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Sally followed him through the door and down a short hall.
Unsure what to expect, she asked uneasily, “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“That depends on Vince.”
Considering that a nonanswer, she followed the doctor into one of the curtained-off examining rooms, where Vince lay, his eyes closed, his hands folded over the hospital gown that covered his chest. An IV tube ran from the back of one hand to a bottle hanging from a hook at the head of the bed. A white plastic bracelet circled his left wrist. She stared hard at his hands and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath them.
She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he was still alive and her job hopefully secure, then whispered to the doctor, “Why hasn’t he regained consciousness?”
“He did. His current state is drug induced.”
At her questioning look, he went on to explain, “Vince doesn’t make a very good patient. He regained consciousness shortly after arriving and pitched a fit when he realized where he was. I sedated him to calm him down.”
Sally nodded, easily able to imagine the kind of ruckus her boss had kicked up. “Do you know what happened to him?”
“Before, during or after his fall?”
She shrugged. “All of it, I guess.”
“He suffered a mild heart attack. The dizziness he experienced during the attack probably caused the fall. Unfortunately, on the way down he cracked his head on something and—”
“The end table,” Sally interjected. “When I found him, the end table was lying next to him.”
“Ah,” the doctor said, nodding. “Stainless steel, as I recall. That explains the bump on the back of his head.” He chuckled softly. “Too bad it didn’t knock any sense into that thick skull of his.”
Sally looked at the doctor curiously, surprised that he was familiar with Vince’s home, as well as her boss’s stubborn streak. “Do you know Vince?”
“Since we were kids.” He glanced over at Vince and gave his head a rueful shake. “The most stubborn person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”
Sally would have laughed at the doctor’s assessment of her boss, but she was too worried about her job to find anything amusing. “How long will he have to stay in the hospital?”
“I’d like to keep him a week, at the very least.”
“Like hell you will.”
Sally and the doctor both glanced over to find Vince awake and struggling to sit up.
The doctor quickly placed a hand against Vince’s chest. “Unless you want me to put another knot on your head, I’d advise you to stay put.”
Obviously too weak to put up much of a fight, Vince sank back against the pillow and squeezed his forehead between his fingers. “What’d you give me? I feel like I’ve been on a three-day drunk.”
“It was a cocktail, all right, but not the kind you might expect.”
Judging by Vince’s weakened state, Sally had to believe whatever the doctor had given him was strong.
“I’m getting out of here.”
The doctor looked down his nose at Vince. “You’ll leave when I say you can.”
Vince dropped his hand to scowl. “Don’t be a jerk, Pat. You know I hate hospitals. Cut me loose so I can go home.”
“You’re in no condition to take care of yourself.”
“I’ll be fine as soon as the drugs wear off.”
“You had a heart attack,” the doctor reminded him. “Which is exactly what I’ve been telling you was going to happen if you didn’t cut back on your workload and get rid of some of the stress in your life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my heart,” Vince grumbled.
“No, there’s not,” the doctor agreed. “Not this time, at least. The tests we ran indicated no damage was done to your heart. But you did suffer a concussion when you fell, which requires round-the-clock monitoring. Last I heard, you lived alone.”
Vince glanced at Sally. She backed up a step, fearing she knew what he was going to suggest.
“Sally will take care of me.”
She groaned inwardly.
The doctor turned to peer at her. “I thought the clerk said you were his secretary?”
“She is,” Vince replied for her, then gave Sally a warning look. “And she can earn her salary at my house as easily as she can at my office.”
The doctor kept his gaze fixed on Sally. “Would you seriously be willing to stay with this lug for a week?”
Sally stole a glance at Vince. The message in his eyes was clear: if she liked her job, she’d do as he said.
Turning back to the doctor, she forced a smile. “If that’s what Vince wants.”
“You’ll be doing more than monitoring his sleep,” the doctor warned her. “I’ve been telling him for years to slow down. This week he’s going to do just that. No work. Period. And under no circumstances is he to leave the house. I want him resting, and when he’s not resting, I want him relaxing and that means no phone calls and no e-mail. In fact, no contact with the outside world whatsoever. I don’t want anything even remotely related to business anywhere near him. Got it?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And work on improving his nutrition. His eating habits are worse than a nine-year-old’s.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see that he eats properly balanced meals. What about his physical activity? Should I monitor that, too?”
The doctor glanced at Vince, then shook his head. “No. In fact, it would probably do him some good, considering he spends most of his time sitting on an airplane or behind a desk.”
“I’m sure I can think of something to keep him active.”
The doctor studied her a long moment as if judging her ability to carry out his orders. “All right,” he finally agreed, and headed out. “I’ll write up instructions and sign his release.”
As Sally watched the doctor disappear from sight, the enormity of the task she’d taken on sunk in. Panicking, she whipped her head around to level Vince with a threatening look. “Don’t you move so much as a muscle. I’ll be right back.”
Flinging back the curtain, she ran after the doctor. “Dr. O’Connor! Wait!”
He glanced over his shoulder, then stopped and turned, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Changed your mind already?”
She dragged in a breath, choosing her words carefully, knowing she might very well be putting her job on the line. “I’m a secretary, not a nurse. I’m not sure I’m qualified to take care of someone who’s had a heart attack. What if he should…” She swallowed hard, unable to voice her fears.
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Don’t worry. Vince isn’t going to die.” He lifted a brow and added, “Though you might consider killing him before the week’s over.”
“But he had a heart attack,” she said in frustration. “I’d think he’d need to stay in the hospital for at least a couple of days.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d keep him overnight.” He shrugged. “But his attack was mild. More a warning, really. What he needs is rest and lots of it. Keeping him in the hospital, in Vince’s case, would actually do him more harm than good.”
Sally gave him a dubious look.
Chuckling, the doctor gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Trust me. He really is better off at home.”
And home is exactly where Sally took Vince.
Thanks to another shot of Dr. O’Connor’s wonder drug prior to leaving the hospital, he slept throughout the ride. Sally was grateful for the reprieve. It gave her time to get a grip on her anger with her boss for putting her in such an awkward position.
Heck, she didn’t want to spend the week at his house! Not with him in residence. He was hard enough to get along with when he was well. She couldn’t imagine what a forced convalescence would do to his already disagreeable personality.
She shot a scowl at the passenger seat where Vince slept, his head tipped back, his jaw slack, his lips parted. Spoiled brat, she thought resentfully. Using her job to coerce her into agreeing to act as his nursemaid. And if he thought he’d found himself a way to avoid following his doctor’s orders, he had a new think coming. She intended to see that he followed them to the letter. Before the week was over, he’d be begging Dr. O’Connor to admit him to the hospital.
She parked her car close to the front door and rounded the vehicle to help her patient out.
“Vince?” She gave his arm a none-too-gentle poke. “We’re home.”
He roused slightly. “Home?”
His slurred speech let her know the shot was still working.
“Yes, home.” She took his arm and gave it a tug. “Come on. I’ll help you inside.”
It seemed to take him forever to unfold his long legs from the interior of her compact car. Her one regret was that he was too sedated to be aware of his surroundings. He’d really hate knowing he’d ridden in a six-year-old economy car, when he was accustomed to tooling around in a sporty and luxurious Lexus SC.
Pleased that she’d reduced her boss to slumming, she helped him to his feet. When he staggered a step, she quickly moved beneath his arm and locked an arm around his waist.
“Don’t you dare fall,” she warned. “If you do, I’m leaving you where you land.”
He looked down at her, his mouth slanted in a lopsided grin. “Ah, come on, Sal. You wouldn’t leave me out here all by myself.”
“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.”
