that tea now?” she asked, desperate to get him out of there.
He turned and looked at her. She wilted under his sensual gaze.
“Sure,” he said.
Without another word, he left the room.
“Yes, she’s sicker than she’s letting on … I know there are nurses for hire … No, I can’t stay, Grandmother, I have a meeting at the bank … Well, why do you think I’m asking you?”
“I have no idea,” Lettice said smartly. “I am not a nurse. If Catherine is that sick, then call in one or take her to the hospital.”
Miles grit his teeth together and counted to ten. His grandmother was exasperating—as usual. Gripping Catherine’s kitchen telephone tighter, he said, “She’s not dying. She has the flu, and I need someone to watch over her, make sure she doesn’t get out of bed, and fix her tea and things. I don’t have time to arrange for a nurse, so can you come?”
“You surprise me, Miles,” his grandmother said.Her voice was faint as if she were murmuring to herself. Louder, she added, “Yes, I’ll come.”
“Great.” He smiled in pleasure and hung up the telephone.
The tea kettle whistled, and he turned off the burner. As he fixed the cup of tea, a pair of grimy rubber boots lying by a door caught his eye. Odd, he thought. Had Catherine been wading in milk? The whitish stains looked fresh. He realized the door must lead to her garage, and he wondered why she’d left the dirty things on this side of the door, rather than in the garage.
Shrugging, he made a mental note to ask her if she wanted them in the garage. He also made a mental note to tell her that he would help her look for the codicil. That ought to cheer her up.
He wished he had stayed with her last night, though. She must have been sick all night. He’d panicked when he’d only been able to reach her answering machine earlier that morning. Then when he’d seen her pale face, guilt had hit him with a bang. Next time he’d let instinct rule, rather than Catherine. But in the meantime, he’d look after her. Besides, it felt kind of good.
He rummaged through her cabinets and refrigerator, looking for something suitable for her to eat, in case she was hungry. Not sure what a sick person should have, he got out an orange, some cold chicken, and a container of raspberry yogurt, then fixed a plate of Mallowmar cookies. He wondered if it was enough, and added two more cookies and a banana just to be sure.
“That ought to do it,” he muttered, setting it all on a tray he’d found.
When he reentered her bedroom, every thought went clean out of his head.
Catherine was sitting up in the bed, the covers pulled to her waist. The heavy robe was gone and in its place was a lavender nightgown. The bodice was all lace, seductively hinting rather than blatantly displaying. A man could run his fingers down the spaghetti straps of the gown, then disperse with them in one quick flick. Her thick hair shone with reddish lights as it curved around her face and shoulders. Her skin was translucent, like fine porcelain. The last thing she looked was sick.
She stared back at him for a long moment, her eyes dark and unfathomable, then lifted the covers up to her chest in a casual manner. The spell over him deflated like a sagging balloon. He continued into her room and set the tray down on her lap.
Her eyebrows rose. “I thought I was getting a cup of tea.”
“It’s there.” He pointed to the cup, then gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs were against his hip for one delicious second before she shifted them away. “I called my grandmother,” he said. “She’s coming over to take care of you.”
Catherine’s eyes widened, and she made a choking noise in the back on her throat. “Dammit, Miles, nobody gave you the right to do that!”
He raised his eyebrows. “What else was I supposed to do? You can’t be alone when you’re sick. Do you think you ought to have some medicine for that cough?”
“I am not
He turned and looked at her. She wilted under his sensual gaze.
“Sure,” he said.
Without another word, he left the room.
“Yes, she’s sicker than she’s letting on … I know there are nurses for hire … No, I can’t stay, Grandmother, I have a meeting at the bank … Well, why do you think I’m asking you?”
“I have no idea,” Lettice said smartly. “I am not a nurse. If Catherine is that sick, then call in one or take her to the hospital.”
Miles grit his teeth together and counted to ten. His grandmother was exasperating—as usual. Gripping Catherine’s kitchen telephone tighter, he said, “She’s not dying. She has the flu, and I need someone to watch over her, make sure she doesn’t get out of bed, and fix her tea and things. I don’t have time to arrange for a nurse, so can you come?”
“You surprise me, Miles,” his grandmother said.Her voice was faint as if she were murmuring to herself. Louder, she added, “Yes, I’ll come.”
“Great.” He smiled in pleasure and hung up the telephone.
The tea kettle whistled, and he turned off the burner. As he fixed the cup of tea, a pair of grimy rubber boots lying by a door caught his eye. Odd, he thought. Had Catherine been wading in milk? The whitish stains looked fresh. He realized the door must lead to her garage, and he wondered why she’d left the dirty things on this side of the door, rather than in the garage.
Shrugging, he made a mental note to ask her if she wanted them in the garage. He also made a mental note to tell her that he would help her look for the codicil. That ought to cheer her up.
He wished he had stayed with her last night, though. She must have been sick all night. He’d panicked when he’d only been able to reach her answering machine earlier that morning. Then when he’d seen her pale face, guilt had hit him with a bang. Next time he’d let instinct rule, rather than Catherine. But in the meantime, he’d look after her. Besides, it felt kind of good.
He rummaged through her cabinets and refrigerator, looking for something suitable for her to eat, in case she was hungry. Not sure what a sick person should have, he got out an orange, some cold chicken, and a container of raspberry yogurt, then fixed a plate of Mallowmar cookies. He wondered if it was enough, and added two more cookies and a banana just to be sure.
“That ought to do it,” he muttered, setting it all on a tray he’d found.
When he reentered her bedroom, every thought went clean out of his head.
Catherine was sitting up in the bed, the covers pulled to her waist. The heavy robe was gone and in its place was a lavender nightgown. The bodice was all lace, seductively hinting rather than blatantly displaying. A man could run his fingers down the spaghetti straps of the gown, then disperse with them in one quick flick. Her thick hair shone with reddish lights as it curved around her face and shoulders. Her skin was translucent, like fine porcelain. The last thing she looked was sick.
She stared back at him for a long moment, her eyes dark and unfathomable, then lifted the covers up to her chest in a casual manner. The spell over him deflated like a sagging balloon. He continued into her room and set the tray down on her lap.
Her eyebrows rose. “I thought I was getting a cup of tea.”
“It’s there.” He pointed to the cup, then gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs were against his hip for one delicious second before she shifted them away. “I called my grandmother,” he said. “She’s coming over to take care of you.”
Catherine’s eyes widened, and she made a choking noise in the back on her throat. “Dammit, Miles, nobody gave you the right to do that!”
He raised his eyebrows. “What else was I supposed to do? You can’t be alone when you’re sick. Do you think you ought to have some medicine for that cough?”
“I am not
Similar Books
