Read Online Desperate Measures by Fern Michaels - Free Book Online

your cabana.”
    â€œI’m sorry about that, Peter.”
    He really is, Pete thought, setting off awkwardly again.
    Leo now noticed the difficulty Pete was having with the crutches. “There will be other days when you can meander around,” he said. “I think you should go in and rest for a while. You might want to soak your leg in the Jacuzzi. It’s very restful. I had it installed over the weekend for you. The doctor said it would help.”
    Pete nodded. Just how much money did this man have? he wondered.
    â€œI have an elevator.” Leo grinned.
    â€œNo kidding!”
    â€œGood thing too, or you might not be able to get up the stairs. It came with the house. I happen to love it.”
    â€œYeah. I will too. Thank you for everything,” Pete said.
    Leo shrugged. “It’s my pleasure, Peter.”
    He means that too, Pete realized.
    Everything was beautiful, rich, and elegant. The only thing missing, the most important thing of all, was any personal sign that a real flesh and blood person lived in the house.
    Leo left him at the door to his room. He placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder for a moment. “I’m going back to the city. I’ll be home for dinner. We usually eat around seven-thirty. Is that too late for you?”
    â€œNo, sir. Seven-thirty is fine.”
    â€œIf you want anything, just ask Millie or Albert. That’s what they’re here for. Rest your leg.”
    â€œI will.”
    He was in his room. The door was shut. He turned the little latch and locked himself in. He leaned his crutches up against the wall and hopped around his room. All he could do was shake his head from side to side. The room was huge , and carpeted in an ankle-deep pile that was apple-green. It looked new, unused. The Jets could have skirmished on it. The desk was huge . The bed was huge . The chair and ottoman next to the fireplace were huge , almost as big as a couch. He could hardly wait to bounce on them. One whole wall was given over to closet space, half the doors mirrored, the other half louvered. Standing on one foot, he opened the door and gasped. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see a conveyor belt come to life. Jackets and pants hung together and had little matching tags, which meant, he assumed, which jacket went with which pants. Shirts every color of the rainbow hung next to them. Sweat suits, winter wear, and then summer wear were next. There wasn’t a crease or a wrinkle in anything.
    Behind the mirrored section, skinny oak shelves held sweaters, all with designer labels. Every make and model of sneakers were lined up neatly next to six pairs of fine leather shoes. Dock-Siders, sandals, and scuba fins were next. Above that a wet suit. Golf clubs and three tennis rackets leaned into the corner next to his surfboard. All of them had his name emblazoned on the tags. Cans and cans of tennis and golf balls were in the box on the floor. Fastened to the back of the door was a tie rack and a belt rack. Both were full. Six pieces of French luggage were on the top shelf.
    Pete turned, hopped over to the double dresser and opened the drawers, one at a time. Underwear, compliments of Calvin Klein, socks with a polo player on the side, T-shirts by the dozen, of every color, shorts with the same polo player on the hem, casual sweaters, sweatshirts, pajamas, every article known to man. Dozens of each. On the top of the dresser was a shaving set, a bottle of men’s aftershave and one of cologne. He only shaved once a week. A silver comb and brush with his initials on the back. A portable radio he could barely lift was next to a picture of his mother and father. He didn’t want to look at it now, so he turned it over facedown. Later he would think about the picture.
    He continued to inspect his new room. On the wall opposite the closet was an entertainment center complete with big-screen television, stereo, and tape player.
    He inspected the desk,