Amanda sat staring at him uncertainly. She felt so lousy, and she knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, but his explanation sounded rational enough that she decided she’d worry about the pants issue later. She was clothed otherwise, just as he’d said. And, he was correct about the top, it came to mid-thigh, so she wasn’t totally indecent. She wore much less on the beach than she did now in her bed. It was his being there in her bedroom that made it so personal. Not to mention the fact that he’d been the one to undress her, she reminded herself hazily.
She must have been unresponsive for a while because Zack prodded her again. “Take the tablets, Amanda.”
He was looking very worried, she noticed fleetingly. She obediently raised her shaking hand to her mouth and tossed the pills in, and then raised the cup to wash them down. Ow! She had to repeatedly swallow, to force the tablets down. She handed the cup back to him, and with a groan closed her eyes, easing herself back down on the bed.
“Are you allergic to any antibiotics?” he asked her.
“Huh?” was her groggy response.
“Honey, I need to know if you have any allergies to any medications.” His voice was clearly anxious.
“Um…yeah, Penicillin,” she mumbled.
“Are there any prescriptions or over-the-counter medicines you take every day?” he quizzed her further, needing to know if there was going to be an interaction if he called something in.
“Zack, knock it off,” she muttered petulantly then drifted off.
“How long have you been sick? When did your throat start hurting? What other symptoms have you had?” Damn it, he needed to know this information, right now. He shook her shoulder to get her attention because she was dozing off on him.
She groaned again. “Okay, okay. I took Excedrin, um…four, or maybe five times, today. Two tablets each time.” Zack cringed at how she’d over-medicated herself just to get through the day and worried about her kidney and liver function. He’d discuss that with her, later.
“No, I don’t take any other prescriptions. Would you please leave me alone now?” She half-begged and half-demanded his acquiescence to her request. Well, okay. He knew she’d had a headache and had been feeling pretty bad all day, and he’d be able to tell how long her throat had been hurting by looking at the progression of the infection.
He turned up the light on her bedside lamp to its highest setting so he could see. It also had the added benefit of annoying her enough to catch her attention. “Amanda, open your mouth. I need to take a look at your throat.”
“Zack, I’m begging you. Leave me alone,” she grumbled. “I want to go to sleep. I feel like hammered shit.”
Zack bit back a chuckle at her description, shaking his head. Now she wanted to sleep! If he hadn’t been so troubled about her, and afraid of her reaction, he would have laughed aloud. “I just need you to stay with me for one more minute, babe,” his firm voice jogged her halfway back to wakefulness.
“Why? You’re not a doctor!” She was pissed he wouldn’t let her be. He could feel a very weak wave of anger from her. At least she hadn’t complained about his slip in calling her babe, he thought in wry relief.
“Mandy, please, just let me see your throat. Open your mouth for me. Say Ahhh.”
“Okay, House!” she grumbled at him and then opened her mouth wide, obediently sticking out her tongue and saying “Ahhh.” She closed her eyes tightly against the glare of the lamp and felt something gently press her tongue down.
He laughed softly at her reference to the fictional diagnostician played by Hugh Laurie as he pressed her tongue down with the handle of her toothbrush. “Am I that bad?” he joked with her as he noted the bright red swollen tonsils and white patches at the back of her throat. “And here, I thought I had a great bedside manner, too.”
“Okay. Good girl. I’ll stop bothering you. For now.”
She took offense at his condescending words and tried to snappily come back with “What? No lollipop?” Her exasperated muttering made him chuckle.
Zack straightened her blankets and pulled her pillow over so it was situated in a better position. He picked up the washcloth and wiped her face. Oh, that was wonderful! She felt like she was sweltering. She began to try to kick off the blankets, but was too worn out.
“Zack, it is way too hot for these,” she whined. He obligingly rose from the bed and pulled back the comforter so that she only had a light blanket and sheet on her.
“That’s better, thanks,” she mumbled. “You should go home.”
Zack eased himself back onto the edge of her bed and tenderly stroked her damp hair back from her sweaty brow. He was fairly sure she had strep, though of course he had no way to swab her throat and run a culture on it. Normally, he would let strep heal itself. In a healthy person they usually could fight it off on their own. Amanda was a different story. She would end up spreading the infection through her body if he didn’t get an antibiotic into her soon. He was very concerned about her fever and worried about her becoming dehydrated. If her fever continued, he’d have to strip her and soak her in a cool bath to bring it down. She wouldn’t like that at all, and he might like that too much. Focus! he commanded himself.
He pulled out his cell phone and called information to get the phone number to the nearest twenty-four-hour pharmacy. Once connected to the pharmacy he gave them his physician information and ordered her an antibiotic, asking for them to deliver it to her home ASAP, which would probably be in the morning. He could have gone to pick it up, but he didn’t want to leave her all alone, as ill as she was.
Looking at her clock he was surprised to find that it was just past twelve. He was feeling pretty exhausted himself. Once more he went in and rinsed the washcloth in cold water, wrung it out and wiped Amanda down. He lightly placed his hands on her head and sought out her consciousness, which was still only slightly suppressed. How could that be? He groaned and pushed with everything left in him.
In conjunction with her illness, and the acetaminophen, his heavy impression on her finally took hold and he felt her give way. Leaving her room, he stumbled down the hall to the next bedroom and collapsed on top of the bed, fully clothed. He was out within seconds.
* * * *
May 12
Amanda woke to the sound of voices downstairs and frowned deeply, unable to place them. She pushed herself to a sitting position on the side of her bed but was shaking so badly she wasn’t sure if she could stand up. She felt like she’d been run over, and then backed over again for good measure.
Abruptly, she remembered Zack had brought her home last night, and that he stayed because she was sick, right? She couldn’t really recall much, but remembered she hadn’t been happy about it. Was he still here then? She tried to get past the aches of her head and body, and the fire in her throat, and focused on the voices.
“Thanks for bringing this so quickly. I really appreciate it. Have a good day.” Yep, it was Zack, sure enough. Good Lord! Had he really stayed all night? She heard his footsteps on the stairs. He was on his way up. She struggled to get to her feet.
As Zack entered Amanda’s room he found her beginning to slide off the bed to her feet. As her feet hit the floor she just kept going. Her legs didn’t have the strength in them to hold her up. He rushed over to catch her before she collapsed to the floor entirely, dropping the bag that he’d been carrying.
“Whoa! What the hell are you doing? Get your cute little ass back in that bed!” he firmly ordered her, sounding as though she’d personally affronted him.
“Who was at the door?” she asked, deliberately ignoring his remark about her ass, because she was so not going there, as he lifted her up and tucked her back in. He at least allowed her to remain sitting up against her pillows and headboard, she noted sullenly. She wanted to argue with him about his continued presence in her home, but didn’t feel up to it. He’d probably ignore her anyway, she figured. He was so bossy!
“Since you’re awake, let’s take your temperature again
,” he responded, not answering her just yet. That would be an entirely different conversation, and he wanted to get the important stuff out of the way first. He grabbed the thermometer and pressed the button to activate it.
“Zack!” As she opened her mouth to protest, he pulled the same trick as the night before, she suddenly remembered, and slid it in her mouth and under her tongue, again pressing her chin to close her mouth. This was getting old, she thought irritably. She waited impatiently for the beep that would tell them it was done.
“102.3. Still not good, Amanda. But, I guess, better than last night. You gave me quite a scare!” he told her, looking only marginally more relieved than before.
He picked up the bag and pulled out a small brown plastic pill bottle. He dumped a white, horse-pill-sized tablet into his palm, hesitating before offering it to her. “Are you sure you’re only allergic to Penicillin?” he asked.
Another memory swam to the surface. He’d quizzed her about medications, she vaguely remembered. “Yes. That’s the only one,” she confirmed. He handed her the pill and went to the bathroom to get her some water. Coming back in, he handed her two more acetaminophen and a cup.
Only after she’d finally gotten the huge pill down her throat did she think to ask him what it was. “I’m assuming it’s an antibiotic. I can tell by the smell and taste of it,” she stated, making a face. “How in the world did you get hold of my physician in the middle of the night? And how did you know who it was? Did I tell you? I can’t really remember much from last night.”
Zack looked a little chagrined at her persistent questioning, like a kid caught stealing from the candy store.
She wearily held out a shaking hand for the bottle.
“Give me that,” she demanded, none too graciously.
She attempted to focus on the printed label. She could read the name of the antibiotic, the dosage, and that she needed to take it twice a day for ten days, but surely she read the name of the prescribing doctor wrong! She would swear it read Zachary Grayson, MD!
“You?” Her voice pitched up an octave and she cringed because her throat retaliated with a sudden flare of pain. What was he? A friggin’ master of all trades? She didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, and grudgingly admitted that was her own fault. If she didn’t run for the hills every time he approached her, she’d have known long ago. She would have read it from him herself.
Zack had the grace to look slightly abashed. “Yes, Amanda. It really isn’t a big secret. Now, would you please not argue with me for the time being?” he begged. “Let’s just get you feeling better and back on your feet.”
Changing the subject, he abruptly became Doctor Grayson. He asked her to run down her list of symptoms from the past few days through to the previous night, looked at her throat again, palpated her lymph nodes in her neck and under her arms, which embarrassed her considerably, and finally checked her pulse. Despite his quite clinical evaluation she felt extremely self-conscious and a blush rose up over her cheeks. He noted that and sent a wave to calm her mind as he counted her suddenly racing pulse, hmm…
“I believe you have strep throat,” he told her. “It isn’t normally a problem for generally healthy people, but you’ve let yourself get too worn down to combat it, so I called in a prescription for this antibiotic,” he said, taking the bottle from her and gently rattling the pills inside. “Please make sure you finish the entire prescription, even if you feel better. If you don’t, the infection will hide out and come back bigger and badder. You got me?” He gave her a stern look, hoping she understood he meant business. “You don’t want to have to go the hospital for an IV antibiotic, right?” He’d scare her if he had too.
“No. I’ll finish it. I promise,” she said, somewhat cowed. Good! he thought, maybe I’ll get through to her after all.
Standing, he briskly rubbed his hands together. “Okay, how about some breakfast?” He could see her try to swallow as she attempted to figure out if she could handle food. He didn’t care if she had solid food for the time being, as long as she was getting fluids.
“Want to try some Jell-O?” he suggested hopefully. He saw a disgusted look flash across her face and knew he was in for another scuffle. Why couldn’t anything be easy with her? He was fighting an uphill battle each and every moment. He sighed and then glared at her a bit, hoping to intimidate her into eating something. Then he was so surprised by her small smile that he had to reciprocate, ruining any intimidation he’d hoped to achieve.
“Not really,” she answered. “I really don’t like Jell-O.” She couldn’t find an interest in anything food related right now and she detested gelatin. It was just a psychological thing, but she always associated it with childhood illnesses. Then she smiled to herself. Didn’t she have a childhood illness? What adult did she know that ever got strep throat? Of all things!
“Okay, how about just drinking something for now. Some hot tea and soup broth? That’ll loosen up your throat.” He stood up and left to get it, without waiting for her answer. She was going to drink it whether she wanted to or not.
Amanda scooted back down in bed and snuggled under the covers. Tea and soup she could handle. She wasn’t going to argue with him over those, and if it made Zack feel better to think he won this round, she was fine with that. She smiled to herself again and closed her eyes.
* * * *
Ten minutes later Zack was back with a lap tray holding two cups of hot tea, one for him, a bowl of soup, and Jell-O. He’d ordered from a pharmacy that also carried grocery supplies and he’d tacked on gelatin, and an all-natural energy drink to revive Amanda’s electrolytes. The soup he’d found in her Mother Hubbard cupboards that, like the childhood rhyme, were not well-stocked. Looking through the cupboards and refrigerator he hadn’t found much to sustain her. She wasn’t eating regularly, he could tell. What little she did eat was definitely not enough to keep her healthy.
She was sound asleep and he hated to wake her. He’d let the tea and soup cool off a little bit, they were steaming hot anyway. Turning around to set the tray down, he moved some items on her dresser. One of those items was a wedding photo of Amanda and David. Ah! She kept him close to her in the bedroom, that’s why it hadn’t been downstairs. Engraved below the picture was their wedding date, May tenth, of five years ago. Suddenly her emotional rollercoaster of the past few days made a whole lot more sense to him. Of course! He should have figured that one out on his own. He looked at the beautiful and vivacious girl in the photo and compared her to the sick and despondent woman of today. He wondered if she would ever look that happy again. He wondered if he could ever make her that happy again. He was jealous, he suddenly realized. Jealous of a dead man! He shook his head in disgust, appalled with himself.
As he set the picture frame back on the dresser, he accidently hit the tray with his elbow knocking over one of the cups of tea. He watched in disbelief, but couldn’t move fast enough to catch it. The tea poured over the edge of the tray and directly onto the wedding photo, scalding his hand.
“Fuck!” He shook his hand trying to rid his skin of the heated liquid, spraying droplets several feet in every direction. Amanda was going to kill him! She would never forgive him for this. He took off into her bathroom, still swearing and with the frame in his hand, not sure what he was going to do with it, but unwilling for her to see it just yet.
“Zack?” Amanda was still half asleep and hadn’t opened her eyes. “What’s wrong? I know you must have burned yourself! Does it hurt? Do you need some help?” she asked him worriedly.
“Yes, it hurts! No, I don’t need help!” He nearly yelled at her, of course it hurt. Dumb question! Then he realized he was mad at himself and was taking it out on her. He was more concerned about how angry she was going to be with him than he was hurt by the first degree burn he’d sustained. He calmed his voice, but it came out rather forced. She could tell he was in pain.
“I spilled it on my hand. I’ll be fine in a minute. I’m just going to run it
under cool water for a short while to take the sting out,” he explained. “I’m so sorry, Amanda. That was so frigging stupid. I should have been more careful.”
“Zack, don’t sweat it. It was an accident. We’ll clean it up. I’m only sorry you got hurt. There’s some burn ointment in the medicine cabinet, if you need it.” She hauled herself up and onto the edge of the bed, intending to get some towels and cleaner. Tea stained pretty easily, she remembered.
Zack heard the rustling of the bed covers and quickly poked his head out of the bathroom doorway. He saw Amanda attempting to get up again and lost his temper.
“Damn it, Amanda! Can’t you, just for once, listen to me? I’ll clean it up. You!” he pointed a finger at her and then at her bed. “Get back in bed.” He didn’t want her to see what he’d done, nor did he want her to fall to floor when she got out of bed.
Amanda took umbrage with his tone and his finger pointing, hoarsely yelling back at him, “You stop telling me what to do! You’re not the boss of me!”
A few seconds later Zachary heard her snicker quietly as she reflected on her badly chosen words. He almost smiled, too. Yes, he was her boss. However, she’d probably quit her job when she found out what he’d accidently done. That was, if she didn’t quit right after he had the discussion with her he’d been planning all morning. Oh hell! His stomach clenched as he thought about what he wanted to say to her.
Amanda called to him again, “Zack, please. I’ll stay in bed, if you’ll just grab some towels and liquid soap when you’re done cooling your hand. Just clean up the tea on the dresser and the floor. I don’t want it to stain the wood.”
Zack set the ruined picture down on the sink with his good hand and pulled a decorative towel from the bar to pat dry his burned one. Smearing some ointment across the back of his hand, he stared at the photo, sadly realizing there was nothing to be done for it. The tea had leaked between the glass and the frame and run over the image. He had damaged it irreversibly. He’d clean up the mess in the bedroom and then deal with Amanda’s anger. She’d definitely notice if the picture wasn’t placed back on her dresser, if she hadn’t already done so.
Amanda's Touch [D.A.R.E.ing Women] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 10
