In a few moments Melanie returned with it. Zack was sitting on the sofa with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
“Let me take your temperature,” she requested.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to know. I have too much to do.”
His brown eyes had that glazed look of fever, and she knew better than to let him put her off. “Come on, Zack. Be reasonable.”
He arched his brows at her. “Reasonable is a matter of perception.”
“By the time we argue about this, we can know what your temperature is.” Without giving him another chance to protest, she slipped the end of the thermometer into his mouth. “Don’t bite it,” she teased with a smile. It was one of the old-fashioned ones without the plastic cover.
He glared at her, but she just gave him a sweet smile. Finally he snatched it from his mouth. “That’s long enough.”
She wasn’t sure it was, but she took it from him. “I’m not sure it was long enough, but it’s already 102 degrees. When did this start?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “The sore throat started yesterday. It’s nothing, Melanie.”
“What other symptoms do you have besides the sore throat and dizziness?”
“No symptoms. I’m sorry I said anything.” He started to rise to his feet, but the room must have spun because he sat down again.
Worry filled her and made her bolder. “You should go to bed, Zack.”
“Like hell.”
“That’s exactly how you’re going to feel if you don’t take care of this.”
Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he continued to argue. “I’m going to take a couple of aspirin, and that will be the end of it.”
Exasperated, she moved aside. “Let me see you get up and walk to your room on your own steam.”
“I never could resist a dare,” he mumbled. But when he rose, he swayed. After he took a few steps, he reached for the wall.
“Stubborn male,” she murmured as she slipped her arm around his waist so he could lean on her. When he didn’t make a comeback or try to push her away, she knew he really did feel lousy.
Gently she prodded, “Please let me help you to your bedroom.”
This time he didn’t argue as she supported him during their trek to the bedroom. It was obvious he was trying not to put his weight on her. He wasn’t the type of man to lean on anyone, and she knew that. Still, it was time he learned that even a man as strong as he was had to depend on someone.
They crossed into his room, and she remembered the other day—seeing him naked—and how she’d felt weak all over. This was different. They made it to the bed, and he sank down heavily on it.
“I hate this,” he mumbled.
“Being sick?”
“Having anyone see me like this.”
“It’s just me and Flo. Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“No, I don’t want you to call the doctor,” he snapped.
“All right. Then I guess you’re just going to have to let either me or Flo help you. Where are your pajamas?”
At her question, he gave her a sharp glance. “I don’t wear pajamas.”
“Fine. Then undress and I’ll get you some juice, soup and acetaminophen.”
At that his gaze came up to hers. “You make one mean nurse. But Flo would be even worse.”
She wasn’t sure whether he was giving in or not. “I’m not mean, just persistent. You simply haven’t come up against it before. While I’m gone, don’t try to sneak out or I’ll sic Flo on you.”
A wry smile tipped up the corners of his lips as she left the room.
As the evening wore on, she could tell Zack felt worse. He only ate a few spoonfuls of soup and didn’t down much of the liquid. He said his throat was too sore. That worried Melanie. He was determined to put Amy to bed until Melanie reminded him that what he had could be catching. With that he’d settled back on the pillows on his bed and closed his eyes. She left him there, knowing rest was the best thing for him.
After she helped Flo with Amy, Melanie watched TV for a little while. Before Flo went to bed, she said, “I looked in on Zack. He’s sleeping.”
“I’ll check on him before I turn in,” Melanie assured her.
When the news was over, Melanie poured a glass of juice and took it to Zack’s room. She found him shivering. The texture of his skin was much too dry, and he looked miserable.
His voice was raspy as he commanded, “Just go to bed, Melanie.”
“Why is it men have to be so macho about illness?” she asked with exasperation as she set the juice on his nightstand.
Not expecting an answer, she went to the linen closet in the hall. There she found an extra blanket. Stuffed into a box with Ace bandages and peroxide, she also found a hot water bottle. Armed to help Zack whether he wanted to be helped or not, she filled the hot water bottle and took it with the blanket to his bedroom.
Going to the side of the bed, she lifted the covers.
“What are you doing?” he barked, grabbing them from her.
Ignoring his outburst, she tucked the hot water bottle in by his side. “This will help you get warm.” He was wearing briefs, and she tried not to look at the rest of his body as she wrestled the covers from him and pulled them up to his chin. Then she unfolded the blanket on top of the spread.
“If this doesn’t help, I saw a ceramic-tile hot plate in the kitchen. I can heat it, wrap it and put it at your feet. While you’re lying there, think of a beach on a warm day and the sun on your body. It might help you get warmer quicker.”
“Hocus-pocus,” Zack mumbled, glaring at her as if she was the cause of his discomfort.
His words reverberated in her head as she warmed water in the microwave for tea.
She was convinced creative visualization wasn’t hocus-pocus. She’d done extensive reading about it, especially when her eyes were healing. She’d wanted them to heal as fast as possible and tried everything, including vitamin supplements. As many doctors did these days, she believed the mind and body worked together in mysterious ways. This whole experience with the corneal transplants had taught her that.
Back in Zack’s room a few minutes later, she noticed he seemed to be shivering less. She offered him the mug of tea. “I want you to drink it all.”
“Melanie…”
“You need liquids, Zack, to help your body heal. Come on. It’s not too strong, and I put a little bit of orange and cinnamon in. It’ll slide right down.”
Taking the mug from her, he eyed her over it. Then as if he decided fighting her took too much energy, he sipped at it slowly.
Only the dim light on the dresser glowed in the room. There was an intimacy about taking care of Zack that felt so right to Melanie.
Once he’d finished with the mug, she asked, “Do you want to try to sleep? Or should I make another cup?”
They stared at each other for a few moments until Zack admitted, “That felt good going down.”
She wanted to crawl into bed beside him to warm him, stroke his hair away from his forehead, give him whatever comfort she could. Tea would have to do. “I’ll make another cup. If you fall asleep while I’m gone, I’ll set it on your nightstand.”
But Zack wasn’t asleep when she returned. He was shivering less now as he took the mug from her a second time. “Either the hot water bottle or the tea is helping. I’m not as cold.”
“Good. That’s the idea. But I bet you still ache all over.”
“You’ve had the flu?”
“A few times. I know sleeping’s tough because when you move, your body hurts everywhere.”
“I need a damn distraction,” he growled, and reached for the bedside radio to switch it on.
“I can read out loud for a while, if you’d like.”
“You have to get your sleep,” he mumbled but his hand left the switch.
“I don’t mind. Really. Not if it will help.” She looked at the books over on his bookshelf and nodded to them. “What’s your favorit
e?”
“Walden.”
“All right.” She slid the volume of Henry David Thoreau from the shelf, then settled in the armchair on the other side of Zack’s bed. “Sip the tea and close your eyes and maybe you can fall asleep.”
Instead of fighting her this time, he took a few more swallows, then set the mug aside. When he lay back against the pillows he winced, and she suspected his head probably hurt along with everything else. She began reading in a low voice and didn’t stop until she’d finished ten pages. Then she looked over at Zack.
He’d stopped moving restlessly, and his breathing was even. He was asleep.
She knew she should go back to her own room, but she rarely had a chance to watch him unobserved. His forehead was broad, his eyebrows thick and dark, his nose had a slight bump in it. There were two small scars on his right cheek, and she wondered where he’d gotten them. His beard shadow was dark now, more stubble than shadow, but it couldn’t hide his angular jaw. In a way she felt as if she had known Zack forever. Yet everything about knowing him seemed exciting and new, too. All of it was so confusing. Yet she wasn’t confused about her deepening feelings for him and Amy. She just didn’t know what was going to come of them.
Deciding to stay a bit longer, she curled on her side with her head against the chairback.
It was the middle of the night when she awakened and realized Zack was restless. It was as if he couldn’t find a spot on the sheet to fit his body. He looked pale, and she bet if she put her hand to his forehead, his fever would be high.
When he saw she was awake, he murmured hoarsely, “Go to bed.”
She ignored his command. Going around to the side of the bed, she lifted the covers and plucked out the hot water bottle. “Are you still cold?”
“Melanie, I don’t want you here. I want to—”
“Be miserable in peace? I can understand that, but your fever’s up again. Until it breaks you’re going to feel like this, so we’ve got to make it break.”
“It might have to run its course.”
“Yes, it might. Do you want to be fighting the whole time it does? Save your strength, Zack. Just pretend I’m a nurse. I’ll try to make you comfortable, then I’ll leave. I promise.”
She waited for his consent, and in a few moments he gave a slight nod.
Doing all the things she had done for him before, she tried to look at the situation clinically as she tucked the hot water bottle in by his side. Her fingers grazed his intensely hot skin, and she felt him suck in a breath. Their gazes met, and in spite of his fever, she could feel the sexual vibrations that always hummed between them.
After he’d downed two more pills and settled back on the pillow, she suggested, “Everything always seems worse in the middle of the night. In a few hours it’ll be morning.”
She turned to leave him then, to give him the peace he wanted, but to her surprise, he caught her hand. It was a firm but gentle clasp that let her know his strength was still there. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He released her hand slowly, but his gaze still held hers. She looked away first, afraid he would see too much.
It was 6:00 a.m. when Zack awakened. He could tell his fever had broken. The sheets were wet as was his pillowcase. He should change them. If not that, he should at least move over to the other side of the bed. He didn’t feel as bad as he had last night, but he didn’t feel strong enough to lift those file drawers again, either.
Before he could decide the best course of action, his bedroom door slowly opened and Melanie peeked in. He suspected she’d set her alarm so she could check on him. She looked sleep tousled and so very beautiful. He almost forgot how weak he’d felt a moment before. She was wearing a pink-flowered flannel robe, and he could see a pale blue nightgown underneath. Her robe didn’t have buttons, and she’d belted it tightly.
She moved to his side, her brow creased in concern as she saw the sweat beading on his forehead. She touched the damp pillow. Her hand was so near his face. If he turned toward it, he could kiss her palm.
He must be delirious. “I just woke up.”
“I’ll change the sheets for you. Where’s your robe?”
Last night he would have told her to go away…. He would have told her sleeping on the other side of the bed was fine. He would have done anything so she wouldn’t see him like this. But this morning he didn’t feel as if he had to put on a front, and that was odd. With Sherry, he’d felt as if he’d had to be strong all the time, could never show her any weakness, never show her any of his flaws. Somehow he felt that Melanie accepted him however he was. That should have made him feel more comfortable, but instead it disconcerted him greatly.
“My robe’s in the closet.”
She opened the door to his walk-in closet, saw the blue terry cloth on the hook and snatched it off. When she handed it to him, he threw back the covers.
Her eyes widened.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” After all, he was wearing briefs this time. Still, she looked just as embarrassed as when he hadn’t been. It gave him some pleasure to rattle her. He almost grinned.
He offered to help her change the bed, but she gave him one of those looks women know how to give, and he settled in the chair to wait.
“How’s the dizziness?” she asked him.
“Practically gone. It must have been the fever. I’ll be back on my feet later today.”
“Would it be so terrible if you took a day off to rest?” she asked reasonably.
“Resting isn’t on my schedule.”
She looked at him and was about to open her mouth to say something when he smiled at her. “Gotcha.”
They both laughed.
After a trip to the closet in the hall, she plopped the fresh bed linens onto the mattress. Remaking the bed loosened the belt on her robe. As she fluffed the pillow, the garment opened slightly. The neckline of her nightgown was cut in a deep V, and Zack could just see the hint of the mounds of her breasts. He became filled with a heat that had nothing to do with the fever, at least not last night’s.
Efficiently she turned back the covers of the bed she’d just made, then tightened her belt again. “It’s all ready for you.”
With feeling better, everything she was doing seemed intimate, seemed to arouse all his basic urges. He could imagine her in that bed with him, under him, both of them getting lost in the pleasure…
Pushing himself to his feet, he knew he had to thank her in some way for last night and wasn’t sure quite how to do it. A gift didn’t seem appropriate. Then he thought about the holiday next week.
“Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”
She looked startled. “No…I don’t.”
“I thought maybe you and Wilson—”
In a rush she assured him, “No. Jordan has family in San Diego. He spends the holidays with them.”
Were she and Jordan Wilson just friends? Zack had hardly recognized the green-eyed monster that had bitten him when he’d seen her with the man. Now he wondered if she and Wilson were merely friends because that friendship simply hadn’t developed into more…yet.
“Flo is taking time off over Thanksgiving to spend with her sister, and Pop and I are going out to eat. Would you like to join us?”
Her smile was radiant. “Thank you, Zack. I’d like that. Are you sure your dad won’t mind?”
“He won’t care. In fact, he’ll probably be glad. I’m sure you’ll keep the conversation going better than I can.” Then he remembered what he’d said to her about her not being a member of the family. He’d been wrong about that. She was feeling more and more like a member of the family every day.
He wasn’t sure if that was good, or something he was going to regret.
Although Melanie was going out to dinner with Zack and Amy and Ted Morgan, she decided Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without home-cooked food. So she made pumpkin pies and surprised Zack with them the evening before Thanksgiving.
/>
He looked totally taken aback. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” she told him. “We can take these to your dad’s. After dinner we can have them for dessert.”
He looked as if he wanted to kiss her then. Yet both of them knew they were alone in the penthouse and Flo wouldn’t be back until late on Friday. A kiss could tempt fate. A kiss could lead them both into something they weren’t ready for.
On Thursday afternoon as they sat around Ted’s kitchen table and Melanie added dollops of whipped cream to each of the pieces of pie, Zack’s dad commented, “You look as if you’re used to doing that.”
“I’ve garnished a pie or two.”
Ted’s brows shot up. “You’re not an interior decorator at all. You’re a chef.”
She laughed. “Nope, I just enjoy puttering around the kitchen.”
Ted’s gaze met his son’s, and they exchanged a look that Melanie didn’t understand.
Amy’s idea of eating pumpkin pie was to smear whipped cream all over her face. Shaking his head, Zack took his daughter from her high chair. “I’m going to clean her up, then take her out for a walk. Anyone else interested in coming?”
Ted patted his full stomach. “No way. Just feel like being lazy today. Melanie can keep me company if you don’t mind.”
“Maybe Melanie would rather get some fresh air,” Zack responded.
He was giving her an out in case she didn’t want to be stuck in here with his dad. “I don’t mind keeping your dad company. Maybe I’ll even share some of the secrets of the kitchen with him.”
Ted laughed. “You can share secrets all you want, but I think I’ll need a few hundred lessons.”
By the time Zack took Amy outside, Melanie and Ted moved to the living room with their cups of coffee. They engaged in small talk for a while until Ted asked her, “Do you really like to cook?”
“Yes, I do. It’s not just the cooking. I love the smells, the way they make a home feel. Do you know what I mean?”
Studying her, Ted nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. After Zack’s mom died…” He shook his head. “The kitchen was never the same place. The meals were just something you did. I was hoping when Zack married Sherry…” He stopped abruptly and gave her a sideways glance. “I was never very comfortable with Sherry.”
A Husband In Her Eyes Page 9