Doorstep daddy

by Cajio, Linda

  "Could he have gotten sick from all the flying?" he heard Callie ask.

  "No, but it probably exacerbated the condition. If you've got any kind of virus in your system, flying will bring it out in all its nasty forms."

  "I think I might get sick again," Richard said, opening his eyes as his stomach began to threaten.

  "I'll get a sickie bucket," Callie said, hurrying from the room. She hustled the two kids with her.

  "Lucky for you, I've got a cure for the sickies," Tommy said.

  Richard stared at Tommy in horror as the man held up what looked like a large white bullet-shaped pill. He couldn't swallow that, let alone keep it down long enough for it to work.

  Tommy took a medical glove from his bag. It looked like Richard wasn't going to have to swallow medicine, but rather -

  "No-o-o!" Richard moaned, his nausea forgotten with this new threat.

  "It can't go in the normal way," Tommy said. "It'll come right back up again. It's either you or me to do it."

  Richard was about to protest again when Callie returned with the bucket. At the sight of it, Richard's nausea hit like a force-ten hurricane. Callie barely made it to the bed in time.

  When the spasm finally stopped, Richard held out his hand in defeat. After showing Callie and the rest of the potential audience from the room, Dr. Tommy gave him the equipment for the mission of mercy. Richard didn't know if the medicine worked instantly or whether it was the idea that relief was at hand - or rather, in body - but after about ten minutes he felt better.

  He looked at Tommy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor."

  He refused to be embarrassed by the nature of the medicine Tommy had given him. As long as it worked, he was only grateful. If it didn't the man would be lucky if he was breathing, Callie's brother or not.

  Tommy grinned. "Not the ordinary way to make an acquaintance, but likewise, I'm sure. Any friend of Cal-lie's is a friend of mine. Although I've got a feeling it's more than friendship here."

  "If I had my way, but Callie's way is in control at the moment." Richard paused. "I really only have the flu? I thought I was dying. I still feel like I could at any moment."

  "You have the classic symptoms of influenza, strain A." Tommy smiled. "I'm an emergency-room resident at Jeff, and we've been seeing this for several weeks now. It's a violent strain, but short-lived. Expect the kids to get it, unless they've had their flu shots. Heck, expect them to get it, anyway, only not as badly as you seem to have. This thing is tough."

  "They've had their shots. I skipped mine. Can you tell? I can."

  Tommy laughed. "Oh, I can tell. Big time. Callie's going to stay here until you're better."

  Richard shook his head, then stopped when it aggravated his vertigo. "No. We've imposed enough on her."

  Tommy laughed again. "No one imposes on my sister unless she wants them to. Callie's the world's best mother hen."

  "She's got a job and school. They come first."

  "Who told you that? Callie, probably." Tommy made a face. He had Callie's same acerbic expression. "Callie's only been trying to make up for what she perceives is lost time. Don't believe it. She thrives on taking care of others. I keep telling her she should be a nurse or a doctor, but she's got to get past the dry heaves first."

  The bedroom door opened. Callie poked her head in. "Is it safe?"

  "Oh, yeah." Tommy chuckled. "I'll leave this guy for you to straighten out. You know the drill with fluids. He should be okay in a few days, only a little weak."

  "Thanks, Tommy. It was great of you to do this on your day off."

  "Anything for my sweet sister." Tommy kissed her on the cheek, then picked up his medical bag. "Besides, you would have made my fife miserable if I hadn't come and looked at this guy. I'm no dummy. I know how to stay on my sister's good side."

  Tommy left with Callie escorting him out - after she took care of the bucket in the bathroom. Richard lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. The bed didn't spin, which was a good sign. He listened to Callie and her brother trade affectionate gibes as they walked down the hallway. He wished he had that easy camaraderie with her. With the great sex, of course. But they had a barrier between them that seemed insurmountable.

  Tommy revealed something about Callie, however. She enjoyed nurturing. Richard had seen that before with her, but now he understood she was fighting her own nature even more than she was fighting him.

  Tommy had also revealed his own callousness about Callie's feelings. If the rest of her family was that way with her about what she wanted from life, no wonder she became so adamant when her goals were threatened. No wonder she left no room for compromise.

  Richard understood her better now. His battle for her was all uphill. She was worth the effort - but he didn't see how he could win. He had three kids, whose feelings had to come under consideration, and he had disaster striking every five minutes with Callie, too. This moment was one of them.

  Yet she, despite all her protests, had come when he had desperately needed her.

  There was something in that.

  Here she was again.

  Callie sighed as she pulled into Richard's driveway for the second time in two hours. This time she was returning from dropping Jason and Amanda off at school, to their dismay. The two had been great when faced with one very sick uncle. But the situation had eased by midmorning, and with her at the house now, the kids had no reason to miss the rest of the schoolday.

  "Jason was not a happy camper, was he?" she asked Mark, strapped behind her in his seat.

  "I want happy camp!" Mark said.

  "I'll buy you one tomorrow," Callie told him.

  She turned off the car, took Mark from the back and went into the house. The place was quiet. She found that amazing after the weekend with the kids all over it. In fact, the house seemed empty, as if someone had rubbed the life right out of it.

  She helped Mark off with his jacket and shed her own before they climbed the stairs to check on Richard.

  He was sound asleep in the bed. His color was better, the pallor under his tanned skin gone, although perspiration beaded his forehead. His fever must be spiking, she thought. She'd get some aspirin in him when he woke up. Right now, he was better off resting. He'd had some morning.

  "Unca 'shard seepin," Mark whispered dramatically to her.

  "Unca 'shard needs it, honey," she replied, shutting the door behind them as she led Mark to the stairs again.

  She'd had some morning, too. She hadn't been at the office long and had been dealing with a report when Amanda had called about Richard. The girl had been panicky but trying to control it When Callie had heard how often Richard had been sick that morning, she'd called her brother Tommy to meet her at the house.

  Her boss, however, had not been a happy camper. He had told her in no uncertain terms that she had better be back tomorrow, and she had better have the report done. Callie had argued against both, pointing out that she had time off she hadn't yet taken and was entitled to, as well as the report not being due at state headquarters for another week and a half. She didn't see how she'd be back before Friday, not as sick as Richard sounded. She'd be lucky to be back even then. And she would no doubt wind up with flu herself. She'd be out of work all next week probably. Then she'd be fired. Almost no one got fired from government jobs, but at the rate she was going, she'd make the top-ten list of people who'd been kicked out on their ear.

  Guilt assailed her, but not about her growing job woes. She never should have made love to Richard, for his health's sake. If flying brought out the worst in a virus, what did sex do to it? Probably it had had a field day inside Richard's body, while she had had a field day with the outside parts. What a mess she'd made of things.

  The telephone rang in Richard's office downstairs. Callie decided to answer it. She could at least explain his illness to his clients, so they would understand why they wouldn't receive a return call for a few days.

  "Holiday Imports," she said when she picke
d up the receiver. A sheet of letterhead in the printer told her the company name.

  "Hey, it's Marv at the airport. The big guy finally got a secretary, eh? Well, tell him he's got a shipment down here that's come in from Malaysia. He has to sign off on it before we can send it to the distributors."

  "I'm sorry, but Richard's ill with the flu." She watched Mark toddle over to the small sofa. The child climbed up on it, turned around, sat down and looked at her. She blew him a kiss. He grinned back.

  "Damn!" Marv said. "He's got to come today. The fruit can't be released until he signs. Hey! This ain't diplomatic stuff - it's just the business side. Since you're his secretary, you can sign this time."

  "Ah..." She looked at Mark. No sense explaining the relationship to this guy when she didn't understand it herself. "I have his nephew to watch while Richard's ill. I can't come with the baby."

  "Bring old Marky-Mark with you. Richard does all the time. No problem."

  "But - "

  "Lady, I gotta have this fruit signed. If it ain't, it'll go bad and then Richard makes no money. Neither does the distributor and everyone's ticked off. Now, you can sign for Holiday Imports, so sign."

  Callie knew she'd look like an idiot saying she wasn't Richard's secretary after she'd just led Marv to believe she was. She calculated the consequences of going and not going. Going had more positives. The airport was only a half hour away. She could be there and back before Richard even woke up.

  "Okay, I'll go. Where are you exactly in the airport complex?"

  Marv gave her directions to the commercial hangars where cargo was stored for pickup. After she hung up, Callie peeked in on Richard, who was still sleeping. She bundled Mark back into the car and handed him a cookie she'd taken from the kitchen on the way out.

  As she strapped him back in his seat, she said, "What a life, kid."

  Mark took a bite of the cookie, then offered what was left to her.

  She kissed his free hand. "Thanks, but you just keep that after you've drooled on it. I know a claim when I see it."

  Veni, vidi, signi, she decided after finding the warehouse hangar and taking care of Richard's paperwork. She had come. She had seen. She had signed. Think of what Julius Caesar could have conquered with a pen. She'd found Richard's job interesting, but her sister would be disappointed if she saw what Richard really did for a living. Callie vowed to tell her.

  When she got home, she'd have to remember to tell Richard that he had hired her while he'd been sleeping.

  "Plane go boom!" Mark announced as one landed on a far runway.

  "Plane lands" she corrected, bustling him into the car. "What are you trying to do? Scare everyone?"

  In his special seat, Mark bounced up and down. "Me go boom."

  Callie chuckled. "Now the networks can put away their cameras. No film at eleven, folks."

  "I almost go boom," she admitted, maneuvering the car up Richard's driveway for the third time in as many hours.

  Richard was still asleep when she looked in on him. One miracle had been provided for at least. She made some heavily sweetened tea and brought it to the bedroom. Mark had come with her. He was getting very good with steps.

  This time Richard stirred and opened his eyes.

  "Hey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like a truck hit me."

  She held up the mug she carried. "I brought you tea. You're only allowed three sips every fifteen minutes." "Who made that rule?" "My brother, the doctor."

  "Figures. First body torture and now death by thirst. I hate to think what he'll do to me next."

  "It's for your own good," she chided, amused by his complaining. She couldn't blame him, but the three-sips routine worked.

  He looked at her, his gaze red-rimmed and hollow. Poor thing, she thought, wanting only to wrap him in a big comforting hug.

  "You shouldn't be here," he said. "I was doing okay."

  She laughed. "If you had been doing any more okay, you'd be in the hospital. Now drink your tea."

  "I've imposed on you enough. Go home. I feel much better.'' He tried to sit up, probably to prove his point, but never made it. His head dropped back on the pillow. He looked exhausted.

  "Unca 'shard go boom," Mark said.

  "Out of the mouth of a real babe," she murmured, helping Richard sit up to drink the tea.

  Somehow it felt right to hold him, to help him through this time. She didn't feel put upon or resentful. She felt good... and proud... and home.

  She took the cup when he reached for a fourth sip. "Oh, no. Good things come in threes. By the way, you hired me today."

  "I did?"

  She nodded. "Someone had to sign off on fruit from Malaysia, and Marv decreed I was it." "I would have gone."

  She shook her head. "Richard, you couldn't even walk back to bed by yourself. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of that and some calls piling up in the office, and I'll be official."

  "Thanks," he said, producing an anemic smile.

  Mark climbed onto the bed and lay down next to Richard.

  "He's going to get it," Richard said. "Tommy thinks

  so.

  Callie grinned at his pained tone. "You'll be up and around by then."

  "Amanda and Jason will get it, too."

  "You'll be able to handle that."

  "No, I won't." Richard leaned his head against her shoulder.

  "Sure you will." Her voice sounded as breathless as she suddenly felt. For goodness' sake, she thought, the man was sick. How could she be physically responding to their closeness when he was ill?

  Because he was still sexy. She couldn't not be aware of him as a man.

  "You'll get it, too," he said, looking up at her. "Your brother says so."

  "Tommy used to put pebbles up his nose just to see if they would get stuck. Don't believe everything he says, trust me."

  "I'm sorry, Callie. It was too soon for us to make love."

  Callie swallowed. She didn't want to discuss it. They'd done enough already. "It's okay, Richard. It was my choice that night."

  "Just don't regret it."

  "I don't."

  "You do."

  "No." She couldn't tell him that she regretted having to walk away from their lovemaking. She'd known she had to or lose everything she worked so hard to achieve.

  "I'll make it up to you, Callie." Despite his illness, he looked determined.

  She smiled. "I'd like that."

  "Can I have more tea now?"

  "Only if I hit you over the head with it. Your fifteen minutes aren't up."

  "You're tough."

  She chuckled. "Mark's fallen asleep on your bed again, sans diapers once more. Now that's tough."

  Richard smiled and closed his eyes. "I don't know. Watching you blow-dry the bed had great sexual overtones."

  Callie let go of him, but gently. As he slumped back,

  she said, "You're not too sick if you can think that, Richard.''

  Richard grinned wryly. "Don't bet on it."

  She had a lot of things she would bet on, but falling for Richard wasn't one of them.

  She didn't feel quite so tough at the moment. In fact, she felt almost in...

  Callie forced the emotion away. He was sick and she was vulnerable. This wasn't the time to decide on anything.

  Chapter Eight

  Richard stared at the slender lump huddled under the covers.

  "Don't say 'I told you so,'" the lump croaked in misery. "I know I've got it."

  He grinned. "Tommy fix you up with his magic bullet?"

  "The boy was positively ghoulish about it, the sadistic bastard." Callie looked at Richard with mournful eyes. "You should be home, not here. You're barely out of bed yourself."

  "True, but I feel a helluva lot better than you do."

  "The world feels a helluva lot better than me."

  "I'll help you now," Richard said, grateful Tommy had called him about Callie catching the flu. Richard had gotten a key from Tommy an
d come over to her apartment to check on her. Jason and Amanda were still at school, so he would pick them up later.

  His own flu bout had been short-lived, as Tommy had promised, because by the third day he had been up and about. He hoped that the same would hold for Callie, who'd gotten it right after he had. While he felt better, he was still tired at times. Callie had been so terrific when he'd been sick that he hoped he could reciprocate a little. In one way he could. "I can hold your sickie bucket for you."

  "I'm thrilled," she said, sinking more deeply under

  the covers.

  Mark climbed onto Callie's bed and lay down next to her. "Callie thick."

  "In the head," Callie muttered, reaching out and stroking Mark's soft hair.

  "Yes, she is sick, Mark. But we'll make her better.

  We hope."

  Richard sat down on the bed, partly to be close to her and partly to ensure he didn't suddenly collapse on the floor if his legs decided to turn to rubber without his permission. It'd be a heck of a thing if Mark wound up taking care of both of them.

  His hip pressed against hers. Callie's face was almost colorless, and her reddened eyes were rimmed with violet circles. Her hair sprawled every which way on the pillow. She looked ill, yet he couldn't help a moment of physical response to her. His sexual attraction to her overrode everything else.

  Of course she'd probably kill him if he acted on his impulse, sick or not.

  Her telephone rang.

  "Oh, God," Callie muttered, pulling the covers over her head.

  "I'll get it," Richard said, rising. He opted for the phone in her living room, so she could rest. "Don't worry about Mark. He's well padded."

  Mark had had a slight setback what with Richard's illness and then his trying to cope with getting through the days afterward. Richard had discovered the transition stage in the life-responsibility process wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Potty training was hard work. Either that, or he didn't have Callie's touch.

  When he answered the telephone, he discovered Callie's boss on the line. By the time Richard hung up, he was angry.

  "You work for an idiot," he announced, coming back into her bedroom. He liked its cheery yellows and whites, but they didn't alter his mood at the moment