And He Cooks Too (14 page)

A small coffee can had been placed off to the side from the food and meds. What the— Ah, yes. James had thought of everything, even his probable inability to get to the bathroom on his own.

Where was Leonie? He called out to her. No response.

Surely she wouldn’t leave him alone to fend for himself? Had she at least left him a note? He scanned the room, since he didn’t see one on the nightstand with the other goodies. Nothing. Not even the scent of her made-to-order perfume.

He shifted position and noticed that a small flashlight had been placed on the pillows next to him. He used it to read the directions on his pill bottles. Time for the painkillers again.

Meds taken, dark, heavy sleep followed.

Come morning, he found James dozing in the club chair tucked in a corner of the room. As he stirred, James woke up as well.

“How ya feelin’, boss?”

“Like I’m some breakable object that’s been packed in Styrofoam for shipping.”

“Huh?”

“Groggy.”

“Oh. You in pain?”

“Not yet. Guess my meds haven’t worn off. Thanks for getting them for me, by the way.”

“Uh, no problema.”

“You make a pretty good nurse. You here to keep me company today?”

“Uh, no. Those aren’t my orders.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew a small notecard.

Nick skimmed it. Leonie had stopped by to check on him already that morning and, finding him still asleep, had left James to stay with him until he woke. “Hope you slept well last night, darling, and find today a new day. The crew and I are so hoping for your speedy recovery. So much depends on you.”

Reading between the lines, that translated as, “Get your rest today because I want you back on the job soon, sprained ankle, wrist and all.”

“Uh, James? Were you here all night? I came to around nine but no one answered when I called out.”

“Your aunt thought you’d probably sleep straight through with those pain pills, so she told me to go on.”

“So I was on my own?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Leonie had left him alone all night, assuming he’d be out until morning. Although it was a bit of a blur at the time, it was James who’d wheeled him from the front lobby to his bedroom. Now, Leonie had popped in long enough this morning to leave him a note. A note that screamed, “Buck up.”

“I’ll be on my way then. Call, if you need me.”

So they were going to give him awhile longer to mend? Amazing, given the tone of Leonie’s note.

He sat up and lifted his legs over the side of the bed. One hand on the nightstand and the other perched on the side of the bed, he rose. Tentatively. But he’d barely applied any weight to his stance before an incredible pain seized his foot. He fell back on the bed, but that only eased up on the pain slightly. He grabbed for the painkillers and threw one into his mouth.

He lay there on top of his blankets for several minutes, counting to one hundred in his head five times before the medication started to do its work. A few feet away, his wheelchair beckoned. Yesterday, he’d balked at the idea of using it other than to get him to the car and then his apartment. But now it appeared to be his best bet for gaining mobility as soon as possible.

Over in the corner behind the club chair James had recently occupied, his new pair of crutches rested against the wall. Soon, he’d have to get realistic and use them too.

Soon. But not just yet. Now he needed to rest.

He closed his eyes and immediate darkness enveloped him.

Chapter Eleven

The morning following the fateful trip to the Montfort Brothers’ store, Reese found herself at home with unexpected down time. Production had been shut down for the day while Leonie and Jasper regrouped and figured out how to shoot the show without Nick. Or around Nick’s injury.

Reese stared at the blank screen of her laptop. It seemed to be mocking her. “I know you’re in there, so come out, come out, wherever you are.” Ideas, great ideas, pummeled her brain when she’d visited her parents’, but inspiration had dried up. Figured. Now that she actually had a little time to visualize what her own cooking show might look like, nothing occurred to her.

All she could think of was Nick and his injuries. The experience had been surreal, following him to the hospital and, for a few minutes, being called Mrs. Coltrane. Not that she took it to mean anything, but for that brief period, she almost believed she was his wife. She’d certainly worried enough about his condition to qualify.

And then the barracuda showed up and took over. Whoever did become Mrs. Coltrane—assuming Leonie allowed that to happen—would be spending all her time competing with Leonie McCutcheon for his attention. Not her idea of fun.

At length, exasperated that nothing had materialized, even after a brisk run in the park, she surrendered to the nagging question that wouldn’t go away: how was Nick getting along? Having exchanged phone numbers with Jasper at the hospital, she called to find out.

“For now, he’s doing fine, because he’s sleeping soundly in his own bed just like the doc advised.”

“I figured something like that, since I got your message not to come in today.”

“Wasn’t much else we could do. But I could only convince Leonie to hold off for a few days. In her fantasy world, she believes our boy will be up and functioning normally by then.”

“That’s not what the doctor told him. Nick’s going to be out of commission for days. And Leonie was there when the doctor handed down that verdict.”

“Yeah, well—”

“She seemed so concerned about his condition when she arrived at the hospital.”

“She was. But Leonie doesn’t do concern for long. Once she got a good night’s rest and thought more about production deadlines, she decided the show must go on. That’s when she called me to order this temporary shutdown until Monday.”

“What does Nick say about this?”

“I doubt if he knows. He was sleeping when the doorman let me in.”

“Surely he wouldn’t consider coming back to the show prematurely.”

“That remains to be seen. But I’m worried. If he returns too soon, it will affect production values. She’s so anxious to stay on schedule, she refuses to acknowledge that.”

Poor Jasper. He always seemed to get caught in the middle.

“Could you come over here and spell me a bit? Call me blindly optimistic, but I’m going to go another round with Leonie before she makes any more plans.”

“Me? I, uh, I hardly know Nick well enough to play nursemaid.”

“Knew him well enough to stay with him yesterday at the hospital. Even passed yourself off as Mrs. Coltrane.”

She could almost hear the chuckle in Jasper’s voice. “That was because…because—”

“Nick wanted you there,” he supplied. “So who’s to say he wouldn’t want you here with him today? Please, Reese. Every minute I spend finding a replacement here gives Leonie more time to regroup.”

He gave her the address. She hung up, once again staring at the naked computer screen. Why was she getting so involved in this? If Nick was stupid enough to cave to his aunt’s demands, let him face the consequences. Why should she get involved? Nonetheless, she wasted no time heading off to his apartment.

Jasper greeted her at the door. “He’s awake. For a little while, at least. I told him you were going to relieve me for a bit. Meanwhile, I’m off to track down a certain strong-willed caterer. I should be back in an hour or so.”

“You want me to go into his room? Talk to him?” The thought of being alone with Nick in his bedroom hadn’t really sunk in until now. Of course, he was temporarily out-of-commission, but that didn’t make the prospect of being in such close proximity of his bed any less exciting, uh, intimidating.

“That was the general idea, if you’re going to help him at all. These aren’t Victorian times, my dear. You’re allowed to go into a gentleman’s room. Especially when he’s laid up and drugged to the gills.”

Thanks, Jasper.
Did she really want to put herself through this? She certainly did. And that’s what concerned Reese the most.

“I’ll even go in with you this first time.”

Her hesitation flowed to her feet, jerking her to a stop as they started down the corridor.

Jasper, who preceded her, interpreted her reticence as commentary on the apartment. “Leonie’s touch,” he explained. “She’s bent on portraying Nick as the ultimate urban bachelor to promote the show.”

She momentarily forgot about her dilemma while she took in the labyrinth of dark wood and black marble. “Her decorating sense must save on the power bill.”

When they reached a door, Jasper said, “I’ll tell him you’re here.” A minute later, he emerged, saying, “Go on in.”

“Is he decent?”

He blinked. “Oh, you mean is he dressed? Yes. I helped him change to his sleep clothes a little while ago.”

She gulped air, then, without giving herself further time to think, marched through the portal and closed the door behind her. Never pictured herself in Nick’s bedroom as a nursemaid. Like she’d pictured herself there at all. No, of course not. “Hi, Nick. How are you doing today?”

Nick sprawled on one side of a mammoth, king-sized bed, his head propped up on two pillows resembling rectangular marshmallows. He was paler than usual, making the unshaved scruff on his face even more pronounced. He held up a bunch of grapes. “Peace offering from Pudge and Billy. Part of that fruit basket over there.”

“Grapes? They sent grapes to apologize? Do those men have no sensitivity?”

He examined the fruit as if realizing for the first time what it was. “That connection completely eluded me. Should’ve slipped on beef tenderloin instead.”

“You shouldn’t have
slipped
at all.” Noting his elevated brows, she added, “Not that I’m blaming you.”

When she refused to partake of the treat, he said, “So? You missed me?” His brows wiggled suggestively like two caterpillars.

“Jasper asked me to stay with you while he visited with your aunt.”

“What’s up?”

“Your aunt apparently wants to resume taping on Monday.”

“Monday?” he choked. “Like two days from now?”

“That’s right. How do you feel about that?”

He patted around until he found an envelope that had been partially hidden by a pillow and offered it to her. “So that’s what she meant in this. I knew there was some deeper meaning than just, ‘get well,’ but I’ve been too groggy to figure it out.”

She read through the note, then read it again. The woman was a piece of work. Just enough empathy in there not to sound outright uncaring, but she sure knew how to apply the pressure to Nick. “Surely you’re going to refuse?”

“You volunteering to step in for me?”

“Your sense of humor is returning, I see.”

“If not you, then I guess it’ll have to be me. You don’t know Leonie. When she sets her mind on something, you don’t want to get in her way. Actually, I’m surprised she’s willing to wait that long.”

“Why are you deliberately endangering your recovery?”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“Maybe. But someone has to talk some sense into you. It sure isn’t your aunt.”

“It’s not like I’ll be able to do my usual routine. I’ll be in that chair over there for a little while yet.”

She took in the wheelchair parked not far from his bed. Although her brothers had used crutches at various times, they’d never had to use one of these contraptions. But she was glad Nick had one and sounded like he was actually going to use it.

Having seemingly countered her objections, he popped a couple more grapes in his mouth.

The subject of his return to the show needed further discussion. Maybe she could better dent his argument if she didn’t come across so much like the
big sister
he called her the day before. She advanced closer to the bed, seated herself sedately on the edge. Waiting for him to reply, she pulled two grapes off the stem for herself.

“Hey! Did I offer to share?”

“Hey, I was affected by the Monforts’ shenanigans too. Might as well get my share of the booty.” She looked around the room. Unlike the dark wood and marble of the hallway, this room was airy, sunny, done almost totally in cream and tan. Was this the real Nick Coltrane?

“How about giving me a back rub? This bed rest is making mush of my muscles.” Nick attempted to flip over on his side, winced, pulled a brave smile to cover the pain, and remained on his back, where he’d started.

For just a moment, one brief moment, she considered massaging that delectable body. Images she didn’t dare entertain flashed through her mind as her mouth went dry. Then sanity returned. “You’re sure it’s not your brain that’s gone to mush? Returning to work so soon is not the smartest move you’ve ever made.”

He crushed his head into the pillow. “Maybe not, but apparently there’s some network execs taking notice of us. We can’t afford to lose their interest by suspending the show.”

“The network is interested?” That was news. Nick was great. But the show itself lacked the snap, the sparkle to attract a national audience. Even in the brief time she’d been there, she’d figured that out.

Nick shrugged. “Leonie’s convinced this is our big chance.” He didn’t sound convinced.

“This is all for her?” The more she learned about Leonie McCutcheon’s self-indulgences, the more she wondered why Nick put up with them. He wasn’t a wimp who cowed at his aunt’s shadow. Why didn’t he stand up to her?

“Could you get me a glass of water? And some of those pain pills on the table?”

His not so subtle way of telling her that her concerns were giving him a headache? “Sure.” She poured water from a small pitcher and removed two tablets from one of the vials on his nightstand.

He gulped them down, finished off the water. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a lower voice than she’d used thus far.

His eyes widened. “For what? Caring?”

“For barging in here, intimating you’ve lost your mind.” She felt a little more than ridiculous.

“Sometimes it’s easier just to go along with her.”

“Even when you know it could postpone your recovery?”

“C’mon, Reese,” he replied owlishly. He flexed his arm muscles. “Look at me. I’m a strapping guy in the peak of physical health. Except for my wrist and ankle. My body can endure taping the show more than my brain can survive my aunt’s paranoia if we put it on hold.”