locked them in the glove box of her car. She considered sneaking into his room and confiscating all his shoes, but opted to forgo that drastic measure until he proved himself a flight risk.
Flight risk? She smothered a laugh. She was definitely going to have to cut back on the number of Law & Order episodes she watched.
Taking her cell phone in hand again, she dialed Vince’s land phone and cell phone numbers and had his calls forwarded to her cell. As a last precaution, she muted the ring on her phone and hid it in her makeup bag in the guest room. Sure that she’d done all that was humanly possible to ensure Vince followed his doctor’s orders, she collapsed on the sofa, exhausted.
She’d barely closed her eyes, when she heard, “Sally!”
Groaning, she peeled herself from the couch and to her feet. It appeared the bear had awakened from his drug-induced nap.
“Coming,” she called wearily. When she reached his room, she found him sitting on the side of his bed, his clothes rumpled, his feet bare, his hair sticking up every which way. All-in-all, he looked like hell, which pleased her enormously.
She pasted on a cheerful smile. “Feeling better?”
He lifted his head to scowl at her. “Where the hell is my cell phone?”
To place herself out of harm’s way, she picked up his shoes and socks and carried them to his closet, which was as large as her entire apartment. “Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
She slipped his shoes into an empty cubby and dropped his socks into the hamper. “Dr. O’Connor said you were to have no contact with the outside world.”
“Screw what Pat said. I want my phone.”
She opened her hands. “Sorry. Just following the doctor’s orders.”
He burned her with a look. “My doctor doesn’t pay your salary. I do.”
“I’m aware of that. But remember, this was your idea. You told Dr. O’Connor I could earn my salary at your house as easily as I could at your office. With the change in location, my duties changed, as well. For the time being I’m your caretaker, not your secretary, and I take my responsibilities very seriously.”
“I don’t need taking care of. What I need is my phone.”
“Sorry. It’s inaccessible for the week.”
He leaped to his feet, his face flushed with anger. The quick movement must have made him light-headed, because the color drained from his face and he began to sway.
Fearing he was having another attack, Sally ran to grab his arm and urged him back to the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”
“Moved too fast, is all.”
She pressed a hand to her heart, then dropped it to fist at her side. “You really shouldn’t upset yourself like that. You just had a heart attack. Do you want to bring on another?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he grumbled.
She folded her arms across her chest and looked down her nose at him. “Oh, really? I could have sworn that Dr. O’Connor said you’d had a heart attack.”
“That’s how Pat earns his big fees. Makes up all kinds of ailments so his patients have to keep coming back to him.”
Sally shook her head sadly. “You are so in denial.”
He looked up to glare at her. “If I say there’s nothing wrong with me, nothing is.”
She turned away with a shrug. “Then there’s no need for me to stay. I’ll just give Dr. O’Connor a call and tell him I’m going home.”
She made it as far as the door before he stopped her.
“Wait.”
She turned and lifted a brow in question.
“Don’t call Pat. He’ll come over.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Damn right it is! He’ll just drag me back to the hospital.”
She wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “Probably.”
Grimacing, he dragged a hand over his hair, then dropped it with a sigh to grip the edge of the bed. “I guess you’d better stay.”
“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “My purpose in being here is to see that you follow your doctor’s orders. If you aren’t willing to cooperate, you really should be in the hospital where someone can look after you.”
He paled at the mere suggestion. “I can’t go back. I’ll go crazy, if I do.”
What little bit of patience she had for him snapped. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Vince. Don’t be such a baby. There’s nothing wrong with hospitals.”
“Spend a month in one and try telling me that again.”
Something in his voice told her he was speaking from experience. “You spent a month in a hospital?”
“Yeah. When I was a kid.”
Curious to learn more, she crossed to the bed and sat down beside him. “Were you sick?”
He gave her a bland look. “No. I was on vacation.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Stupid question. So what was wrong with you?”
“Spinal meningitis. Spent a week at home in bed before the doctor admitted me. Another two weeks after he released me.”
She stared, unable to imagine the severity of an illness that would require a child to remain bedridden for almost two months. “How old were you?”
“Nine. Missed two months of school. Had to drop out of the summer baseball program.”
“Wow. That must have been tough.”
“It sucked big-time.”
“Were you left with any lasting effects?”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I hate hospitals.”
She hid a smile. “Yeah. I got that.” She rose. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. When did you last eat?”
“I don’t know. Sometime yesterday, I guess.”
“I’ll see what I can whip up.”
He stood, too, though more slowly. “Have I got time to shower?”
She eyed him doubtfully. “Are you sure you’re steady enough?”
“Positive.”
She hesitated a moment longer, then turned away, deciding the alternative—bathing him
