“Shut up. You don’t want to be in the hospital. Okay, there we’ve got a point of agreement. You don’t want the PA—”
“She smiles too goddamn much.”
“You’ll take care of that in no time. I wouldn’t want her either, and I’d kick about it some. But if I came out of my own little bitch-world long enough to see how miserable it was making him, I’d put a plug in it. And that’s what you’re going to do, or I’ll put one in for you.”
“He needn’t worry about me.”
“Maybe not, but he will, and you know it. He loves you. And it rips him when someone he loves is hurt.”
Summerset opened his mouth, shut it again. Sighed. “You’re right. It burns my tongue to say it, but you are. I hate this.” He rapped his fist on the arm of the chair. “I don’t like being tended.”
“Can’t blame you for that. Got any alcohol in here? The drinking kind?”
“Perhaps.” Suspicion covered his face. “Why?”
“I figure Spence is going to poo-poo any alcoholic beverage, and if I was stuck with her, I’d need a belt now and then to counteract the bouncy smile and chirpy voice. Plus, if it became absolutely necessary, I could bash her over the head with the bottle and put her down for a while.”
Eve tucked her thumbs in her front pockets, eyeing Summerset closely as she heard him emit some sound that might have been a laugh. “Anyway, you might want to take this opportunity to stash a bottle somewhere close to the bed, where she won’t find it.”
Amusement loosened the tightness around his mouth. “That’s an excellent idea. Thank you.”
“No problem. Now I’ll go get Smiley, so you guys can have your nap.”
“Lieutenant,” he said as she walked to the door.
“What?”
“She won’t let me have the cat.”
She glanced back, and saw a tinge of embarrassed color run into his cheeks. Since it embarrassed her, too, she studied a point on the wall six inches above his head. “You want him?”
“I just fail to see why he should be banned from my quarters.”
“I’ll fix it. You want to get that bottle now,” she told him. “I’ll hold her off a few minutes, but then you’re on your own.”
She heard the quiet purr of the chair as she slipped out the door.
She wound her way through to the kitchen and found Roarke placating Spence. The woman was still smiling, but there was something maniacal about it.
“Just give him a moment or two to compose himself,” Eve said, and headed for coffee. “He wants the cat.”
“I’d prefer keeping the area sterile,” Spence began.
“He wants the cat,” Eve said flatly, and turned her own smile—the one she used to loosen the bladders of suspects and rookies—on Spence. “He gets the cat. And you might want to tone down the cheer meter. He was a medic during the Urban Wars, and will respond better to direct, clear orders than cooing. You’re going to have your hands full, Spence. I pity you.” She gestured with the mug. “So just let us know if you need a break to go bang your head against the wall.”
“All right then.” Spence squared her shoulders. “I’ll go tend to my patient now.”
Roarke stepped over, took the mug from Eve and drained it as Spence left the room. “You handled that with a great deal more skill than I.”
“I didn’t have to hassle with the prep work. I was just cleanup. Mavis and Leonardo?”
“I suggested they have a swim. They’re going to stay, cheer him on during the physical therapy. I’m so grateful, if they weren’t having a child, I believe I’d see if I could buy them one.” He rubbed the ache at the back of his neck. “Are you going to tell me what went on in there between you?”
“No.”
“Is he?”
“No. I’m going back to work. You ought to do the same, and let the dust settle around here without you. Oh, and take a blocker for the headache.” She grinned. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoy saying that to you.”