“I only bumped my head. It’s fine now. I—what are you looking for?” she interrupted herself to ask.
“The television remote,” Jake muttered, moving over to the love seat against the wall beyond the bed and across from the TV. “You can watch television and relax while I get you something to eat and drink.”
Nicole frowned. Relaxing in bed watching television sounded delightful . . . and decadent. She hadn’t watched TV in what seemed like months. Her workload was too full for that. Reminded of her workload, she immediately felt guilty and began to push aside the sheets and blankets he’d just finished arranging over her. “I should really go down to the studio and—”
“Do not even think about getting up,” Jake barked, whirling on her, remote in hand. Striding back, expression grim, he added, “The doctor only agreed on your release if you relaxed today and that’s what you’re going to do. Tomorrow, if you don’t have a headache and everything seems fine, you can go down to the studio. But for one day you will relax. Doctor’s orders.
Nicole heaved an irritated sigh and pulled the sheet and blankets back over herself, but she also stuck her tongue out at Jake for being so bossy. However, the truth was, she liked his bossiness right now, and his concern. Rodolfo would have told her to suck it up and get back to work. The world didn’t care if she had a little headache, she had deadlines to meet and she should get to it. Rodolfo hadn’t been a very sympathetic fellow. During their two-year marriage, he’d urged and even insisted she work while down with a fever of 104 due to pneumonia, and then another time when she had a broken ankle. Painting while delirious was really not very smart, but standing on a broken leg for hours on end had been worse. Incidents like that had made it hard to believe he cared about anything but the money she made for him to spend.
“There.” Jake turned away from the television as it came on and carried the remote to her. “Find something you want to watch and we’ll cuddle in bed and eat lunch while we watch it when I come back.”
“You cuddle?” Nicole asked with interest. That seemed to be something most men avoided like the plague as far as she could tell.
“Oh, baby,” he said, dropping the remote in her lap and placing his hands flat on the bed to lean in and growl, “I’m just a big old teddy bear when it comes to cuddling.”
He was close enough she felt his breath on her lips as he spoke, and then Jake kissed her. She suspected he’d meant it to be a quick brush of lips before leaving, but it didn’t end up that way. Quite simply, it couldn’t end up that way. The moment his lips touched hers, the passion that always seemed to lie in waiting roared up between them like a backdraft exploding up a long hallway when a door was opened. In the next moment, Nicole somehow found herself flat on her back in the bed with him crawling on top of her, his hands seeking out all her hot spots through the flannel pajamas she’d changed into on getting home.
Nicole wasn’t still under the onslaught; her own hands were pulling at his clothes, tearing at them desperately as she alternately sucked at his tongue and thrust her own out to tangle with it.
“Yo, Stephano!” Dante said from the open door. “Your mom wants you in the kitchen . . . now. And get off that poor girl or I’ll find a pail of water to dump on you. Nicki has a concussion.”
Jake groaned into her mouth, then slowly disentangled himself and crawled off the bed, saying, “I’ll make you grilled cheese and tomato soup . . . and ginger ale and orange juice.”
Nicole blinked with surprise. “That’s what my mother always made for me when I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Yeah? So did mine,” Jake said with a grin and then he was gone.
Nicole stared after him for a minute, and then glanced to the television. She picked up the remote and pulled up the guide, looking for something interesting, but it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Talk shows seemed to be the only thing on and she wasn’t big on talk shows. She continued to click through the guide, but her mind began to wander to wondering what Jake was doing. He was making them lunch, of course, but how far had he got? And did he like his tomato soup made with water or milk? Her mother had always used milk and Nicole did as well. It was too acidy for her taste with just water.
Maybe she should just go out and see if he used water or milk. She could always sit at the island and chat to him while he cooked. That would still be relaxing, wouldn’t it?
“Ugh,” Nicole muttered as she realized how pathetic she was. The man had just left her and she wanted to follow him like a lost puppy following a kid home from school. How pathetic was that?