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“Have your way with me?” he mocked, his eyes dancing with gray light as he lifted his head and stared at her.
“Or worse!” she tossed back.
“Worse?” A wicked grin slashed across his jaw. “Believe me, I’m ready.”
“I can tell,” she teased. Glancing over his shoulder, she noticed the time on the wall clock and groaned. She was already late! “You wouldn’t want me to lose my job, would you?”
He growled and kissed her again. “Yeah, that would be a real pity!”
“I’d never forgive you!”
“No?” He lifted a disbelieving brow, and his eyes were alight with challenge.
“I mean it!” She reached behind him until she found the door knob, then sidestepped him and hurried onto the covered porch leading to the parking lot. “I don’t expect you to be here when I get home.”
“Not even if I make your favorite dinner?” he asked in a high, falsetto voice.
“Oh, you’re impossible!”
She climbed into the Mustang. But as she adjusted her side-view mirror, she caught a glimpse of Zane, naked as the day he was born, standing in the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one shoulder propped against the frame, not in the least concerned that the neighbors might see him.
“It would serve you right if you get arrested!” she yelled through the window, missing his response as she slammed the car into Reverse.
Zane laughed, and the rich sound lingered in her thoughts as she drove toward the heart of the city.
* * *
“Lee?” Dr. Henshaw took a seat in the chair next to his patient. But Johnston didn’t look up. As if he were rooted to the cushions of the old couch facing the television in the recreation room, Lee Johnston sat, waiting, the blank screen reflected in his icy eyes.
“Lee, can you hear me?”
Johnston scratched at a scab on the back of his right hand. But still he stared at the TV.
“No use trying to talk to him,” Rick said, walking in and switching on the set. Music blared. Rick adjusted the volume with the remote control. A children’s cartoon show was in progress. Johnston didn’t move. “Until West Coast Morning comes on, he won’t say a word.”
Henshaw exchanged glances with the orderly, and he thought about the messages he’d received and had to return. Flannery had called again, as had Kaylie Melville herself. He’d have to talk to them both, which didn’t present any particular problems.
It was the other call that bothered him, a call he didn’t want to return. But, of course, he had no choice.
Rick, still cleaning off a table in the corner that had recently been used for arts and crafts, shook his head at the doctor. “Let’s just hope you-know-who is on the show today,” he said, placing the palates, brushes, paints and other tools onto a cart. He wheeled the cart next to Lee’s chair just as a heavyset orderly named Pam rushed into the room. “Dr. Henshaw? There’s a problem in 301,” she said breathlessly, her pudgy face red. “Norman is upset—I mean really upset
. He threw his breakfast all over the room and… and…” Seeing Lee for the first time, she gained control of herself. “Maybe you’d better come, too,” she said to Rick.
Rick mumbled something inaudible under his breath, but gave the cart a shove. The corner caught on the edge of the couch, and several paint mixing tools and palates clattered to the floor.
“Son of a—” Rick caught himself and reached down, grabbing the paint-spattered knives and brushes. The floor was smudged with yellow ocher, Christmas green and scarlet. “Great—just great!”
Henshaw was already following Pam out of the room. Rick, in a foul mood, snarled at Lee, “Maybe you’d just better go back to your room until I clean this up. I don’t want you messin’ this up any more than it already is! Come on, get going! You’ll be back for your stupid program!”
Rick prodded Lee on the shoulder. Johnston jerked away, his nostrils flared slightly. He didn’t like to be touched. Not by Dr. Henshaw and especially not by Rick, the know-it-all with the smug smirk. Rick really thought he was crazy and he looked down on Lee, but Lee intended to show Rick and Henshaw and all the others just what he was made of. Reluctantly, he got to his feet.
“Hurry up, I don’t got all day,” Rick growled, looking around for a towel or mop.
Lee, spying a knife that had slid just under the couch, hazarded a sly look at Rick, whose back was turned as he unlocked a closet. Quick as a cat, Lee grabbed the dull knife, stuck it into the side of his shoe and pretended to be tying his laces.
“You still here?” Rick asked, facing him again. “Well, come on, come on.” He touched Lee again, and Lee recoiled, his stomach turning over.
Only one person had the right to touch his body. And that person was Kaylie…sweet, sweet Kaylie. He licked his lips and scratched absently at the itch on his hand as he stepped into the hallway. He’d missed Kaylie the last few days, but her absence from the program had brought one thing into perfect focus. He had to see her again, touch her, smell her, taste her. Soon.
