Jason’s eyes were closed, but he shook his head stubbornly in answer to her question.
Morgan found the spare sheets without too much trouble and changed the bed. When next she looked around, Jason was shivering. “Where are your pajamas? You need something on besides that bathrobe.”
“I-I’m fine,” he said and attempted to get up out of the chair.
“Don’t you dare move until I find you some clothes to put on, Jason Falco.”
He muttered something, which Morgan couldn’t hear, but then subsided. Delving through his drawers, she found a pair of warm socks. As for pajamas, though, she could only find silk ones. “Jason, don’t you have any flannel pajamas?”
“I haven’t worn flannel pajamas since I was twelve years old,” he declared in a loftily offended voice.
Morgan’s continued probing paid off. Pushed off in a corner, under a stack of sweaters, was a gift box that contained what she was looking for, given to him no doubt by some loving aunt. Helping him up, she soothed, “I know you’re a big boy, now, but these will keep you warm.” Leading him over to the bed, she sat him down and took off his robe. “Here.” She slipped an undershirt over his head, “let’s put this on first.”
“I think I can manage to dress myself,” he grumbled.
“Then let me see you do it.”
In the end, it was mostly Morgan who managed to get him dressed and under the covers. “God, Jason, you’re burning up! How long have you had this fever?”
“Don’t know.” His words slurred as he huddled under the covers. “I’m so cold.”
Morgan went into the bathroom and sorted through his medicine cabinet. She found aspirin, but no thermometer or cold tablets. Going through the linen cupboard one more time, she found a heating pad and a box of tissues.
Taking her finds back into the bedroom, she plugged the heating pad in and lifted Jason’s covers. “Jason raise your feet, so I can put this under them.”
“If it’s dynamite, you’re putting it at the wrong end. I need it under my head to open it up.”
“It’s nothing that lethal. Just a heating pad. It will help keep your feet warm.”
“Why don’t you get under the covers with me,” he taunted weakly. “I understand body heat is the best thing a person can use to keep another person warm.”
She refused to rise to his bait. “In this case, I think I can do more good for you with both feet firmly on the floor.”
“T-that’s certainly a switch in thinking.”
“Hush, now, you shouldn’t be talking so much. Just nod, yes or no. Do you feel like eating any soup?”
At his negative response, she continued. “How about something to drink?” At another shake of his head, Morgan frowned. “Well, you’re going to have to drink something, because you’re probably dehydrated. In a minute, I’ll go make some hot tea. Right now I want you to use this box of tissues instead of that pillowcase.”
“It works better than the tissues,” he asserted childishly. “I don’t have to be constantly reaching for a new one. I can keep it with me. Besides it’s soft and my nose hurts.”
“It’s also not very sanitary, I’m afraid. Let’s compromise. I’ll go get you a clean pillowcase.” He didn’t say anything. “Jason, do you have a vaporizer anywhere?”
“Vaporizers are for babies.”
“Oh, right.” Morgan smiled wryly. “For some reason, I keep forgetting how grown up you are right now.” She went into the kitchen to make him a cup of tea and returned. “Now,” she sat down beside him, “I want you to drink some of this. It’s good and hot and will warm you.”
“I think I’d rather you warm me,” he said, making a face after he had taken a drink.
“Sorry, but that’s not one of your choices at the moment.”
Jason lay back down and peered suspiciously at her over the pillowcase he was holding against his nose. “This must be some clever ploy on your part. Have you changed your modus operandi?”
“I’m doing this because I care very deeply for you, Jason, and I can’t stand to see you feel this bad.” She ran her fingers through his hair, tenderly combing it off his face. “One of these days maybe you’ll understand that. Now, I think I’m going to run down to the nearest drugstore and buy you a vaporizer and some chest rub.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.” Jason’s words were slurring again and his eyes had shut. “But there’s no reason to go, because I don’t need any of those things.”
Morgan looked at him worriedly. She hated to leave him alone. There was no telling how high his fever might climb, and his breathing was alarmingly shallow. She started to get up, but his hand come out and closed around her forearm. “Don’t go.”
Slurred though his words had been, she had still been able to understand them. “I’m not going to leave you.” She layed her hand on his reassuringly. “I was just going in the next room to call Jerome and give him a list of stuff to bring over. I’m also going to call a doctor. Do you have one you prefer?”
“I don’t want a doctor.”
“Jason, you’re sick, and you need something to knock down that fever.”
“I hate shots.”
Morgan smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead, feeling the dry heat of his skin against her lips. “I just know that you can be a big brave boy. I’ll even hold your hand.”
He opened his eyes. “I’m not getting a shot.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll make a deal with you. Let me call a doctor, and I’ll make sure you get only pills.”
“They can’t be too big. My throat’s sore.”
“Not too big,” she promised, amused at finding out that the sophisticated, commanding man she loved was like a frightened little boy when it came to doctors and being sick.
A couple of hours later, Morgan lay back in the bedside chair watching Jason. Both Jerome and the doctor had already come and gone. Jason seemed to be resting comfortably now, with the vaporizer steaming away by his bed, but the doctor had told her that he would continue to feel rotten for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
“Morgan!”
She instantly sat upright, then leaned toward him. “What is it?”
“I just wanted to know if you’re still here.”
“I’m here and I’m staying until you’re better.”
And she did. There were times during the next day or two when Morgan let herself believe that Jason’s sickness was bringing them closer. He seemed to want her constantly by his side, and if he woke and she wasn’t there, he would call out for her.
Yet, as he got better and his body temperature became normal, his attitude toward her grew distinctly cooler, until finally, when Morgan could no longer think of an excuse to stay, she had to leave with only his very polite, “Thank you for all you’ve done” to go home with.
Chapter Seven
All the next week Morgan tried to maintain an optimistic viewpoint, telling herself that she would hear from Jason at any time. It was impossible, to her way of thinking, that he wasn’t yearning for her, just as she was for him. However, as time passed, there was not so much as a word from him. It was time for new action.
One morning she picked up the phone and placed a call to a local florist. “Paul’s Florist,” the pleasant voice of a young man greeted her. “Paul speaking.”
“Good morning,” she answered, “This is Morgan Saunders. I was wondering what the possibility would be of sending some tropical plants and flowers to someone here in St. Paul?”
“Tropical? What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know exactly. How about anthurium, or orchids … or maybe some pots of ferns.”
“The pots of ferns I could handle, the others I would have to see about getting on special order, but there’d be no guarantees.”
“I see.” Morgan pondered for a moment, then decided. “In that case, let’s start off with the ferns. I’d like three pots delivered every day to Mr. Jason
Falco. His office is on the top floor of the DeWitt Building. Whenever you’re able to get hold of any, add a tropical plant or two to the day’s order, and if you can, mix up the sizes and the types of the ferns.”
“Okay. Do you want a message sent with them?”
“Definitely. I’d like a card put on each plant, and I want the cards to say three words: ‘Don’t ever forget!’”
“That’s all? Just, ‘Don’t ever forget!’? You don’t want your name or anything else on the cards?”
“No. I think that will be enough.”
“Okay, Miss Saunders. How long do you want this order to run?”
“Until I tell you to stop.”
Morgan sat in the full light of the afternoon sun, working on the embroidery. She had to chuckle. If the last few days at the warehouse had seemed particularly hectic, she could only imagine what it was like at Jason’s office.
The door to her apartment had been left open, and she could hear Sami huffing and puffing, struggling down the hall from her workshop.
“Here it is.” Sami staggered in carrying a huge papier-mache heart, which she had constructed and lacquered an eye-catching color of red. “It’s finally dry and ready to be loaded up.”
“Great. Set it down. You’ve got your choice. You can either help me embroider these men’s bikini briefs or you can fill the heart with the chocolate kisses I’ve bought. I figure it’ll take, at the very least, a thousand.”
Sami made an instant decision. “I’ll do the chocolate kisses. No telling what kind of word would come out if I tried doing those stitches.”
“What’s going on here?” Jerome had just walked In. “I came up to tell you that I’ve closed the shop, but I can see I should have done it much earlier. What are you two up to?”
“How are you at embroidering?” Morgan asked.
“Lousy, I would imagine. Embroidering what?”
Sami answered him. “Morgan’s sewing a different day of the week on each of these seven bikini briefs” —she held up a bright emerald silk pair— “and she’s going to send them to Jason. Isn’t that a great idea?”
“Do I have to answer that question?”
“Oh, Jerome,” Sami moaned sorrowfully. “You’re so conservative!”
“And that monstrous red heart?”
“Sami is going to fill it with chocolate kisses” —Morgan rejoined the conversation—” and I’ll write a note that reads, ‘To remind you of our kisses that were sweeter than these.’”
Jerome sat down, took off his glasses and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “My pre-law major may come in real handy, Morgan, when Jason decides to prosecute you for harassment.”
“She’s not harassing him!” Sami flared indignantly. “She’s not doing anything that men down through the ages haven’t done to women they were pursuing. You know how men are always, sending us flowers and candy and sometimes even lingerie. Jason has probably done it a hundred times himself. Well, Morgan’s just turning the tables on him, that’s all.”
Morgan spoke up. “I’ve arranged for him to receive masses of ferns, plus other tropical plants. Also, I thought it would be a nice touch to send him little gifts. Today, for instance, he’s receiving an enormous box. But when he opens it, he’ll find a series of boxes, each one smaller and individually wrapped—”
Sami interrupted her. “We did that yesterday and used lots of different colored papers and bows.”
“—until he gets to a tiny box that’s filled with black sand collected from a Martinique beach where we picnicked one day. The note will read, ‘Remember?’”
“Tell him about the singing telegrams,” Sami urged.
“Maybe I should have the name of a good lawyer ready,” Jerome mused to the room at large.
“The closer you get to becoming a lawyer, Jerome, the more respectable you’re getting,” Sami chided. “Where’s your sense of fun?”
“Maybe even a bail bondsman,” Jerome added to no one in particular.
“I don’t see how the singing telegrams can fail,” Sami declared confidently. “Think how much a woman would love to be serenaded, and all arranged by the man she loves.”
Jerome didn’t appear convinced. “What kind of songs are you having him bombarded with?”
“Serenaded,” Sami corrected him with a frown. “The word is serenaded.”
Morgan laughed. “Love songs, of course. Yesterday, the song that I requested was the one that goes, ‘You were meant for me, I was meant for you.’ You know the one. This morning’s song was ‘Love Is A Many Splendored Thing.’”
“Why don’t you just hit him over the head with a sledge hammer and be done with it?” Jerome inquired.
“Tomorrow, the song will be ‘Always,’ and the day after tomorrow, ‘Some Enchanted Evening.’”
“I know that one.” Jerome grinned. “It goes, ‘Some enchanted evening, you will meet a stranger, across a crowded airplane.’”
Sami glared at him. “I can see you’re not taking this seriously, but Morgan’s whole future is at stake here. She loves Jason, Jason loves her; he just needs a little gentle prodding, that’s all.”
“If you call this ‘gentle prodding,’ I’d hate to see your maximum effort, but, okay. I know when I’m overruled. What can I do to help?”
“You can go over to Sami’s apartment and select one of her birds—try to pick the one with the sweetest expression on his face—and bring it here.” Morgan glanced at Sami. “If that’s all right with you, that is.”
“Of course. My birds are always willing to do good deeds. But what are you going to do with him?”
“I’m going to put him into a cage and send it to Jason with a note that reads, ‘Without your love, I’m as caged as this little guy here. Please set me free.’”
“I love it!” Sami clapped her hands excitedly. “I just love it!”
“Somehow I knew you would,” Jerome said dryly, already on his way out the door.
#
Several days later, Morgan’s phone rang. “Hello?”
“Morgan, you’ve got to stop this.”
“Jason! How nice to hear from you. How are you?”
“Terrible. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be on the receiving end of all these ‘gifts’ you keep sending me?”
She gave him an impish grin through the telephone. “I thought you’d enjoy them.”
“These ferns—”
“I’ve always felt that a person can’t have too many ferns, don’t you agree?”
“Morgan, enough is enough.” In spite of his stern words, Jason sounded as if he were very close to breaking into a laugh. “But, I’ll give you an ‘A’ for originality and cleverness.”
“How about for persistence?”
“Especially for persistence—but it’s all got to stop. You’re disrupting my office. My employees can hardly get any work done, what with their damned twittering about the things that are constantly arriving and their speculation about what you’re going to do next.” There was a significant pause. “What are you going to do next?”
“Well, uh—”
“And those sappy love songs! Come on. Give me a break.”
“I’ll have you know those are old standards.”
“Maybe. But can you imagine how I feel when, at ten o’clock every morning, all my employees start gathering outside my office to hear the latest warblings by that tenor you hired?”
“Pleased?” Morgan guessed.
“Damned uncomfortable!”
“Gosh, I’m sorry. I auditioned him myself. I thought he was very good, but perhaps you’d prefer a baritone.”
“Morgan …” Jason’s voice trailed off in an exasperated chuckle. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always manage to get around me.”
Morgan laughed with him. “You’ll like the song for tomorrow. It’s entitled ‘Till.’ Do you remember how it goes? ‘Till the moon deserts the sky, till all the seas run dry, till then I’ll worship you. Till, the tr
opic sun grows cold—’”
He spoke quietly. “That’s enough, Morgan.”
“And the song for the next day is my favorite. It’s called ‘Only You,’ and it sums up perfectly how I feel about you. The lyrics start out, ‘Only you can make this world seem right, only you can make the darkness bright, only you and you alone can thrill me like you do …” She hesitated for a moment. “It seems to me as if I’ve said it so many times, in so many ways—I was just trying to show you in a different way this time.”
“Morgan.” His voice had hardened again. “I want all of this nonsense stopped immediately! Do you understand?”
“All right. If you insist, Jason.”
#
Morgan stared unseeingly at the river before her. Jason … Jason, Jason, Jason. His name ran in an unending circle in her mind. There’d been no word from him since she had stopped sending him the gifts and plants—not even so much as a thank-you note. What was she going to do now? She was fresh out of ideas, yet she had an overwhelming need to see him.
Reaching impulsively for the phone, she picked it up and punched out the number of his office. His secretary answered, “Mr. Falco’s office.”
Gazing out the window at the Mississippi and thinking of how filled with ferns Jason’s office must be by now, Morgan affected her best southern drawl. “Hello. This is Ms. Fern Rivers. I’m an old friend of Mr. Falco’s, but then I’m sure that Jay has probably mentioned me to you.”
“I’m afraid not,” the secretary apologized, “or at least, not that I can remember.”
“No? Oh well, even if he hasn’t, you sound as if you’re a highly intelligent young woman. I’m positive you’ll be able to help me.” Morgan’s voice was dripping with so much sugar, she was sure that her teeth would acquire several cavities before she hung up. “I don’t want to bother dear Jay with this itsy-bitsy problem.”
“I’ll try my best, Ms. Rivers,” the earnest secretary assured Morgan, completely won over.
“Good. I just knew you would. You see, the strangest thing has happened. The last time I talked with Jay, we set up a luncheon appointment for this week, but silly ol’ me, I just can’t seem to remember which day it is.”
The Seduction of Jason Page 10