morning,” he said without facing her. “I’ll bring you a gown when I come.”
She stared after him in bewilderment. Something must be very wrong for Cole to treat her so coolly. She only wondered what it was.
* * *
He was back the next morning, after she’d had her bath and her breakfast, with a small overnight bag that held a gown and some cosmetics.
“You can leave tomorrow,” he said curtly, dropping down into the armchair beside her bed. “I’ve told your doctor we’ll let our family physician take charge of your treatment.”
She hid a grin behind her hand. She could see Cole having it out with the wiry little doctor on her case.
“I’ve got to fly down to New Orleans for the day,” he continued. “But I’ll try to stop by before they put you to bed for the night.”
He made her sound like a toddler who needed a teddy bear and a bottle, and she glared at him.
One dark eyebrow went up. “Want to scratch me, kitten?” he asked.
“Yes,” she mouthed angrily.
His pale eyes slid down over the sheet that covered her thin young body. “You’re not up to my weight,” he remarked.
She hit the bed with a clenched fist and he threw back his head and chuckled softly, the sound oddly pleasant in the stillness of the room. As he stood up, she noticed how striking he looked in a gray suit that matched his silver eyes. He fumbled at his shirt pocket for a cigarette and then brought one to his beautifully chiseled mouth.
“Habit,” he growled, lighting the cigarette. “I don’t even like the taste of them anymore.” He leaned down and carelessly brushed her cheek with his firm lips. “Don’t give the doctor any trouble while I’m gone,” he warned.
“That’s your department, not mine,” she wrote saucily.
“You little brat,” he said, making an endearment of it. “See you tonight.”
She beamed at him, but she didn’t reach out to touch his hand, as she would have a day earlier. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he didn’t want to be touched.
Gil visited her later on, and leered at the picture she made in the pale blue chiffon gown Cole had brought.
“Talk about seductive,” he said in a theatrically husky voice. “You look good enough to eat.”
“Hospital food will give you indigestion,” she scribbled with a grin.
He laughed. “Yes, I suppose it will, but I’m not a patient. Where did you get that gown?”
“It’s hospital issue,” she lied on paper.
“Smart hospital. No patient, male patient, that is, would ever want to escape if all the female patients wore gowns like that.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Where’s your stepbrother? They told me he came last night. Excuse me, stormed in last night,” he added with a grin. “At least two of the nurses are being treated for shock, I hear.”
“He was mad,” she wrote on her pad.
“He should have jumped on whoever forgot to give him the message,” Gil pointed out, “not on the poor nurses. They couldn’t help it.”
She sighed. “The nurses were here,” she wrote.
“Oh.” He nodded. “And the poor soul who didn’t deliver the message wasn’t. I wish I knew the devil’s name, I’d send flowers in advance.”
Heather’s face lit up in a smile. Gil was such fun to be around. He made all the shadows go away, and while she was with him she forgot her fears and was able to relax.
He was telling her stories about his early days as a reporter when the door swung open and Cole walked in to find Gil Austin sitting comfortably on the side of Heather’s bed. Cole stood quietly in the doorway, and his very stance spelled trouble.
Heather could almost see his neck hair bristling. That silvery glitter in his eyes was dangerous, and she didn’t like the way he fixed his icy gaze on the man sitting beside her on the bed.
“The stepbrother, I presume,” Gil said with irrepressible good humor as he rose to face the newcomer.
Cole wasn’t amused. He glared at the younger man, his powerful body held in rigid control.
Gil cleared his throat, disconcerted by that level stare. “I’m Gil Austin,” he said, breaking the silence. “I cover the entertainment beat for the News Herald—and Heather’s my girl.” He glanced possessively at the slender young woman under the white sheets.
Cole’s eyes seemed to explode. His jaw went even tauter in his dark face. “A reporter,” he said, making an insult of the word. His eyes swept contemptuously over the shorter man before he turned back to Heather. “I’ll come by for you first thing in the morning,” he told her curtly. “Is there anything you want from your apartment? You’ll be at the ranch for a few weeks, at least.”
Heather scribbled “my coat.” She grimaced at the faint amusement in Cole’s eyes. She was superstitious about the ankle-length ermine coat Cole had given her for her eighteenth birthday. She never traveled without it.
“I’ll bring it,” he promised. “Anything else?”
“My purse,” she scribbled, “my old one—in the closet.”
He frowned.
“I keep my important papers in it,” she wrote, “and my money.”
His eyes narrowed. “You won’t need a bankroll to come home with.”
She sighed with irritation. If only she could talk. She wanted to tell him she didn’t need his handouts…but he read the emotion in her eyes and lifted his head in that arrogant way he had. She could have hit him.
“Can I do anything?” Gil asked, feeling left out.
“We can manage,” Cole said abruptly, sparing the man a glance.
“I’d like to visit Heather while she’s recuperating,” he persisted.
Cole turned around and stared right through him. “The last thing she’s going to need right now are visitors,” he said without even pretending courtesy.
Heather gaped at him. Cole had always been possessive, but now he was acting as though he owned her. Why couldn’t she have visitors?
“Heather needs peace and quiet to get over the trauma of the accident. She’ll heal quicker with family,” Cole added, “and I’m going to take them to Nassau for a week or so, anyway. She can call you when she’s back on her feet.”
Gil hesitated. It was the first time Heather had known him to be without a comeback.
“Get some rest, baby,” Cole told her, bending to brush his hard lips against her hair. “I’ll be here early, so don’t stay up too
