Checkmate. The old girl wasn’t about to relinquish her status as next of kin to anyone, especially Reese. He just wished she wouldn’t act so smug about seizing control.
Reese seemed to assess the exchange between nephew and aunt before replying, “Uh, thanks. Ready, Jasper? Take care, Nick.” She handed him a notepad. “I started to take notes. Perhaps your aunt would like to pick up where I left off?”
Like that was going to happen. God, he wished Leonie hadn’t shown up. Reese had been so supportive and comforting throughout this ordeal. Now that Leonie had taken over, he felt like he did whenever his aunt had been called to his principal’s office when he was back in school and had gotten into some kind of trouble. As she left, he called out to Reese, “Thanks for sticking with me.”
She nodded and quickly made her getaway with Jasper.
“Uh, okay. To continue with what I was telling you before,” the doctor said, “once you feel up to putting some weight on that foot, you can use the crutches.
Leonie gasped. “Crutches?”
The doctor’s eyes knit together above the bridge of his nose. “Yes? How else did you expect him to get around? Although I’d advise against much mobility, period, for a day or two. Stay in bed with your foot elevated and ice it every so often.”
He took in the doc’s orders with dread, knowing what was to come.
“That’s simply not possible,” Leonie said. “Nick hosts a television cooking show. He has to stand behind a kitchen counter and move from there to a refrigerator, sink and oven. He can’t very well do that from bed.”
The physician didn’t reply. Instead, he continued to input data into his notebook computer. When he finished, he said to Nick, “Stop by the ER admissions desk on your way out. There’ll be a treatment plan and scrips for your wheelchair, crutches and medications. I’ll have the nurse give you some painkillers now.”
“You apparently chose not to hear me, doctor. Nick has obligations to the show and the rest of our crew. If he’s not able to be there, we’ll have to shut down production until he’s better.”
The doctor finally eyed Leonie. “I heard you, ma’am, but I can’t do anything about that. I’m advising your nephew to stay completely off his feet for a few days, getting up only to use his bathroom facilities. If he chooses to do otherwise, I can’t be responsible for the consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” Nick asked.
“You could re-injure yourself, only worse this time, if you lose your balance and fall again. That might prolong the healing process. And even if you were lucky enough to avoid either of those contingencies, it could take a heavy toll on you physically.”
“Gotcha,” Nick said, hoping that Leonie understood as well.
He had to remind his aunt to stop at the admissions desk to pick up his paperwork as they exited. His driver brought the car around and then helped Nick get settled.
“Thank you for calling me, James,” Leonie told the driver once they were on their way. “Why that Dunbar woman failed to get in touch with me, I don’t know.”
So that’s how she knew. “I tol’ her not to,” Nick said through the slight buzz provided by the painkillers. “Dint…want…wor…ry…you.”
Nick came to as James was guiding him into bed from the wheelchair.
“You gonna be okay like this, Mr. Coltrane?”
The driver’s voice sounded muffled, like Nick was wearing earplugs. “Guess…so. Where’s…Leo—?”
“Your aunt had to get back to the studio to arrange things for the rest of the week. I’m off to fetch your crutches and the rest of your meds. Be back a little later. I’ll check on you then.”
Crutches. Meds. He vaguely remembered the doc saying something about those. But all he wanted to do, could do, right now was close his eyes and drift away. And for what could have been mere minutes or several hours, he parted company with this world and found relief from the still-present pain.
****
He came to in phases, starting with tiny slits of light filtering through his eyes. Then his auditory sense picked up extraneous room sounds—the ebb and flow of the building’s HVAC system, the shifting of walls, even the sound of silence.
A table lamp across the room provided low-level illumination. As consciousness returned, his stomach growled. He twisted to check the digital clock on the nightstand. Ouch! Ah. Forgot the ankle and wrist. Geez, he’d hoped it would be gone by now. Stupid. The doc had warned that the pain wouldn’t go away immediately.
After nine. No wonder the hunger pangs.
Next to the clock he saw two bottles of water, two vials of pills of some sort, a piece of fruit and a small loaf of bread inside plastic wrap. He wouldn’t starve.
A small coffee can had been placed off to the side from the food and meds. What the— Ah, yes. James had thought of everything, even his probable inability to get to the bathroom on his own.
Where was Leonie? He called out to her. No response.
Surely she wouldn’t leave him alone to fend for himself? Had she at least left him a note? He scanned the room, since he didn’t see one on the nightstand with the other goodies. Nothing. Not even the scent of her made-to-order perfume.
He shifted position and noticed that a small flashlight had been placed on the pillows next to him. He used it to read the directions on his pill bottles. Time for the painkillers again.
Meds taken, dark, heavy sleep followed.
Come morning, he found James dozing in the club chair tucked in a corner of the room. As he stirred, James woke up as well.
“How ya feelin’, boss?”
“Like I’m some breakable object that’s been packed in Styrofoam for shipping.”
“Huh?”
“Groggy.”
“Oh. You in pain?”
“Not yet. Guess my meds haven’t worn off. Thanks for getting them for me, by the way.”
“Uh, no problema.”
“You make a pretty good nurse. You here to keep me company today?”
“Uh, no. Those aren’t my orders.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew a small notecard.
Nick skimmed it. Leonie had stopped by to check on him already that morning and, finding him still asleep, had left James to stay with him until he woke. “Hope you slept well last night, darling, and find today a new day. The crew and I are so hoping for your speedy recovery. So much depends on you.”
Reading between the lines, that translated as, “Get your rest today because I want you back on the job soon, sprained ankle, wrist and all.”
“Uh, James? Were you here all night? I came to around nine but no one answered when I called out.”
“Your aunt thought you’d probably sleep straight through with those pain pills, so she told me to go on.”
“So I was on my own?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Leonie had left him alone all night, assuming he’d be out until morning. Although it was a bit of a blur at the time, it was James who’d wheeled him from the front lobby to his bedroom. Now, Leonie had popped in long enough this morning to leave him a note. A note that screamed, “Buck up.”
“I’ll be on my way then. Call, if you need me.”
So they were going to give him awhile longer to mend? Amazing, given the tone of Leonie’s note.
He sat up and lifted his legs over the side of the bed. One hand on the nightstand and the other perched on the side of the bed, he rose. Tentatively. But he’d barely applied any weight to his stance before an incredible pain seized his foot. He fell back on the bed, but that only eased up on the pain slightly. He grabbed for the painkillers and threw one into his mouth.
He lay there on top of his blankets for several minutes, counting to one hundred in his head five times before the medication started to do its work. A few feet away, his wheelchair beckoned. Yesterday, he’d balked at the idea of using it other than to get him to the car and then his apartment. But now it appeared to be his best bet for gaining mobility as soo
n as possible.
Over in the corner behind the club chair James had recently occupied, his new pair of crutches rested against the wall. Soon, he’d have to get realistic and use them too.
Soon. But not just yet. Now he needed to rest.
He closed his eyes and immediate darkness enveloped him.
Chapter Eleven
The morning following the fateful trip to the Montfort Brothers’ store, Reese found herself at home with unexpected down time. Production had been shut down for the day while Leonie and Jasper regrouped and figured out how to shoot the show without Nick. Or around Nick’s injury.
Reese stared at the blank screen of her laptop. It seemed to be mocking her. “I know you’re in there, so come out, come out, wherever you are.” Ideas, great ideas, pummeled her brain when she’d visited her parents’, but inspiration had dried up. Figured. Now that she actually had a little time to visualize what her own cooking show might look like, nothing occurred to her.
All she could think of was Nick and his injuries. The experience had been surreal, following him to the hospital and, for a few minutes, being called Mrs. Coltrane. Not that she took it to mean anything, but for that brief period, she almost believed she was his wife. She’d certainly worried enough about his condition to qualify.
And then the barracuda showed up and took over. Whoever did become Mrs. Coltrane—assuming Leonie allowed that to happen—would be spending all her time competing with Leonie McCutcheon for his attention. Not her idea of fun.
At length, exasperated that nothing had materialized, even after a brisk run in the park, she surrendered to the nagging question that wouldn’t go away: how was Nick getting along? Having exchanged phone numbers with Jasper at the hospital, she called to find out.
“For now, he’s doing fine, because he’s sleeping soundly in his own bed just like the doc advised.”
“I figured something like that, since I got your message not to come in today.”
“Wasn’t much else we could do. But I could only convince Leonie to hold off for a few days. In her fantasy world, she believes our boy will be up and functioning normally by then.”
“That’s not what the doctor told him. Nick’s going to be out of commission for days. And Leonie was there when the doctor handed down that verdict.”
“Yeah, well—”
“She seemed so concerned about his condition when she arrived at the hospital.”
“She was. But Leonie doesn’t do concern for long. Once she got a good night’s rest and thought more about production deadlines, she decided the show must go on. That’s when she called me to order this temporary shutdown until Monday.”
“What does Nick say about this?”
“I doubt if he knows. He was sleeping when the doorman let me in.”
“Surely he wouldn’t consider coming back to the show prematurely.”
“That remains to be seen. But I’m worried. If he returns too soon, it will affect production values. She’s so anxious to stay on schedule, she refuses to acknowledge that.”
Poor Jasper. He always seemed to get caught in the middle.
“Could you come over here and spell me a bit? Call me blindly optimistic, but I’m going to go another round with Leonie before she makes any more plans.”
“Me? I, uh, I hardly know Nick well enough to play nursemaid.”
“Knew him well enough to stay with him yesterday at the hospital. Even passed yourself off as Mrs. Coltrane.”
She could almost hear the chuckle in Jasper’s voice. “That was because…because—”
“Nick wanted you there,” he supplied. “So who’s to say he wouldn’t want you here with him today? Please, Reese. Every minute I spend finding a replacement here gives Leonie more time to regroup.”
He gave her the address. She hung up, once again staring at the naked computer screen. Why was she getting so involved in this? If Nick was stupid enough to cave to his aunt’s demands, let him face the consequences. Why should she get involved? Nonetheless, she wasted no time heading off to his apartment.
Jasper greeted her at the door. “He’s awake. For a little while, at least. I told him you were going to relieve me for a bit. Meanwhile, I’m off to track down a certain strong-willed caterer. I should be back in an hour or so.”
“You want me to go into his room? Talk to him?” The thought of being alone with Nick in his bedroom hadn’t really sunk in until now. Of course, he was temporarily out-of-commission, but that didn’t make the prospect of being in such close proximity of his bed any less exciting, uh, intimidating.
“That was the general idea, if you’re going to help him at all. These aren’t Victorian times, my dear. You’re allowed to go into a gentleman’s room. Especially when he’s laid up and drugged to the gills.”
Thanks, Jasper. Did she really want to put herself through this? She certainly did. And that’s what concerned Reese the most.
“I’ll even go in with you this first time.”
Her hesitation flowed to her feet, jerking her to a stop as they started down the corridor.
Jasper, who preceded her, interpreted her reticence as commentary on the apartment. “Leonie’s touch,” he explained. “She’s bent on portraying Nick as the ultimate urban bachelor to promote the show.”
She momentarily forgot about her dilemma while she took in the labyrinth of dark wood and black marble. “Her decorating sense must save on the power bill.”
When they reached a door, Jasper said, “I’ll tell him you’re here.” A minute later, he emerged, saying, “Go on in.”
“Is he decent?”
He blinked. “Oh, you mean is he dressed? Yes. I helped him change to his sleep clothes a little while ago.”
She gulped air, then, without giving herself further time to think, marched through the portal and closed the door behind her. Never pictured herself in Nick’s bedroom as a nursemaid. Like she’d pictured herself there at all. No, of course not. “Hi, Nick. How are you doing today?”
Nick sprawled on one side of a mammoth, king-sized bed, his head propped up on two pillows resembling rectangular marshmallows. He was paler than usual, making the unshaved scruff on his face even more pronounced. He held up a bunch of grapes. “Peace offering from Pudge and Billy. Part of that fruit basket over there.”
“Grapes? They sent grapes to apologize? Do those men have no sensitivity?”
He examined the fruit as if realizing for the first time what it was. “That connection completely eluded me. Should’ve slipped on beef tenderloin instead.”
“You shouldn’t have slipped at all.” Noting his elevated brows, she added, “Not that I’m blaming you.”
When she refused to partake of the treat, he said, “So? You missed me?” His brows wiggled suggestively like two caterpillars.
“Jasper asked me to stay with you while he visited with your aunt.”
“What’s up?”
“Your aunt apparently wants to resume taping on Monday.”
“Monday?” he choked. “Like two days from now?”
“That’s right. How do you feel about that?”
He patted around until he found an envelope that had been partially hidden by a pillow and offered it to her. “So that’s what she meant in this. I knew there was some deeper meaning than just, ‘get well,’ but I’ve been too groggy to figure it out.”
She read through the note, then read it again. The woman was a piece of work. Just enough empathy in there not to sound outright uncaring, but she sure knew how to apply the pressure to Nick. “Surely you’re going to refuse?”
“You volunteering to step in for me?”
“Your sense of humor is returning, I see.”
“If not you, then I guess it’ll have to be me. You don’t know Leonie. When she sets her mind on something, you don’t want to get in her way. Actually, I’m surprised she’s willing to wait that long.”
“Why are you deliberately endangering your recovery?”
“
That’s a little dramatic.”
“Maybe. But someone has to talk some sense into you. It sure isn’t your aunt.”
“It’s not like I’ll be able to do my usual routine. I’ll be in that chair over there for a little while yet.”
She took in the wheelchair parked not far from his bed. Although her brothers had used crutches at various times, they’d never had to use one of these contraptions. But she was glad Nick had one and sounded like he was actually going to use it.
Having seemingly countered her objections, he popped a couple more grapes in his mouth.
The subject of his return to the show needed further discussion. Maybe she could better dent his argument if she didn’t come across so much like the big sister he called her the day before. She advanced closer to the bed, seated herself sedately on the edge. Waiting for him to reply, she pulled two grapes off the stem for herself.
“Hey! Did I offer to share?”
“Hey, I was affected by the Monforts’ shenanigans too. Might as well get my share of the booty.” She looked around the room. Unlike the dark wood and marble of the hallway, this room was airy, sunny, done almost totally in cream and tan. Was this the real Nick Coltrane?
“How about giving me a back rub? This bed rest is making mush of my muscles.” Nick attempted to flip over on his side, winced, pulled a brave smile to cover the pain, and remained on his back, where he’d started.
For just a moment, one brief moment, she considered massaging that delectable body. Images she didn’t dare entertain flashed through her mind as her mouth went dry. Then sanity returned. “You’re sure it’s not your brain that’s gone to mush? Returning to work so soon is not the smartest move you’ve ever made.”
He crushed his head into the pillow. “Maybe not, but apparently there’s some network execs taking notice of us. We can’t afford to lose their interest by suspending the show.”
“The network is interested?” That was news. Nick was great. But the show itself lacked the snap, the sparkle to attract a national audience. Even in the brief time she’d been there, she’d figured that out.
And He Cooks Too Page 11