"Mr. Stuart, is that you?" Hesitant steps took her further into the kitchen, and across the hallway door. "Reeve, are you there?"
This time the groan sounded louder. It came from behind the nearest door which stood slightly ajar. Kirsty's trembling hand reached out to push the door wider. Slowly it swung back to reveal a disheveled figure groaning as he tossed and turned in the untidy bed. The face rolled toward her and her eyelids blinked as she recognized the unshaven, gaunt features of Reeve. The grey eyes were no longer expressionless. They were wild with fever, and Kirsty hurried forward and placed her hand on his forehead. The skin felt hot and dry, his lips were cracked with flecks of blood where they'd dried out.
"Reeve, can you hear me?" To try and make him understand her words she leaned closer to him. "It's Kirsty. How long have you been like this?"
His body tossed away from her touch, and Kirsty slung her bag into a nearby chair, then hurried out into the hallway. Thank heavens for the extra course of healthcare she'd taken at college. She took fresh sheets, pillow cases, a washcloth and thick towel from the linen cupboard and carried them to the bedroom. Kirsty also carried lukewarm water in a bowl from the kitchen back to the sick man.
Carefully she removed the tee shirt Reeve wore and gently rinsed his face and upper torso. As she toweled him dry her hand lingered on his chest, her fingers tracing the damp whorls which outlined his nipples. Reeve moved and blushing profusely she finished the ablutions with a light dusting of talcum powder. A rummage through the dresser drawers unearthed a clean tee shirt and she pulled this over Reeve's head, hiding his tempting chest from view.
Except for the one moan Reeve had been quiet during her ministrations, but now he began tossing and turning once more and several minutes passed before he calmed enough for her to change the sheets. Pushing him over to one side of the bed, Kirsty propped him up with pillows to stop him rolling back, then stripped the bed and remade it with clean sheets.
His body had been starved of moisture. Kirsty hurried to the messy kitchen and searched for a jug and glass.
"He'll have to make do with water for the time being." She filled the jug from the kitchen tap. "I'll make him some juice later."
She placed the jug on the bedside table, poured out a glass, then sat beside Reeve and propped him up against her body, trying to get him to drink. As soon as his lips felt the water caress them, he grabbed at the glass and tried to gulp down the liquid as quickly as possible. Kirsty pulled the drink away from him.
"No, Reeve," she told him gently. "Take it slowly or you'll make yourself sick."
He showed no awareness of her presence, but her words must have reached him as he no longer tried to gulp the water. Instead he allowed her to dribble the liquid past his dry lips. Kirsty thought one glass should be enough for now, and settled him back into the bed.
He settled in a more comfortable position and drifted into a quiet sleep. For a few moments Kirsty stood and looked down at him. His stubbled chin indicated he'd been like this for a couple of days and the dark, untidy hair lay damply across his forehead. Her hand tenderly pushed the hair back, and she realized his forehead no longer felt dry.
Kirsty had come here intending to tell this man exactly what she thought of him, but it was no longer possible. Despite her concern for his illness, with her hand on his forehead her thoughts turned from motherly concern to a romantic interlude. Dreams of herself lying next to him on the bed, his face turning to her, his is eyes full of love as his lips slowly caressed her.
Reeve groaned, bringing Kirsty back to the fever-laden bedroom. What was she doing imagining him making love to her whilst he lay there dehydrated and feverish. Sheepishly she lifted her hand from his forehead and crept from the room. Kirsty stood with hands on hips and surveyed the mess. Leaving the hall door ajar to hear Reeve if he called, she marched toward the sink of dishes and turned on the tap. A smile touched her lips at the memory of her first meeting with Reeve. Now their roles were reversed. It was her turn to clear up the dirty crockery.
Several hours passed before he stirred, and during this time, Kirsty cleared the mess away and searched the pantry and cupboards to see the food inside. A saucepan of dried vegetables now simmered slowly on the hob and a demi-glace mixture stood to one side, waiting to be liquidized with the vegetables into a smooth puree. Now the kitchen sparkled. Kirsty could see it had been recently modernized. The dark blue work surfaces were unstained, and the cabinets still emitted a pine aroma from their natural state. The floor had been so dirty Kirsty had swept, then mopped it clean. Beneath the potato peelings and broken crockery blue floor tiles appeared with the grout still sparkling white. Kirsty sat at the now-spotless kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand when a succession of coughs from the bedroom told her Reeve was awake. She hurried in to see if he was all right.
"Hi."
His eyes turned toward the movement at the bedroom door. "Kirsty! What are you doing here?"
Reeve struggled to sit up, but the effort became too much for him. He slumped back against the pillows. He looked at Kirsty disbelievingly, and she hurried forward and touched his hand.
"You really are here, aren't you?" he croaked. "I don't understand, how did you..."
"How did I get in?" Kirsty teased. "You left the back door unlocked, and before you ask what I'm doing here, I'll only tell you if you promise to lie there quietly."
Reeve didn't say anything, and Kirsty took this as agreement he would lie still.
"I came here to have an argument with you—well, not exactly an argument. I really wanted to tell you what I thought of you." Kirsty grinned at him. "Perhaps I should do it now I've got you where you can't put up a fight. No, I'm only joking. When I got here, you didn't reply to my knock on the door, but I could see your car in the garage. I tried the back door, found it open and called out to you. I heard groaning, so came farther into the house and located this room. You were tossing and turning and obviously dehydrated. I couldn't leave you in such a state, could I? So I stayed to try and make you more comfortable."
She moved toward the door, intending to fetch the jug of juice from the kitchen.
"You're not going, are you?" Reeve pleaded in a croaky voice.
"No, I'll be back in a minute. I've made some juice. You must get as much liquid into you as possible. Stay there and I'll be right back."
By the time Kirsty returned to the bedroom Reeve had fallen asleep, and she crept back to the kitchen so as not to disturb him.
He woke again in mid-afternoon. This time he slowly drank two glasses of the juice Kirsty had made before he settled back on the pillows.
"Why on earth didn't you phone for someone to come and take care of you?" Kirsty wanted to know.
"There isn't anybody," he stated. "My parents are dead, and my sister lives in Australia. Besides, I thought I had a mild bout of flu at first. By the time I knew how bad it had affected me, it was too late."
"Well, they say every cloud has a silver lining." A hint of bitterness caught at Kirsty's voice. "If Chef Antoine hadn't chucked me out of the kitchen, I wouldn't have got mad as a hatter and driven up here to tell you what I thought of you."
"Wait a minute, what do you mean Chef Antoine chucked you out of the kitchen?" Reeve frowned. His expression showed he had no idea what she was talking about.
"Oh, come off it, Reeve. You and he made up your minds I had to go, and it just needed you to tell me the bad news. At least it's the way Antoine tells it."
Reeve was still frowning at her, and Kirsty sighed.
"Okay, I'll spell it out for you. When I arrived at work this morning, Chef Antoine told me to get out of his kitchen. He said you'd both decided I should go and it only remained for you to give me formal notice. The fact you weren't at the hotel meant the notice would have to be delayed, but it didn't mean he had to put up with me in his kitchen. As far as he was concerned, my employment had already been terminated."
"Really?" Reeve looked thoughtful. "I'm afraid Chef Antoin
e has jumped the gun a bit there. I had no intention of sacking you. Kirsty, do me a favor, would you?"
"Sure, what do you want?" Kirsty expected him to ask for more juice, or perhaps help getting to the bathroom.
"Stay away from the hotel until I'm back on my feet again? Please," he said as she opened her mouth to say she'd do no such thing. "I know it's asking a lot, but I need to think about this a bit, and I'm afraid my mind's not up to it at present."
"All right, I'll stay away for the rest of this week. You should be able to return to work by next Monday, so I'll come back then." Her teeth caught at her bottom lip, then grinned at him. "I'll expect to be paid for this time as well."
"Don't worry. There won't be any problem." Reeve smiled back at her, and although his skin had a sickly pallor, the smile made him look like a little boy who'd just been given a new toy.
"Well, if you don't rest, you'll be the one who isn't there next Monday," she told him firmly, drawing the duvet up around his shoulders. "Now try and get some sleep."
Kirsty pottered around the kitchen tidying things away and wondered why she felt so happy. Despite Reeve's vow he had no intention of sacking her, nothing had changed. Antoine would not allow her back into his kitchen. In any case, why should she trust Reeve? He'd stood back and let her take the rap far too often for her liking. She decided to forget about work for now and concentrate on looking after Reeve. Perhaps this was the reason for her happiness. She had him just where she wanted him—helpless and at her mercy.
Reeve didn't wake again until early evening when Kirsty entered the room with a tray.
"Mmm, smells good." He pulled himself into a sitting position. "I feel a lot better now, and I'm starving."
"Well, you'll have to put up with a light diet for the time being." Kirsty warned. "I've made you some vegetable puree."
"Oh, yuck! I'm not a baby, you know. In fact, I've been cutting up my own food for years."
"Really?" Kirsty looked at him with a serious expression on her face, but her eyes twinkled with humor. "I wouldn't have thought you'd passed the spoon and pusher stage yet. Here, eat it up before it gets cold."
She placed the tray on his lap, but forced herself to refrain from picking up the napkin and tucking it under his chin. Surprise rippled through her. Even though Reeve lay at her mercy, it didn't explain the feeling of wanting to mother him and take care of him! Her gaze roved around the room, not wanting to stare while he ate. The decorators had been in here, too, and Kirsty thought how much the room suited him. He'd relieved the grey of the wallpaper with a few pop art paintings and dark blue velour curtains. The duvet on the queen-size pine bed matched the curtains, while the carpet tended toward a lighter blue. Kirsty could detect a hint of the spicy aftershave he always wore, mixed with the musky smell of Reeve's body.
"Delicious!" Reeve put the spoon back into the empty bowl. "How come you've never got married, Kirsty? With cooking like yours, there must have been hundreds of men after you."
"Hundreds! I don't think so." Kirsty bent to pick up the tray, but Reeve placed his hand on her arm, stopping her. "Stay the night, Kirsty? Please!" His eyes begged her not to go, and she gently disengaged his fingers, then picked up the tray.
"I had no intention of leaving you on your own tonight. I hope you don't mind, but I've made up the bed in the next room so I can hear if you want anything in the night. We'll see if you feel better tomorrow, and if you do, I'll get some food in for you before I go."
"Thank you."
Kirsty took the tray to the kitchen and washed up the few dishes, then sat down to finish the light supper she'd been eating when Reeve woke up. After cleaning and tidying the kitchen, she went to see if Reeve needed anything before settling down for the night. He sat on the edge of the bed, struggling to stand up and Kirsty hurried forward, scolding him soundly.
"What do you think you're doing? I didn't spend all day trying to make you comfortable so you could undo all my good deeds by getting up too soon."
"Kirsty, wait," Reeve protested weakly as she pushed him back into bed. "I'm not comfortable, but I didn't want to embarrass you."
"Whatever do you mean?" Her frown disappeared as his meaning became clear. "Oh, sorry. I should've known. You want to visit the bathroom, don't you?"
"Please," he said, surprisingly showing more embarrassment than she felt.
She steadied him as he got out of bed and shuffled across the hall to the bathroom.
"There." Kirsty put his hand on the rail beside the toilet. "I'll leave you to hold onto this. Give a shout when you're finished."
A few minutes later Reeve had returned to bed and been tucked in by his nursemaid. She made sure he had everything he needed before he settled down for the night.
"Your juice is on the table next to the bedside light, and I found this little bell in one of the kitchen drawers. Ring it if you need me. I'm in the next room."
"What are you going to do now?" Reeve queried.
"I'm off to bed," Kirsty stated, surprised he should ask. "I go to bed fairly early because I have to get up early for work. It's a hard habit to break."
Kirsty gave his duvet a final twitch, then left the room. She went to the room next to Reeve's, too tired to even have a quick splash in the bathroom. In the afternoon while Reeve slept Kirsty had liberated one of his tee shirts and she now took off her trousers and blouse and put the shirt on to wear to bed. Despite the fact it had been laundered, it still had the distinct male smell of Reeve. Kirsty found herself hugging it to her body as she snuggled down in the bed. Within minutes her eyes closed and she was fast asleep.
"Wassat? What's the matter?" Kirsty woke with a start. No light shone through the window and her bemused mind wondered what had woken her.
"I must've been dreaming." She turned over to go back to sleep. The tinkling of the bell from the next room disturbed her attempt to settle and she hurried to see what Reeve needed.
A smile crossed her lips. He lay flat on his face, the covers tangled around him. The bell had fallen from the bedside table and lay on the duvet. As Kirsty watched Reeve stirred and his movements made the bell tinkle as the duvet slipped beneath it.
She picked up the bell, replaced it on the table then gently tugged the duvet from under Reeve and covered his body. For a few moments she stood beside the bed looking down on him, a small smile tickling her lips. He looked so vulnerable lying there, she wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him not to worry. Kirsty returned to her own room, shaking her head in wonder at her feelings. Within moments she had fallen asleep again.
The sun shining through the window woke her the next morning, and she wondered where she was. A tinkling of the bell in the room next door reminded her, and she hurriedly pulled on her clothes and went to say good morning to Reeve.
"Hi," he said as she entered the room. "I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?"
"Cheeky so-and-so," Kirsty replied. "I'm glad to see you're looking better. How are you feeling this morning?"
"Not too bad." Reeve sounded surprised. "I thought I'd feel completely drained, but apart from an all over feeling of weariness, yesterday feels like a dream."
"You might be feeling a bit better, but don't try and get out of bed today. If you do, you'll soon find out just how weak you are. Now what do you want for breakfast?"
"Toast, marmalade, juice, coffee." Reeve gave her a cheeky look. "Eggs Benedict, glass of wine."
"So far all I can manage is the coffee," Kirsty told him. "There's no bread left, I haven't seen any marmalade and you're out of juice as well."
"Bread's in the freezer in the garage, marmalade is at the back of the pantry and the juice is growing on the trees in the back yard." Reeve folded his arms, waiting for the question he knew Kirsty would ask.
"I beg your pardon, did you say the juice was growing on the trees in the back yard?" Kirsty looked at him with disbelief. "What have you got, an orchard or something?"
"Nope, just a few trees. I usually squeeze the fruit fre
sh each morning. There's a juicer in the cupboard."
"Ok...ay. First let's get you to the bathroom, then I'll make the breakfast while you get yourself comfortable."
Reeve's movements were much stronger this morning, and Kirsty had no qualms about leaving him whilst she went to the kitchen. A trip to the back yard proved he hadn't been joking. Orange and grapefruit were both available, and she decided to squeeze both as Reeve would still be a bit dehydrated.
Kirsty picked up the tray and turned to take it into Reeve's room but almost dropped it when she saw him standing in the doorway.
"Why didn't you call me?" Anger tinged her voice.
"I am capable of walking across the hallway to my bedroom," he retorted. "Can't we have breakfast on the veranda?"
"Not today," Kirsty told him and hustled him in front of her, making him move toward the bedroom. "It's a bit windy outside. Now get into bed like a good boy, and I'll get my breakfast and keep you company."
"Yes, Mother." Reeve pecked Kirsty's cheek as she bent over to place the tray on his lap. She pulled back quickly as her cheeks turned bright pink.
"I'll get my breakfast." Her feet took her rapidly from the room. Kirsty tried to catch her breath in the kitchen with her back leaning against the wall. His lips on her cheek had brought back the surging warmth and pounding heart, and she needed to take a few moments to calm down.
Reeve had finished his juice and started on his toast when she settled in the chair beside his bed.
"Sorry I couldn't manage the Eggs Benedict."
"You forgot the wine," Reeve complained.
"I don't think you're quite ready for alcohol." Kirsty grinned at him. "Fruit juice and water is more your style at the moment."
Reeve leaned back against his pillows, his cup of coffee cradled in his hands as he watched Kirsty pop the last piece of toast in her mouth.
"You don't know how grateful I am you found me." He grinned at her. "I'd probably still be tossing and turning in crumpled sheets if you hadn't turned up."
Recipe for Romance Page 13
