“Don’t bet on it,” she muttered. Taking a firmer grip on his waist, she urged him into motion. “Now walk.”
She halted him at the door, pressed her thumb against the security monitor, marveling anew at the high-tech system, while waiting for it to recognize her print. When the green light beamed, she shoved open the door and maneuvered him over the threshold.
He veered in the direction of his home office.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, and bulldozed him down the long hall that led to the master bedroom. Once inside, she pointed him toward the king size bed and gave him a shove. He fell like a ton of bricks across its top. She quickly flipped back the covers, pulled off his shoes and socks. She frowned at his shirt and slacks, thinking he’d rest more comfortably without them.
“So, suffer,” she grumbled. Cupping her hands at his heels, she lifted his legs and swung them onto the bed. Winded by the effort, she gave herself a moment to catch her breath, then reached to pull the covers over him.
She started to turn away, then stopped and leaned to place her face within inches of his. “Sleep well, Vince,” she whispered evilly. “When you wake up, you’re going to find yourself in hell.”
Two
While Vince slept, Sally got busy. Determined to see that her boss followed the doctor’s orders, she gathered every phone in the house, including his cell, and locked them, along with his laptop, in the trunk of her car. Using her own laptop to communicate with, she connected to the Internet site of the cable company that provided both his television and Internet service and had them temporarily disconnected—an easy feat, since her duties as his secretary gave her access to all his accounts and passwords. Next she visited the sites of the local newspaper and United States Postal Service and put a hold on his subscription and mail for the week.
Satisfied she’d done all she could to sever his ability to communicate with the outside world, she moved on to the kitchen. Since she frequently house-sat for Vince, she was fully aware of his fondness for junk food and wasted no time stuffing his nutrition-empty stash into garbage bags and hauling it all out to the street for the garbage collector to pick up. Thankfully she always brought her own groceries when she was required to stay at his house, and only hoped she had enough food left to feed them both, until she could make arrangements with the supermarket to have more delivered.
Having made the first step toward improving his nutrition, she focused her attention on possible means of escape, should he try to make a run for it. She collected his vehicle keys, as well as the spares he kept in the mud room, and 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.”