The phone rang bright and early the following morning.
Jessica answered with a cheery, “Hello?”
A pause on the line. “Uh, hi.” No mistaking that voice. Jessica’s stomach soured. “Is, uh, Jason there?”
Normally he wouldn’t be here at this time of day, but he happened to have just walked through the back door and announced that his morning chores were finished. Without a word to the caller, she extended the cordless to Jason.
“For me?” he said, a puzzled look on his face.
‘Monica,’ she mouthed, and then practically shoved the phone at him.
She returned to her tiny bedroom and began dressing for church. Though she didn’t want to eavesdrop, she couldn’t stop herself from straining to listen to the rich timbre of his baritone as he laughed at some comment Monica had apparently made. She looked in the mirror and mimicked his laughter, a sarcastic smirk on her face, while jealousy shot through every part of her body. In the next instant, she threw her hairbrush onto the bed with more force than necessary. What was she going to do? With every day she lived here it became more apparent that Jason would never give her a chance again.
But I still love him, she told her reflection, which now held a pitiful feeling-sorry-for-myself expression that sickened her. Over the months since she moved in, their relationship had been a roller coaster, but one thing was certain - her love for him grew every day. Being in his home, seeing him every day, cooking for him, taking care of him—all these things fed the tender blossom of her love. How would she ever be able to give him up again?
Slumping to the bed, she battled tears, something that happened far too often of late. Monica was such a nice person—why couldn’t Jessica simply reconcile herself to the fact that eventually Jason would marry her? She would probably make him very happy. The mental image of Monica wrapped in Jason’s arms at night tormented her, and a groan escaped her parted lips. What could she do to stop that from happening?
A million thoughts circled her brain, but she dismissed them one by one. Frustrated, she snatched up the hairbrush and jerked it through her tresses. Surely there was something she could do. After all, he had been attracted to her years ago. A flicker of the old flame remained, she’d seen it in his eyes last night. His comment, about what a good team they could have made, might mean he harbored some feelings for her.
If so, he sure kept it hidden lately. He went out of his way to avoid her. Last night’s Fourth of July picnic was a fluke. Most of the time he treated her the same as he would treat Mrs. Perkins.
She jerked the edge of her quilt to straighten it. No, she just couldn’t sit idly by and let him slip through her fingers again without trying to win him back. But short of stepping over boundaries she couldn’t force herself to cross, how? First, she had to make him spend time with her, and he didn’t—
An idea materialized. She stared at herself’ in the mirror as it became a full-fledged plan. A mischievous glint came into her eyes. What could she do to entice him to spend some time with her alone?
From the kitchen, his voice droned on while she wracked her brain to come up with an idea. Short of her death, what could she do to keep him home? Hmmm. Maybe not death, but what about near death? A triumphant grin spread across the face reflected in the mirror. She wiped it away, and hurriedly un-made the bed she’d just straightened. With both hands she mussed her hair, and then used her fingers to smear her eyeliner into the tender skin beneath her eyes. She cracked open her door in time to hear him bid Monica goodbye, and made a dash for the bed.
A whistle betrayed his location as he came down the hall. He came to a stop in front of her room, and tapped with a knuckle.
She adopted a weak tone. “Come in.”
The door opened, and a smiling Jason stuck his head inside. “I’m going on a picnic. See you later, okay?”
“Sure. Have a wonderful time, Jason,” she muttered, and drooped her eyelids partially closed.
Concern overtook his features. “Hey, you feeling all right?”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I’m fine—just fine. But before you go, could you bring me an aspirin?”
He stepped into the room. “An aspirin? Are you sick?”
Eyes fluttering open, she managed a pitiful smile. “I don’t know what happened. I was feeling fine a few minutes ago.”
Jason walked over and laid a cool hand on her forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever. Where do you hurt?”
“Everywhere—my stomach—my head—even my bones feel achy. I wonder if that sausage I cooked for breakfast was bad. Do you feel okay?”
He shrugged. “I’m fine. I hope you’re not coming down with a virus or something.”
“Oh, gosh, me too.” She released a long, tremulous sigh. “But don’t let me keep you. If you could just bring me that aspirin, and maybe a glass of water, I’ll be fine.” She allowed her eyelids to flutter shut before delivering a well-aimed blow. “If I need anything, I’ll call Rick.”
She knew without looking that the last dart hit its mark.
“I’m not going to leave you here if you’re sick. I’ll call Monica back and tell her I can’t make it today.”
Jessica opened one eye as he turned and started for the kitchen. “Oh, Jason, no.” She assumed a valiant tone. “I don’t want to spoil your day. I’d feel just awful.”
He turned around and awarded her a stern look. “I’m not leaving you, Jessie, and that’s final.”
A thrill of triumph shot through her, which she carefully concealed. Instead, she released another sigh. “Whatever you say. I’m too sick to argue.”
He left the room to make his phone call. When his apologetic tone drifted to her from the kitchen, she felt a twinge of guilt. This really is a dirty trick to pull on him. But really, what choice did she have? Her cause was desperate.
A few minutes later he returned carrying a tray, which he tried to set on the tiny night-stand. Encountering difficulty with the lamp and alarm clock, he instead set it on the foot of the bed. She lifted her head to glance in that direction, and hid a grin. The surface of the tray was crowded with aspirin, Alka-Seltzer, a variety of cold-and-flu medicines, a can of Sprite, a glass of ice, and a folded washcloth.
“I don’t’ know what’ll help, but I’ve got everything I could think of.” He waved at the assortment.
Exhibiting every sign of weakness, she managed to prop herself up on one elbow long enough to swallow an aspirin tablet and wash it down with a sip of soda. “That’ll be fine. Thank you.” She cast a grateful, almost simpering, glance up at his face. “I appreciate you taking such good care of me.”
He insisted that she lay down and placed the cool cloth on her forehead.
“There you go, Angel,” he said in a voice more tender than she’d heard in over eight years. “You try to get some sleep. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
When he left, he pulled her door almost closed, his gaze fixed on her face the entire time.
Jessica lay back and indulged in a smile. This was exactly where she wanted him – here with her. Not on a picnic with the lovely Monica, but waiting on Jessica, concerned about her, his every thought fixed on her. Only…now that she had him here, what was she going to do with him?
Over the next hour or so she pretended to doze while a variety of intriguing noises filtered into her room. Every so often the banging and scraping would stop, and she would slam her eyes shut just in time when Jason shoved his head through the half-open doorway to check on her. Once she managed a weak request.
“Could I have a glass of juice? I think there’s some apple juice in the fridge.”
“Of course.”
The speed with which he filled her order brought a private smile to her face. But then he returned to whatever noisy task he’d begun.
Two lazy, boring hours passed. Jessica silenced her cell phone and downloaded a silly game to pass the time. Whenever the noise ceased, she shoved the phone beneath the covers and feigned sleep, only to return to it
when he left.
The afternoon was half-over when he stepped into her tiny room once again. “Angel?” he asked quietly. “Are you asleep?”
Adopting a pitiful tone, she managed to utter, “Not really. My stomach hurts too badly to sleep.”
“Good. Uh—” He held up a hand. “Not good that your stomach hurts, but good that you’re not asleep. Do you think you can handle a short walk?”
Curiosity piqued, she managed to tamper down her enthusiasm for something—anything—to break the boredom. “If you’ll let me lean on you, I think I can manage that.”
“Excellent.”
He entered the room and helped her untangle her legs from the quilt. Leaning heavily on his strong arm, she let him lead her out of her cell.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see in a second.”
Excitement danced in his eyes, and his grin looked like a little boy’s. It was all Jessica could to not to match his enthusiastic grin. Instead, she focused on leaning heavily on his arm and limping like a weakened invalid down the hallway.
He stopped in front of the room that had once been his, and turned a wide smile on her. “My lady, welcome to your new boudoir.”
With a flourish, he swept the door open. The unidentified noises became clear when Jessica stepped inside. The room, into which she had peeked many times in the past few months, glowed with a welcome atmosphere that warmed her heart. Gone were the piles of memorabilia and items belonging to his parents. Even the utilitarian gray bed linens had been exchanged for a white, lacy comforter. The dresser and chest gleamed with fresh polish, and a huge bouquet of wild flowers sat on one of the nightstands, casting a rainbow of goodwill and comfort around the room.
“I…” The words stumbled over a dry tongue. Tears filled her eyes, making his toothy grin a blurry image. “You can’t mean this is for me?”
His arm slipped around her waist. “Of course it’s for you, Angel. And long past time, too.” He ducked his head. “I’m sorry for leaving you in that tiny space for so long. I didn’t actually mean to.”
Emotion overwhelmed her as her gaze circled the room. “Jason, you—” She swallowed past a sob. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” With pressure from his arm, he guided her toward the four-poster bed. “Let’s get you settled so you can go back to sleep. I’ll move your things in a minute.”
She allowed him to guide her to the bed, and stood watching as he peeled back the comforter. As she slid between the crisp, clean-smelling sheets, a wave of dismay washed over her. This was Jason’s bed, the one he’d occupied while dating her all those years ago. The one he’d slept in the night of their short-lived wedding.
Once enthroned in Jason’s bed, Jessica leaned back against fluffy pillows and watched as he transferred her few belongings from the smaller bedroom to this one. Watching him hang her dresses, and carefully lay her clothing in the elaborate chest-of-drawers, she couldn’t help but admire his lithe body. This day had turned out far better than she’d hoped. Instead of lounging in a field of wildflowers with Monica, he was here, waiting hand-and-foot on her.
A sudden wave of guilt weighed her down.
“Jason.”
He turned from his task of settling a drawer of her tee-shirts, with a quizzical expression.
“I appreciate this.” She waved a hand to include the room and the closet and the dresser. “All of it. And you especially.”
The crooked grin appeared, the one that made her heart flutter. “It’s the least I can do, Angel. Especially after you’ve taken such good care of me.”
“I—” She bit down on her lip. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. After all, you’re running Uncle Fred’s farm too.”
He slid the drawer shut and crossed the room to grab a low-backed chair, which he set by the bedside, turned around backward, and straddled. “Don’t forget, you’re paying me.”
“Thirty thousand dollars,” she said.
He nodded. “And no cents.”
He must really need the money to take on such a project. She hadn’t given it much thought before this moment.
Cocking her head sideways, she studied him. “All that stuff about lighting your cigars with hundred dollar bills. You were just messing with me, right?”
“What do you think?” A grin created a pair of delightful dimples in his cheeks. “Nobody would be that stupid, would they?”
She settled back in the pillows. “Definitely not you.”
“Oh?” Green sparks appeared in his eyes. “You think I’m smart, do you?”
A giggle stirred deep in Jessica’s stomach. This was more like it. Exactly what she hoped would happen when she faked this fatal illness to keep him from his date from Monica. This flirtatious back-and-forth was much more conducive to reigniting a latent spark of love than the silence that had rested between them lately.
She cocked her head and adopted a coquettish grin. “Let’s just say I’d be disappointed in you if you were that dumb.”
His expression grew serious. “I hope you’re not disappointed in me, Jessie.”
She was still trying to decide how to respond when he stood. “How about I fix us some soup?”
“Great., I’m starved.” Jessica said eagerly Jason’s face took on a surprised look. Oops. Forgot to play the role! “Uh, I mean… I may be able to force something down.”
Suspicion darkened his gaze and he stared at her a moment. She made a point of rounding her eyes and not blinking.
Finally, he jerked a nod. “I’ll be right back.”
By the time he brought the soup, Jessica was ravenous. She’d only eaten a piece of toast for breakfast and no lunch, but she felt like she’d gulped down at least forty-five aspirins. She had to force herself not to ask for a third bowl of soup.
Jason sat watching her eat with gusto, a knowing smile on his face. “Do you want my bowl?”
Jessica looked up sheepishly. “I think I’m feeling better.”
“Obviously,” Jason said dryly.
Laying her spoon down carefully on the tray. “I’m through.”
He cleared the tray away, then returned to his chair. “Do you want to watch TV?” He inclined his head toward the small TV screen on the dresser.
Did he want to get her interested in a television program so he could sneak off to Monica’s? No way Jessica would let that happen, after she’d worked so hard to keep him here today.
“Will you watch with me?” she asked.
Instead of answering, Jason studied her for a moment. “You’re looking better. Maybe whatever you had has passed.”
“Uhhhhh.” She clutched her stomach and moaned. “I don’t think the soup is sitting well. It tasted good going down, but I think I overdid it.”
Concern returned, and he placed a hand on her forehead. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll watch with you.”
“Okay,” she managed in a weak voice. “You pick. I don’t feel up to making a decision.”
He settled on an old Disney outdoor film. Jessica considered suggesting that they move to the living room couch so she could snuggle closer to him, but that might be pushing her story of illness a bit far. Instead, Tabby leaped up onto the bed and cuddled up against her side. She had to be content with stroking the cat’s soft fur.
The movie drew them both in. By nine o’clock Jessica was starving again. “Doesn’t popcorn sound good?”
He turned an astonished gaze on her. “You want greasy popcorn?”
Oops. Pay attention to your role, Jessica!
“Maybe just a small bowl,” she said weakly. “Just to see how my stomach handles it.”
“Whatever this sickness is, it sure hasn’t affected your appetite.” He headed for the kitchen.
Oh, how her body ached. Her stiff muscles protested the hours of inactivity. While he was gone, she bounded off the bed to do some quick calisthenics. Tabby awoke from his slumber for a moment,
raised his head to watch her, and then, uninterested, went back to sleep. A few seconds of vigorous jogging-in-place felt wonderful. Just what she needed. Then on to arm-stretches.
She was in the middle of her leg kicks when Jason walked back into the room, carrying a large bowl of popcorn and two Cokes.
A snide smirk settled on his features. “Well, hallelujah! I’ve witnessed a miracle.” He set the popcorn down on the bed.
A crimson blush overtook Jessica’s face as she slid beneath the sheets. Drat! She thought it would take him longer to make popcorn. Why hadn’t she listened more closely for his footsteps in the hall?
“I’m feeling much better all of a sudden,” she muttered.
He cocked his head sideways, subjecting her to a scrutinizing stare. “Tell me the truth. You never have been sick, have you?”
Jessica plucked at a loose thread on the quilt, answers warring in her mind. Finally, she heaved a sigh. “Jason, I can’t lie to you. No, I haven’t been.”
His eyes narrowed. “This whole day was a put-on, wasn’t it? You didn’t want me to go out with Monica today. Is that right?”
Time to let the cat all the way out of the bag. “Yes,” she admitted.
His gaze became stony. “That’s a pretty rotten thing for you to do.”
“But, Jason—”
“No buts, Jessica. That was rotten, pure and simple.” He whirled away.
“Jason Rawlings, you come back here,” She shouted as he stomped to the door. “I just wanted to spend some time alone with you, you....” She sputtered to a stop, unable to think of a suitable name to call him.
At the door, he turned to face her. “Next time, ask me.” He gave her a mock salute and slammed the bedroom door.
“Of all the nerve!”
She bounded out of bed, her temper simmering, and flung her pillow against the closed door. A moment later she heard the rumble of his truck’s engine outside. Racing to the window, she arrived in time to see the spray of gravel in the moonlight as he tore down the driveway.
Torn between the desire to cry and to rage, she slumped down into the chair he’d just vacated. Time was running out. Before long their business arrangement would end, and she’d have to head back to Austin.
The Cowboy's Housekeeper Page 9