The Tycoon's Proposition. Rebecca Winters

a foreign country won out. She told Terri she and Beth would look after the apartment in her absence.

      With no time to lose, Terri got busy cleaning and packing, all the while reflecting on what a difference one phone call had made. Ages ago she’d relegated Richard to the past. Now suddenly there seemed to be no choice but to fly down and be with him. As her mother had said, it was the charitable thing to do.

      Terri’s mind had to stretch back a long way to remember that she’d once been in love with him. Raised in Spearfish, South Dakota, by his aunt and uncle who was a master glazier, Richard had learned the trade well.

      It wasn’t until after their deaths that he’d landed a glazier’s job in Lead where he’d met Terri and they’d married. She hadn’t known about his dark side back then.

      Little by little it manifested itself as his growing restlessness kept him moving from one work location to another, one state to another. He always wanted more money, a bigger job. She suspected there were other women. He had a drinking problem which he’d tried to hide around her when he came home in-between jobs.

      Though she no longer thought about or missed the man who’d been unable to fulfill her as a husband, there was a part of her that would always love the memory of the twenty-two-year-old with the laughing blue eyes who’d asked her to marry him.

      As it turned out, he was a man with more charm than substance.

      The long separations, his inability to settle down, two devastating miscarriages when he hadn’t been home to help her through either one, all contributed to the breakup of their marriage. Somewhere along the way she’d stopped caring.

      But none of that mattered now. Not when he was so far away with no aunt or uncle to comfort him.

      Eighteen hours later an exhausted Terri arrived in the city of Guayaquil, populated by upwards of eight million people. The dry climate came as a big surprise. She’d expected a wall of humidity.

      After checking into her room at the Ecuador Inn, she immediately rang the number Martha Shaw had given her. The receptionist put her through to one person after another. Finally someone came on the line who told her Richard had been taken to San Lorenzo Hospital. That was all the information they had available.

      Terri thanked the person before she took a shower and put on a fresh skirt and blouse. At the bank in the lobby she changed some travelers’ checks into local money, then caught one of the taxis waiting in front of the hotel.

      She’d been to Los Angeles and New York on different vacations, but the evening traffic here presented a completely different kind of chaos. She considered it a miracle to arrive at the hospital in one piece. When she found the floor in question, a Dr. Dominguez met her at the nursing station.

      As she introduced herself to the older doctor who was doing his evening rounds, his dark gaze flicked over her face and figure with admiring male interest.

      In heavily accented English he said, “Your husband will be very happy to see you. According to a local fisherman who brought him into the hospital three days ago, he called for you repeatedly before losing consciousness.

      “With no identification on him, I am afraid it took the hospital authorities some time to determine he worked for the Herrick Company.”

      “Are you saying he’s still in a coma?” she asked in alarm, not bothering to correct the doctor about the fact that she was no longer Richard’s wife.

      “No, no. He awakened at the hospital. His worst problem is his agitation. Now that you have come, he will get the rest he needs.”

      “Please, doctor—tell me about his condition.”

      “There’s nothing life threatening. He has had the cuts on his face stitched. There are superficial burns on his palms which will soon heal. Once his dislocated shoulder mends, he will be fine. His most painful injury is to his throat. After the accident, he must have swallowed some contaminant in the seawater that made it burn.”

      “That’s horrible.”

      “Do not worry. The lining is healing nicely, but for the moment it is swollen and he cannot talk. Another few days and the swelling will be gone. Then he will be able to communicate the same as before and tell us exactly what happened to him.

      “In the meantime we have swathed his face and head to protect the dressings over the stitches. He was fortunate that the cuts were at the hairline and just beneath the chin, so there will be no disfigurement.

      “Depending on a number of factors, he might wish to have some minor plastic surgery done later to the scar below his chin, but I am not sure that will be necessary.”

      “May I see him now?”

      “Certainly. Keep in mind we’ve left the overhead light off in his room to help him rest.”

      Terri nodded.

      “Sister Angelica will take you to him.” He turned and spoke in rapid Spanish to the nun who led Terri down the hall to her ex-husband’s hospital room.

      Terri had always been frightened of mummies, so when she peered inside and saw what looked like a mummy’s head and torso extending beyond the sheet, she let out an involuntary cry.

      His head moved a trifle in Terri’s direction. The sister in her white habit put a finger to her lips as if to warn Terri not to let her emotions disturb their patient again.

      Ashamed of her outburst, she nodded to the sister, then moved to the side of the bed.

      His right arm was in a sling. There were needles in both arms above the wrists. As for his hands, they looked like they’d been fitted with little white gauze mitts. An oxygen mask covered the nose opening. Just looking at him made her feel as if she was going to suffocate.

      “Richard?” she said in a soft voice. “It’s Terri. I flew down here as soon as I was told about the accident.”

      She heard a funny little sound come out of him.

      “No—don’t try to talk. The doctor said your throat will heal faster if you don’t use your vocal cords. I’m here now and I’ll sit with you as long as you want me to.”

      Reaching for the chair, she placed it near the IV stand and sat down. The sister smiled approvingly before leaving the room.

      Richard had played football in high school and was six feet of sturdy muscle. With all the bandages, he looked even bigger. A portion of his uninjured left shoulder was the only part of his body she could really see in the dim wall light.

      Normally he worked with a shirt on, but she guessed it must have made him feel more macho to take it off. That would explain the bronzelike tan built up over months of exposure under a hot sun.

      He made another muffled sound. She watched him lift his left hand from the sheet.

      For a man who’d always been so restless both within and without, his suffering had to be extreme. She leaned forward and gently patted his lower leg draped by the sheet.

      “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. He thinks any scarring will be so slight, you might not even have to undergo minor plastic surgery. That’s a blessing. You always were a heartthrob.”

      She watched his legs stir beneath the sheet. No doubt he was in unbearable pain.

      It was bad enough that they hadn’t lived together for at least a year and a half. But to have to meet her former husband under these precarious circumstances made their meeting even more difficult. What did she say to the man who was a virtual stranger to her at this point?

      “Dr. Dominguez told me you called out my name several times to the fisherman who saved you. I have to admit it surprised me to learn that you’d listed me as your spouse on your work application.

      “I can’t imagine why you did that when we’re divorced. I happen to know you wanted it as much as I did. But I’m not sorry to be here. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. My family