At His Service: Flirting with the Boss. Rebecca Winters

      After the nurse left, someone else brought her another apple juice. Jillian had never had such service. It was because of the Senor. Talk about pampering. Yet all the attention in the world wouldn’t stop her mind from thinking about her injury.

      Could you get a driver’s license if you could only see out of one eye? Jillian thought so, but she would check.

      She had to be able to drive to do her job, and she needed that job. It kept her so busy she didn’t have time to dwell on Kyle’s accident or the death of their dreams to get pregnant and eventually own their own tour company.

      They’d planned to have it all. Instead they’d only been allowed eighteen months of marriage before tragedy struck.

      Even with her patch on, tears rolled down both cheeks. Great …

      Jillian could hear Senor Goyo telling her not to cry so the tears wouldn’t irritate her injury. What difference did it make now?

      She reached for some tissues on the bedside table to mop up, realizing she was wallowing in self-pity. What a disaster she’d turned out to be. The second she had her laptop back, she’d look up the rules for a New York driver’s license and find out what she could or couldn’t do with one eye.

      Remi stepped out of the main police station in Toledo. He waved to Paco, who’d brought Remi’s car from home. Diego nodded to him as he pulled up behind the foreman in one of the estate cars. Both men walked over to him.

      “Thanks for coming.” He put Jillian’s purse and suitcase in the backseat, where he could see the overnight bag he’d asked Maria to pack for him.

      Paco changed places with him and shut the door. “When will you be back?”

      “Tomorrow.” He’d already instructed Maria to prepare his parents’ room for her on the main floor. No one had slept there since his widowed mother had passed away. He had an idea Jillian would enjoy it. “Senora Gray will be staying with us for at least a month. She can’t fly to the States before then and she has no family here.”

      He’d just gotten off the phone with David Bowen, who had too much on his plate worrying about his pregnant wife to consider leaving her. Jillian’s brother couldn’t thank him enough for helping out at a time like this and insisted on transferring some funds to his account. Remi told him to forget it.

      “What did the doctor say about her eye?”

      A tight band constricted Remi’s lungs. “Barring a miracle I’m afraid there’ll be permanent damage. It’s a matter of how much.”

      “That’s a tragedy.”

      Diego frowned. “I wonder if she could possibly be the American who stopped at the entrance to the estate right before the accident happened.”

      It had to be Jillian. She’d mentioned talking to one of the workers. “Was she blond?”

      “Like liquid gold.” Diego made a gesture with his hand, the kind that meant the woman’s looks could strike a man dumb. “She wanted to talk to the owner. I told her to call you.”

      He lowered his head. She wouldn’t have to do that now, but the fact that she hadn’t brought it up yet led him to believe she didn’t plan to. He gritted his teeth.

      “I’ve got to get going.” Remi looked at Paco. “Call me if an emergency comes up.”

       “Por supuesto.”

      After thanking both men, he took off for Madrid wondering what her visit to the estate yesterday had been all about. Before long he’d have answers, but right now he intended to stay within the speed limit. It would be a long time, if ever, before he could shake off yesterday’s trauma.

      Once back in Madrid he checked in at a hotel near the hospital to shower and shave. A change of shirt and trousers made him feel more human. When he glanced at his watch, he realized she would have eaten her lunch a long time ago. He’d buy something for himself in the cafeteria and take it up to her room to eat while she worked.

      The police wanted to talk to her, but he’d put them off by telling them about her eye injury. At that point they agreed to wait until she was settled at the estate.

      Everything had been decided, except that she hadn’t been let in on Remi’s plans yet. In his gut he knew she’d say no, but he was already prepared for her response. If there was one thing he was good at, it was negotiation—an art that had pulled the family business on solid footing again no thanks to his brother.

      Two years ago all had looked hopeless, but something inside hadn’t let him give up. If he had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t let her give up, either, no matter the prognosis.

      Forty-five minutes later he entered her hospital room to find her bed empty. Either she was in the bathroom, or down the hall getting some exercise.

      Three more flower arrangements guaranteed to cheer her up had been wheeled into the room on a small cart; one of pink carnations, the other two a mix of wildflowers. Any more furniture in the room would make it impossible for the nursing staff to maneuver.

      He lowered the suitcase to the floor next to the wall. After putting her purse on the side table, he sat down in the only chair and began munching on his steak sandwich while he waited for her to appear.

      A few more seconds and the bathroom door opened. When she saw him, she let out a squeal and held the back of her gown together, the epitome of the modest female.

      He struggled not to smile. “I’ve closed my eyes. Let me know when I can open them again.”

      Her bare feet made a padding sound as she hurried past him. He heard the sound of her raising the head of the bed with the remote. Then came the rustle of the sheet. “You can look now.”

      When he dared, he noticed she’d already reached for her purse and was brushing her hair. It splayed about her neck and shoulders in a silky swirl.

      “Thank you for bringing me my things. Throughout this whole experience you’ve gone way beyond the call of duty and I’ll be eternally grateful. But now that I have my belongings back, I want you to leave. If you try to do anything more for me, then I’ll start to feel uncomfortable.”

      He’d known what she was going to say before she said it, so he deliberately finished off the rest of his sandwich before speaking again.

      “I thought you wanted your laptop. If you’ll allow me, I’ll open your suitcase and set it up for you.”

      She shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

      “The doctor cautioned you’re not supposed to bend over yet. The sudden blood flow to your head might disturb your wound.”

      “I—I didn’t know that,” she stammered. “He should have instructed me.”

      “He assumed I would tell you.”

      After a moment she said, “When the nurse comes in again, I’ll ask her to do it.”

      Remi could only see her one eye. Between darkly fringed lashes it shimmered a green hue like new shoots of spring grass. Combined with the gleam of her golden hair, he discovered her coloring was like the velvety gold liquid with its glints of green found in a prized bottle of Goyo’s extra fine virgin olive oil—one of the most beautiful sights in the world to him when held up to the light.

      He lifted a dark brow. “Why bother her with a nonmedical request when she’s been run off her feet bringing you flowers from all your admirers.”

      She fidgeted with the sheet. “They’re from my brother and the people at work.”

      “I’m sure you’re sorely missed.” He rose to his feet. “Since I’m here, why not let me help?”

      She looked away quickly. “All right,” she said in a tentative voice. “Thank you, but then you have to go.”

      Remi