by Peggy Jaeger
“I thought you weren’t going to tell her I was staying here.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never been married.” Josh fit the plastic containers into the refrigerator. Done, he nailed his partner with a look that spoke volumes. “You tend to forget what it’s like living with a Laine woman. ”
“What did you tell her about why I’m staying here?”
“The truth. The only reason she didn’t come with us is because Hannah convinced her not to take a chance at this late stage with the baby because Abby might be contagious.”
“I don’t think she is. I think whatever she’s got is viral.”
“Oh? Did you get your medical license when I wasn’t looking?”
“Don’t be such a prick. If it was contagious, I’d be sick too. We’ve been attached at the hip for the past three days.”
“Just the hip?”
Rick’s nostrils flared while he shook his head. “Explain why we’re friends again? Why I put up with you?”
Josh laughed and leaned against the counter. With his arms crossed over his chest, he grinned. “Because I’ve put up with your sorry ass for the past thirty-some-odd years. And I’m the only one who has.”
Since it was the plain, honest truth, Rick didn’t debate the point.
“Bring me up to speed with what’s been going on,” Josh asked.
Rick relayed details about Genocardi, Lila’s condition, and Tony Pecorrini’s investigation.
“No one’s seen him since Walmart?”
Rick shook his head. “I spoke with Pecorrini at the memorial service for Marty Fields, and he said the trail’s gone cold. The guy’s picture’s out there to all law enforcement agencies, but no leads so far.”
“Anything new on the Castle case? My mom called this afternoon and asked.”
“In fact, I was all set to call you tonight. This former boss of Abby’s, Marty Fields?”
Josh nodded.
“There’s a weird connection between him and Castle.” He explained when Josh cocked his head.
“And the weirdest part,” Rick added, “is Abby is connected to both of them. On the fringe, but still…” He lifted his hands.
“Way on the fringe, but I get what you’re saying. It’s a hinky connection, but it does make you think. Field’s was stabbed and left for dead. Castle was killed in a car crash.”
“In a car crash with an empty booze bottle and a negative alcohol tox level.”
“You thinking the two deaths are, what? Related, somehow? ’Cuz I can’t see it.”
“Neither can I.” He blew out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking his partner’s stance. “But you know I don’t like when stuff doesn’t add up. Pecorrini told me, although Fields was stabbed and this is classified as a mugging, his wallet, phone, and briefcase weren’t touched.”
“Do the cops think the attack is related to a case he was working on?”
“Unknown. Pecorrini didn’t say. He’s not the lead, so he didn’t have a lot of intel.”
“She’s sleeping,” Hannah announced as she came back to them. “I took her temp again, and it’s down to a hundred and three and a half.”
“That’s still so high,” Rick said, worry slicing through him.
Hannah smiled and patted his arm. “Not for Abby. She’s always run hot when she’s sick. Mama used to tell her she was like a preheated oven whenever she came down with something. Her fevers tend to come fast, shoot high, within twenty-four hours drop to the low hundreds and then burn out fast. I think she’ll be fine by Monday morning. The weekend spent in bed to let whatever’s running through her go the course should be enough.”
For the first time since he’d touched Abby’s face and found it on fire, Rick relaxed.
“Now,” Hannah said, winding her arm into his folded one. “Come sit down, and tell me why you’re staying here with my daughter.”
Rick had been around Hannah Laine enough times the past four years to know how attuned she was to her daughters and how she was a master at worming information out of people. It was impossible for any guy not to fall a little in love with her when she focused those big blue eyes on you, making it seem like you were the center of her universe. Before you knew it, any secrets you wanted hidden were revealed.
Nevertheless, Rick didn’t want Hannah—or a watchful Josh—to know how strong his feelings for Abby were.
“I’m sure she’s told you more than once she thinks there’s nothing to be troubled about,” Hannah said when he finished telling her about Genocardi.
Rick nodded.
“That’s my Abigail June. She never wants anyone to worry about her, never wants to be the object of someone’s concern.”
“I got that message loud and clear the day her client was stabbed. Politely as possible she told me to get lost.”
“Of all my girls, Abby is the most stubborn. And private. I never know what’s going on in her life. Even as a little girl, it was difficult to know what she was thinking.” She sighed and shook her head. “Each of my girls dealt with my divorce differently. Abby always claimed she was fine when asked. Secretly, I always believed she was falling apart but was afraid for anyone to see. Afraid we’d somehow think worse of her if we knew.”
Rick stayed silent. It seemed Abby and he had a lot more in common than he’d thought. The phrase “never let them see you sweat” was his motto, and he was beginning to believe Abby lived by the same credo.
“I think those feelings are the reasons she went into family law. She knew how it felt to be abandoned and unloved by a parent. How helpless you are. How…I don’t know…worthless? She saw, firsthand, how a family can disintegrate overnight and what can happen to a woman with no education or means of support.”
Rick reached across the table and took her hand. “Luckily, you had your parents.”
Hannah smiled. “Luckily is right. I don’t know what would have become of us if I hadn’t. I think Abby wants to be that kind of support for the women and families she deals with every day. She wants to show them they can be strong, can fight for what they want, can leave harmful situations without turning back. Kandy told me she never batted an eyelash when that man was screaming at her in the office. Abby stood her ground and stared him down.”
Hannah glanced down at her hand, cradled in Rick’s, then across the kitchen table at him. “I’m so glad you’re here with her,” she said. “You’re the type of friend she needs. Someone who won’t allow her to isolate herself and try and shoulder all the problems of the world. Someone she can rely on other than herself.”
“I’ve got your daughter’s back, Hannah. That’s the truth. I’ll make sure no one gets close to her.”
Hannah smiled, and when twin dimples popped out on her cheeks and she cocked her head to the side, Rick understood why men fell over themselves around her.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Rick.”
Five minutes later, with another kiss to his cheek from Hannah and a request from Josh to “keep me updated,” Rick swiped a hand across the back of his neck and went to check on Abby.
She was sound asleep. He touched her forehead and admitted it did feel a little cooler—still hot—but not scorching, as it had been. The cat was snuggled in the crook of her bended knees, purring loudly.
Rick turned the hallway light on and closed the door to the bedroom over halfway.
With his patient sleeping, his empty stomach decided to make itself known, so he heated up a casserole Kandy had sent and finished it off with a huge piece of apple pie he knew with the first taste on his tongue had come fresh from her oven.
After working on his laptop for several hours, Rick’s eyes grew heavy. The thought of another night on the couch had him considering his options. The floor was one. Spread out next to Abby was another and for him the obvious choice. He’d be able to check on her throughout the night, plus he’d be able to hear if she needed anything.
He stretched out on his back next to her sleeping form
after taking her temp first. Satisfied it was continuing its slow crawl down, he shut the light. Instantly Abby turned and snuggled up against him. She wrapped one warm hand around his arm and tossed a leg over both of his, her bent knee dangerously close to his crotch.
Wiggling in her sleep, she settled her head against his shoulder, the heat from her breath tickling his neck.
In all his fantasies where he’d joined her in bed, he’d never conjured up an image of her sick and him caring for her as a means of sleeping with her. And that’s what he was going to do. Sleep with her. Nothing else.
With a chuckle and a new fantasy about how much fun they could have playing doctor, he slid an arm under her shoulders, pulled her even closer, and drifted off.
****
Something deliciously warm and soft was curled around him. From the deep throes of sleep, Rick recognized what it was. But why the hell was she patting his mouth? And what in God’s name was a plane doing in the bedroom?
Rick opened one eye, then the other in time to see Moonlight stretch out a paw. She was perched on the corner of his pillow, head cocked as she stared at him, her paw suspended in midair, almost as if waiting for him to close his eyes again. It was a wonder anyone could sleep through her throaty purring.
“I’m up, cat.” He swore Moonlight smiled. She jumped down from the bed and started hobbling from the room, stopping once to glance over a furry shoulder at him.
“Give me a minute,” he whispered. His gaze drifted down to the sleeping beauty nestled against him. Still on her side facing him, she’d thrown one hand across his chest, the other squished between their bodies. The knee she’d tossed over his legs the night before was still in place, the pajama bottom wrenched up high on her thigh.
Rick grazed her forehead with the back of his knuckles.
Cooler. Still warm, but her temperature had definitely come down. Moving as stealthily as he’d done when hidden in a sniper’s roost, Rick pulled his arm from around her shoulders, wincing at the pins and needles sensation in his hand, and shunted to the side of the bed. He reached for the thermometer.
One hundred and two point five.
Better. Not great, but better.
Moonlight’s impatient screech blared from the kitchen.
With a deep sigh, Rick dragged his hands down his face. Although he’d slept, Abby had woken him three times during the night, begging for something cold to drink. He didn’t even think she realized he was next to her in the bed when she’d woken. She’d gotten up once to go to the bathroom, waving off his attempts to help, done what needed doing, then crawled back in bed, asleep before the covers were around her chin.
She slept like the dead, obviously needing the rest to fight the fever and whatever was causing it. In the few days he’d been with her, she’d been on the move, working nonstop. Rick never understood before watching her how much being a lawyer infringed on personal down time.
Abby worked. Came home and worked some more. Then went to work again the next day.
Shouldn’t she have met friends for a drink? Or gone to a movie, or out to a club? Something. Anything, to de-stress.
Aside from her cat, she’d interacted with no one except her clients, staff, and Mrs. Carney. And him, of course. Her phone was filled with names, but the only time it rang was with updates from Tony Pecorrini.
Coffee. He needed coffee. His brain wasn’t awake yet.
****
Abby’s tongue was as coarse as sandpaper when she glided it across her lips. Lips that were desert-dry.
What time was it? A glance at the bedside clock told her it was just past five. Morning or night? The blinds were drawn, the room dark, and the door closed. She reached around on the bed, patting the covers.
“Moonlight?” She made a kissing sound, calling to the cat.
Within seconds the door shot open and Rick walked in, the cat snuggled in his arms.
“Finally back to the land of the living?” He placed the cat into her outstretched arms, then touched her forehead.
His fingers, smooth and cool, were like Heaven. Was it wrong to ask him to run them all over her body?
“You’re still hot, but the fever’s down. How are you feeling?”
She nuzzled the cat’s neck and held her close. “Like I’ve been hit by a train. What day is it?”
“Saturday. Afternoon. You’ve been down for over twenty hours straight.”
She swallowed, surprised at how fast she’d gotten sick. Rick left and came back with glass of water. “Here. You’re probably dry as a bone from the fever.”
“Thanks.” Done, she placed the glass down on the bedside table. “Have you been here the whole time?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at her T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Good Lord, had he…? “Did you…”
“What?”
She swallowed, her throat dry again. “Did you…undress me?”
“It was a team effort,” he said, tucking his tongue in the side of his cheek. “You told me where your pj’s were, and I helped you out of your work clothes. I didn’t want to leave you in your birthday suit.”
So he’d seen her naked. Or mostly, since she still had panties on. She tried to remember what underwear she’d chosen yesterday morning. Black, if memory served. And scant. Something else grabbed at her memory. “Was my mother here?”
Rick sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed a finger along the cat’s neck. “I called her when your fever spiked to find out what to do.”
“Why didn’t you call Ellie? She’s the doctor.”
He tilted his head to one side. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“I don’t remember much of anything after leaving the memorial service.”
“During the evening, when you were burning so hot my hand blistered when I touched your forehead, you said you wanted your, and I’m quoting, ‘mommy.’ ”
“Oh, good Lord.” Mortified, she fell back on the pillow, the cat still cradled in her arms. “I must have been delirious.”
Rick grinned down at her. “I called Hannah. She, by the way, has been staying with the Keanes, helping Kandy get ready for the baby. Josh brought your mom over, along with enough food from Kandy for a month. You won’t have to shop for a while, I think.”
“Kandy didn’t come?”
“No. They weren’t sure if you were contagious or not, and with the baby and all…” He lifted a shoulder. “I wasn’t certain if I should take you to the ER. Your mom said you tend to run hot when you get sick, then you burn out quick. She wasn’t too worried.”
“I do. Always have, even when I was a kid.” She couldn’t read the thoughtful expression on his face. “What?”
He shook his head. “She told me a few other things about you I didn’t know. It made for an interesting chat.”
“I can only imagine.” She placed the cat on the comforter and then threw her legs over the side of the bed opposite Rick.
Before she could stand he was next to her, his hands stretched out. “Take it easy. Get up slow.”
Irritated, she swatted them away. “I’m not an invalid, Bannerman. I can get myself to the bathroom.”
He dragged in a breath and stared pointedly at her. “No, but you’ve been on your back for a day with a fever of almost one hundred and five degrees, Abigail. It’s not a stretch to think you might be a little woozy or wobbly. I don’t want you to fall and potentially crack that thick skull of yours.”
Once again, mortification sluiced through her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate being sick and…dependent… on anyone.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a newsflash.” He pursed his lips and glared down his nose at her. “But for now, do me a favor and take it slow.”
She took the hand he offered and pulled herself upright.
“Okay?” he asked. “Not dizzy?”
“I’m good.” She padded to the bathroom, closed the door behind her.
One glance in the mirror and she wanted to cra
wl back under the covers. It was a wonder he’d stayed with her. She looked like something a feral animal might have dragged out of a garbage heap. Remnants of yesterday’s mascara smudged under her eyes, creating dark hollows at the tops of her cheeks. She was deathly pale, her usually pink lips blanched of all color. The freckles she hated over her nose stood out against her pallor like a little spray of brown paintballs. Nothing would cure the mass of tangles and clumps in her hair except a steaming shower and a deep conditioning. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the energy for either. She barely had enough to stand upright and brush the rancid taste from her mouth.
She turned the tap on and then wound her hair high on her head into a bun.
“You taking a shower?” Rick called from outside the door.
“No. Just washing up a little. I feel gamey.”
“I’m right here if you need anything.”
And wasn’t that a surprise, she thought as she splashed water on her face. Never in her life would she have pictured Rick Bannerman as a caregiver. No, in every scenario she’d ever conjured starring her friendly private investigator, he’d been the gruff and seasoned alpha, issuing orders and regarding her with a steely glare, not the warmth and compassion in his eyes she’d seen when he handed her a glass of water.
Rick was shaking out her pillows when she came out of the bathroom. He’d straightened the sheets and comforter, as Moonlight sat across from the bed, watching him.
“Who knew you were so domestic?” Energy sapping by the second, she leaned a knee on the edge of the bed and crawled up its length, plopping down on a newly fluffed pillow face-first.
“Anyone can learn to make a bed. Shift over,” Rick ordered.
When she did, he covered her up to her neck with the blanket and comforter. Abby rolled to her side as he sat next to her on the bed. “You hungry?”
Would he think it was the fever talking if she said, “Yeah. For a taste of you?” She didn’t want to chance it. “Thirsty more than anything.”
“You want water or tea?”
“Oh, God, a cup of tea would be amazing. Do you know how?”