by Impulsive
Then they trooped, hand in hand, down to the master suite, where Jess found yet another delight awaiting them. At Ty's bequest, the housekeeper had readied the bedroom. Again, candles provided a soft, flickering light. The bed had been made up with satin sheets, now turned down invitingly to reveal a blanket of rose petals scattered across their creamy surface. Music played faintly, flowing throughout the room from concealed speakers.
The merry gurgle of water from the connecting bath told them that the whirlpool was ready and running, should they care to avail themselves of it. They did, submerging themselves in a flood of bubbles that soon rid them of the last residue of wine their lapping tongues somehow failed to swab clean. They toddled off to bed, much too satiated to make love again.
As they lay nestled together among the fragrant rose petals, Kenny Rogers' "Lady" began to play, and Ty sang along with it, making each word, each phrase, his own heartfelt pledge to her. Moved to tears, Jess knew it was true. She had found her knight in shining armor and, amazingly, won his heart for her own. Twined in each other's embrace, they drifted off to sleep beneath a blanket of twinkling stars, and the blessing of a love as full and radiant as the moon above them.
Jess woke the next morning to find her head pillowed on Ty's shoulder, and her left hand splayed across his chest. The first thing to meet her sleepy gaze was the wink of sunshine on the diamond ring gracing her finger.
"It's real!" She all but sobbed the words.
"It had better be, for the price I paid." Ty's voice was just-awake gruff, as his hand clamped over hers, bringing her palm to his lips.
"That's not what I meant. It's just that last night was so marvelous, so absolutely storybook perfect, that I wasn't certain I hadn't fantasized the whole thing—until I saw the ring."
"Having second thoughts?"
She raised her eyes to his. "No. What about you?"
"I've had third and fourth thoughts already," he admitted, "and I still want to marry you."
She smiled. "My mother may nominate you for canonization for falling in love with her homely daughter. Personally, if I wasn't so utterly giddy over the concept, I'd say you should probably be committed, instead."
"I am," he told her sincerely. "To you."
Jess's face glowed with happiness. "That's what I find so remarkable. You... wanting me."
"There's nothing complicated about it, Jess." He turned her hand to kiss her finger and the ring it bore. "I'm finally learning to appreciate quality over quantity, thank heaven. And believe me, lady, you're the genuine article. Nothing false or fake or feigned about you—except a little stuffing in your bra, of course," he taunted with a smirk.
Lying on one arm, with him holding tight to her other hand, she retaliated for that last remark by kicking him lightly on the shin. "Watch it, buster. You're the one who suggested the falsies to start with, and don't you forget it!"
He chuckled. "Hardly. Not with you around to remind me for the next fifty years or so. Maybe you'll mellow with age."
She let loose an indelicate snort. "Don't plan on it. More than likely, I'll be as cantankerous at eighty as I am now, or more."
"That's precisely what I love about you, darlin'," he drawled. "Everything's right up front with you. No trickery. No flattery. No pretense. Just pure, ornery, honest, wonderful Jess."
"That's just part of why I love you," she confessed.
He grinned. "Let me guess. You love my fabulous body."
To his surprise, she agreed with a vigorous nod. "Sure do. You're the most gorgeous, sexy hunk I've ever seen. But I love you for your quick intelligence, too, and your playful, wacky sense of humor, and the fact that you're incredibly romantic— and the way you are with Josh, your loyalty to your friends, your passion and compassion, and a million other reasons."
He laughed heartily. "You make me sound like a big, horny St. Bernard!"
"So trot out a cask full of hot coffee, will you?" she suggested teasingly. "It's too early for brandy. Besides, we've got a practice and a game to play today, and I'm already drunk enough—on love."
They had a terrible practice, followed a few hours later by a superb game. It was just one of those crazy games where everything they did went right, and everything the opposition tried went wrong. For a new team to beat the Dolphins was practically unthinkable, but they came away with a 42-39 victory, nonetheless. Then, like the good sports they were, the Dolphins turned around and invited the Knights to a Halloween costume party they were having that evening.
"They probably want to spike our punch, then tar and feather us," Jess joked as they headed toward the visitors' locker room.
"I noticed they waited to invite us until it was too late for any of us to rent or buy a decent costume," Ty pointed out with some irony. "All the stores are closed."
"No problem," Jess told him. "If you want to go, we'll think of something."
Ty shrugged. "I wouldn't mind putting in an appearance, at least. We wouldn't have to stay long, but it's nice to get together with other players from other teams now and then and catch up on some of the NFL scuttlebutt."
"That's okay by me." She checked her watch. "You're right. Even Kmart is locked up by now." She thought a moment. "If you can find a twenty-four-hour grocery, we can purchase a few things there and make do."
"What sort of things?"
"Makeup, tape, glue, whatever. I'll know when I see it, I guess. Oh, and don't turn your uniform in. Bring it with you."
To say Jess was resourceful was an understatement, Ty soon discovered as he pushed their cart down the grocery aisles. "Aluminum foil? What's that for?"
"For you."
"Pardon?"
"You'll see. Now hush. I'm trying to concentrate, so I don't miss anything we need." She tossed a roll of colored cellophane wrap into the cart and hurried on.
In the automotive section, limited as it was, she found a large metal funnel. Into the cart it went, along with some speckling putty and a small squirt-type oil can. When Ty, trying to be helpful, reached for a quart of motor oil, she smacked his hand. "Don't need that."
"You sure? I'm just guessing here, but don't you have ideas of presenting one of us as an auto mechanic?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Too mundane, James. You've got to be more imaginative than that."
In the stationery aisle, she selected tape, a bottle of glue, a pack of paper clips, and a pouch of colored markers. In the adjacent, if scanty, art section, she rummaged around until she found a single jar of gold sprinkles hidden at the back of the lower shelf and heaved a sigh of relief. "Whew! For a minute there, I thought I'd have to resort to moth crystals, or those thing-a-ma-gigs you hang in the toilet bowl."
"Say what?"
"Never mind." She waved him off and charged onward, a woman on a mission. Locating the guaranteed-to-break-in-five-seconds toy area, she chose a bag of fake coins, a bottle of blowing bubbles and a plastic pinwheel on a stick.
"Lawrence Welk, perhaps?" Ty hazarded, eyeing the bubbles.
"Get real," she scoffed. "Okay, where are the cleaning supplies? I need a new head for a dust mop, a really shaggy one."
"You need a new head, regardless," he muttered, trailing along behind her.
Among what was left of the Halloween novelties, she found three sets of ghoul's teeth. "Ho, ho! Perfect!" With a wicked chuckle, she popped them atop her growing mound of supplies. Next, she tackled the cosmetic rack with a vengeance.
When they left the store thirty-five dollars lighter, and toting a bulging bag of assorted "goodies," Ty was still in the dark as to what was cooking in that screwy brain of hers—and, cute but obstinate cuss that she was, Jess wasn't about to tell him until they reached the privacy of the mansion. And with good reason. He'd likely have caused a six-car collision if she'd confessed while he was driving.
"I'm going as what?" he bellowed in disbelief.
"The Tin Man," she repeated sheepishly, waving the aluminum foil box at him. "You know, from the Wizard of Oz. You have
seen it, I hope."
"Only about a dozen times." He gestured toward the mop head. "Tell me that's not part of my costume. As I recall, the Tin Man didn't have bushy hair."
"No, that's for me," she told him calmly, sounding much like a teacher speaking to a slow student. "This is yours."
He nodded as she produced the funnel. "It figures," he groused. "So, what are you dressing as? Dorothy? Toto? The witch?"
"Nope. I'm going as the Rotten Tooth Fairy."
He shook his head, sure his ears were playing tricks on him. "The Tooth Fairy?"
"No, the Rotten Tooth Fairy," she stressed. "There's a difference, you know."
"Actually, I didn't," he admitted in bafflement. "However, I'm sure you'll enlighten me."
"I'm the fairy that collects all the kids' rotten teeth. The ones not worth as much, because they're decayed."
Ty sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, where a headache was threatening. "Right. Why didn't I know that?"
"Beats me. Now, we'd better hurry, or we'll never be ready in time." She hurried out of the room, headed for the patio. "Come on. You can help me collect some ashes from the barbecue grill. If there aren't any, I suppose we'll have to burn some paper in it, or something."
He chased after her. "What for? What do we need ashes for?"
"To make the speckling gray. It's part of your costume."
"What part?" he demanded, not sure he wanted to know.
"Your makeup. For your face."
He groaned. "I didn't want to hear that."
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because I'm as nuts as you are, I guess."
An hour and a half later, they were ready to leave the house, and Ty was praying they wouldn't have an accident and end up in the hospital—or worse yet, get mugged. Being robbed would be bad enough, but in this getup he'd be thoroughly humiliated.
"Tin Man, my blooming ass!" he grumbled. "I look more like that character on 'Captain Kangaroo.' What was his name? Tom something."
"That was before my time, I'm afraid," Jess commented blithely, making him feel ever so much more—decrepit.
"Maybe we should just skip this party," he suggested belatedly, catching a last glimpse of himself in the hall mirror. He was wearing his football shoes, minus the cleats, along with his gray uniform pants, socks, knee and elbow pads. From the waist down, he looked pretty normal. It was the upper half that gave him pause.
After some squabbling, Jess had finally agreed to let him wear a T-shirt, over which she'd wound several layers of tin foil—completely covering his chest and his arms with it. She'd left his elbows bare of the stuff, covered only by his elbow pads, so he could at least bend those without crinkling like a cheap TV dinner. Then, she'd plastered his neck, face, and even his hair with gray putty, covered his hands with silver eye shadow, painted two huge circles on his cheeks with bright red lipstick, and pinned the funnel to the top of his head.
"Hey! After all the effort I put into this, we're going to this party," she told him, not about to let him weasel out of it at this late date.
"I look ridiculous!"
"And I don't?" she replied, drawing his attention to her own costume.
Until now, Ty's mental image of a tooth fairy had been of some beautiful winged creature. Nix that idea. Before him stood the most atrocious example he could ever have imagined. After donning her caftan, inside out, Jess had fashioned cellophane wings with the aid of several coat hangers. This, by itself, wouldn't have been too horrible. But then, she'd gone off the deep end by adding the mop head as a wig, creating "warts" made of putty, which she'd tinted dark brown, and applying her makeup in the most hideous manner. Her eyebrows now resembled two squiggly caterpillars over a double arch of neon green eye shadow. Huge purple "bags" beneath her eyes gave the illusion that she hadn't slept in three months. Her lipstick looked as if it had been applied by a preschooler just learning to fingerpaint, and she'd blackened one of her top front teeth.
"You are, indeed, a fright," Ty agreed. "Enough to give any poor kid nightmares for the rest of his life, especially if he found the likes of you hovering over his pillow. He'd probably wet the bed into puberty after an experience like that."
"Yeah, but I'll bet he'd lay off the candy and start brushing regularly," she predicted with a "toothy" cackle. "He wouldn't want me collecting any more of these, would he?" She patted the Zip-Lock baggie hanging from her cellophane belt. It was filled with ghoul's teeth. Another bag contained the play coins, and a third held gold sparkles, aka "fairy dust." She was carrying her bubbles, as well as the pinwheel, her makeshift wand.
"No offense, sweetheart, but you're a real hag this evening."
"You're kind of a rust bucket yourself, fella," she retorted sassily. "Don't forget your oil can. We wouldn't want your old joints to freeze up."
CHAPTER 26
"Lord, I've never seen anyone with such a low tolerance for alcohol," Ty commented with a rueful shake of his head. "You're sloshed."
"I know," Jess agreed, blinking as the white lines on the highway made her even more dizzy, "and I only had a couple of drinks."
"Well, it's a good thing we didn't stay any longer. I was planning on another marathon love session, but it looks as if I'll have to sober you up first—and wash this gunk off both of us. Somehow I can't visualize the Tin Man making love to the Rotten Tooth Fairy."
"I'm... I'm starting to feel awfully odd," Jess said, her voice quivering.
"Do you have to throw up? Do you want me to pull the car over?"
"No. Just get us home. Maybe if I lie down, everything will stop spinning."
"We'll be there soon," he promised. In an effort to divert her attention from feeling ill, he began talking about the party. "It was a pretty nice turnout, don't you think? And some of those costumes! Once I got a gander at a few of them, I didn't look half bad. Neither did you, but I thought that crack Bambi made about you actually being a fairy was out of line. Not out of character for her, but definitely in bad taste. So was her outfit, come to think of it, though I have to give her some credit for ingenuity."
Bambi had pinned palm fronds to her thong/bikini underwear and gone as Eve. She had even carried an apple, and dared to offer Ty a bite of it. He'd declined as politely as possible, but she was still ticked off, though not nearly as mad as when she learned that Ty and Jess were now engaged.
Jess hadn't spoken at all in the past few minutes. He glanced over at her, to find her holding her arms out and staring at them in fascination. "You still with me, babe?"
"This is amazing!" she enthused in a dreamy tone. "I can actually see the blood flowing through my veins. It's kind of bubbly, like Christmas lights, and the colors are really neat! But I wish my heart would stop making those funny little bumps. It feels really weird."
Her off-the-wall comments stunned him into silence. Then it dawned on him. She was hallucinating! With mounting horror, he concluded that she was likely having heart palpitations as well.
"Oh, holy shit!" he cursed. He stepped on the accelerator, careening across three lanes of traffic to take the next ramp off the freeway. "Which way? Which way?" he muttered to himself, trying to remember which exit along their route was the one for the hospital. They had passed it a couple of times before, on their way to and from the house, but it took him a second to recall exactly where it was. "Not this one. Two up," he decided, hoping that he was correct.
He pulled back onto the highway, horn blaring as they sped along in the right-most emergency lane.
"Oooh!" Jess clamped her hands over her ears. "Stop the noise! My ears! My eyes! The blood's pounding so hard in them."
He didn't doubt it; but he couldn't take the time to soothe her, and he had to warn other drivers to stay out of the way. He saw the sign for the hospital and took the exit on two wheels. By this time, Jess was mumbling incoherently. A chill chased up Ty's spine when he realized she was holding a conversation with her dead father.
"Hang in there, Jess. We're almost the
re."
He screeched to a stop in front of the emergency entrance and had her out of the car before anyone could come to their aid. Rushing into the hospital with Jess, now unconscious, in his arms, he yelled, "We need help here! Now!"
A pair of nurses answered his panicked call, hurrying up to them. One ushered him past the automated hall doors, into a small room. "There. Lay her on the table."
The second nurse started firing questions. "What do we have here? A wound? Gunshot? Is she bleeding?"
"No," Ty panted out. "We were at a party. I think someone might have slipped something into her drink."
An intern, appearing in time to hear, shouldered Ty aside. "Damn! Another O.D.? I hate this frigging holiday! What did she take? How much?"
"I don't know. Jess doesn't do drugs. She wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot pole. At least not knowingly. Someone must have spiked her punch."
"Yeah, that's what they all say."
"She started hallucinating in the car. That's when I knew she wasn't just drunk," Ty elaborated. "She said her heart was pounding out of rhythm."
Another woman in uniform came in and drew Ty aside while the doctor and first two nurses continued to examine Jess. "Sir, I need your friend's name and address, her social security number and/or insurance information, and a list of anything she might be allergic to. Also, do you know her next of kin and how to contact them?"
"I have no idea if she's allergic to anything," Ty responded tightly, "and I don't know her social security number. Her name is Jessica Myers. We're from Columbus, Ohio—in town for the game. I can't remember the name of our insurance carrier, but it's whichever one covers the Knights."
"The football team?" the intern called out. "She's that Jess Myers? The kicker?"
"Yes."
"And who are you?"
"Ty James. Jess's fiancé."
"The quarterback. Well, Mr. James, if we pull her through this, I'll expect an autograph from both of you."