Romeo gives a shrill howl and starts growling. We all turn to look at him again.
“Unless you’re planning to breed him,” Harrison adds, eyeing Romeo with amusement.
“For a vet, you sure are wanting to cut down on your business,” I mutter, even though I know he’s right.
Harrison chuckles and glances at Romeo. “I don’t blame you for not neutering him yet, Frankie. He’s a fine specimen of his breed. Just keep him away from Coquette while she’s in heat,” he warns, reaching down to pet Romeo’s little head. Romeo rewards him with a few licks, even if he’s now wary of Harrison’s hand.
Romeo gives a pathetic, dreary whine and flops his head sideways as he pants in despair. He has stopped licking Harrison’s hand.
Fizzy extricates her feet from beneath Scout and gets up. “I’m gonna head to my place now.”
“Okay, come by any time.” Harrison’s eyes crinkle at the corners appealingly as he gives Fizzy a warm smile.
My heart sinks watching them. They have gotten so close, I can feel it.
“I will. Thanks. See you at the office,” Fizzy says, kissing him on the cheek. She kisses the top of Romeo’s head, then turns to look at me. “’Bye, Frankie. I’ll give you a call tonight so we can catch up,” she says, giving me a sly wink after she kisses my cheek too.
Sure, whatever that means, Judas.
“I guess I should leave too,” I say, not really wanting to.
“Hold on, Frankie,” Harrison says when Fizzy leaves. “Don’t you want me to examine Romeo?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind. I would appreciate it,” I say gratefully.
With Fizzy gone, I find myself sitting alone on the sofa while Harrison goes to his bedroom for his medical bag. Scout has decided my feet are just as good as Fizzy’s, so he flops over them.
When Harrison returns and begins to examine Romeo, I indulge in a good, long look at him. He has the thickest lashes—they remind me of mink. I’m already obsessed with his hands, but his tanned forearms are worthy of mention too. They are powerful, corded with muscle and lightly covered with chestnut hair.
“Romeo seems fine to me,” Harrison says when he’s finished checking him. “I wouldn’t worry about it being a seizure. More than likely he was choking on the chicken. It might’ve been a little bone that you dislodged.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I’m relieved. Thanks, Harrison.” With a tentative smile, I get up from the couch and reach for Romeo. “Well, I guess I should get going now,” I say, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
“Okay,” Harrison says, following me to the door.
I don’t want to leave yet, but Harrison hasn’t invited me to stay. Romeo whines and I feel like chiming in. I pass by the wall filled with photos, documenting his exotic travels and adventures. We reach the front door in silence.
I hover at the door, but I make no move to open it. “By the way…you were right about Alex. He turned out to be a jerk,” I say, bracing myself to hear him say ‘I told you so’.
Harrison’s green eyes turn fierce. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
I’m delighted by his reaction. Maybe Harrison hasn’t given up on me after all.
“Be my guest, he deserves it. But not on my account,” I say with a weary sigh.
Harrison looks like he wants to hear the whole story, but I can’t say more. It wouldn’t be right. “What do you mean?” he asks.
“Alex hurt someone I hold in high esteem. She didn’t deserve his cruelty.” I feel sick inside every time I think of what Elise is going through because of him.
“Oh.” He looks puzzled. “Sorry to hear it.”
“I can’t say anything else. I just wanted you to know that I’m not dating Alex anymore.”
“Good.” Harrison opens the door for me. “Okay, well… See ya.”
That’s it? See ya? He might as well have said, “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out, Frankie.”
Gosh.
I remain rooted to the spot feeling rejected and dithering about whether I should kiss him on the cheek like Fizzy did or slink away with my tail between my legs. What the hell, take a risk. Seeing him with Fizzy made me determined to reclaim him. I get on my tip-toes and plant a lingering kiss on Harrison’s cheek above his jaw line, enjoying the rough feel of his stubble beneath my lips and his clean, manly scent.
“Thanks again,” I murmur, strutting out the door with the best boom cheeky boom moves I can whip up on wobbly legs. I end up tripping as I enter the elevator and almost drop Romeo as I punch number five. When I look up, Harrison has already shut the door.
I lean my forehead against the elevator wall. Romeo moans and so do I.
What a pitiful pair we are.
Romeo: Whew, that was close. I almost had a heart attack myself when Fizzy asked if I had been neutered. Why does she want to emasculate me? Thank God, my weenie is safe…for now…shudder. Harrison recognizes good breeding when he sees it. He even called me a fine specimen.
Hear that, Scout? I’m a fine specimen and I’m not neutered like you, so no worries. You can get close to my little Coquette now and we’re still buds. But I have a problem—Harrison told Francesca to keep me away from my sexy schnoodle when she’s in heat—the most tempting time. We’ll see about that!
Never fear, ma petite Coquette, I plan to give you a brood of whelps. They’ll be fine dachshnoodles. I can hardly wait, bebe.
Chapter Twenty-Two
No sooner do I return to my apartment than I start to feel weird and out of sorts. My skin is burning to the touch, yet I’m shivering, and I can’t warm up. Being in close contact with Harrison can make me feel hot and bothered. That’s a good kind of heat, but this is different. What I’m feeling now doesn’t feel good at all. I better not be getting sick. I’m going to take a warm shower. I should call Fizzy first, but the shower will make me feel better.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Now I feel worse. My stomach is queasy and I have a throbbing headache. I’m not up to talking to anyone, not even Fizzy. I’ll have to call her tomorrow.
By ten o’clock, I’m lying listless in bed and can’t fall asleep. I must have a fever since I was shivering and freezing a few minutes ago and now my skin is hot again. I reach into the nightstand and take out the thermometer. Three minutes later, I check my temperature. A hundred and one degrees! Am I coming down with the flu? I can’t be, I got a flu shot this year. Who have I been in contact with lately? No one at the station is sick, that I know of…
Ew, I just remembered the mashing kiss Alex gave me outside my office a few days ago. I probably caught this from him!
I gulp down two extra-strength painkillers and lay my aching head on the pillow. Romeo is passed out beside me, oblivious to my illness. Good thing dogs can’t get sick from humans, but women sure can get sick from dogs…like Alex Escobar. He better not have given me his cooties.
I finally start to drift off when the phone rings, jarring me awake. I fumble to pick it up and hear Fizzy’s voice.
“Hey, Frankie, sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I figured you were with Harrison,” she says, sounding like her usual cheerful self.
“Oh, hi, Fizz. I’ve been home for a while now,” I say groggily.
“What’s wrong? You don’t sound so good.”
“Eh. All of a sudden, I feel rotten.”
“That’s strange,” Fizzy says, sounding skeptical. “You looked fine earlier.”
That’s what I get for crying wolf so much. Fizzy probably thinks I’m having a hypochondriac moment.
“Well, I don’t feel fine,” I snap. I know I shouldn’t be cross, but I’m mad all the same. “It started as soon as I got back from Harrison’s. I’m running a fever too.”
“Fever? Maybe I shouldn’t have left you alone with Harrison.” Fizzy laughs. “We both know he’s too hot to handle.”
“Fizzy, I’m not kidding. My temperature is a hundred and one.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Can I get you anything?” Fizzy asks, finally
sounding concerned. “How about some aspirin?”
“No, I just took some medicine. Hopefully, it’ll kick in soon.”
“I hope so.” She pauses. “I was calling to say I’ll be MIA for the next two days. Santiago is back,” she crows. She sounds so thrilled I’m tempted to say, “What about Harrison?”
“Isn’t one guy enough for you?” I mutter under my breath instead.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” I know I saw Fizzy flirting with Harrison at his apartment—or was she? Am I imagining it? “I feel lousy, that’s all.”
“Aw, now I feel bad about leaving you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll be better in the morning,” I say, hoping I’m right. “But…aren’t you going to work at Harrison’s on Saturday?”
“Yeah. I’ll be staying with Santiago for a few days. I’m going to leave your apartment key with Harrison while I’m gone, in case of any emergency.”
“Okay,” I agree, too tired to argue. “Have fun with Santiago, Fizz. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Yeah right,” Fizzy says with a sarcastic laugh. “I plan on doing everything you wouldn’t do.”
“Go ahead, Fizz, enjoy. Good night,” I say wearily.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? I won’t be leaving for another hour. Apple juice? Chicken broth?”
How about returning Harrison to me? “No, Fizz, I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.”
I don’t feel fine at all. It’s Thursday afternoon and I haven’t stepped outside my apartment since yesterday. It’s a good thing Romeo is trained on a wee-wee pad, like most city apartment dwelling little dogs. He’s been alternating between watching TV and sleeping beside me.
I feel so awful, I called in sick today. Antoinette wasn’t too happy about it, but there’s no sense in me coming in like this and getting everyone sick at work. I’m still running a fever, and I have body aches and a king-size headache. My throat feels like I swallowed a knife and I’m still queasy with no appetite, which is weird for me.
Damn, my stomach feels prickly all over. I lift up my pajama top to see what’s itching so much and my hand freezes as my jaw drops in horror. Ohmigod! I have a dozen flat pink spots covering my belly and they itch like hell! Am I having an allergic reaction? I run to my dresser. Staring at myself in the mirror, I notice more pink spots on my face and neck.
The phone rings and I answer it right away.
“Frankie, how are you? Fizzy told me you were running a fever last night,” Harrison says.
“Harrison! I’m sick. Something is terribly wrong with me,” I say, freaking out as I stare at the rash.
“What are your symptoms?” Harrison asks in his unruffled manner.
After I fill him in, I say, “Should I use the EpiPen?”
“No. Do any of the spots have a watery blister on top?”
“Let me check,” I say, holding my top up as I lower the waistband of my pajama shorts to look at my tummy again. “I hadn’t noticed earlier, but some look kind of watery. A few minutes ago they seemed flat, but now that I look more closely, they’re raised and moist looking. ”
“Have you ever had chicken pox?”
“No, why?”
“Your symptoms sound like chicken pox.” Harrison makes it sound like a positive diagnosis.
“Nooo. I can’t have chicken pox!” I wail. “That’s the worst thing you could have said, Harrison.”
“Don’t panic, Frankie. I won’t know until I see you. Take acetaminophen every four hours for the fever and headache. But do not take any aspirin.”
“Okay,” I say in a feeble voice.
“I have to see one more patient and then I’ll head over and take care of you.”
“You will?” He is so awesome.
“Yes, and I’m expecting you to be a good patient. I’ll even bring the flea shampoo for your itching,” he teases.
“That’s not funny.” I laugh anyway. “Aren’t you worried I might be contagious?”
“Nope. I had chicken pox when I was six.”
“That’s a relief. What about everyone I came in contact with this week?” I try to recall who they were. I was with my parents and they’re in the Seychelles by now and then there’s Aunt Peggy. I have to let them know right away. There’s also Alex, La Dragona, and his sisters…Vinny, Antoinette… How did I come into contact with so many people in only a few days?
Oh God! What about Elise? I hope she’s had chicken pox or her babies are at risk. As soon as I hang up with Harrison, I’m calling her.
“Frankie, are you there?”
“Yes,” I say, quaking inside.
“As soon as I get there and I make a diagnosis that it’s chicken pox, you can call and alert everyone. For now, try to chill until I arrive,” he says, reading my mind.
“I’ll try. Thanks.” It’s all I can do not to panic—and scratch my body like a fiend. “Uh…Harrison?”
“Yeah?”
“Better get me a flea collar too. I think I’m gonna need it.”
Harrison’s shout of laughter makes me smile in spite of my woes.
Romeo: Rrruf! What’s going on? Minutes ago, Francesca was asleep. But ever since she spoke to Harrison, she has been pounding at her laptop and acting daft. With all the scratching she’s doing, anyone would think she has fleas.
Other than Francesca’s spazzy, scratching fits, it’s been a perfect day. TV, sleep, and food. What more could a dog ask for? A dose of Coquette’s magic, perhaps?
Chapter Twenty-Three
I just got off the phone with Elise and I’m glad I called her. Turns out she’s had chicken pox already, so no worries. What a relief!
Elise told me she’s getting close to wrapping up the medical fraud case. Good thing too. She needs to get back on air ASAP. I told her I heard from Antoinette that Alex is planning on starting this week. He already has an interview lined up with the doctor he mentioned who was doing research on stem cell therapy to repair hearts.
“When is Harrison going to get here?” I ask Romeo who is sound asleep beside me on the bed and doesn’t look like he’s planning to wake up any time soon.
I’m going crazy trying not to scratch. The itchy bumps have spread upward from my lower stomach to my chest and shoulders. I must have fever because my skin is hot again.
I get up and take off my pajama top. Bracing for the worst, I peer over my shoulder into the mirror to see why my back feels so prickly. Help, I’m covered in more bumps—raised pink ones all over my shoulders and back and down to the elastic waistband of my pajama shorts.
“Frankie, are you in there?” I hear a deep male voice call out. Ack, it’s Harrison!
I whirl around, clutching my pajama top to my naked breasts to shield them from his gaze just in time. Too late, I realize my bare back is in full view in the mirror behind me.
“Harrison, I didn’t hear you ring the doorbell. You shouldn’t sneak up like that!” I squeak. “I’m not dressed.”
My heart races at the sight of him. Dressed in green scrubs and holding two shopping bags, his dark green eyes study me beneath knitted brows.
“Didn’t Fizzy tell you she gave me your key? I didn’t want you to have to get up. Anyway, I’m here to help. Think of me as your doctor.”
Ooh, thank you, Dr. Taylor.
Harrison sets the bags down and comes right up to me. Romeo’s tail starts thumping on the bed as he opens his eyes and gives a happy yelp of greeting. He rolls on his back and pedals his feet. Without taking his eyes off me, Harrison scratches his tummy. Romeo flips over again and whines to be picked up, but Harrison pats his rump absently as he leans in close and stares at my neck and face.
“Sorry to tell you this, Frankie, but you have chicken pox,” he confirms.
I feel like crying waaaaah out loud, but I manage to control myself. Instead, I swallow hard and try to produce a brave smile, but my quivering lips won’t obey. I can’t seem to get any words out either. Good thi
ng I already called everyone I was in contact with the last two days to alert them that I might have chicken pox. Everyone but Alex and family—I’ll email him tomorrow.
“Hey, don’t look like that. You’re going to be fine,” Harrison says, chucking me under my chin.
Little does he know that I already read everything I could find on the Internet about chicken pox. I was hoping this wasn’t it, because adults need to be especially careful. One of the complications is pneumonia. People have died from pneumonia!
“What did you bring?” I ask, trying to act strong even if I’m privately freaking out.
“Some super anti-itch lotion and a few other things. First we need to get you into an Aveeno bath.”
“A bath?” Did he just say “we”?
“Yeah.” He feels my forehead with his palm. “It’ll help bring down your fever quicker. Get back in bed and wait till the tub is full.”
I don’t bother to argue, so thankful am I to have Harrison here taking care of me. I sink back down on the bed, still clutching the pajama top to my chest. My skin feels on fire. If I were alone, I’d lie there stark naked under a ceiling fan to cool off.
Through half-closed eyes, I watch Harrison walk into my bathroom, carrying one of the bags. I hear the water running in the tub when he comes back out.
“It’s almost full. I’ll put some of these things in the fridge and be right back,” he says, taking the grocery bag with him.
I close my eyes wearily. “Okay, thanks.”
A little later, he’s by my side again. “Come on, Frankie, your bath is ready.”
I pry my bleary eyes open and stare into Harrison’s handsome face. Those were the words I was dreading to hear. I feel as weak as a newborn. I’m going to need his help getting into and out of the tub. So how do I accomplish this without him seeing me naked and covered in ugly, itchy spots?
It’s too mortifying. This isn’t romantic at all. Stop thinking of romance, stupid! This is hardly the time. I must be delirious.
“Come on, honey,” he coaxes, lifting me into a sitting position. “Let’s go.”
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