured, opening the bag to find three bottles, one filled with painkillers, another labeled antibiotics and the last with sleeping pills. “Thank you. I can see that between the pain pills and sleeping capsules, I’ll be out of commission for the next month.”

  “If they work that well I’ll gladly take care of refilling them for the rest of this year,” he offered blandly, getting up to find glasses and ice for the cans of soda.

  “Honest to goodness solid food,” she said, drooling theatrically. “Greg, I can actually chew this!” She picked up the chicken and bit into the juicy meat.

  Silence reigned for the next ten minutes as they concentrated on their meal.

  Greg looked around the spotless room. “Did Mrs. Hathaway come in today?”

  Jill’s eyes bugged. “Do you mean you’ve already messed your place up so much you can’t remember what day she’s at your place and when she’s at mine?” she demanded.

  He winced. “The woman hates me,” he announced. “All she ever does is mumble and give me dirty looks.”

  Jill nodded her head, understanding what he meant. Their sour-faced housekeeper always mumbled when she was displeased with something or someone—usually Greg and his less than immaculate habits. It wasn’t that he was a slob; he was merely careless with his possessions.

  “She’s probably working up to demand a raise from you,” she decided. “I wouldn’t blame her. After all, you give her three times more work than I do.” She curled her legs up under her but winced at her movement.

  Greg noticed her silent admittance of the pain crossing her abdomen and reached for one of the pill bottles, working to open the safety cap. “I once saw a cartoon of a man walking out of a drugstore where a boy stood nearby wearing a sign saying he’d open childproof bottles for a quarter. I could use that kid right about now,” he grumbled, reading the embossed directions on the top. It took a bit of struggling, but he finally got the lid off. He dropped one of the white tablets into his palm and handed it to Jill. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  “Now I know what a bowl of lumpy oatmeal feels like,” she muttered, accepting the glass, then popping the pill in her mouth and drinking some of the water. She looked at the food she had really picked at more than eaten. “I usually would have eaten this in no time.”

  “Your stomach is still adjusting from your liquid diet in the hospital,” Greg explained, swiping her drumstick. “No use in letting it go to waste” was his reply to her questioning gaze. When he had finished he cleaned up the remains of their meal and deposited the trash in the proper place. When he completed his task, the coffee table was as clean as before.

  “Hm, you just might end up as a human being after all,” Jill quipped.

  “Be careful or I won’t show up to fix your breakfast tomorrow morning,” he threatened.

  “Mrs. Hathaway is coming in early,” she announced smugly, not wanting to hurt his feelings by reminding him that he could never cook breakfast without burning at least one item. “She called this afternoon and said she would check on me.”

  Greg choked, remembering the one time the housekeeper had fixed a meal for him. It had taken his stomach several days to recover. “I guess you’ll have your pick of two bad cooks. Good night, ole buddy.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “You have an early night and get your rest.”

  “I thought that was what I’ve been doing,” she said.

  “It’s still going to take you awhile before you feel more like your ornery self.”

  “What an exciting prospect.” Jill looked grumpy.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Greg promised.

  After he left, Jill picked her book up and continued reading. An hour later she retired to bed. For someone who rarely went to bed before two or three in the morning, the clock reading just past ten mocked Jill’s weary eyes.

  Even with her early bedtime, Jill slept until late morning. When her bedroom door closed, the sound of Mrs. Hathaway vacuuming was merely a pleasant hum. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the heels of her hands and staggered out of bed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

  Under the warm spray she looked down at the incision an
d grimaced. Dr. Simmons had assured her the pinkish red scar would fade within a year or so. For now she knew what Frankenstein’s monster felt like.

  Jill braided her damp hair and left it hanging down her back as she slipped on a pale gray sweatshirt-like caftan edged with bright turquoise on the round collar and cuffs. Since she felt that she still appeared too pale, she brushed a rose blusher across her cheekbones and used a matching lip gloss. Now that she felt a bit more human, she walked into the living room, where Mrs. Hathaway was busy polishing the furniture.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hathaway,” Jill said sweetly.

  The tall, angular woman turned around to fix Jill with dark, beady eyes. She was in her fifties and looked as if she continually sucked lemons, but she was a hard worker and trustworthy.

  “You’ll need some breakfast,” Mrs. Hathaway said in her characteristic no nonsense mumble.

  “You don’t have to bother. I can easily fix something for myself,” Jill protested politely.

  “You sit there and rest,” she ordered. “I’ll be back in a jiffy with your meal.” She stabbed a forefinger in Jill’s direction. “And no going off sneaking a cigarette with a window open like you do first thing. Food is more important.”

  “Yes ma’am,” she said, properly chastened.

  Jill discovered that Mrs. Hathaway’s poached egg was just another name for hard-boiled, and her buttered toast had a delightful charcoal coating. Jill forced herself to smile as she swallowed every bite along with sips of pulpy orange juice.

  “That’s better,” Mrs. Hathaway decreed, carrying the dishes into the kitchen. “Before I go I’ll fix up a casserole for your dinner.”

  ‘Whoa!” Jill almost shouted, then got herself in control. “That’s very nice of you, Mrs. Hathaway, but Greg said he’d be bringing dinner over.” She was afraid her smile would break before long.

  After the housekeeper left, Jill spent the afternoon ensconced on the couch watching television or reading. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been blessed with so much free time, although she doubted she would consider it a blessing for long. She was surprised to find herself not even thinking about Harry and his travels. As it was, she found it difficult to concentrate. Evelyne called her for a long chat and promised to stop in as soon as she could. Carlysle also called to see how she was getting along. Surprisingly, there was no word from Greg. During one of her prowls around the living room she looked out the window but didn’t see his car parked in the driveway.