Author's note: Please remember that this story takes place in the 1920s. At that time, illnesses that are now deemed relatively harmless, like a cold or the flu, were considered to be quite serious, because they could develop complications, and not uncommonly resulted in fatalities. In 1918, for example, a flu pandemic rocked the world and killed more people than WWI. A vaccine was not available until 1944. Moreover, medicine to relieve symptoms like fever was hardly available and usually ineffective, which meant that the illness took a heavy toll on the body and recovery was usually slow.

Well, so far the history lesson :). This chapter might be a bit too dramatic. If so, I do apologize. But what is life (or a story) without a little drama now and then?

Enjoy!

He was kneeling on the concrete next to the body when a cherry red car drove up and screeched to a halt at the end of the alley. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He should have known it wouldn't take her long.
'Good morning,' he told her when she reached him. 'You got here quickly.'
'Good morning to you, too, Jack. So, what do we have here?'
'Male, late forties, multiple stab wounds to the stomach and chest. Are you alright?' She looked a little pale, and he noticed that her manner wasn't quite as brisk as usual. Strange, he thought. She wasn't usually squeamish when it came to blood and dead bodies.
'Of course. Do you have any idea of…' She stopped to cough, and he watched her with thinly veiled concern, though he didn't say anything. She did not take kindly to him fussing over her, so he was careful not to. He'd tried it once. It had not ended well. He silently waited until she could continue.
'… any idea of time of death?' she finished.
'A pretty accurate idea, actually. We found a witness who saw someone running from this alley at about four in the morning.'
'A witness? What exactly…' But this time she was quite overcome with coughing, and couldn't talk for several minutes. By then, Jack didn't care about hiding it anymore: he was worried and it showed.
'Phryne, hadn't you better go home?'
'Why?'
He frowned. 'Because you're not feeling well.'
'Nonsense Jack, I feel fine.' Her words were quite belied, however, by another fit of coughing. He waited patiently for it to pass, then raised an eyebrow.
'You were saying?'
'It's just a bit of a cough. Now about this witness of yours…'
He sighed, but started to explain what the witness had told them. He didn't feel up to a battle of wills this early in the morning; if she wanted to be stubborn about it, he wasn't about to argue with her. Nevertheless, he kept shooting her covert glances from under the brim of his hat as she walked around the body, examining it.
'Did you find the murder weapon?'
'No. Not yet, at least. It might be somewhere around here, but we haven't had time to look properly.' He saw her draw her coat closer around her shoulders, shivering even though it wasn't cold. She kneeled next to the body to examine it. 'This wasn't a very smooth attack. He was stabbed at least…' she counted, '… six times, mostly in non-vital places. Seems like a crime of passion to me.' When she straightened, she suddenly seemed dizzy and put a hand on Jack's shoulder for support. He took her by the elbow, both to steady her and to keep her from turning away.
'Phryne,' he said seriously. 'You're sick. You should go home and rest.'
She shook herself loose. 'I'm not sick, Jack. I'm never sick.'
'Look at yourself,' he said impatiently. 'You're clearly not well!'
'Are you a doctor now?'
'No, but…'
'Then I'm not sick.' She walked away to examine the crime scene, and he went after her, silently cursing her stubbornness. He caught her and turned her to face him, encountering alarmingly little resistance. And she was so pale. A crease of worry appeared between his eyebrows, and he decided he should be firm, for her own good.
'Go home immediately and get some rest. That's an order.'
She tilted her chin defiantly. 'I'm not Hugh, you can't order me around.'
'No, but this is my crime scene, and I decide who can be here and who can't. And right now, you can't.'
'Jack!'
'Look,' his tone softened. 'I would take you home myself, but I can't leave here just now. Just go home, go to bed, and I'll come and see you later. As soon as I can. Please.'
She crossed her arms and didn't move. He drew himself up.
'Do I need to have your removed from my crime scene, Miss Fisher?'
'Oh, honestly.' She flashed him a reproachful look before turning on her heel and walking away huffily. He watched her go and sighed. Only nine in the morning, and he was already feeling tired. Why did she have to make everything into such a struggle? But when he saw her lean against her car for a moment, coughing, his worried frown returned, and he resolved to go and check on her as soon as he had a chance.

It was late in the afternoon before he could get away from the station. He drove to Miss Fisher's house and rang the doorbell. When Mr. Butler answered it, he assumed that Phryne would be in bed, but when he walked into the hallway, he glanced right and saw her curled up in a chair with a book. He strode into the parlor.
'Why aren't you in bed?'
She looked up at him with her best cheerful expression. 'Jack! Actually, I feel much better already.'
She did not look better. He noticed that she was flushed, and her eyes were too bright. Kneeling beside her chair, he kissed her forehead, then told her very seriously, 'Phryne, you have a fever. You're really ill. You should be in bed.'
She rolled her eyes at him. 'I'll be terribly bored there. Besides, I don't feel all that bad, I'm sure you're exaggerating.' She abruptly got up out of the chair to put her book back on the shelf, but the moment she was up, she blanched and staggered. He was only just in time to catch her as she fell, and she didn't respond when he urgently called her name. Finally, he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the parlor, shouting at Mr. Butler to call a doctor. He carried her up the stairs, muttering under his breath about people who were too obstinate to take advice, and didn't know when enough was enough. But when he carefully put her down on the bed and covered her with a blanket, he looked at her still face, and his bad temper was replaced with worry. She was so pale her skin was almost translucent. He sat next to her on the bed and caressed the side of her face, gently trying to rouse her.
'Phryne? Phryne, can you hear me?'
Finally, her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked at him with a dazed expression.
'Jack? What happened?'
'You fainted.'
That seemed to wake her up properly. She looked at him, horrified.
'What? No, I don't faint! Fainting is for delicate little ladies.'
He raised an eyebrow, amused. 'You're a delicate little lady, then.'
Her eyes narrowed, and there was nothing hazy in the look she gave him now. 'Call me that again and I'll never speak to you again.'
He grinned, relieved to see that she seemed to be regaining her strength, and that there was some fight in her yet. But then she fell back into the pillows, and the light in her eyes seemed to go out. He quickly leaned in closer again.
'Jack?' Her voice was very small.
'Yes?' The crease had reappeared between his eyebrows.
'I think I might not be entirely well.'
'Really? What was your first clue?'
She gave him a weak smile. 'Fine. Do you want me to say it?'
'Please. I may never get this chance again.'
'You were right.'
He wanted to tease her, but suddenly he didn't care, didn't care at all about being right, she looked so vulnerable lying there, starkly white against the dark red of the satin pillows. 'I wish I wasn't.'
She tried to smile reassuringly, but suddenly she sat up and started coughing violently. He held her as the coughs racked her body, and afterwards, she leaned against him, exhausted and shivering.A feeling of alarm started to spread through him. How ill was she?

When he got her settled back into the pillows, the clunk of hurried footsteps on the stairs announced Mac, and a moment later she came rushing into the room.
'What's wrong?' she asked, frowning as she looked down at Phryne, lying in bed with her eyes closed.
'She started coughing this morning. She refused to go to bed, though, and when she got up too suddenly just now, she fainted.'
Mac rolled her eyes. 'Typical.'
'What, the fainting?'
'No, the refusing to take care of herself when people tell her to.'
'Oh. Yes, quite. But what's wrong with her?'
'I can't tell you that before I've examined her. Could you wait outside, please, Inspector?'
Phryne opened her eyes. 'He can stay, Mac, I don't mind.'
'Alright.' She set about taking Phryne's pulse and temperature, then she listened to her lungs and heart. Jack paced the room near the door as the two women talked together softly. Then Mac got up and motioned Jack to follow her. He shot a quick look back at Phryne, who seemed to be resting, and followed Mac out of the room. He shut the door behind them, then swallowed at the unusually somber expression on Mac's face.
'How bad is it? Is it just a cold, or…' he managed, trying to ignore the feeling of gathering dread in his stomach.
Mac looked up at him. 'It's influenza. Now don't look so worried, Inspector, she'll probably be fine.'
'Probably?' He did not like probably.
'Well, it's an unpredictable illness. But she's healthy and strong. She should be alright. Now, I need to warn you, though. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Her fever is high already and probably won't go down for several hours. She needs to drink lots of fluids – no alcohol! – and rest. I'll tell Miss Williams and Mr. Butler.'
'Isn't there anything you can do?'
'I've given her something, but her body will just need to fight it off. If her fever hasn't broken by the morning, call me again.'
She gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, then disappeared down the stairs to give her instructions to Dot and Mr. Butler. Jack slowly turned and entered the bedroom again.
Phryne opened her eyes as he pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down.
'What did Mac say? Am I to be a good girl and stay in bed?'
'No,' he said. 'I'm to take you dancing tonight.'
She laughed, but that made her cough again. It passed quickly this time, though, and she lay back to look at him.
'You should go home.'
'No, I don't think so.'
'You don't have to stay, you know.'
'I know.'
'Dot will take care of me.'
'I'm sure Miss Williams would make an admirable nurse.'
She seemed amused. 'But you think you will be better?'
'I'm sure I will be better.'
'Jack…'
'You need to rest.'
She fell quiet, not moving her eyes from his face. They sat together for a moment, until a soft knock on the door made Jack look up. Dot was standing there, looking very worried. He quickly went over and ushered her out again.
'You had better stay out here, Miss Williams. You know influenza is contagious.'
She hesitated. 'Then what about you, Inspector?'
'Don't worry about me. But you are of much more use to Phryne if you stay healthy. I'll take care of her.'
'Are you sure you wouldn't rather go home?'
'I'm not leaving her,' he stated curtly.
Dot nodded, and Jack could see that he had risen in her esteem. Whispering that she would make them some tea, Dot went back downstairs.

She fell asleep holding his hand. He sat next to the bed in the chair, motionless so as not to disturb her, while observing her closely for any signs of the worsening symptoms Mac had predicted. Evening fell, and Mr. Butler came in to light the lamps and bring him some dinner, which he left untouched. He kept watching her, until he noticed that her sleep was becoming troubled. She seemed uncomfortable, and after a while she woke and looked around with large, unfocused eyes, bright with fever.
'Jack?' Her voice was a whisper.
'I'm right here. Try to drink some water.'
He helped her up and supported her shoulders as she sipped water from a cup. He felt her forehead. The skin was very hot to the touch. He went out to ask Dot for a basin of cold water, then sat down next to her again and bathed her forehead with a soft cloth while she looked up at him listlessly. She studied his face for a long time, before she suddenly spoke.
'You're wonderful, do you know that? I don't tell you that often enough, but it's true.'
The corners of his mouth tugged down. 'That's the fever talking.'
'I don't think so.' She was silent for a moment. 'Jack?'
'Yes?'
'Thank you for staying with me.'
She said it with such simplicity that it filled him with a sudden, aching tenderness. He leaned in to kiss her forehead.
'Of course, my darling.'
She looked at him in surprise. 'You've never called me that before.'
He knew he hadn't. It was alright for her to call him 'darling' in that light-hearted tone of hers, but he usually shied away from terms of endearment as being too sentimental. Besides, after years of calling her 'Miss Fisher', the use of her first name felt quite intimate enough. Only now it had not seemed sufficient to express what he was feeling. He grimaced.
'Special circumstances.'
She gave him a soft look. 'I don't mind.'
It suddenly struck him that she looked very forlorn, alone in the big bed. So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the mattress next to her, leaning against the headboard so she could lie in his arms. She settled her head against his chest with such a trusting, childlike gesture that it quite broke his heart. His throat was tight as he gently stroked her hair and shoulder until she fell into an uneasy sleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts. They weren't very good company.

It was a bad night. When she slept, her fevered dreams made her toss and turn, and once she cried. He held her, helpless, until his soothing voice seemed to reach her and she calmed down again. When she woke, she hardly seemed to recognize him. He did what little he could to make her comfortable, to soothe her and comfort her, but most of the time all he could do was control his own feeling of rising panic. It was hard for him to see her like this, she who was always so strong, so independent, so perfectly composed. The contrast was all the greater now, and it made him realize that she wasn't as invulnerable as she liked to appear. Try as he might, he could not keep away the thoughts of what would happen if the illness took its worst course, claiming another life as it had claimed so many. A world without Phryne loomed before him in the early hours of the morning, cold and lonely, and he suddenly realized just how much happiness and Phryne had become synonymous to him in the last few months. He looked down at her for a long time, desperately willing her to get better.
Right before dawn the fever reached a pitch, and Jack didn't need to be a doctor to know that this was a critical point. Either the fever would break soon, or it wouldn't. He wasn't sure whether she was in a state of troubled sleep or mild delirium when she suddenly opened her eyes and looked straight at him for the first time in many hours. The look she gave him was so calm and clear that he breathed a sigh of relief, before he noticed that the fever was smoldering beneath the brightness of her eyes and her voice was a whisper through cracked lips.
'Jack?'
'I'm right here.'
He took her hand and she returned the pressure feebly, giving him a weak smile. 'I love you, Jack. I love you so much. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was drifting, and you anchored me.'
'Shh. You should rest,' he whispered. He knew very well that this little speech of hers was caused by her fever, and it hurt him to hear her say things she would never say to him in other circumstances. He had accepted that about her, had accepted that he should not expect grand declarations of love, or even small declarations of love, but it hurt nonetheless to hear her utter them now, knowing that he should not believe what she was saying. But she wouldn't stay quiet. She kept looking up at him with that deceptively clear gaze, and he wanted so badly to believe for just a moment…
'Jack, will you stay with me?'
'Always,' he whispered, in spite of himself.
She smiled up at him so softly he felt something clench in his chest.
'Always,' she repeated. 'Because we belong together.'
'We do.'
'I love you, Jack.'
He couldn't answer, just kissed her forehead so she wouldn't see his face. Stop it, he thought. Don't play with me, Miss Fisher. But he knew she couldn't help it.
'I love you, too,' he finally whispered against her hair, and a moment later he noticed that she had slipped back into sleep, but she was no longer tossing feverishly. He felt her forehead. The fever had broken. He closed his eyes in relief, leaning back against the headboard, exhausted both mentally and physically. When he was sure she was sleeping soundly, he settled down next to her, and allowed his own tiredness to overtake him.

When he woke several hours later, sunlight filled the room, and Phryne was beside him, her even breathing and serene expression reassuring him that the worst was over. He got up without waking her, and slipped out of the room to get some tea downstairs. The whole household was assembled in the kitchen, and turned anxious eyes on him as he entered. He nodded at them.
'She'll be fine. I think the worst is behind us now. She's sleeping.'
Sighs of relief sounded around the room, and gradually the mood lightened as Mr. Butler made breakfast for everyone and Dot fussed over the Inspector's rumpled clothes. Bert and Cec accepted some breakfast and then went out again. After a hot cup of tea and some sandwiches, Jack felt like himself again. The night now seemed like an old nightmare, and he was finally able to acknowledge that he could let go of his fear and feel carefully optimistic again. He firmly pushed thoughts of their nocturnal conversation out of his mind and went back upstairs with a cup of tea, smiling as he entered the room where Phryne was still sleeping. He settled himself in the chair next to the bed and waited for her to wake up.
When she opened her eyes, he could immediately see that the last traces of the fever had left her. She was very weak, but her mind was clear again.
'Jack?'
'I'm right here.'
'That's very sweet of you. But wouldn't you rather go home?'
'No.'
She stirred and crinkled her nose. 'I'm sweaty.'
'That's good. It means the fever is leaving your body.'
'I don't like you to see me like this.'
'I don't care. I'm just glad you're feeling better.'
'Still…' she moved uncomfortably beneath the sheets. 'I'd like to take a bath.'
But it was soon clear that she was still much too weak. Even sitting up to sip some water exhausted her, though she tried not to show it and refused to let Jack help her. He sighed in resignation. They were back to normal, then.
But an idea suddenly occurred to him, and he disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, she heard the sound of running water, and she frowned at him when he reentered the bedroom.
'Look, I don't like admitting this, but I don't think I'm strong enough yet to walk over there and bathe myself.'
'No matter,' he said, and folded back the sheets. He undressed her like a child, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. When he lowered her in the warm water, she sighed contentedly and leaned her head back against the side of the tub.
'Better?' he asked, and she smiled at him.
'Much.'
He went out for a moment to ask Dot to change the sheets on the bed, then he came back, closed the door to the bathroom, and took a washcloth and a piece of soap. She looked at him with a ghost of her usual amused smile.
'You're not seriously going to bathe me?'
'Watch me.'
He took her arm, and she didn't resist, just kept looking at him with that curious, half-mocking smile. But when he ran the soft cloth up her arm, she sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes, giving in to her tiredness and allowing him to take care of her. Jack decided he should thoroughly enjoy the experience, because this would probably never happen again. So he took his time, running the cloth over her skin slowly, tenderly, careful not to miss an inch. When he reached her breasts, a smile appeared on her lips, though she didn't open her eyes.
'This feels like a wasted opportunity, to be honest,' she murmured.
He drew down the corners of his mouth. This was a good sign. 'I'll be happy to repeat this once you're feeling better,' he replied.
'Good.'

Afterwards, he wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bed. She looked very tired now, and gratefully nestled in the clean sheets, ready to go back to sleep. She looked so very sweet and vulnerable, he reflected, with a rush of tenderness. When he settled himself in the chair to watch over her as she slept, she opened her eyes once more to look at him.
'Jack? Thank you for doing this. I know you didn't have to.'
He looked down at her with a smile and said unthinkingly, 'Well, in sickness and in health…'
He immediately realized that he had said something wrong when her eyes opened wide and she froze.
'I… I mean… no, I didn't mean…,' he stuttered, wishing furiously that he could take it back, because she was giving him a very scared look. 'It's just an expression…'
'Yes…' she said, slowly regaining her composure. 'Yes, of course it is.'
She managed a smile, and they fell silent, both caught up in their own thoughts.
Jack felt a little sad. It was very discouraging that she still panicked this much at the slightest hint of commitment after all these months. He told himself that it was just Phryne, that he didn't need verbal assurances of affection when she showed him every day how much she cared. Just the fact that they had been in a happy, monogamous relationship for months was an extraordinary feat. He knew she loved him. Didn't she?
'Phryne?' he couldn't stop himself from asking.
She turned her head to look at him.
'Do you remember what you said last night?'
The blank look on her face told him clearly enough, and he tried not to feel too hurt. It was the fever after all, just like he had suspected.
'What did I say?'
'Nothing. You were delirious, that's all.'
She raised her eyebrows. 'Oh, I hope I didn't say anything too compromising!'
He forced a smile. 'No. No, of course not.'
Soon afterwards she drifted off to sleep, and Jack sat looking at her, wondering vaguely if she would ever be able to tell him how she really felt, and wondering if he really needed to hear it.

He stayed constantly at her side during the next few days of her recovery. He had gotten someone to cover for him at the station, since he didn't want to leave her alone. That wasn't because he was still worried, but rather because he knew very well that she would be up and about in no time if he left her to her own devices. Dot was not nearly strong-willed enough to make Phryne do something she didn't feel like doing, so Jack and Phryne spent several days bickering amiably over what she was and was not allowed to do. Mac was in and out several times a day to check in on Phryne and to provide Jack with moral support, saying that she fully approved of his treatment of the patient. Phryne rolled her eyes, but both Jack and Mac were firm.
After a few days, Jack carried her down to the parlor for a few hours so she could have a change of scenery, and that greatly improved her spirits. When he put her down on the bed again that afternoon, she took hold of his collar and looked up at him with an all too familiar mischievous glint in her eye. He obeyed the pressure of her hand automatically and lay down next to her, propping himself up on an elbow with an amused smile.
'What are you thinking?'
'That I'm feeling so much better.'
'I'm not falling for that. Mac said you shouldn't exert yourself for another couple of days.'
'I'm sure this wouldn't fall under the heading of 'exertion'.'
'The way you do it, I'm sure it would.'
'I'll be very calm and quiet.'
'You are physically incapable of that.'
But she moved closer to kiss his neck, and he groaned softly.
'Come on, Jack,' she whispered persuasively.
He pushed her away. 'You're not drawing me in like that. You need to rest.'
'But I am resting! Look at me, in bed, resting. I'm lying down and everything.'
He sat up to get away from temptation, but a light hand running down his spine made him shiver, and he simply couldn't help smiling. He composed himself and pushed her hand away.
'Stop that.'
She sat up in a fluent movement, and he noticed that she really did seem completely healthy again. He felt his resistance crumble… When she kissed him, he kissed her back, and she responded enthusiastically by throwing her arms around him and running her hands through his hair. He pulled back.
'You're not resting,' he said sternly, and was secretly amused to see her lie back down immediately.
'I am, really, I am.' She looked up at him playfully, a small smile on her lips.
'Well, let's see about that.' He leaned over her teasingly, slowly drawing closer until his face was only inches from hers. He saw her squirm slightly with wanting to bridge the gap, but she obediently stayed down in the pillows, biting her lip and giving him a look full of longing and anticipation.
He loved that she obeyed him so readily, though he was perfectly aware of the fact that she only did it because she was so inclined at the moment, and that it was just another game to her.
'Are you sure this won't tire you?' he asked in a low voice.
'Quite sure,' she whispered back, eyes sparkling.
He bent his head to kiss her neck, and she was careful to stay completely still as she sighed softly.
He slowly moved down to kiss her chest, and as he opened her robe, he suddenly realized that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. He brushed a nipple and it hardened immediately under his touch. When he took it in his mouth, she moaned, and for a moment, he was too distracted to notice that she had her hands in his hair again. Then he stopped and raised an eyebrow.
'Oh, come on,' she grumbled, pretending to be annoyed with him, but he knew she rather liked the game. She lowered her arms again and tangled her fingers in the sheets instead as he moved further down, kissing her stomach, then the inside of her thighs. He could feel her tremble in anticipation as he inched his way higher up her thigh, and he knew perfectly well how hard it was for her not to move. He couldn't resist teasing her one more time.
'You know, I'm afraid this might be too much exertion for you after all. Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow.'
'Oh, don't you dare!' She raised her head, an expression of indignation on her face. 'I've been resting perfectly quietly! Sometimes you're so…'
But he never found out what he was, because at that moment he pressed his mouth against her, and her sentence ended in a moan as she fell back and surrendered. He took his time exploring her with his tongue, running through the folds and enjoying her taste before he moved upwards and found the right place. She arched her back and cried out softly as he settled to a rhythm exactly the way she liked it. He had come to know her so well, and very soon her breathing quickened, her moans came faster, and she started quivering. Now, he knew, and as he entered her with two fingers, her whole body tensed and she threw back her head as she gripped the sheets. He kept up the rhythm, and a moment later she gasped and cried out as her body shocked in release.

She fell back into the pillows, and he drew back, noticing with an anxious frown that she did seem more out of breath than usual. He gently touched her cheek and she opened her eyes to look at him.
'Are you alright?'
'Yes,' she murmured sensuously, drawing him closer by his collar. 'I want to feel you,' she whispered.
'Are you sure you're not too tired? Maybe later…'
She smiled up at him. 'Now. Please…'
Who was he to resist her? He kissed her, then quickly undressed and took her in his arms. He held her gently, keeping a tight rein on his own desire so he would not rush her. When he entered her, all thought was momentarily driven from his mind as a wave of pleasure swept through him, and she sighed in satisfaction as she held him close, skin to skin, moving together until they both cried out once more.

She nestled close to him afterwards, caressing his arm and his chest, and he felt perfectly happy lying beside her, one arm protectively around her shoulders. They rested for a while, talking softly, then Jack got up to get her something to drink. He was just buttoning up his trousers when the door flew open and Mac marched in, as she always did, without knocking. Jack immediately turned flaming red and grabbed his shirt off the floor, but there was no mistaking the situation. Mac raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to Phryne.
'All better, I see.'
Phryne grinned at her friend, supremely unconcerned by the fact that she was naked underneath the sheets.
'I'd say so, yes.'
Mac snorted, but if Jack hadn't been so preoccupied with buttoning his shirt, he would have noticed that she was suppressing a smile. He wasn't the only one who had been worried about Phryne.
'If you're well enough to do… this… then you're well enough to get up and go downstairs,' she said drily.
Phryne smiled delightedly. 'Did you hear that, Jack?'
'I heard,' he mumbled, still blushing furiously as he retrieved his tie from the floor.
'Though I'd put some clothes on before you leave the room,' Mac advised.
'I'll be sure to keep that in mind,' Phryne grinned.
'I think I'll go and leave you two to it,' Mac said. 'Looks like my timing wasn't ideal.'
'Could've been worse,' Jack muttered, and Phryne laughed.
Mac took her leave and Phryne immediately got out of bed. Without bothering to put on her dressing gown, she went and embraced Jack, and he gasped slightly as she pressed her naked body against him. Standing on tiptoe, her arms around his neck, she smiled up at him.
'You heard the doctor, Inspector. No more ordering me around now.'
'Too bad. I was quite enjoying myself.'
She gave him an amused look. 'I'm sure you were.'
He ran his hand down her bare back. 'So… now that you're well again, what do you feel like doing?'
Her eyes sparkled. 'Oh… let's go dancing!'
He drew back, alarmed. 'Really?'
'You're not going to refuse me the pleasure of your company after I've been so ill and can finally go out again?' she asked him innocently.
'Er… I… no, of course not,' he gave in reluctantly.
She looked at him for a moment, then a big smile lit up her face. 'Oh darling, I'm just teasing you. But that expression is priceless.'
And she pushed him back onto the bed and kissed him.