Rick

by Peggy Jaeger

  At the office she’d ignored him, forcing him to wait in the reception area while she answered emails, returned calls to clients, and prepped for her next court appearance. She ate her lunch alone and had no idea what, or even if, he’d eaten.

  Rick’s deep inhalations proved he was trying his best to keep from commenting on her behavior.

  She’d made him leave when Tony and his partner delivered Michael to Lila’s room at the hospital. She knew Rick wanted to talk to the detective about the Genocardi investigation, but she made it impossible for them to have a moment alone. Not a word was spoken between them in the car on the way to the memorial.

  “I know you’ve been spoiling for a fight all day,” he said, not facing her, “but now’s not the time or the place. We came here to remember someone special to you, Abigail. Someone you cared, deeply, for.”

  Abby swallowed the snide remark she’d been about to make, suddenly embarrassed at her childish and churlish behavior.

  “I said what I did,” Rick continued, “simply because I’ve seen my share of women placed in serious situations. When people assumed they’d fall apart and not be able to cope, they shocked everyone by doing just the opposite. Josh’s mother is a perfect example. When his dad had the heart attack last year, Debra was the one everyone figured would fall to pieces. But she didn’t.”

  “No. She didn’t,” Abby agreed. “She was the one who kept everyone informed about what was going on, got him the best cardiac specialist in the state, and mined through the mountains of medical red tape to get him in that drug trial program.”

  Rick nodded. “Josh told me he’d never been so proud to be her son as when she stepped forward, took charge, and did what had to be done, all without falling apart or pulling a woe-is-me fit.”

  Abby’s gaze tracked over to see Mary comforting one of the law firm partners, when she was the one who really deserved the comforting.

  “Your own mother is another woman whose inner strength and will has been tested time and again and who’s shown everyone what a survivor she is. I think you tend to forget that.”

  Because she did, Abby blushed with remorse.

  “Kandy says that all the time. Mom was a sticker. She could have abandoned us all, left us with Grandma after Dad decamped. But she didn’t. With no education, no means of support, and no work experience, she took on menial jobs just so we could all stay together.”

  “So what I said makes sense. Mary Fields seems like the kind of woman who rises at a time when others might fall.”

  “You’re right.” She sighed and looked over at him. He turned to her. “You’re absolutely right. About everything.” She bit down on her bottom lip and stared down at her shoes. After taking a breath, she added, “I’ve been in a bitchy mood all day, and I’ve been taking it out on you. I’m so sorry.”

  Rick regarded her for a moment. Something flashed in his eyes, something soft and…endearing. “Since I’m probably the reason for the bad mood, I’ll apologize as well. I know having me constantly under foot hasn’t been a picnic. Neither is the reason I’ve been sticking close.”

  “No, it hasn’t. I’m sorry, though, to use you as a whipping boy.”

  The corners of his lips quirked up, and he tugged his phone from his pocket, then fiddled with the keyboard.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Marking this date on my calendar.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to commemorate the exact moment you told me I was right about something. It’s like Halley’s comet. Only comes around once in a lifetime, and I want to make sure I remember it when I’m old and feeble.”

  She tried valiantly to scowl at him but couldn’t. A tiny grin pushed across her lips. “You are such a pain,” she murmured, shaking her head.

  Rick’s smile flashed quick and bright. He lifted both hands, the phone still in one. “And still…”

  She shook her head again and then turned her attention away from him and toward the crowded room. She spotted Tony Pecorrini enter, cross to a woman, and hug her.

  “What’s he doing here?” Rick asked, following her gaze.

  “That’s his mother, Kathy. She’s one of the partners. Remember? That’s how he and I met.”

  “Right. I wanted to talk to him today about the investigation when we were at the hospital but never got the chance.”

  She had the grace to blush again under his scrutiny, knowing she was the reason he hadn’t. “Well, he’s seen us and is coming this way, so now’s your chance.”

  Abby rose, as did Rick. Tony gave her one of his typical side hugs and stuck his hand out to Rick. “This sucks,” he said.

  “How’s your mom holding up?” Abby asked as the three of them sat.

  “She’s taking it hard. Her and Marty started practicing at the same time, both working for another firm. When he decided go out on his own, she followed. They’ve been together over twenty-five years. To go out this way, it’s rough.” He dragged in a breath and glanced over at his mother.

  “Have the police found out anything?” Abby asked.

  “No. The video feed from the train station showed what appears to be a male, slight build. No facial identification ’cuz he was wearing a dark hoodie and had it pulled close around his face. The techies estimate he was about five nine. Marty was five ten and the guy was about even with him on the video. I’m not the lead, so everything I’m getting is third hand, but the guys working the case are good.”

  “This is so awful.” Abby sighed.

  When Tony threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug, she swore she heard Rick growl. In the next moment, Tony placed his hand across her forehead and asked, “You feeling okay? You’re pretty warm.”

  Rick leaned over him and placed his hand on her neck.

  “Stop pawing me, the both of you.” With an irritated glare, she swatted their hands away.

  “He’s right,” Rick said. “You are warm.”

  “It’s warm in here. All these people.” She flicked her hand toward the room. “Stop behaving like grandmas.”

  Rick rose and grabbed her forearm. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

  She yanked her arm from his hold. “There’s that bossiness again, Bannerman. I don’t want to leave.”

  He peered down at her through narrowed eyes. “And there’s that stubbornness again, Abigail. You won’t do yourself or your clients any good if you’re sick, you know.”

  Abby glared at him, the headache she’d been fighting all day roaring through her. “I’m not sick.” As soon as she said it, she realized she hadn’t felt one hundred percent for the past few days.

  “Maybe you should go home, Abby,” Tony said, his gaze darting from her face to Rick’s. “You’re kinda pale as well as warm.”

  “Fine.” She grabbed her purse from the back of the chair and rose. “I want to say goodbye to Mary first. Is that allowed?” She aimed her question at Rick, saw Tony cover his mouth with his hand.

  “Make it quick,” he told her.

  Simmering, she moved across the room. When Rick and Tony engaged in conversation out of her earshot, her crankiness increased tenfold.

  ****

  “You should eat something,” Rick told her. Her pallor had increased during the drive back to her condo, and she was having trouble staying upright as they walked through her front door. If he weren’t concerned she’d bite his head off, he would have carried her from the car.

  “Not hungry.” She bent to pick up the cat who’d come hobbling toward them but braced a hand along the wall before she could. “Whoa. Why is everything spinning?”

  That did it.

  “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, Abigail.” He scooped her up and carried her toward her bedroom.

  “So you’ve said a million times before.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, the words a garbled murmur. “And don’t call me Abigail.”

  All the annoyance she usually put into the state
ment was gone, replaced by weariness. Rick laid her down on top of the bed and felt her forehead.

  “You’re burning up.”

  When he took his hand away, she whimpered. “Can’t you leave your hand there? It felt so…good.”

  Rick stomped into the bathroom and tore open the mirrored cabinet above the sink. Scanning the myriad of over-the-counter pain relievers, beauty creams, shampoos, and toothpaste, he called out, “Do you even own a thermometer?”

  “Dwaronnalef.”

  “What?” He came back into the room and his heart literally stopped. She’d managed to shuck her dress down to her waist before giving up and falling face first against her pillow. One leg, still shod in a skyscraper stiletto, was bent and jutted across the bed, the other—unshod—suspended over the side, the forgotten shoe sprawled on the floor underneath her.

  She’d undone her black lace bra, and it hung open, the straps slipping from her shoulders to her elbows.

  “What are you doing?” He finally found his voice and moved next to the bed.

  “Tryintgtundrs.”

  “What?” He squatted so he was eye level with the pillow and brushed back the fallen hair from in front of her face. Abby turned her head to the side and said, “Trying to get undressed.”

  “You’re doing a piss-poor job of it. Come on. Sit up. I’ll help.”

  “You just want to see me naked.”

  “Babe, if I wanted to see you naked it wouldn’t be when you’re burning up with a sickness fever, but with another kind of fever entirely.”

  He tugged her to a sitting position and had to bite back a moan when her bra slipped down, exposing her breasts.

  Her perfect, gorgeous breasts.

  “I don’t need help,” she said, falling to the side.

  “Sure you don’t.” Rick pulled her back upright. “Where do you keep what you sleep in?”

  She pointed to the dresser.

  “If I let go you gonna face plant again?”

  She peered at him through the shower of her hair. Her beautiful blue eyes were glassy as she tried to focus on his face. “I won’t. I’ll hold on.”

  He waited until she gripped the side of the bed before he let go of her arms.

  The first drawer he opened had his eyes burning. Numerous lacy bras in every color of the rainbow, with matching panties, were perfectly aligned according to corresponding color. He slammed the drawer shut.

  The next one had neatly folded T-shirts and pajama pants lined up next to one another.

  OCD, much, Abigail?

  He yanked a shirt and a pair of pants from the top of the line, then pulled a pair of cotton socks from the next drawer.

  True to her word, Abby’d stayed upright, although she was starting to list.

  “Do you need me to help you get these on?” he asked.

  “No. I can do it.” She reached for the clothes, started to stand, then slid back to the bed.

  “Sure you can.” He sat next to her on the bed. “Lie back.”

  She was supine before he put a period on the sentence. “Lift your hips.”

  He tugged her dress down and off, the little black lace panty doing practically nothing to shield the rest of her. Her stomach was flat as a board, the skin around her tiny waist taut and smooth. The midnight-colored panties rode low on hips ranging down from that waist and provided the barest of coverage.

  Rick’s dick twitched and jumped.

  There has to be a special room in hell for guys who lust over sick women.

  He slid the pajama bottoms up her long legs, glancing at the blood red polish garnishing her toenails. When he neared her thighs, she grabbed the waistband and tugged them the rest of the way. He pulled her to a sitting position and dropped the T-shirt over her head.

  “Take off your bra and slip your arms through the sleeve holes.”

  “Don’t peek.”

  He grinned. “I won’t.”

  Without opening her eyes, she shimmied out of the bra. The sight of her perfect breasts almost made him wish he had closed his eyes.

  Almost.

  When she’d gotten the T-shirt settled, she fell back on the pillow her legs still falling over the side of the bed.

  “Do you have a thermometer?” he asked again as he lifted her legs and dragged the socks on.

  “Bathroom drawer on the left. I told you that already.”

  “I don’t speak mumble, so I didn’t understand you the first time.”

  “A hundred and two point six,” he said when he removed the digital device from her ear. “You are officially on the sick and disabled list, Abigail.”

  He handed her two aspirin he’d found among the plethora of over-the-counter pills and a full glass of cold water.

  “Take these and drink this down. All of it.”

  “Bossy, much?”

  Despite the annoyance, which he was starting to believe was purely reflexive on her part, she did as told.

  “That tastes so good. Cold and good.” Her tongue flicked over her lips, and the urge to press his own mouth over them bounded through him.

  “I’ll bring you more in a little while.” He tucked her in and ran a hand over her cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

  “Moonlight.” She turned to her side and cradled her hands under her cheek. “She needs to be fed.”

  “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry. Your baby won’t starve.”

  “Don’t give her any people food. It’s not good for her.” The words were slurring together again.

  He grinned and kissed her cheek. “Sleep, Abigail.”

  He shut the bedside light. From the doorway he heard her mumble, “Hate my name.”

  The cat met him in the kitchen, perched on her hindquarters, her furry head cocked to one side as she stared up at him.

  “Your mom’s down for the count, cat, so you’re stuck with me. Now, where does she keep your chow?”

  ****

  Who was she talking to?

  Rick shoved his laptop onto the couch cushion, then pushed against Moonlight’s body to stand. The cat woke, grumbled a throaty complaint, then jumped down to follow him into Abby’s room.

  “Your Honor, I object.” Her voice rivaled the cat’s for its raspiness. She was as he’d left her two hours ago, still fetaled on her side, her hands tucked under her chin. She’d kicked the covers down and off her body though.

  Rick shook his head and fisted his hands on his hips. Moonlight jumped up on the bed, her claws clinging to the comforter for purchase until she was all the way up.

  “Who knew she talked in her sleep?” he asked the cat. In response, the cat yawned, shook her head a few times, and then curled into a cat-ball next to Abby’s feet.

  His fingers burned when he touched her forehead. She was hotter than she’d been and even in the dim light filtering in from the doorway he could tell her cheeks were flushed scarlet. The thermometer confirmed his suspicions when the display read one hundred and four point five.

  Rick knew next to nothing about medicine, but one thing he did know was Abby’s temp was entirely too high.

  After filling a glass with cold water, he slipped in next to her and shook her shoulders.

  “Wake up, sweetheart. You need to drink.”

  “I object.”

  “Yeah, you said that already. Overruled. Now, here.” He shifted an arm behind her shoulders to hold her in place. “Drink.”

  She was mostly asleep when she started to gulp it. Before she could choke, he pulled the glass back. “Take it easy. Go slow,” he told her before placing it back against her lips.

  The only sound for a few moments was Abby chugging the water. When the glass was empty, she licked her lips and let her head fall on his shoulder.

  “So hot,” she murmured, the heat of her breath fanning cross his neck. “Why do they keep the courtrooms so hot?”

  “I’ll ask the bailiff.” When he laid her back down and then pulled the covers over her, she
immediately kicked them down and off again.

  For the moment, he let her be while he saturated a washcloth with cold water from her bathroom tap. When he laid it across her forehead, she groaned.

  “That feels…so good.”

  “You need to keep these covers on.” He dragged them up over her again. She merely whimpered and kicked them off.

  At a loss, Rick debated what to do. He needed to get her temp down because it didn’t appear it was going to break on its own anytime soon. Barring dragging her unconscious into the shower and potentially drowning or giving her pneumonia, he couldn’t think of many options. When she murmured something into her pillow, a proverbial light bulb went off in his head.

  Without any guilt about invading her personal possessions or space, he rummaged around in her suitcase of a purse until he discovered her phone. He broke through the code in two tries and made a mental note to have a little discussion on passwords with her. Scrolling through her contacts—and really, did anybody need this many names and numbers in a phone?—he found the one he wanted and hit the call icon. While it rang, he thought about how angry she was going to be when she found out he’d searched her phone.

  Chapter Eight

  “I didn’t know I was getting both of you,” Rick said when he opened the door an hour later.

  “Hannah’s staying with us until the baby comes,” Josh said, pushing by him and lifting two filled shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. “When you called, she told me and I figured it was easier if I drove her over.”

  “Is Abby in bed?” Hannah asked, after kissing Rick’s cheek.

  “Yeah.” He told Abby’s mother her last temperature reading and how he’d been able to get another glass of water into her. “But she’s still burning up. I wasn’t sure if I should haul her into a cold shower or take her to the ER.”

  “She would have hated either of those options and fought you like a tiger,” Hannah said.

  “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I called for help.”

  “I’ll go check on her and see what needs to be done. Then we can sit down, and you can tell me why you’re here.” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder.

  Rick scraped both hands down his face.

  “Kandy sent chicken soup and other provisions for when Abby is feeling better. She sent some special stuff for you, too. Snacks, mostly.”