5
“Breakfast, Doctor Fisher?” Gabriel set a bed tray on the gold-colored brass and glass table at the foot of the bed. “You dressed quickly.”
He showed none of the disheveled look of the previous night. Instead of a butler’s suit, he wore khaki pants and a crisp white Oxford shirt. I approved of the look. Anything more would be too formal for every day.
“How’s the wrist?”
I turned the joint in question, and it protested with a stab of pain I felt to my elbow. “Sore.”
He held out his hand, and I extended my left wrist. He held it like a fragile glass, and I appreciated his cool, gentle fingers.
“Nothing broken, just bruised,” was his assessment. “Good thing we got ice on it right away.”
“Damn, girl, what happened?” Lonna walked into the room. She sniffed the air. “I smell bacon.”
“W
