Free Right Of Possession by Jayne Castle Page B

asked invitingly as she patted the quilt into place.
    "Sounds wonderful," he agreed, raising his eyes to meet hers. He looked very thankful, she thought. "You have all the makings of a good nurse," he told her. "My throat feels like steel wool. Maybe I'll move out onto the couch in the living room. You're not going to want to sit in here by my bed all day and I would like to talk to you. Aren't you curious to know how things turned out after you left on the DC-3 that morning?" he began, and then interrupted his question with a muttered oath. "Xavier, you thief!"
    "What happened?" Reva asked, turning around to glance at the cat, who was calmly swishing a pink tongue around his whiskers.
    "He got the last of the egg when I wasn't looking," Josh grumbled. "Haven't you taught this beast any manners?"
    Reva chuckled fondly. "Unfortunately, I didn't have Xavier from kittenhood. By the time he adopted me he was fully grown and had picked up any number of bad habits living in alleys. He tries to put on a facade of politeness and civilized behavior but underneath he's still an alley cat."
    "Takes what he wants and to hell with the rest of the world?" Josh growled. "Something like that."
    "I'm surprised you tolerate him," Josh noted mildly, glaring at the cat. "He doesn't seem to fit in with your life-style." He swept a hand out to indicate the chic oriental-style furniture, the beautiful apartment, and the rich off-white carpeting. Then he slanted a strange look up at Reva, who was closing a closet door she had left open. She felt his glance and looked back at him over her shoulder.
    "He doesn't," she shrugged. "But something about him appeals to me and besides, I'm not at all sure I could get rid of him if I tried." She walked back to the edge of the bed and frowned thoughtfully down at Josh. "Are you sure you want to move out into the living room? Perhaps you should be sleeping."
    "Believe me, I've had this bug often enough in the past to know how it's going to react. Sore throat, headache, fever in the beginning and occasional dizziness, plus a general weakness. It will run its course in a few days and I'll be fine. In the meantime there's nothing to do but rest and I can do that as well out on the couch."
    "If you're sure . . ."
    "I'm sure."
    Reva arranged quilts and pillows on the dark red couch, assisting her patient out to his new bed when all was ready.
    Xavier followed along, jumping up to nap at Josh's feet when he was reestablished. She fixed Josh the honey-and-lemon tea, and agreed to a game of cards when he proposed it.
    Reva was in the middle of laying down her third winning hand in a row when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver of the red instrument, which matched the couch in color, and automatically said hello, her mind still on the gin rummy game. She was deliberately keeping an eye on Josh, who had shown signs of being willing to cheat, although it hadn't done him any good so far.
    "Bruce!" she exclaimed in surprise as she recognized the voice on the other end. "Yes, that's right, you said you'd call!" She smiled with pleasure, her eyes on Josh, who glanced up with a frown as she spoke the other man's name. The frown cleared almost immediately, however, and he went back to studying his hand.
    "Everything's fine, Bruce," Reva said in reassuring response to her caller's first question. "Poor Josh has come down with some sort of recurrent illness that he gets occasionally, though, and I'm putting him up for a couple of days."
    "Did he ask you to do that?" Bruce demanded on the other end of the line.
    "Oh, no," Reva laughed. "He was all set to move into a hotel but he couldn't possibly get good care there."
    "I see," Bruce remarked a little stiffly. "I'm a bit surprised you're willing to be so kind to him after the way he behaved last night."
    "He apologized for all that," Reva explained. "And he is an old acquaintance, Bruce. I can't throw him out into the street. I owe him a favor." She thought Josh tensed