Fierce Passion

by Phoebe Conn

  “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.”

  “May I see it, please?” Libby took the paper and quickly scanned the brief article. “Santos sent her flowers, but I didn’t think the accident left her that badly injured. Maggie and I talked with her a couple of weeks ago, and she didn’t even mention Alejandro.”

  Joe’s eyes grew huge. “You know her? Can you get me an introduction, if she survives?”

  “She will,” Libby assured him, but she wouldn’t promise he’d meet her when she doubted Ana would enjoy meeting him.

  At lunchtime, she shared a table with Maggie. Joe came to sit with them, still carrying the tabloid. “Have you seen this? Libby says you both know Ana.”

  Maggie hurriedly read the article. “We know her. Alejandro looks a little like Santos, don’t you think, Libby?”

  Libby studied the photo between bites of salad. “How can you tell? He looks as though he’s telling the paparazzi to go to hell, but he’s still a handsome man.”

  “He’s got the looks and the money, but I doubt he can play basketball worth a damn,” Joe interjected.

  “Do you still have her number?” Maggie asked. “Maybe you ought to call and ask how she’s feeling.”

  “You have her number?” Joe moved his chair closer to Libby. “Do you mind if I listen in?”

  “Yes, I do,” Libby replied. She carried her phone out to patio opening off the teachers’ lounge. When Ana answered, she greeted her warmly. “It’s Libby. I’m so glad you’re well enough to answer the phone.”

  “Despite what the tabloids print, a broken leg isn’t fatal.”

  Libby turned to send Maggie a thumbs-up. “That’s a relief. Maggie and I would love to come visit you.”

  “Please don’t. Let’s plan to get together when I’m better.”

  Libby leaned against the doorway. “We’ll look forward to it. Is anything the tabloids report true? Have you married Alejandro Ortiz y Vasquez?”

  “Yes, and he’s a devoted husband who insists I end our call to rest. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Libby returned to her table. “She did break her leg and got married, although I’m not sure which came first.”

  “Well, she’s not going to die,” Joe remarked. “People do get divorces, so there’s still a chance for me if you’ll help me meet her.”

  “You mustn’t impose on your friends,” Maggie advised. “It’s a very bad habit.”

  “Well, I had to try.” He bit into his sandwich and let the matter drop.

  Ana kept hold of her phone. “Libby’s engaged to Santos Aragon. She’s a sweet girl.”

  Alejandro knew he’d sound like a jealous ass, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You told me you knew Santos, but the story was too long to tell. We’ve got the whole day.”

  She smoothed her hair out of her eyes. “Isn’t there a disaster somewhere—wild fires or floods, a war or famine to discuss?”

  “Does Santos belong in such a dismal category?”

  “It depends on who you are. All I’ll say is that we were close when his father was ill. Please let it go at that.”

  He tried but failed. “It’s difficult to believe a matador could offer much in the way of sympathetic comfort.”

  She sat up but quickly collapsed into her pillows. “I’m still dizzy. Maybe I’ll be able to use a wheelchair tomorrow. I’d hate to be carried on board the Siren on a stretcher.” Her phone chimed, and she handed it to him. “Who is it?”

  “Speak of the devil, it’s Santos Aragon. Should I leave the room?”

  “No, stay. I thought he wasn’t speaking to me, so this ought to be good. “Santos, Libby just called to say hello.”

  His voice was hushed, as though he didn’t wish to be overheard. “I wanted to make certain you weren’t near death.”

  “That’s very kind of you. Thank you for the beautiful roses. It was thoughtful of you to send them.”

  “I’m sorry you were hurt. I hope you know I mean that.”

  “Thank you, Santos. Stay well.” She ended the call and kept the phone. “He has his father’s deep voice, but now I know who’s calling.”

  His heart sank. “When Miguel was alive, you couldn’t tell them apart?”

  “I hate to disappoint you, but we were never a ménage a trois. If you have any other questions, ask Santos.”

  He got up and paced by the bed. “I doubt he’d enjoy the conversation any more than I would. Maybe I should meet him, just to say I’d shaken hands with a matador. I need to check on the details for the cruise. You must have a passport.”

  “I do. It’s in my office desk. Fatima knows where it is.”

  “I’ll get it Thursday when I pick up your clothes. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

  “Some chocolate, please, but don’t go out of your way.”

  He kissed her brow. “I’ll find something good.”

>   Even his lightest touch brought a teasing tingle that made Ana wish for more, even if she weren’t well enough to do more than kiss him back. She struggled to fluff her pillow and was sorry she’d not asked him to bring one from home. He’d been so accommodating, and she didn’t want to take advantage. Still, she wished she’d thought about a softer pillow sooner. She simply wasn’t cut out for bed rest. After he had gone and Maja brought her some juice, she was grateful for her company.

  “Where’s Prince Charming?” the nurse asked.

  “He’s running errands. He must have lots to do if he’s not going to stay with me. All the people here are wonderful, but I’ll be so glad to leave.”

  Maja moved the visitor chair back to the wall. “That’s our mission. We want everyone to feel good about going home.”

  While Alejandro waited for the elevator, a man wearing a white doctor’s coat and holding a clipboard came through the stairwell door at the end of the hall. He was about six feet tall with shaggy blond hair and a burly build. While Alejandro possessed no psychic traits, he had a very bad feeling. The man wore no identification badge attached to his pocket. Alejandro took a backwards step into his way. “Maybe you can answer a question for me, Doctor.”

  The man brushed by him. “Sorry, not today.”

  Alejandro watched him walk on down the hallway toward Ana’s room and alerted the nurses at the desk. “Call security.”

  “Wait a minute!” he called and loped down the corridor to overtake him, but just as the man reached Ana’s room, Maja came out carrying an empty tray. The man caught the nurse’s arm, flung her into Alejandro, and the tray clattered to the floor. Sidestepping the spinning tray, Alejandro caught Maja before she fell, and the white-coated man darted through the exit doorway at that end of the corridor.

  Maja grabbed hold of Alejandro’s arms to regain her balance. “Who was that?” she cried.

  “Someone who shouldn’t have been here.” He looked into Ana’s room. “Are you all right?”