Rebecca Winters - At His Service - Flirting with the Boss

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.