Kitabı oku: «At His Service: Flirting with the Boss»

At his Service:
Flirting with
the Boss
Crazy About her
Spanish Boss
Rebecca Winters
Hired: The
Boss’s Bride
Ally Blake
Blind Date
with the Boss
Barbara Hannay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Crazy About her Spanish Boss

About the Author

REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include three beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wild flowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her Mills & Boon^® romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from her readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website at: www.cleanromances.com.

CHAPTER ONE

“A COGNAC IN CELEBRATION, Don Remi?”

Remigio Alfonso de Vargas y Goyo sat back in the leather chair with his long legs crossed at the ankles. He disliked being addressed as if he was a royal relic. It was archaic. Remi was a man of the soil. In this day and age a title was absurd. He studied his loyal accountant with a jaundiced eye. “Of what?”

The tidy older man approaching seventy years of age poured himself a drink. “Your business has surpassed what it was befo—” He stopped short of finishing the sentence. A slight flush tinged his cheeks before he looked away and swallowed the swirling amber liquid. “Well, let’s just say Soleado Goyo is once again on its way to giving your competitors a major headache.”

“Don’t count my chickens too fast, Luis. We’re in the middle of another drought cycle with no end in sight. The olive groves are always hit hardest. You know that.” With the loss of the Spanish colonies in the l850s, Spain’s wealth had diminished and the Goyos had been forced to work for a living. Gone were the fortunes of the previous Dukes of Toledo from which the Goyo line had descended.

“So you diversify in anticipation.”

His caustic laugh resounded in the room. “Like my father once did? It ended up being the costliest mistake of his life and drove both my parents to an early grave. I’m afraid I’m a purist.”

Luis shrugged. “It was a mere suggestion, Remi. You’re the expert. Far be it from me to tell you anything.”

“Your long association with Papa gives you the right.”

“Nevertheless I’m only good with numbers.”

“Which you do very well indeed,” he muttered.

“Gracias.”

Remi levered his tall, powerful body from the chair. After two long, grueling years of blood and sweat he’d finally paid off the last of his late father’s bank debt. It had saved his family’s honor and reputation in the region. However, he’d still dreaded this meeting with Luis. Each time he drove to Toledo on business it called up dark, bitter memories he only managed to suppress as long as he stayed too busy to think.

Right now he could feel the acid bitterness of betrayal scorching his insides like a river of molten magma. Once its journey started, no power could stave it off. At times like this he wasn’t fit company for anyone, least of all Luis who’d been his cheering section for as long as he could remember. The older man deserved better.

In a few swift strides he reached the door, anxious to get back home.

“Remi?”

He turned his dark head in Luis’s direction. “Sí?”

“I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished. Your father would be proud, too.”

Not if his papa had already turned over in his grave.

Remi sincerely hoped his parent had no way of knowing how close his thirty-three-year-old son had come to losing everything five generations of Goyos had worked so hard to achieve.

If Luis didn’t recognize Remi anymore, that was no surprise. The man who stared back at Remi in the mirror every morning couldn’t possibly be Luis Goyo’s son—his firstborn offspring whose appalling lack of judgment in his personal life still continued to blacken Remi’s world.

He gave Luis an unsmiling nod and left the office. In an economy of movement he descended the two steep flights of stairs to the narrow street where he’d parked his black sedan.

As a boy he’d been able to walk beneath the gothic arches of these ancient streets without feeling as if he was part of a parade crowd. Since that time tourists from around the globe had discovered Toledo and now flowed in and out of the city no matter the season. When at all possible, he went out of his way to avoid them. They were more stifling than the heat that had come to the heart of central Spain.

July brought an unforgiving summer sun that portended dry lightning and fires. A lick of flame could make a torch out of a gnarled olive tree. Maybe one day it would mistake him for one of them. Why not?

It was a hard life fewer and fewer owners of the large latifundia chose to embrace, but it was his life. Though every dream of his had been destroyed, the estate he’d inherited remained, giving him the last remaining reason to get up in the morning.

He removed his lightweight suit jacket and tie. After tossing them in the backseat, he got behind the wheel and started the engine. Soon he was winding his way past Moorish walls to the outskirts. For a while the road bordered the Tagus River, then opened onto the solitary plain where the traffic had thinned.

As he sped south, the great Alcázar of Toledo, standing like a sentinel on the granite hill behind him, disappeared. At three in the afternoon there were few vehicles on the road. While his car ate up the kilometers, he felt his taut muscles relax knowing that inside of fifteen minutes he’d be back on the estate with a ton of work to do before going to bed.

Work saved his life.

During the day physical labor kept him from reliving the past. Unfortunately the long dark hours of the night brought the demons he was forced to wrestle with over and over again. When he awakened in the mornings, he was emotionally exhausted.

Deep in his torturous thoughts he was barely cognizant of a car in the distance. It had just rounded the long curve and was coming in his direction. The driver must have seen the stray bull crossing the highway at the same time he did.

Remi’s speed was such that he knew it would be too dangerous to brake, but the other driver obeyed the opposite instinct and the car swerved. In a split second it was on a collision course for him. He yanked the steering wheel to the right to escape impact. The other driver overcorrected to avoid him. To his horror the other car rolled behind him onto the shoulder and landed on the passenger side, coming to a stop.

He brought his car to a halt, then shot out and raced to the blue compact car whose tires were still spinning in the air. The front and rear windows had been broken. Glass lay everywhere. He looked inside. The driver was the only occupant. A woman. She was moaning.

Gracias a Dios, she was alive! The seat belt had kept her from being thrown.

Remi tried to the open the door, but couldn’t. He reached in to undo the lock. “You’re going to be all right, Senora,” he assured her in his native tongue.

“Help me …” came her anguished cry. “My eye—I can’t see—” Though she spoke passable Spanish, she was definitely an American.

“Be as still as you can,” he responded firmly in accented English. “Don’t touch your eye or you’ll make it worse. I’m going to lift you out. Let me do all the work.”

As he reached around to undo her seat belt, he saw blood oozing down the right side of her face. Her shoulder-length blond hair was spattered with it.

He gathered her slight weight in his arms, aware of her flowery fragrance as he carried her to safety and laid her on the ground with as much care as possible. “I’ll have you to a hospital shortly. Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” she whispered shakily in English through lips made bluish-white from shock. The pallor of her face and the fists her hands made let him know her pain was excruciating, but instead of screaming hysterically she showed a rare courage he could only admire.

No doubt a piece of flying metal or glass had caused the injury. He pulled the cell phone from his trouser pocket and phoned the police. After a quick explanation from him, they promised to send a medical helicopter immediately.

After the call was made, he rang his foreman, Paco, and explained what had happened. He told him to get one of the staff and come for his car. Paco could wait for the police and give them the details. Remi planned to accompany the woman to the hospital. Once he’d seen to her care, he’d talk to the police himself.

In his gut he felt responsible for the crash. It might have been avoided if his mind hadn’t been somewhere else.

As he clicked off, he noticed several cars stopping to offer help. The injured woman reached for his free hand. “No people. Please—” she implored. Her ringless fingers clutched his so hard that her nails dug into his palms, but he didn’t mind. Her control was nothing short of amazing.

He told the other drivers the police were coming and waved them on. In another minute they were alone again.

“What’s your name?”

“J-Jillian Gray.”

An unusual first name. He liked the sound of it on her tongue.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend I can call?”

“No.”

“Are you here with a friend or family member?”

“No.” Every word had to be an effort.

“Hold on a few more minutes, Jillian. I can hear the helicopter coming. You’ll be out of your pain soon.”

“Is my eye still there?”

Madre de Dios. The fear in her voice killed him. “Of course. Everything’s going to be fine.” It had to be. “The bleeding has stopped. Don’t cry. You wouldn’t want the salt from your tears to irritate it.”

“No.” Her softly rounded chin wobbled. The sight of it reminded him how brave she was being. His insides quivered in response.

There were a dozen questions he wanted answers to, but he knew the hospital staff would get the pertinent information from her. Right now she was in too much pain to be interrogated.

“The helicopter’s here.”

“My purse—”

“Don’t worry about that now.” He’d leave it for the police, who would need to see her passport. When they were through with the investigation, he’d get it back from them. “The important thing is to take care of you. I’ll make certain all your belongings are returned to you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Three medical personnel jumped down and hurried over to them. The next few minutes passed in a blur as she was examined and lifted on to a gurney. Remi followed as they transported her to the helicopter.

No sooner had he climbed inside and they’d taken off than he heard sirens. Out of the window he saw one of the estate cars with the logo approaching the accident scene from the opposite direction. Paco was now there to sort everything out with the police.

To his relief they were giving the woman antibiotics and painkillers through an IV. Already she was calmer. They’d braced her neck so she couldn’t move her head. He was glad they hadn’t tried to question her.

The paramedic closest to him grabbed a clipboard and started taking information, which he wrote down and would no doubt give to the police. “What’s your name?”

“Remigio Goyo.”

His eyes widened. “Don Remigio Goyo?”

“Sí.”

“I know your address. Soleado Goyo Estate, Castile-La Mancha. Are you acquainted with this woman?”

“No.”

“Did you see the accident?”

“Sí,” Remi said through gritted teeth. “We both tried to avoid an animal crossing the road at the same time. To her credit, her expertise at the wheel prevented a head-on collision.”

“Did she tell you her name?”

“Jillian Gray. I’m not sure about the spelling of either name.”

“Next of kin?”

“I don’t know. The police will find out.”

“She’s very beautiful. Such hair … like spun gold.”

Remi had been trying hard not to think about that, or the exquisite mold of her lovely body wearing a simple blouse and skirt. Drops of blood stood out against the pastel green material, staining what looked so perfect. That was the problem with great beauty. It hid the greatest flaws. Never again would he allow it to blind him.

“She’s American. No doubt a tourist,” Remi muttered, “but that’s all I know. Did you find any other injuries besides the one to her eye?”

The paramedic shook his head. “No, but she’s going to need surgery to remove whatever’s lodged in there.”

Remi’s mind raced ahead. “Who’s the best ophthamologist around?”

“Dr. Ernesto Filartigua from Madrid. He operates at the Hospital of the Holy Cross.”

“Then tell the pilot to fly us there. I’ll get the doctor on the phone. I want an expert on her case.”

“Our company doesn’t normally fly north of Toledo, but for you we will.” Madrid was only a half hour farther than Toledo by car—not a great distance—and it meant getting her the best care.

Remi exhaled a deep breath. For once he was glad his title could make a difference. This time his judgment wasn’t impaired. A life was in jeopardy, possibly because of him. He had no desire to take on another demon.

“Sign here, and I’ll tell him to inform dispatch.”

Remi put his signature to the dotted line. While the other man spoke to the cockpit, he pulled out his phone once more and asked for information. If it was at all possible, he wanted to speak to the doctor before they landed.

When he got through to the receptionist, he learned the doctor was in surgery. She would inform him an accident victim with an eye injury was being flown in. The E.R. would notify the doctor of her arrival.

A half hour later the helicopter landed on the helipad located at the east entrance of the hospital. They rushed her into the E.R., where Remi admitted her, promising to give the triage nurse more information when he heard from his foreman.

While he waited in the reception area, several different E.R. doctors went in the cubicle to examine her. A little later a moustached doctor in scrubs appeared. One of the staff showed him behind the curtain at the far end of the room.

Remi walked over to wait. When the doctor came out a few minutes later, he said, “Dr. Filartigua?”

“Sí?”

“I’m Remigio Goyo, the person who phoned for you to attend Senora Gray.”

“Lucky for her you didn’t waste any time, Don Remigio.”

“How bad is her injury? I saw the accident. She said she couldn’t see anything.”

“That’s common with a rupture like this. A glass shard has penetrated the globe of her right eye. The lab is running tests now to prepare her for surgery. After I get in there and remove it, I’ll know more. Does she have family here?”

“No. I’m still trying to get answers from the police. Where can I wait while you’re operating?”

“There’s a reception area on the sixth floor, east wing.”

“I’ll be there.” Tight bands constricted his breathing. “I’ve heard you’re the best. Do whatever you have to.”

His eyes studied Remi for a brief moment. “Of course.”

“May I go in with her now?”

“If you wish, but it’s not necessary. She’s asleep. My advice to you is get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria.” As he started to walk off he added, “You look like you could use one.”

The doctor’s comment reminded Remi he’d awakened with no appetite and had turned down lunch during his business meeting with Luis.

Without conscious thought he walked over to the edge of the curtain. He wanted one last look at her before she went to surgery. The male lab technician darted him a glance, but Remi’s gaze was drawn to her porcelainlike skin where the blood had been cleaned off. In a hospital gown, with her hair pulled back and covered, the pure lines of her classic facial features were even more pronounced.

In his mind’s eye he could see her car rolling onto its side. He shuddered to think the result of that split-second moment might have done serious damage. If he’d been driving slower he probably would have applied the brakes, giving the other woman more room to maneuver. But all the ifs in the world wouldn’t change what had happened.

More than ever he needed that coffee, so he left for the cafeteria. En route his cell rang. It was Paco. “We’re back at the estate now. The police sent for a tow truck to haul the woman’s car. You’re supposed to phone Captain Perez in Toledo, Remi.”

“Bueno.” After writing down the number, he thanked Paco, then made the call to the investigating officer to let him know the woman in the accident was undergoing surgery in Madrid as they spoke. Remi answered his questions, then was told he could collect her purse and suitcase at police headquarters in Toldeo.

The officer could shed little light except that the twenty-seven-year-old American woman was driving a rental car from Lisbon, Portugal. EuropaUltimate Tours was paying for it.

Remi pursed his lips. Did that mean she worked in Europe?

The police assumed they were her employer. They had put in a call to the tour company’s personnel office in New York, but hadn’t heard back yet.

He thanked the other man for the information and told him he’d be in touch. Without hesitation he called his distributor in New York, a man the Goyo family had worked with for years. He asked him to send one of his staff over to EuropaUltimate Tours and get the head of personnel to phone Remi back on his cell. It was an emergency.

While he waited, he ate a meal in the cafeteria. During his second cup of coffee, his phone rang. Within two minutes he’d explained the situation to the personnel department and was given the name and phone number of David Bowen, Jillian Gray’s brother, who lived in Albany, New York.

Armed with that information, he hurried through the hospital and took the elevator to the sixth floor. The clerk at the nurse’s station told him Senora Gray was still in surgery. He thanked the man before going to the reception area.

With no one there he could speak freely as he pulled out his phone and called the Senora’s brother. The man answered on the fourth ring.

“Mr. Bowen?” he said in English. “My name’s Remi Goyo. I’m calling from Holy Cross Hospital in Madrid, Spain. Before anything more is said, let me assure you your sister Jillian is all right, but she was in a car accident outside Toledo a few hours ago.”

The other man groaned.

“I was the only person who witnessed it, that’s why I’m calling. A piece of glass got in her eye.”

“Dear Lord—”

“Dr. Filartigua, a revered eye surgeon in Madrid, is operating on her now. I knew you would want to be told.”

“Thank you. I can’t believe this has happened—not after what she’s been through.” The man sounded tormented.

Remi’s hand tightened on the phone. “Is there something the doctor should know?”

“Her husband was killed in a car-truck accident in New York City a year ago. I begged her to stay with us for a while, but like a soldier she went right back to her work as a tour guide. It’s an exhausting business. To be on her own yesterday means she must have taken the day off for a change. Her way of dealing with her grief I suppose.”

Remi understood that need well enough.

“She’s been trying to function ever since. For this to happen now …” His voice broke.

After hearing of her loss, Remi knew Jillian Gray would want her brother at her side no matter what. “How soon can you get here? I’ll pick you up and bring you to the hospital.”

“That’s the problem. My wife is expecting our third baby in a month, but the pregnancy hasn’t gone well. She has toxemia. If it gets any worse the doctor will have to deliver the baby early. I’m afraid to leave her in case something goes wrong in the delivery room, but I don’t want Jilly to know the reason why. My sister thinks everything’s fine.”

A vein throbbed in Remi’s temple. “I understand.”

“We’ve kept my wife’s condition a secret so Jilly wouldn’t worry. She’d hoped to get pregnant herself, but there wasn’t enough time before Kyle died. If she thought my wife was in trouble … I don’t know what to do. She can’t hear about it, not at a time like this. It would be too much for her. Has she called for me?”

He cleared his throat. “Not yet.”

“I know Jilly needs me, but she’ll hide it because that’s the way she’s made.”

Remi had witnessed her bravery. When he’d asked her if she had family here, she’d said no and didn’t expand on it. Both brother and sister were determined to shield each other from the worst.

What a situation! In frustration his fingers made furrows through his hair. “I plan to see your sister through this. I won’t leave her side.”

“I can’t ask you to do that—”

“I’m offering. The accident was partially my fault.” Without preamble Remi explained exactly what had happened.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the other man confessed. “I wouldn’t have stopped for an animal either. At that speed it’s too dangerous. I’m just thankful you weren’t hurt, too. What would she have done without your help?”

“Someone else would have come along.”

“No one like you. Thank you, Mr. Goyo. Will you do me one more favor and let me know the second she’s out of surgery? I don’t care what time it is. When she’s awake I want to speak to her. In the meantime I’m going to talk to my wife and the doctor. Depending on his advice, it’s possible I could fly over for a quick trip.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. You take care of your wife, and I’ll take care of your sister.”

“I don’t know how to repay you for this, but I’ll think of something. Let me have your phone number.”

After giving it to him he said, “You’d do the same for me, verdad?”

“Yes.”

The man sounded so sincere Remi believed him. “Then say no more. We’ll speak later.”

Too restless to sit, Remi put the phone in his pocket and walked down the hall toward the nursing station. Maybe they knew something. Before he reached it he saw Dr. Filartigua coming out of the double doors of the surgery.

Remi walked over to him. “How bad was her injury?”

He pulled his mask down. “Bad.”

The one-syllable answer hit him like a blow to the gut. “Bad enough to take away her vision?”

“Only time will tell. The glass splinter penetrated to the inner part of the globe. I removed it, but there’d been some internal bleeding. Surgically speaking, everything went well. The rest is up to nature. She appears to be in excellent health otherwise.”

Remi was grateful for that much good news. “How soon can she leave the hospital?”

“She’s in the recovery room now. If all goes well, they’ll move her to a private room within the hour. Pending no other problems, I could release her by tomorrow afternoon. However, I suggest she stay an extra day to recover from the trauma of being in the accident. Have you been able to contact her family yet?”

“Yes, but her brother lives in New York and there’s a problem.”

The doctor listened. “Under the circumstances it’s a good thing you’re here to lend support. I’ll want to see her in a week at my office. Then we’ll know more about her ability to see. The nursing staff will send her home with instructions. She has to put drops in her eye three times a day for the first three days.”

“Is she going to be in a lot of pain?”

“No, but within twenty-four hours she’ll complain of it irritating her, and she’ll want to rub it. Right now she has a small, cuplike patch taped over her eye to protect it day and night. Each time she needs the drops, she’ll have to unfasten it. Otherwise, she can do normal activity, even read or watch television.”

“What if she wants to go back to work?”

“Not for a month. The one thing I warn is that she doesn’t bend over so her head is lower than her heart. When she’s awake, you can tell her the operation was a success.”

Their eyes met in silent understanding of what he didn’t say.

“You have my number. If there’s an emergency, my service will get in touch with me.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

The second he left, Remi went back to the reception area to phone David Bowen. He wasn’t going to like what Remi had to tell him.

Jillian heard voices before she came fully awake. She knew she was in a hospital. During the night a nurse had told her the operation was over and everything was fine. They were taking her to a private room. She’d had no idea what time that was.

When she finally opened her eyes, sunlight filtered in the room through the blinds. She couldn’t see out of her right eye. Raising her hand to feel it, her fingers met with something plastic that had been firmly taped down.

A man’s calloused hand caught hold of hers in a gentle grip. “Don’t touch it, Jillian.”

That deep voice—

She remembered his thickly accented English. He was the man at the accident scene.

Slowly turning her head she took in the tall, powerful-looking Spanish male standing at her side. Her hand was swallowed in his strong, warm grip. Until now she’d never realized how white her skin must look to a man whose natural olive complexion had been burnished by years in the sun.

Vibrant black hair was swept back from a widow’s peak, highlighting hard, chiseled features. A true man of Castile. With those eyes, dark and brooding beneath equally black brows, she was put in mind of a figure from an El Greco painting.

Wearing a white shirt with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, his pronounced five o’clock shadow lent him an earthy sensuality that took her by surprise. It had to be the anesthetic still in her system playing tricks with her mind.

“Are you my guardian angel?”

“If I were, you would never have had that accident.” He gave her hand a small squeeze before relinquishing it.

“You were the driver of the other car?”

“Sí. I’m Remi.”

The memory of their near miss flashed through her mind. “I—I could have killed you.” She half moaned the words.

“It wouldn’t have come to that. In any case, you were such an excellent driver, you turned aside in time.”

She bit her lip. “I remember swerving and the sound of the helicopter, but little else.”

“You’re at the Holy Cross Hospital in Madrid.”

“Madrid? I thought I was in Toledo.”

“I had them fly you here so Dr. Filartigua could operate. He’s an expert eye surgeon.”

She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “Thank you. The nurse told me the operation was a success.”

He studied her intently. “The doctor told me the same thing. Would you like some juice? Then we’ll get your brother on the phone. He’s anxious to talk to you.”

She let out a small cry of surprise. “How did David find out about this?”

“I made inquiries through your work. When I told them what happened, they said to tell you not to worry about anything. All they cared about was your getting better. They gave me your brother’s name and phone number so I could get hold of him.”

“I see.”

He handed her a paper cup from her breakfast tray. The chilled apple juice tasted good. She drank all of it and handed the empty container back to him. “Gracias, Senor.”

“De nada, Senora.”

She had a feeling he was laughing at her. “I know my Spanish needs a lot of work.”

“You made yourself perfectly clear at the accident scene. I was impressed. If I sounded amused just now, it’s because you seem totally recovered from your operation. I wasn’t expecting it quite this fast.”

Even if he was lying about her Spanish, she was glad to feel this good already. She raised the head of the bed with the remote so she could sit up. That’s when she saw an arrangement of yellow and white roses interspersed with daisies placed on the table.

“Did you bring me those beautiful flowers?”

“Sí, Senora.”

“They’re gorgeous! Would you move the table closer so I can smell them?”

“I’ll do better than that.” He picked up the vase and carried it over to her. She buried her nose in one of the roses.

“They smell so sweet.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

“Who wouldn’t?” she cried softly. “Thank you!”

After he’d put them back, she spotted an unmade cot in front of the closet door. Her gaze darted to his. “You slept with me?”

His lips twitched. “Guilty as charged.” The man’s masculine charisma was lethal.

Her words had come out the wrong way. Heat rushed to her face like a swarm of bees. “What about your family waiting at home for you?”

A subtle change in his expression hardened his features. “What family would that be?” His acerbic question stopped her cold. “No doubt my staff was delighted by my absence,” he added in a mocking voice, but she saw no levity in his piercing black eyes.

“Why would you stay here with me?”

He stood there with his legs slightly apart, his hands on his hips. She’d never known a man so ultimately male. “I promised your brother I’d look after you. Would you like to call him now, or after you’ve eaten your breakfast?”

“I’d better phone him first. He took care of me after our parents died. Even after I was married he never got over the habit.”

“He told me you lost your husband a year ago. I’m sorry. Naturally he’s concerned.”

Jillian wished her brother hadn’t said anything. She sucked in her breath. “He worries too much about me.”

He cocked his head. “Where his sister is concerned, that’s a brother’s prerogative surely?”

“Do you have sisters?”

“No.” In an instant his eyes darkened, making her wish she hadn’t said anything. “Use my phone.” He handed her his cell. “I programmed his number. Press eight.”

As she took the phone from him, their fingers brushed. His touch sent little trickles of awareness up her arm.

He was a take-charge kind of male with a daunting, innate authority others wouldn’t dare to challenge. In Jillian’s case he’d left nothing to chance. Because of him she’d been given the finest care possible in the shortest amount of time. If that wasn’t enough, he’d watched over her all night.

She owed him a great deal, possibly her life. By the time her brother answered the phone, she was feeling rather emotional.

“Dave?”

“Thank heaven, Jilly. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. How are Angela and the children?”

“They’re great. You sound too well for someone who’s just survived an accident and an operation.”

“The seat belt kept me from being hurt, and the Senor was right there to get me to the hospital. It’s just my eye. I’ve been told the operation went without problem.” She fought to keep the wobble out of her voice.

“Are you in bad pain?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” That horrific pain had gone.

“Let me speak to Senor Goyo.”

“Goyo?”

“I don’t think you’re fully awake yet, Jilly. Remi Goyo’s the man who’s been taking care of you.”

She almost dropped the phone. Her gaze darted to the window where he stood looking out through the slats, his expression remote.

Before the accident she’d stopped in front of the gate at the Soleado Goyo estate to speak to the owner, but one of the workers told her Don Remigio had gone to Toledo on business. She would have better luck if she called him first.

Don was a word used for a titled person in Spain. Now that she thought about it she remembered seeing a coat of arms emblazoned in the tile work of the arched gate.

“Senor Goyo?” At the sound of her voice, he turned in her direction. “Are you Don Remigio?”

“Sí?”

He moved toward her. “My name’s Remi,” he reminded her in a low tone before reaching for the phone.

Yes, she knew that, but having learned he was an aristocrat, it put everything on a slightly different footing. Again she felt the warmth of his fingers and trembled as he took his cell from her. It had to be the operation making her senses come alive to him. Since Kyle’s death she hadn’t looked at another man. She couldn’t.

Her husband had been an attractive, russet-haired guy with warm brown eyes she’d met working for EuropaUltimate Tours. Three inches taller than her five-foot-six frame, they’d been a perfect fit in every way and had married within six months. They’d been so happy, she’d never imagined the day coming when it would all end without warning.

That’s the way her accident had happened. One minute she was driving along the highway, excited by her latest idea for a new tour. The next minute a stranger was carrying her from the wreck, urging her not to touch her injured eye. He was a man with supreme confidence who knew exactly what to do and had managed to keep her fear from escalating out of control.

CHAPTER TWO

JILLIAN STRAINED to hear his side of the conversation with her brother, but it was difficult because he’d turned his back toward her. Maybe the action was unintentional, but it frustrated her, particularly since she was helplessly drawn to the play of muscle across his broad shoulders.

There she went again noticing everything about this remarkable stranger who lit his own fires in a crisis while others just stood around reeling in confusion. No one else could have summoned a helicopter that fast.

The nurse chose that moment to come in and take her vital signs. Before the other woman left the room, she moved the rolling table forward so Jillian could eat her breakfast.

Halfway through her breakfast Remi walked over and handed her back the phone. “Your brother wants to say goodbye.”

What had they been talking about for such a long time? She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hey, thanks for remembering you wanted to talk to me,” she teased.

“Remi told me you were being examined. Naturally I wanted to thank him for everything he’s done for you. I’m trying to make arrangements to fly over.”

“Don’t come, Dave. I’ll be flying back to New York as soon as I’m discharged. Luckily I’m in Madrid, where I’m already ticketed.”

“How can you leave? Remi told me the doctor expects to see you back in his office in a week.”

She flashed a covert glance to the arresting male standing next to her bed. He seemed to know a lot more about her situation than she did.

“That’s not a problem, Dave. I’ll go to an eye surgeon in New York for a checkup. Right now I’ve got work to do. I’ll slip up to Albany in a couple of weeks.”

“Let me talk to Remi again, Jilly.”

No way. She loved her overprotective brother, but he went too far. She felt guilty enough the owner of Soleado Goyo had felt compelled to spend the night with her. Kyle had told her she snored. How embarrassing.

“Tell the children I bought some souvenirs I know they’ll love, and I found the most beautiful christening outfit for the baby in Coimbra. I picked up something for you, too, but it’s a surprise. See you soon. Love you.”

On that note she pressed the disconnect button and handed the phone to the man whose black gaze flickered over her without letting her know what he was thinking.

She pinned him with her good eye. His dark vital presence stood out against the sterile background of her room. “When did you speak to the doctor?”

“Right after your surgery.”

“I’d like to talk to him about getting out of here.”

“You just woke up.”

Jillian drew in a deep breath. “I feel good. It isn’t as if I was knocked unconscious or anything. Thanks to you the best surgeon has operated on my eye. I’m not even in pain. I’ll go crazy if I just have to lie here. If you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t stand for it, either.”

The furrow between those black brows deepened. “How do you know that?”

“Because the second you’re not busy you start pacing around.”

His eyes mirrored a faint respect for her observation.

“I recognize the signs, Senor, believe me. The fact is I’m made the same way you are. No doubt you’re dying to get back to your olive groves, but your sense of responsibility to me has kept you here. I’m sorry for that.”

He put a hand behind his neck and rubbed it absently. “Who told you the nature of my business?”

“No one. When Dave said your last name was Goyo, I realized you had to be the owner of Soleado Goyo.” And a very important person.

She knew she’d caught his interest by the way he shifted his weight. “You’re familiar with the brand?”

“I’ve cooked with your olive oil many times. In my opinion it’s unmatched. While I was driving past all those olive groves yesterday, I slowed down to ask a worker about them.”

“No one told me.”

“I don’t know why they would. I—”

But before she could finish her explanation, a man in a moustache and a blue summer suit walked in the room. He nodded to Senor Goyo. “Good morning, Senora Gray. I’m Dr. Filartigua.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve been hoping you would come in. Thank you for operating on me. I know I’m very lucky.”

“That’s my job. How are you feeling?”

“Well enough to leave.”

“I’m gratified to hear it, but I insist you stay an extra day to give your body a chance to get over the shock of the accident.”

“I feel fine, Doctor. I need to get back to my job in New York right away.”

He shook his head. “No flying for a month.”

“A month—”

“The air pressure changes on a jet could cause problems. You want to heal as quickly as possible, don’t you?”

She fought not to cry out her disappointment. “Of course.”

“You can do normal activities, but no driving on your own. I’ll take a look at your eye in a week and we’ll see what’s going on in there.”

His comment jarred her. “But it was just a piece of glass. I thought the operation was successful.”

“Indeed it was, but only time will tell us how much permanent damage was done internally.”

Her body shuddered in reaction. “Are you saying my sight could be impaired?”

“It’s possible, but concentrate on getting well and letting nature take its course. The nurse will be coming in to start you on a course of drops for the next three days. They’ll stem any infection. Enjoy being pampered. Everyone needs it once in a while.”

“But—”

“No arguing.” He smiled. “I’ll check on you again in the morning. If all is well, then you’ll be released.” He patted her arm and left the room.

A familiar male hand grasped hers. She tried to pull away but he held on. Jillian knew what he was trying to do, but if he dared say one word, she feared she would howl the place down.

Blind? Or close to it in one eye? She couldn’t comprehend it.

Her thoughts turned to her late husband, who hadn’t been given any odds. He’d died on impact with that semi. How did she dare complain when she still had the sight out of her left eye?

After surviving the precarious moment, she eased her hand from Senor Goyo’s firm grip. “I’m all right,” she whispered.

“In that case I’m going to drive to Toledo for your purse and suitcase. I presume you travel with a laptop.”

He understood a lot. She nodded without looking at him.

“You can work from your hospital bed. I won’t be long.” As he started to leave she called to him.

“Don Remigio—”

He paused in the doorway. “I answer to Remi,” he said, his voice grating.

The last thing she wanted to do was offend him. “Remi, then. I’m so indebted to you, I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s good. It helps assuage my guilt.”

“The accident was my fault, not yours.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion. Mind the nurse while I’m gone.” He disappeared.

The room seemed bigger without his virile presence.

And much emptier, she realized after he’d been gone a few minutes. Since the rollover he’d been her constant companion, waking or sleeping.

She should be glad he’d gone. Tomorrow she would take a taxi to the Prado Inn, where she’d intended to stay before catching her flight. For the next week she would do what she could on the computer.

By using a taxi to get around, she could take time out to look for some different and interesting spots in Madrid’s environs to add to the new itinerary.

In the middle of making plans, the nurse came in to put three sets of drops in her eye. When she lifted the patch, Jillian couldn’t see anything, but the nurse told her that was normal this soon after surgery.

Yes, it was normal if you were blind….

As the other woman was refastening the tape, the phone rang at the side of her bed. The nurse picked up the receiver and handed it to her before leaving the room.

Only Jillian’s brother knew to reach her here at the hospital. She spoke into the phone. “David Bowen, if you’re checking on me again, I’ll have you know I’m fine!”

“You sound in a bit of a temper,” came Remi’s heavily accented voice. The sound of it caused her heart to turn over for no good reason. “You must be getting better.”

Heat crept into her face. “I’m sorry you got the brunt of that outburst. It’s just that I don’t like my brother worrying about me when they’ve got a baby on the way.”

“He told me.”

Good heavens. The two men sounded like they’d been friends for years.

“As for the reason I’m calling, I thought I’d ask if you need any shopping done.”

She blinked. “That’s very kind of you, but everything I require is in my suitcase or my purse.”

“Muy bien. Then I’ll see you within three hours.” He clicked off.

Jillian hung up the phone thinking he was more protective than Dave, and that was really saying something. For some reason Senor Goyo felt a sense of responsibility toward her she didn’t want or deserve. Too bad he’d overheard what the doctor had said.

She hated it when people felt sorry for her. After Kyle’s death she couldn’t get back to work fast enough. The people on the tour buses didn’t know anything about her or her life. That’s the way she liked to keep it.

“Buenos dias, Senora.” A custodian had entered the room and hurriedly made up the cot Remi had slept in. She folded it against the closet doors. It reminded Jillian she didn’t want him sleeping in here with her again tonight.

The woman emptied the wastebasket, then swept the room before leaving again. No sooner was Jillian alone than the nurse came in to get her up so she could go to the bathroom. On her own she washed her hands and face, then brushed her teeth with the necessities provided. Afterward she felt good enough to take a little walk around the room.

When she climbed into bed the nurse took her vital signs, gave her a smile and turned on the TV for her. “Once Senor Goyo has returned with your things, I’ll help you shower.”

“That would be wonderful. Blood got in my hair.”

“Until your appointment with Dr. Filartigua, you won’t be able to wash it with water. We have a dry shampoo here you apply and then brush out.”

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 let that comment pass and reached for her suitcase. He put it on the chair. “What’s the code on the lock?”

“K F G.”

Her husband’s initials?

He opened it with no problem. Beneath the padding of several layers of filmy lingergie he found her laptop nestled among her clothes. The adaptor was already attached to the cord. All he had to do was insert it in the Internet outlet on the wall behind her bed.

“There you are.” He placed it on her lap, inadvertently brushing her arm in the process. The touch of her soft, smooth skin shouldn’t have fazed him, but to his chagrin he felt her warmth long after he’d straightened away from her bed. That hadn’t happened for several years. He hadn’t thought it possible to respond to a woman’s touch ever again.

Out of the periphery he watched for her to lift the lid, but she made no such move. Clearly she wanted him out of her room and her life, but he had no intention of going anywhere.

Instead he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Fermin, who ran the bottling plant on the estate. Today the weekly shipment to England needed to be loaded onto the trucks. Remi normally checked every case that went out, but today Fermin would have to be relied on to do it without him.

In order to start making a profit, Remi had long ago pared down the staff to the hardest workers who remained loyal to him. Judging by Luis’s figures, Remi’s efforts had paid off and everything was going well, even better than expected.

After planting himself in the chair, which he purposely turned the other way to avoid the frustrated looks Senora Gray kept sending him, he immersed himself in conversation with the older man who knew the business like the inside of his pocket. They discussed rehiring Jorge Diaz.

The younger man had been wanting to come back to Goyo’s on a permanent basis for some time now. Remi conceded that Jorge had always been a good worker, even if he’d been caught between conflicting loyalties for a time. When he and Fermin finally concluded business, Remi promised he’d think about it.

On a final note he told Fermin he would find a sizable bonus in his next paycheck for sticking with him over the last two difficult years. It would be the first of many such installments for his unfailing devotion to Remi and the business.

The older man got all choked up before they said goodbye.

Without pausing for breath Remi phoned the company that had done the wiring for the Internet on the estate. He wanted someone sent out as soon as possible to put an outlet in the master bedroom of the main house.

When an arrangement was made for the next day, a pleased Remi thanked the man before phoning Maria to tell her about it. He was curious to know how things were shaping up at the main house. She assured him their guest would want for nothing. While she commiserated over the Senora’s eye injury, the nurse came in the room to put in more drops and take her vital signs.

Remi walked out to the hall to give them privacy.

As long as he still had Maria on the line, he cautioned her against saying anything about the injury to Senora Gray. The American woman didn’t like being reminded of it. The less said, the better. Maria assured him she’d be the soul of discretion.

Once he’d rung off, he saw orderlies down the hall bringing dinners from the kitchen. Surprised at the lateness of the hour, he realized the day had gotten away from him without his being aware of it. Before one of the men could enter Jillian’s room, Remi said he’d take it in to her.

Pulling some bills from his wallet he asked if another dinner could be sent up for him. One small sandwich hadn’t been enough. He was still hungry.

The younger man refused the money, but told Remi to wait and he’d be right back with another dinner for him.

Excellent.

Remi stood outside the door enjoying the idea of fencing with her—that age-old Castilian dance usually involving two men at home with a sword made of the hardest Toledo steel.

Though she wielded her own feminine weapon very well and knew some fancy footwork that made her a worthy opponent, she’d never come up against a Goyo before. Senora Gray was about to be taught some moves still unknown to her.

Once the nurse had gone, Jillian sent a few e-mails to her boss, Pia, and a few coworkers thanking them for the flowers, but for some odd reason she didn’t feel like digging in to real work after all. At the moment she wasn’t capable of much more than twiddling her thumbs.

It appeared Senor Goyo had decided to obey her request and leave the hospital. She’d hoped he would go, but now that she was alone, she had to admit she missed his electrifying presence, the only words to describe his effect on her.

The degree of the Spaniard’s male beauty was off the charts and she’d only been taking in his striking attributes out of one eye. What would happen if she could see him full vision?

Place a suit of armor made from the finest Toledo steel on his hard-muscled body and he could be one of those incredible-looking conquistadors sweeping across the New World with Cortez. Come to think of it, didn’t the gorgeous Pedro in Captain from Castile go by the name “de Vargas”?’ One of Senor Goyo’s ancestors perhaps?

She was being foolish with all her fantasies, but deep down she recognized this important man was someone unforgettable. A man in his thirties was normally married with children. Jillian would love to know his history, but she’d caught a glimpse of his dark side earlier and didn’t feel brave enough to trespass. She didn’t have the right, not when she owed him so much.

Restless, she turned on her side, careful not to let the laptop slip to the floor. The last thing she needed was time on her hands. It made her think, and when she started to think, she began to feel sorry for herself. That would never do.

She turned on her back again and opened the laptop to play solitaire. She hadn’t been driven to do this for a long time. While she tested herself to see how fast she could move the aces and kings into position, the door opened.

When she looked up, her breath caught to see the object of her musings walk inside. He’d come bearing more gifts. The aroma of roast beef permeated the hospital room. She’d thought she wasn’t hungry, but his stimulating presence piqued her appetite.

Earlier she’d noticed that he’d found time to shower and shave. A navy sports shirt and white khakis molded his powerful chest and thighs. She decided she liked him better in modern clothing. Silver armor would have covered up that well-defined physique.

There she went again marveling over his considerable male charms. Secretly excited he’d returned to her room, she was confused, stunned by her reaction to him.

Just last week she’d turned down yet another guy for dinner. One of her friends at work had warned her the day would come when she’d want to start living again. Jillian had shaken her head. She wasn’t interested. No man would ever compare to Kyle.

But that was before she’d had the accident. When she’d least expected it, a stranger had come along to rescue her. She’d been whisked away to a hospital by a man from La Mancha.

Helpless to do otherwise, she stole another glance at him. That’s when the realization hit.

No man could compare to the Senor, either.

The revelation shocked her into silence, but he took no notice. After removing her laptop he rolled the table across her body. “Your dinner, Senora.” He lifted the cover off the dinner plate. “I believe it’s edible.”

Without looking at him she muttered, “You mean you’re not sure?”

“Are you asking me to test it first?” he countered. “I had no idea that inside your deceptive shell beats the heart of Cleopatra.”

Until she’d sensed an edge to his tone, she’d thought he was being playful.

What an odd thing to say. In what way did she look deceptive?

Without waiting for her answer he picked up one of the forks and ate a piece of her meat. After letting it digest he said, “It will do. However, we’ll give it five minutes just to make sure.”

“Don’t be silly.” She grabbed the other fork. After cutting herself a bite of roast beef, she quickly finished it 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.

On their trip through the halls and down the elevator, every female in the hospital within their radius devoured Remi with her eyes. No matter what Jillian had to do, she made a mental note to squelch the urge to look at him in the same way.

A black sedan bearing the same crest she’d seen on the gate of the estate stood parked outside the automatic doors. It came as no surprise she had her own private taxi service offered by none other than the most outrageously attractive male on the planet.

Jillian could make that statement with the greatest of authority.

For the last six years she’d been around hundreds of striking men from almost every country who’d been on tours across Europe. Yet unlike the majority of them, Remi seemed oblivious to the interest he created among women and men alike.

She had a hunch he’d been born with other things on his mind than himself, a quality she rated right at the top of a man’s most desirable qualities.

After he’d assisted her into the front passenger seat, the nurse handed her a sack containing her drops and a printout of instructions.

“Good luck, Senora. Vaya con dios.”

“Gracias, Senora.”

The woman shut the door. When Jillian turned her head, she watched Remi put the two bouquets on the floor of the backseat, then shut the door. After a chat with the nurse he joined Jillian in front, filling the atmosphere with his own intoxicating male scent mixed with the smell of leather.

As soon as he turned on the ignition she said, “I have reservations at the Prado Inn.”

The powerful engine made a low purring sound. “Your room won’t be ready until this afternoon.”

“I know. I’m planning to work at a table in the bar of the hotel while I wait.”

“Work is the great panacea, verdad?” The way he’d spoken let her know he was no stranger to it.

With a change of gear he drove out to the tree-lined street, maneuvering them through the heavy morning traffic with practiced ease. It already promised to be a hot, sunny day as they made their way to the other side of the colorful city without talking. Between the profusion of flowers and playing fountains, Madrid had a beauty all its own.

Strange that with only one eye to see through, every sense seemed to be enhanced. The sky looked bluer, food tasted better, the roses smelled sweeter, a man’s deep voice penetrated to her insides, a man’s touch sent her blood surging.

Jillian could thank the disturbing male at the wheel for this meteoric thrust back into the life she’d thought was over when Kyle never came home again.

Oh, darling … It should be you making me feel this way.

Before she realized it Remi pulled the car into the first empty parking space at the side of the street. After shutting off the motor he turned to her, his bronzed arm outstretched along the top of the seat. Leaning closer, he wiped the salty tears off her chin with his finger. “How can I help, Jillian?”

With those words she realized he thought she’d broken down because of her eye injury. The pathos in his tone moved her in ways she didn’t know were possible. She sniffed and raised her head to look out at one of the many gardens bordering the sidewalks.

“You’ve done everything humanly possible. I’m very grateful,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Grateful enough to tell me what’s really going on inside?” His deep timbre resonated to her bones.

She struggled for composure. For her own emotional sanity it would be better never to see him again. Because he felt partially guilty for the accident, he’d been her Good Samaritan, but she had no reason to read any more into it.

It wasn’t his fault he made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, wasn’t ready to feel. That’s what was really going on.

Forcing a gentle laugh she said, “Don’t mind me, Remi. Every so often I have a day or two where I get emotional for no particular reason.”

His arm remained in place behind her, catching the ends of her hair.

“Is that why you were on your own day before yesterday?”

“Yes …” She grabbed at the first excuse he’d supplied.

“It wouldn’t have been because you’d wanted to meet with me specifically?”

Her heart picked up speed. She jerked her head around to look at him, freeing those golden strands that had been pressed against his skin, with its smattering of black hairs. Being in such close proximity to him, she felt like every sense had been magnified to the hundredth power.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because I questioned the worker you talked to. He happened to be Diego, one of my assistants.”

Jillian clutched her purse in reaction. She might have known.

“He said you asked questions about the owner and he told you to call and make an appointment with me. When he told me what time you’d stopped to talk to him, I realized you couldn’t have been on the road ten minutes before the accident.”

“That’s true,” she whispered.

Silence ensued before he said, “Why did you want to see me? Obviously you had a particular reason in mind, otherwise you’d have been off somewhere on a tour bus for the day.”

She lowered her head. He had her squirming. “I—I’m afraid I made a mistake.”

At her remark, she felt his body tauten. “In what way?” he asked.

Afraid she’d offended him again, she moistened her lips nervously. “I wanted to discuss business with you, but since then I’ve changed my mind.”

“You send mixed messages, Senora. Did you not tell me I was an angel with some redeeming qualities?”

Without an honest answer, he would never let this go. She stirred restlessly in the seat. “It’s because you’ve already been so wonderful to me, I don’t want you to feel I’m taking advantage of your good nature.”

“I could hardly assume that when the accident happened after you’d made an effort to talk to me.”

Defeated, she exhaled softly before saying, “All right. I’ve been a tour guide for EuropaUtimate Tours six years now. On occasion I help plan their itineraries. So far in France and Spain they’ve concentrated on the main tourist attractions along the French Riviera and the Costa del Sol. I’m trying to put a different trip together that includes the less-frequented parts of central Spain and Portugal.”

His penetrating gaze played over her features. “Most tourists want a beach vacation.”

“I agree, but then there are tourists like me who like to learn things and explore.”

He stared at her through veiled eyes. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

She decided he found her amusing. Taking a fortifying breath she said, “Our tour buses make stops at all kinds of places, including vineyards, but we’ve never offered an olive grove as an educational part of a tour before.

“As I was driving along yesterday, I passed several miles of them and the idea came to me to speak to the owner. When I came to the gate I saw the words Soleado Goyo fashioned in the grillwork. The man told me the estate was owned by the Conde.

“Before the accident happened I was hoping you might consider allowing our tour buses to stop at your estate and enjoy a small tour of the olive groves. To my knowledge our company has never offered an excursion like that here in Spain. It could be a big selling point to tourists if marketed properly. Naturally it would have to be beneficial to you.”

After a moment of quiet she heard his slow intake of breath, as if he carried a heavy weight few people would ever detect. It came from that dark place in his psyche. Though she didn’t know the reason for it, she wanted to cry for his pain laid buried so deeply.

He slowly removed his arm and sat back in the seat. “Come home with me and we’ll talk about it.”

She turned to look at him again. “You mean now?”

“Sí, but I would understand if you’re not feeling up to the drive yet.”

“I’ve never felt better,” she defended.

“Bueno. Until you’ve seen the estate from the inside, no meaningful discussion can take place. Since I need to get back, I suggest we take advantage of the time. As you just told me, you were going to spend the day working anyway.”

“But that would mean you’d have to drive me back here later. It would be too much to ask.”

“Believe me, anyone on my staff would be happy for a reason to escape.”

His comment caused the corner of her mouth to turn up. “Are you such a dreadful boss?”

The devil was in the smile he flashed at her. “I’ll let you be the judge. I should probably tell you ahead of time Diego would refuse his next paycheck for the privilege of escorting you anywhere.”

Jillian felt her cheeks grow hot. “He was very obliging.”

“I should imagine he and most men are, available or not.”

Remi was warning her about something. “Is Diego married?”

“Sí. Dangerously so.”

She laughed. “Dangerously?”

“With four children, his wife keeps very close tabs on him.”

“He’s very handsome, but she has no reason to fear a one-eyed American doing business with Count Goyo.” She loved the way that sounded.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Before 1850 that title might have meant something, but no longer. I prefer you to think of me as Remi.”

That was the fourth time he’d told her.

“Beware of something else, Senora. Your patch adds an intriguing element some might find irresistible.”

“You’ve just given me an idea. If I find out I’m blind, I may have a set of designer patches made up in different colors to match my outfits. What do you think?”

“I think you’re thinking too much,” sounded his gravelly voice.

“I’m only planning ahead. You have to admit the tourists on my bus wouldn’t have any trouble finding me in a crowd.”

“Did they ever?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

She felt his gaze on her. “What do you do in that case?”

“I find them.”

“In certain quarters that could also prove dangerous.”

“My husband taught me some moves.”

A strange sound came from his throat. “Now you’ve made me curious. When you are feeling stronger and the doctors say you can lower your head below your heart, you’ll have to use me for a demonstration.”

She turned to look out the passenger window. “I didn’t say they worked on everyone.”

“Shall we agree to reserve judgment until then?” he queried silkily.

They’d left the city and were traveling on the open road toward Toledo. She felt so alive it was painful. Somehow she needed to get hold of herself. When Remi had been wiping her tears a little while ago out of comfort, she’d come close to burying her face in his neck. She’d wanted to touch him.

The next time one of her friends tried to line her up, Jillian had better accept. Otherwise she was going to deserve the labels put on widows who couldn’t control themselves when the first temptation came their way.

Except that he wasn’t offering to satisfy her physical needs, not in that way. Since talking only seemed to get her into more trouble, she rested her head against the corner of the window and closed her eyes.

If Remi didn’t keep his eyes straight ahead, there was going to be another accident in the same place on the highway. She insisted she’d never felt better, yet she’d been asleep for well over an hour. Jillian Gray needed many things, but above all she required rest. He would make certain she got it.

Her bravado only increased his fear that even a partial recovery from that freakish eye injury might not happen. When he’d heard her laughter in the face of such a possible loss, it ripped him apart. The idea of a patch covering up one of those beautiful eyes produced a groan from him. Unfortunately it was loud enough that Jillian’s eyelid fluttered open. She looked the slightest bit disoriented.

“Welcome back, Senora.”

Recovering quickly, she straightened in the seat. “H-how long have I been asleep?”

“We’re almost to the entrance of the estate.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“After what you’ve been through, I can.” After a few more kilometers, he swung the car beneath the Gothic-type arched gate she’d passed two days ago.

Jillian undid her seat belt as they drove into a large, deep courtyard flanked by two residences reminiscent of the Ottoman Empire. The larger one beyond the fountain was a small palace. She gasped at the unmatchable plasterwork of the Mudejar style. Never had she seen more exquisite brick ornamentation.

“How absolutely beautiful …”

In her mind’s eye she could picture those elegant Spanish carriages from the past pulled by dark spotted Appaloosa horses circling the ornate fountain in the center. To think Remi had been born here … all the fabulous tile work … the detail … roses everywhere …

She turned her head toward him. “When was your home built?”

“1610, to be exact.”

Jillian shook her head in disbelief. “I bet this enthralls you every time you drive in.”

Her enthusiasm was like an unexpected breath of fresh air.

“I can feel the heart of old Spain throbbing in my veins whispering her secrets.” She sat back again, taking everything in. “If I lived here, I’d never want to leave.”

“I try to stay here as much as possible.”

In a small voice she said, “I take it something of vital importance brought you out of seclusion the other day.”

“Correct, Senora.”

It had been a day like none other. One moment Remi was driving along trying to absorb the first good news in two years, in the next he was plunged into a life and death situation with this remarkable woman whose inner strength continued to humble him.

He drove them to the front of the main house where he parked the car. “Welcome to La Rosaleda, Jillian,” he said, helping her from the car.

She turned to him. “What does Rosaleda mean exactly?”

“The rose garden. The house has been called that for almost four hundred years. The indoor rose garden serves as an oasis in this dry heat.”

His housekeeper opened the double doors and stepped forward to greet them.

“Maria? Meet Senora Jillian Gray from New York City,” he said in English. “Jillian? Maria runs this house. She and her husband Paco live upstairs.”

“Welcome, Senora.” They shook hands.

“Gracias, Maria. It’s a great pleasure for me.”

“I prepared your room. Follow me.”

“Just a moment, Maria.”

To Remi’s surprise his guest hurried around to the back of the car. Before he could warn her not to bend over, she’d retrieved her brother’s bouquet. She walked toward the housekeeper and handed the carnations to her.

“Knowing the Senor and how good he has been to me since the accident, I have no doubts he’s asked you to go to a lot of trouble for me. I want you to have these as my way of saying thank you. If my brother were here, he would thank you too.”

At Jillian’s explanation Remi couldn’t have been any more surprised than Maria. Her mouth suddenly broadened into a wide smile at their visitor. “Muchas gracias, Senora.”

“Call me Jillian, por favor.”

“J-Jil-yan?”

“That’s good.”

Both women laughed in the face of Jillian’s lie before Maria disappeared with the flowers.

Remi’s mouth curved upward. “Flowers for Maria from a guest? That’s a first for her. She won’t forget your generosity.”

“I’m the one imposing.”

“Let’s get you out of this heat, shall we? You’ll find the thick walls keep house much cooler.”

She accompanied him inside, but only took a few more steps before she let out another gasp and came to a halt.

Alarmed, he reached for her in case she was feeling light headed. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“No.” She turned toward him. “Forgive me for startling you,” she said, slowly easing her arm from his grasp. Every time he touched her now, he started a small fire.

“It’s just that I’ve known private homes with honeycomb vaulting such as this existed, but I’ve only seen the rare pictures of them in books. Outside of the Alhambra I’ve explored, I never thought I’d be privileged to experience a true Spanish treasure first hand. It’s like coming upon a mystical kingdom where Othello and Don Quixote would be at home.”

Her explanation helped his muscles to relax. The description of his birthplace was very moving. Indeed it paralleled his own thoughts formed from the cradle, but never expressed aloud.

“When you’ve freshened up, we’ll eat lunch in the patio room.”

“That sounds lovely. For the first time in several days I’m actually hungry.”

She followed him down a passageway of glazed, multicolored tiles to the right of the arched foyer. They had to be four hundred years old yet still retained their brilliant colors of blue, red, orange and green. Fabulous!

He came to a set of carved double doors with brass studs and opened them, revealing a magnificent room befitting a nobleman’s house.

“The bathroom is through that door on the left. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back with your suitcase. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s time for your eyedrops.”

He left her standing there bemused by her surroundings. In the midst of this kind of splendor, she had forgotten. A huge chandelier with real candles hung from the stalactite ceiling. At her feet lay an intricately inlaid wood floor in a striped Moorish design, making it difficult to know where to look first.

The big canopied bed of white lace would have dominated a smaller room. Her fascinated gaze passed from the brass wall sconces to the massive armoires and writing desk. The dark wood had been inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a long lost art.

In one end of the room she spied a round table of an unusual shade of yellow wood tinted with darker veining. Several ornately upholstered chairs in jewel tones surrounded it. At the other end she saw a grouping of damask love seats and an ottoman arranged around a fireplace.

Above the elaborately carved mantel hung an immense oil painting of a mature olive tree in full flower, its trunk gnarled and twisted. There was a plaque at the bottom. She moved closer to read it.

Gat Shemanim. The words were in Hebrew. What did they mean?

Her gaze flicked to the olive groves she could see from the window, then shifted back to the painting again. She could almost hear its silvery leaves rustling in the breeze, never realizing how fascinating an olive tree could be.

Senor Goyo had been tending them from boyhood, extracting the rich oil from their fruit revered by men over the centuries. The thought of him engaged in something so important throughout his whole life had a strange effect on her, moving her to tears for a reason she couldn’t comprehend.

To her dismay he’d come back in the room with her suitcase and his flowers, catching her in another emotional moment.

She heard him pause before he lowered her bag to the floor and walked over to her. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked in a husky tone.

Jillian knew what she wanted him to do, but that would be the worst thing she could do for herself, and it would only embarrass him.

“Great beauty always makes me emotional.” She tried to resist looking at him. “Tell me the meaning on the plaque of the painting.”

He studied her face briefly before he said, “The Garden of Gethsemane. Several olive trees still growing there would have witnessed the Lord’s suffering. My grandmother, devout in the faith, had it painted as a first anniversary gift for my grandfather. He insisted it hang in their bedroom. My parents kept up the tradition.”

“So this was their room, too.”

His dark head nodded. “Five generations of Goyos have slept in here.”

She stared at him. “Does that mean you, too?”

Lines broke out on his hard-boned features alerting her she’d stepped onto sacred ground. That was the trouble with asking questions that were none of her business. In her need to learn more about him, all she managed to do was upset him.

“I live in the house to the north of the courtyard.”

Not in the main house?

What terrible history had gone here to bring an end to traditions he clearly loved?

“Do you need a few more minutes alone?” he asked in a deceptively mild voice, but she wasn’t fooled.

“Give me five minutes to put in my drops and I’ll join you in the patio room. Where is it?”

“When you leave the bedroom, go left and you’ll soon come to it.” He put the flowers down on the bedside table and started to leave.

“Remi …” His black eyes swerved to hers. “Do you mind if I put the roses on that yellow table?”

“Why would I mind?” Before she could blink he’d done it for her.

“Thank you. It’s such an exquisite piece of furniture and the flowers look gorgeous against it. What kind of wood is it?”

His eyes scrutinized her. “Can’t you guess?”

“You mean that’s from an olive tree?”

“Sí, Senora.”

“I had no idea.”

“When I was little my grandmother told me God loved the olive tree best of all the trees He created. To hide its beauty from the other trees so they wouldn’t be jealous, He gave it a flaw in the form of a gnarled trunk.

“She was a wise woman always trying to teach me, but I’m afraid I didn’t appreciate the greatness of her wisdom until very recently.”

Once Jillian was alone she pulled the drops from her purse to treat her eye. Throughout the process his haunting words refused to leave her alone. That was the way with riddles.

Like every riddle, it wanted solving …