"No, he isn't."
She cursed beneath her breath. "Then someone got his signals crossed. I was hired to be his personal therapist. I just flew across several time zones and the whole freaking ocean for nothing."
"We couldn't reach you in time, for which I apologize. Yesterday morning Mr Cavanaugh demanded to be released. We had no recourse." He raised his hands in a helpless motion. "He's retreated to his home on Maui."
"What was his condition when he left?"
"Very poor. He's still flaccid. I begged him to wait until we knew more. He said he knew enough, said he was resigned to being a bedridden paraplegic the rest of his life, and insisted that he be transferred home. Frankly, Ms. Mason, I'm far more concerned about his mental state than I am about the diaschisis, which I firmly believe is temporary."
"The spine wasn't severed?"
"No. Traumatized drastically, but I believe when all the swelling goes down and he begins physical therapy, he'll gradually have sensation restored."
"Having sensation restored is a long way from climbing mountains. That's probably what Cavanaugh's thinking too."
"I'm sure you're right," the doctor replied with chagrin. "He wanted absolute guarantees from us, and from the specialists he had brought over from the mainland, that he would eventually be as he was before. None of us could give him unqualified answers. Often it's anybody's guess how these spinal injuries will heal and how ambulatory the patient will eventually be."
"Well, whether he could feel it or not, I'd like to give Mr Cavanaugh a swift kick in the butt for wasting my time."
The doctor scratched his cheek absently. "I spoke with your sister, Mrs Randolph. She suggested, and I concur, that you should follow Mr Cavanaugh to Maui and begin therapy at once."
"Oh, she did, did she? Well, the next time you speak to my sister, give her this message for me." The message caused the cheek Dr Arno was scratching to turn beet red. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Bo Arno, I'm going to find the hotel with the hottest shower and the firmest bed in the islands and crawl into both. Not necessarily in that order."
"Please, Ms. Mason." He popped out of his chair and gestured imploringly for her to return to hers. More out of weariness than obedience, Lilah sat back down. "If you live up to your credentials, this patient desperately needs you."
"And sharks need food. That doesn't mean I'm going to volunteer myself as dinner."
"It won't be that bad." She gave him a withering glance. He looked away first. "Granted," he said, squirming uncomfortably beneath her level blue gaze, "Mr Cavanaugh is accustomed to having his own way. He can be difficult. But I'm certain you can handle him."
As he said that, he was taking in Lilah's white leather jacket, which was decorated with silver studs and a six-inch fringe. The coat was too warm for the climate, but she hadn't had a chance to take it off and it was easier to wear than to carry.
"Please, reconsider. Go to Maui."
"Are you familiar with the phrase 'No way, José'?"
Impatiently she listened as Dr Arno earnestly recounted all the reasons Elizabeth and Thad had originally cited why she should agree to give Adam Cavanaugh physical therapy.
"Okay, okay!" she exclaimed so suddenly that the doctor jumped. "Right now I'd sell my soul for a bath. Which way's Maui and how do I get there from here?"
Sparing no expense, she itemized the equipment she wanted to take with her. While the doctor was making arrangements for it and a private plane to fly her to the other island, Lilah hailed a cab outside the hospital and went on a whirlwind shopping spree. She used the carte blanche expense account she'd been given to buy clothing more suitable to the climate.
By the time she alighted from the private plane on Maui her slender figure was wrapped in a colorful sarong and she had sandals on her feet instead of boots. Using a wide-brimmed straw hat to shade her eyes, she searched for the rental car that she had been promised would be waiting for her.
Once behind the wheel, map in hand, she set out for Adam Cavanaugh's tropical retreat. The major highway soon narrowed to a minor one and eventually dwindled to a rutted dirt road that she cursed with each jolting lurch of the car. It wound it's way up a mountainside that was so verdantly rich, she couldn't help but be impressed by the wealth of unfamiliar vegetation.
She was also stunned by the sprawling estate that she discovered at the end of the climbing, twisting road. She had expected Adam Cavanaugh's house to be nice, but her destination surpassed her expectations. It was opulent.
A lava rock walkway led up to the mammoth front door made of frosted beveled glass. Hauling her luggage with her, she went toward it and pressed the button. Moments later the door swung open. At first she thought no one was there. But then her eyes dropped down to the tiny Asian man, whose wizened face was on a level with her midriff. Barely.
"Who you?"
"Little Bo Peep. I've lost my sheep. Also my marbles, or I wouldn't be here."
He thought that was hilariously funny and dissolved into knee-slapping laughter. "You Rirah?"
She laughed. "That's me. What's your name?"
"Pete."
"Pete! I was expecting something more Oriental."
"Doctor call. Say you come. Inside, inside." With amazing strength he took her suitcase from her and signaled her into a dazzling foyer floored in black and white marble squares.
She bent down and whispered to Pete, "Does the patient know I'm coming?" His wide grin collapsed. She had her answer. "I didn't think so. Where is he?" Pete's black eyes swung up to the gallery above them. "Up there?" He nodded solemnly. "Well, here goes nothing," she muttered.
Mentally hiking up her belt, she mounted the sweeping cantilevered staircase. Reaching the first door at the top, she paused and looked down questioningly at Pete. He shook his head and with quick jabbing thrusts of his index finger, pointed out another door. She went to it, silently inquired if she had the right one, and got an affirmative bob of his near-bald head before he turned and scampered off toward another part of the house.
"Chicken," she said beneath her breath.
Lilah's firm knock on the door was met with a bellow. "Go away." She knocked again. "Go away, dammit, are you deaf? I don't want any juice. I don't want a Popsicle. I don't want a damn thing but to be left alone."
Lilah swung the door wide. "Tough tittie."
Adam's mouth dropped open in astonishment. Once he'd convinced himself that she wasn't a nightmare, his head hit the pillow behind it with a defeated plop. He laughed mirthlessly. "God, I must have done some serious sinning to find myself in this hell."
"Hello to you too."
The soles of her new sandals slapped against the glazed tile floor as she made her way toward the rented hospital bed. She didn't stop until she was standing at the foot of it, where she allowed the belligerent patient to give her a once-over.
Sneering with derision, he said, "Most women would have better taste than to dangle a salad bar from their ears."
Lilah shook her head, jangling the plastic fruit clusters she'd bought on one of Honolulu's commercial drags that catered to tourists. "I thought these earrings were kinda cute."
"Oh, it's a great costume, but Halloween's already passed."
By an act of will Lilah withheld a scalding comeback. Instead she closed her eyes and counted to ten, mumbling, "Just as I thought. This was a real bad idea."
Chapter 2
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I go out of my way to visit sick friends. It's one of my virtues."
"You don't have any virtues. I doubt you have any friends. And if you do, I doubt you're that conscientious about paying sick calls."