Fierce Passion (25 page)

“I agree, but I don’t want you to be disappointed, and you must be.”

“What if I’d broken my leg cycling? Would you end the marriage?”

She ran her hands over the blanket. “No, that would be cruel, and silly when it doesn’t take long for a broken bone to heal.”

He came back to his chair and pulled her hand to his lips. He rubbed his thumb over her gold wedding band. “Let’s just take each day as it comes rather than worry about what we’ll do next week or next year. You needn’t worry about money when I’ve got more than enough.”

She squeezed his hand. “There’s a big calendar in my home office where I keep track of jobs. I hate to think how long the days will be blank, as if I don’t exist.”

“Stop it. There’s more to your life than work. We’ll fill up the calendar with whatever you’d like to do.”

“With whatever I
can
do,” she amended. “I’m sorry not to be thinking more clearly. Will you come back tomorrow?”

He leaned over to kiss her. “Yes, I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Good. Leave the cookies. I’m sorry you’ll have to sleep alone,” she mumbled through a yawn.

“Me too. I keep forgetting to thank you for the postcard you sent from Mallorca. It came when I thought I’d never see you again, but I couldn’t bear to throw it away.”

“Should have told you something.”

“It did. See you tomorrow.” He kissed her once more before leaving.

By the time Alejandro arrived home, he was too weary to climb the stairs and took the moaning elevator. He made a quick call to his father before he fell asleep where he stood. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m surprised you have the time. Ana Santillan’s accident is in all the tabloids. Will she be as hideously scarred as they say?”

He sank onto the futon. “I’ll tell you again, nothing in those papers is true. She’ll be as beautiful as ever.”

“With the damage her friend’s MG sustained, I’m surprised she survived.”

“I don’t want to see the photos, but she’ll be well soon. I’d like to take her on a cruise so she won’t be stuck in a hospital bed. Did you hold your cabin on the
Siren
?”

A long moment passed before his father responded. “I did, but will Ana be well enough to sail?”

“She will. Would you give me a discount rate on the cabin?”

Orlando responded with a low chuckle. “How can I charge you when you want your pretty girlfriend to recuperate in comfort? Are you sure you’ll like playing nurse?”

“There are medical personnel on board,” Alejandro reminded him.

“I know who’s on board. I pay their salaries,” Orlando countered, his voice flavored with sarcasm. “Go ahead and use the cabin. All I’ll ask is that you give me a report on the cruise.”

“Thank you, but we’re sure to be treated well.”

“Look around at how everyone else is treated. We want our passengers to come back again and again. You know what I mean. Put on a steward’s uniform and work undercover if you must.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do what I can. Now, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Carlotta strives to be the perfect wife, and yesterday, she went too far. The next time she calls, tell her you’re sure a hospital visit isn’t necessary.”

His cautious stepmother might be right, and there could be dire consequences if his father’s treatment was delayed. “I won’t promise anything until she has a reason to call.”

“She won’t have a reason to call. That’s the whole point. Now have a good time on your cruise and then cut Ana loose. You don’t need to be saddled with an invalid.”

“Neither does Carlotta. Good-bye.” He was so angry he nearly threw the phone across the room. Ana would soon recover from her injuries, so she couldn’t be described as an invalid. He lay back on the futon and rested his arm over his eyes. What if she had been so badly injured she couldn’t walk again? He thought too much of her to abandon her even then. After all, he’d married her, hadn’t he? With a baby coming, he’d have to arrange a legal marriage to have a say in the child’s upbringing. He was positive he’d be a much better father to their child than his father had been to him. He promised himself he would.

When Alejandro arrived at L’Esperanza Monday morning, a new physician stood beside Ana’s bed. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Please come in,” Ana urged. “You’ll tell me the truth even if Dr. Hibiscus won’t.” She held one of the bright red flowers in her hand.

The surgeon turned and nodded a welcome. He was of medium height with curly gray hair and a bright sparkle in his brown eyes. “Good morning. It’s Dr. Higareda. I have hibiscus bushes covered with flowers and brought your wife one. I’m just changing her dressing, and while I’m known for my absolutely exquisite work, she won’t believe me.”

Alejandro came to the foot of her bed. He’d brought a bag of cakes from El Gato to tease her into eating breakfast. “Is your vision better today?”

“Sadly no. The whole world’s still shimmering out of focus.”

Dr. Higareda removed the bandage looped over her head and uncovered her cheek. He’d shaved a strip of her scalp before stitching the beginning of the cut, but the bald spot could be easily hidden by her long hair. The fine line of stitches extending across the apple of her cheek made Alejandro sick. Had the cut been an inch higher, she might have lost her eye. He took a firm grip on the foot rail to remain steady. “It looks good to me, Ana.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Higareda said. “I’ll apply a light bandage, and you’ll be fine for today.”

“We’d like to leave on a cruise Friday. Will Ana be able to go?”

“Yes. I’ll remove your stitches before you sail, my dear. My wife and I went on a cruise on an Ortiz ship a couple of years ago. It was the best vacation we’ve ever taken. We should go again.”

Alejandro expected Ana to reveal he was part of the Ortiz family, but she didn’t give it away. He’d picked up some unsolicited praise for the cruise line to report to his father, if he ever spoke to him again.

Later, they were eating the little nut cakes when Ana’s cell phone chimed. Alejandro pulled it from his pocket. “It’s Fatima. Do you feel well enough to talk with her again?” When Ana reached for her phone, he held back. “Don’t mention we’re married. It’s our secret, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember,” she reminded him, but she found a cheerful voice for Fatima. “The food here isn’t nearly as good as yours, but Alejandro is sneaking in my favorites. How are Romeo and Juliet?”

New flower deliveries had been placed on a table against the wall, and the room smelled like a lush greenhouse. He leaned over his yellow roses on the windowsill to watch the traffic in the street below. The day moved on with a restless rhythm and an occasional strident horn blast, but with no regard for last weekend’s casualties.

The doctors and nurses referred to him as Ana’s husband. He’d grown used to it, but apparently they were discreet and hadn’t called a tabloid. He hoped their marriage would remain a secret awhile longer. Once they got to sea, they’d have the calm and quiet they’d need to make plans for themselves and for a family. He laughed to himself at the thought the tabloids might have been alerted, but couldn’t find any proof he and Ana had wed and weren’t publishing the story. He didn’t expect anything in the way of ethics from the tabloid press, but for once, they were proving useful. As for his own ethics, he was only doing what was best for Ana. He assured himself it couldn’t be wrong.

Ana ended the call and left her phone in her lap. “I told her to spend her time with the widows in the building who need company. I’d hoped to invite them all for an afternoon tea, but it will have to wait until after the cruise. I hope I’ll feel better by Friday. I’d hate to spend our time at sea in bed.”

He pulled up the visitor’s chair. “I thought you already felt better. Are you in a lot of pain?”

She still had an IV drip and nodded toward it. “They’re keeping me on painkillers, but it’s difficult to move without something hurting. At least I’m not dead. Now what do you suppose has happened to Gian Carlo?”

“You have his number on your phone. Why not call him?”

“You’ll have to find his number for me.” He did, and Gian Carlo answered on the first ring. “Hi, where have you been, Gian Carlo? Haven’t you had time to come visit me?” she asked.

“Ana! Oh God, I’m so sorry. If you’re well enough to talk, please forgive me.”

“It was an accident. Montoya is looking for you. You need to file an accident report.”

“He scares me. My insurance company is handling the accident, and I’m staying with Lourdes until someone’s been arrested for killing Jaime.”

Ana smiled at Alejandro. “You might have a long stay.”

“I hope not. Now tell me how you are.”

She covered her phone. “How am I?”

“Tell him you’re in pitiful shape and going on a cruise to forget the accident ever happened.”

She repeated the message. “I’ll talk to you when I come home.” She ended the call. “I should call Paul too.” She waited for him to find the number. “Hi, Paul. I’m doing well. Thank you for the plant. I’m going on a cruise with Alejandro and will be gone next week and don’t want you to worry about me.”

She again covered the phone. “He asked if we’re going on a honeymoon. Does he know we got married?”

Alejandro shook his head. “He couldn’t know.”

“It’s just a cruise, Paul. Have you spoken with Lamoreaux? Right now, I’ve only one good leg to use for a shoe ad, so he should hire someone else.” Ana said good-bye and handed Alejandro the phone. “As always, Paul is focused on my career. As long as I have a head and can smile, he advises me to work. Apparently Lamoreaux is so enchanted with me, he still wants me to do his shoe ad even if I have only one foot. Can you find a wheelchair and get me out of here for a while?”

He stood and swung the chair aside. “Do you really feel up to it?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

He found Maja at the nurse’s station. “Is it too soon for Ana to use a wheelchair?”

“We could give it a try.” Maja found a chair and rolled it into Ana’s room. She moved the rolling IV stand out of their way. “Ready for a little adventure?”

“I just want out of this bed.” Ana tried to sit up and fell back. “Give me a minute.”

“I’ll wait,” the nurse replied. “Take a couple of deep breaths, and we’ll move you to the chair.”

With her leg in the cast, Ana could barely shift position, but with Maja’s help, she eased herself onto the side of the bed, and Alejandro scooped her up and into the wheelchair.

She sat back and scrunched her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, but I’m too dizzy to do this.”

“Wait a minute,” Maja urged. “Let the room stop spinning around you.”

Ana frowned and shook her head. “I need to go back to bed.”

“I’ll help you,” Alejandro offered, and with a gentle grasp, he placed her on the bed. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

She settled against her pillows. “We’ll see. Just go home. You needn’t come back again today.”

“Gian Carlo recommends milkshakes. I’ll go down to the cafeteria and get you one. What would you like, chocolate or vanilla?”

She reached out to catch his hand and gave him a fond squeeze. “Some things you can’t fix, Alejandro, and you needn’t try. Please just go on home.”

He looked to the nurse, but she just shrugged and rolled out the wheelchair. “All right, I’ll go, but have Maja call me if you need anything.”

“Go live your life. I’ll be fine.”

“My life’s right here.” He leaned down to kiss her and drank up her spicy taste. He took care not to overwhelm her with affection and left the bag of little cakes in her lap. Too concerned for her to be wary, he left the building for the parking garage and walked right into a ring of paparazzi.

“Mr. Ortiz! Is it true you’ve married Ana Santillan?”

Another shouted, “Is she dying?”

“No, she’s not,” he answered, and immediately regretted it when the half dozen camera-toting men lunged closer. He pushed his way through them and made his way to his SUV, but he was disgusted with himself for believing he could call her his wife and not have it reach the tabloid hounds. Ana believed she was his wife, so the so-called news in a tabloid wouldn’t hurt her. Then he remembered his father. “Oh hell.”

Ana wasn’t sure if it was the lingering effect of the concussion or Alejandro’s delicious kisses, but she felt warm all over. He smelled so good, and his tender kisses were most welcome, not affection she’d rather avoid. Everything about the man drew her close. The way he’d caress her hand or touch her hair—it was all comfortingly familiar, as though they’d been together for years rather than a few weeks. She thought it was a few weeks, but nothing was certain right now.

Tuesday morning, Libby had everything ready for her first-period class when Joe Taylor, who taught boys’ physical education at the American high school, entered the gym. Tall and slim with bright red hair, he was always in motion. He waved a tabloid. “Do you believe this? Ana Santillan is dying, and she’s married the heir to the Ortiz shipping fortune. I’ve been in love with her since I was sixteen. I don’t know which is worse, that she’s near death or that she’s married someone else.”