At His Service: Flirting with the Boss. Rebecca Winters

off.

      His black eyes glittered. “You live dangerously, don’t you, Senora.”

      Jillian’s coworkers had made comments of that nature before. When Kyle had first met her, he’d called her fearless. They’d all said it in a teasing manner, but coming from this man’s lips made it feel like a criticism.

      “Perhaps you say that because you see a lot of yourself in me, Senor,” she ventured boldly.

      Between dark lashes his eyes gleamed with a strange light. “Touché.”

      While he took his plate and sat down in the chair to eat, she felt caught up in emotions foreign to her experience up to now. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

      “Play a lot of solitaire, do you?” came the innocent sounding question.

      She stopped munching on her roll. Nothing got past his all-seeing gaze. “I presume you turn to darts when you find yourself at a loose end.”

      He flashed her a wicked smile. “Knives are more my style.”

      “I was going to say that,” she assured him without batting an eye, “but at the last second I chose not to presume in case I irritated your sensibilities.”

      A bark of laughter escaped his tanned throat. “I thought you decided I didn’t have any.”

      “You have to have some, otherwise you wouldn’t have been the angel who made it possible for me to recover this quickly. Which brings me to what I wanted to say earlier.”

      To her frustration he kept eating as if he had little interest in the conversation.

      “I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t require your help any longer and would like to repay you.”

      “You sound like your brother.”

      Exasperated, she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I mean it, Senor.”

      “Remi. That’s the third time I’ve had to remind you.”

      She was very much aware of that fact, but calling him by his first name put them on a more intimate footing. After tonight Jillian didn’t plan to see him again. Though she felt a sense of deprivation just thinking about it, she had to draw the line somewhere.

      “I’m aware you won’t let me give you money, so the only thing I can do is release you from your promise to my brother. The truth is, I’d like to be alone tonight and know you would, too.”

      In a lightning move he got up and put his empty plate on the tray. His enigmatic gaze sought hers. “For a woman I only met yesterday, you claim to know a great deal about me.”

      She took a deep breath. “I’ve eaten your olive oil. After seeing those groves I realize you’re a man with great responsibilities, Remi.”

      “At last you say my name,” he drawled with satisfaction.

      Jillian averted her eyes. “I’d be a lot happier if you gave up the vigil and left me to my own devices. You’re always on the phone and need to get on with your life. So do I,” she finished, her voice throbbing.

      “Surely not tonight.”

      She had no answer for that.

      When he placed his bronzed hands on the edge of the table, she noted inconsequently there was no white wedding ring mark on his third finger. Had he ever worn one? The action brought him closer to her body. She caught the faint fragrance of the soap he’d used in the shower, creating more havoc with her senses.

      “You look tired. Why don’t we continue this conversation tomorrow before you’re discharged? I presume there are other people anxious to receive an e-mail from you this evening. Since you pointed out I have many things to attend to,” he mocked, “I’ll say good-night now and see you after we’ve both had some sleep.

      “If you need me for any reason, phone the Casa Cervantes here in Madrid. It’s not that far from the hospital. They’ll put your call through to me. Buenas noches, Jillian.”

      On his way out the door he wheeled the cot into the hall with him, ostensibly to make more space in her room.

      “Buenas noches,” she whispered to his retreating back, experiencing more disappointment because he’d never had any intention of spending another night with her.

      CHAPTER THREE

      DR. FILARTIGUA refastened the tape. “You’re coming along fine, Senora. The drops will help the irritation you’re starting to feel, but it should only last a day or two. I’ll sign the discharge papers and send the nurse to wheel you out to the exit. Do you have any questions for me?”

      “Only one,” she murmured quietly, “but I know I have to wait for the answer.”

      “You’re being very brave. Keep it up and don’t forget—my receptionist has put you down for eleven o’clock next Thursday in my office. It’s on the ground floor of the building across from the main entrance to the hospital.”

      “I’ll be there. Thank you for everything, Doctor.”

      He nodded. “The nurse will give you printed instructions with my phone number. Call me anytime if you have a problem.” After patting her arm, he left the room.

      Jillian was glad he’d made his rounds early so she could leave before the Senor made his appearance. Her bag was packed. She’d dressed in her favorite uncrushable yellow shirtwaist dress with the capped sleeves. With her eye and part of her face covered by tape, there was little point bothering with makeup except for lipstick.

      While she waited for the nurse, she went in the bathroom to brush her hair, leaving it to fall naturally in a side parting. The dry shampoo seemed to have done its job, but she missed the fragrance from her own strawberry-scented shampoo.

      Much as she wanted to take all the flowers with her, it would be too much trouble to load and unload them at the hotel. She would keep the Senor’s roses and leave the rest for patients in the hospital who would appreciate them the most.

      “Oh—” she cried, almost colliding with Remi as she left the bathroom with her purse. He steadied her with both strong hands on her upper arms. His fiery black eyes swept over her with such intensity, she could hardly breathe.

      “Apparently you’re in a hurry to leave,” he said in a deep, husky tone. “I don’t blame you.”

      She felt the warmth of his breath on her lips. The sensation brought her close to a faint and she eased out of his hold. “I—I’ve been discharged,” she explained, her voice faltering.

      “I know.”

      Of course he did.

      He’d come to her room looking incredibly appealing in a tan sport shirt and cream-colored chinos. Behind him she saw the nurse come in pushing a wheelchair. “Time to go, Senora Gray. Are you ready?”

      “Yes, but I need to call for a taxi first.”

      “It’s already been taken care of. Sit down, por favor.”

      Jillian saw Remi put his booted foot behind one of the wheels so it wouldn’t move on her. At this juncture she had no choice but to do the older woman’s bidding.

      “The flowers—”

      “I’ll load them,” he said near her ear, sending a shockwave through her trembling body.

      “Leave the flowers from my coworkers for the nurse to give to some other patients, will you please?”

      “If that’s your wish.”

      “It is.”

      The next thing she knew the nurse was wheeling her from the room. Like a dutiful new father, Remi followed with her suitcase in one hand and the flowers in his other arm, but there was no baby. She felt a fraud.