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Camille knew that Zack would think the medication was for his father. When she and the nurse converged on him, trapping him against the window, she noted his bemused look.
“Drop your pants, Zack.” Whether he was surprised by her imperious tone or her brazen words, she didn’t know, but his baffled look was almost comical. It took tremendous effort not to laugh at him. She kept the muscles of her face drawn into a stern expression.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” he growled.
“I said, ‘Drop your pants.’ We’re going to give you a nice shot to make you sleep.” Her voice dripped with that syrupy, insincere gaiety that nurses use on difficult patients.
“Like hell you are,” Zack said defiantly.
“Dr. Daniels’s instructions. If you insist on staying in this room, you’ll stay here asleep. Now, are you going to behave like a good little soldier, or are we going to have to call in an orderly to help hold you down?”
She was sure that at that point Zack would happily have murdered her. No one manipulates a man like Zack Prescott and gets away with it for long.
Zack looked from her to the nurse beside her, who was scowling belligerently, her arms, encased in a starched white uniform, crossed over a bosom of enormous proportions. Her unblinking eyes sat in a face that looked like it had been molded out of clay and baked to diamond hardness. Despite his anger, Camille saw Zack swallow hard at the sight of the needle, and she suppressed another laugh.
“I’m not having any goddamn shot. Not if you call Hippocrates himself in here to give it to me.” The muscles of his jaw were working, and he was clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. Camille recognized the signs. He was about to blow.
“In that case, I’ll give you one alternative.” She turned to the nurse. “Please bring in the bed.” The nurse snorted in disdain at Zack and then left the room on silent feet. She moved with surprising agility for a woman of her size.
“I’ve asked them to bring a rollaway bed in here for you. I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on Mr. Prescott. You have my word on that, but, Zack, you must get some rest. Please. For your sake as well as that of your father’s. If you collapse from exhaustion, what good are you to him? And he can’t get well if he’s worried about you. I promised him I’d take care of you, and I intend to keep that promise.”
He sighed and ran his hand wearily through his tangled hair. “You’ll stay awake? All night?”
“Until you awaken in the morning,” she promised.
Just then the door opened, and an orderly wheeled a small bed into the room. He left as silently as he came.
Zack looked at Camille and then at the figure on the hospital bed, who miraculously had slept through all of the commotion. Camille saw Zack’s shoulders slump and read the resignation on his face. Then he smiled crookedly. “That chair isn’t half bad if you get tired enough.” He indicated the soft, imitation leather chair. He crossed to the bathroom and went in, shutting the door behind him. Camille settled herself in the chair, preparing for her nocturnal vigil. Zack turned off the light in the bathroom as he came out and went to the bed, looking down on it skeptically.
“I don’t think I’m going to fit on this damn thing,” he complained as he pulled off his shoes.
Camille laughed softly. “You’ll be asleep so fast you won’t even notice.” She leaned back in the soft chair then sat bolt upright when she saw Zack shrug out of his shirt and unbuckle his belt. “What are you doing?” she asked in a voice that had risen an octave.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking my clothes off. Should I have been a gentleman and asked you to turn around?”
“But… but you can’t sleep in here like… that,” she sputtered.
“This was your idea, remember, Miss Jameson. You told me to drop my pants. I’m sure I won’t offend Nurse Stone Face. I think she’s seen it all.” He pulled off his jeans without a second’s hesitation, and Camille flushed hotly, averting her eyes.
“Aren’t you going to come kiss me good night?” he taunted from across the dim room.
“No! I am not!” she exclaimed. His only response was a light laugh. She heard the springs creak, the rustle of the crisp sheets as Zack adjusted himself to the short bed, one muffled curse, then it was silent. As she had predicted, his even breathing just moments later indicated that he had fallen asleep as soon as he allowed himself to lie down. Well, her mission was accomplished, but she was on edge. Everything had been going her way until he had undressed. Dim though the room was, the darkness didn’t completely hide his magnificent physique from her eyes. She remembered seeing him lying on the wide bed in the condominium at Snow Bird with only the firelight covering his body. The thought sent disturbing shivers over her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
The night hours dragged by, the monotony interrupted only by the nurses’ periodic visits to Rayburn’s bedside. Camille was unreasonably peaceful sitting in the chair or standing near the window, for every minute that she was here, Zack was healthfully sleeping. When the first rays of daylight began to permeate the room, she closed the blinds on the windows and the room was once again shrouded in darkness. She wanted this night to go on for as long as it could.
About half an hour after dawn, she went into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind her before turning on the light and switching it off again before opening the door. She was creeping back across the room toward the chair, passing Zack’s small bed, when his hand shot out from under the covers and clutched one of her legs around the knee. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in fright and stumbled against the bed, falling across Zack.
She righted herself and glared down into his shadowed face. “You scared me half to death!” she hissed. “It’s a wonder I didn’t scream this hospital down. And how would you have explained my terror?” He shrugged, and she could see that he was grinning broadly. “Let me go,” she gasped as he tightened his hands around her waist.
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Zack, please. Someone may come in.”
“I know the hospital’s schedule by now. We have time for me to pay you back for last night.” He pulled her down on top of him, and Camille tried frantically to tug on the bottom of her skirt. It had inched its way up to the middle of her thighs during their scuffle. She attributed the unnatural pounding of her heart to the fact that he had startled her, and not that she was lying on top of him with only a sheet and a brief pair of underwear covering him.
