Читать книгу Minding Her Boss's Business - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 11

She fled to her room after that, her legs spaghetti and her mouth dry. It was one thing to know she was attracted to Alex but another entirely to realize that he might be feeling the same pull.

After changing into a set of comfy knit casual wear, she pulled out her phone and initiated a FaceTime call with her mother, who was getting ready for bed. The older woman’s image was clear and dear. “Hello, sweetheart. How are things going?”

“Good, Mama. I wish you could be here to see Miami. It’s gorgeous.”

“I’m so proud of you, Maria.”

“None of this would be happening if it weren’t for all the sacrifices you’ve made for me.” Her throat was tight suddenly.

Her mother’s smile held a quiet joy. “That’s a mother’s job…and one I did gladly. How is Mr. Ramon?”

“Why would you ask me that?” Did her red cheeks show up on the other end?

“I’m not blind, Maria. I know you have a little crush on him.”

She was too startled at her mother’s perception to prevaricate. “Well, that’s all there is to it. We’re business associates, nothing more.”

“He could do worse for a wife.”

“I think you may be a tiny bit prejudiced.”

They talked for five more minutes on less sensitive topics and then Maria said her good-nights. Her body was still on Alma time. The temptation to climb into bed was strong. But she knew she needed to resist if she was going to get past the jet lag.

She wasn’t quite brave enough to strike out on her own in a strange city, but she had noticed a charming café in the hotel lobby as well as a series of shops with eye-catching merchandise. That would be exploration enough for one day.

Grabbing her billfold with its modest stash of American dollars, she tucked her room key and cosmetic case in a small tote and went in search of the elevator. She’d feared feeling out of place, but the hotel staff was exceptionally kind and friendly. Because she was on the early end of the dinner hour, she was escorted to a table near the window, perfectly situated to gaze out at the ocean.

After that, it was a toss-up as to whether she enjoyed the food or the view more. Though Alma supported a thriving fishing industry, the variety of seafood here in Miami was out of the ordinary. She ordered baby shrimp in a béchamel sauce with spring vegetables over angel-hair pasta. Every bite was a treat.

Afterward, she browsed the shops, trying not to let her shock show at some of the prices. Clearly the patrons of this hotel were upscale consumers with plenty of disposable income. A designer swimsuit and cover-up for twelve hundred dollars. Seventy-five-dollar rhinestone-studded beach sandals. A rattan tote that cost more that Maria earned in a month.

Fortunately, she had never needed such things to be happy. Her mother had taught her to hunt for bargains and to stretch a euro. Though Maria admired the merchandise, it was more in the nature of appreciating exhibits at a museum. She didn’t covet any of it.

When she had worked her way around the main floor of the hotel, it was still too early for bedtime. On a whim, she returned to the restaurant and decided to order dessert. Her table was not as ideally situated this go-round, but the watermelon sorbet and caramel-drizzled shortbread cookie more than made up for it.

She was sipping coffee when a familiar figure surrounded by three or four other men entered the room. Gabriel Montoro stood out no matter where she spotted him. After paying her check, she was preparing to leave when he surprised her by showing up at her table and sitting down in the empty chair.

Lifting an eyebrow, she cocked her head. “I’m on my way out. I recommend the dessert special.”

Gabriel picked up an unused table knife and rotated it end over end between his fingers. “If I’d known you were eating solo, I’d have invited you to join me.”

“Not necessary. Sometimes it’s nice to be alone with my thoughts.”

“Ouch,” he said, wincing theatrically.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t mean it that way.” She studied his face. For a man who claimed to live life on his own terms, she saw signs of strain. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine. Just trying to kill some time before I crash.”

He glanced at her empty cup. “Caffeine won’t help.”

“So I’ve been told. But the coffee here is amazing.”

When she stood, he did, as well. “I’ll walk you to the lobby,” he said.

“Aren’t your friends waiting for you?”

“It’s a business thing. And not that urgent.”

She was unable to dissuade him. Outside the restaurant, he steered her toward a store she hadn’t entered because it was mostly jewelry. “What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.

“I need your advice.” He pointed toward a glass case. “Which one is the prettiest? The palm tree? Or the crab…”

She gaped. “Well, uh…” She studied the two pieces. Both were gold with delicate chains. The palm tree had a tiny diamond coconut. The crab sported two emerald eyes. “They’re each beautiful.”

“But?”

“Well, if I had to pick, I’d go for the crab. He’s whimsical.”

“Fair enough.” He handed the salesclerk a platinum card.

Still baffled, Maria watched him complete the transaction. As they left the shop, Gabriel took her hand and pressed the small, lime-green bag into her palm. “This is my apology,” he said. “For being a jerk yesterday. You’re doing your best to help my family, and even if we don’t really care, it was rude of me to say so.”

Maria shoved the bag back at him, appalled. “Oh, no, Mr. Montoro. That’s not necessary. Not at all. You don’t owe me any apologies.”

“I told you to call me Gabriel.”

“Gabriel, then. It would be very inappropriate of me to accept such a valuable gift.”

“Forgive me for being crass, but this is nothing. Just a way for me to soothe my conscience.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t want you to judge my family by my behavior. I’ve gotta run. Sleep well, Maria.”

As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

Maria stared at the small bag in her hand, feeling a coil of unease settle in her stomach. But what else could she have done? She couldn’t afford to offend a member of the royal family.

A masculine voice, cold and clipped, interrupted her reverie. “I think I was wrong about you, Maria. I thought you were too inexperienced and naive to deal with the likes of Gabriel Montoro. But apparently you know exactly what you’re doing.”

She looked up to find Alex regarding her with disdain and patent disapproval. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said.

“Cliché, my dear. Cliché. A man gives a woman he barely knows jewelry? I think I’m pretty clear about the facts.”

Her temper started to simmer. “First of all, you’re way out of line. Second of all, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Back off, Alex. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Gabriel was apologizing for being antagonistic about our efforts yesterday.”

“He didn’t buy me jewelry.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m going up to bed. Good night.” His criticism stung, in part because she felt guilty about accepting the bauble.

She didn’t make it as far as the elevator before Alex caught up with her. “I called your room, but you didn’t answer,” he said.

“I’ve been trying to stay awake a little longer. I ate dinner alone and did some window-shopping. Last time I checked, neither of those was a crime.”

Alex’s jaw firmed. “I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions. I was calling to see if you wanted to walk on the beach.”

The look in his dark eyes said he was telling the truth. And that his apology was sincere. Late-day stubble shadowed his jawline, giving him a rakish, dangerous air.

Her anger deflated, leaving her dangerously vulnerable to his weary charm. “I appreciate the offer, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Maybe another evening?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Good night, Alex.”

He took her wrist and then released it abruptly when she flinched. “You’ve made quite an impression on the royal family,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

“They’ve invited us to spend tomorrow and Sunday at the family enclave in Coral Gables.”

“The whole delegation?”

He shook his head. “Just you and me.”

“Oh.” Well, shoot. “I can make an excuse. It’s more appropriate for you to be there.”

He leaned against a marble column, legs crossed at the ankle. “I doubt that would be a popular choice, Maria. And we certainly can’t take a chance on insulting them by declining. I told Mr. Montoro we’d be honored to accept. Rafael the third, that is. He seems to be receptive to our cause. Since we need all the help we can get, we’re going to be there.”

She sighed, feeling exhaustion wash over her. “What time?”

“Someone will pick us up at eleven in the morning. Bring everything you need for the weekend. We won’t check out of our rooms, though.”

“That seems extravagant, doesn’t it?”

His grin was quick and surprisingly boyish. “Relax, Maria. Your thriftiness is appreciated, but this is the big leagues.”

She dreamed about that smile. And other things that left her hot and restless and agitated when she finally awoke. As she showered and dried her hair, she fretted about spending two days in a distinctly unprofessional atmosphere with Alex. He continued to keep her off balance. She didn’t know if that was deliberate on his part or simply a function of their new circumstances.

At a quarter till eleven, she shouldered her tote and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. No point in summoning a bellman. She was leaving behind her smaller case.

In the lobby, she looked for Alex to no avail. Many people were checking out, and the sizable space was crowded. She found a corner and pulled out her phone to send a text. Before she could do so, a large hand settled on her shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late,” Alex said, his expression harried. “I had to deal with a call from Alma. Some members of parliament are expecting news immediately. I tried to explain why that won’t be possible.”

She followed him outside. “Don’t they understand that the royal family is somewhat reluctant?”

Alex donned dark sunglasses, effectively shielding his gaze. “I doubt it has even occurred to them that the Montoros may not be interested in what we have to offer.”

A uniformed chauffer held up a sign with their names, and soon they were speeding southwest toward Coral Gables. Maria sat back, content to enjoy the passing view. Though Alex was dressed casually in khaki pants and a loose ivory cotton shirt in deference to the heat, his posture remained tense as he scrolled through emails on his phone. As deputy prime minister of commerce, he bore an enormous workload, never more so than now in the midst of delicate negotiations.

Maria had done her research before leaving Alma, but at the moment all she could remember about Coral Gables was that it dated back to the 1920s with its origin as a planned community. And that it was home to the University of Miami.

The drive was barely half an hour on a good day, but with traffic could be upward of forty-five minutes. Luck was with them, and the trip was quick. As they passed through a portion of the charming business district and turned into a residential area, Maria’s jaw dropped in admiration.

Lush tropical gardens and ornate walls protected private enclaves of the wealthy and oftentimes famous. At the entrance to the Montoros’ estate, the chauffeur pressed an intercom button and identified his passengers before the gate rolled back and they were granted admittance.

Even the driveway was beautiful. The ubiquitous palm trees shaded winding paths of crushed shells mixed with white sand. Feral parrots dotted the landscape with pops of intense color.

“It’s like something out of a novel,” Maria murmured, more to herself than to Alex.

He didn’t answer, still engrossed in his work. Biting her lip, she debated how far she dared push him. “Alex.”

“Hmm?” He never looked up.

“Alex.” This time she put more force behind the word.

He took off his sunglasses and rubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead. “What?”

She forgave him the faint note of irritation in his voice, because she suspected he hadn’t slept much last night. Between the stress and the time change, the poor man was in bad shape.

“I think you need to relax,” she said. “Look around you. We’re in paradise. If nothing else, we’ve been given an opportunity to make a good impression on the Montoros…to meet them on their turf and show that we understand them.”

His chuckle was halfhearted at best. “Do we?” he asked. “Understand them, I mean? Neither you nor I have royal blood. What do we know about the obligations of rank and lineage?”

“That’s true,” she conceded. “But this is our chance to get beyond the obvious…to see them as they really are. Then maybe we can decide how best to cast the lure.”

He put his phone away and lifted an eyebrow, gazing at her with a warm smile that curled her toes. “I’m impressed, Maria. Machiavellian machinations and intrigue. Who knew you had it in you?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. All I’m saying is that we should look for their vulnerabilities…their weaknesses. We both know Alma needs the Montoros. What we need to do now is establish exactly why the Montoros need Alma. Once we’ve done that, the outcome should fall in our favor.”

The driver pulled the limo into a circular driveway. Before Alex could respond, Maria had gathered her things and stepped out of the vehicle. A uniformed housekeeper met them and ushered them inside a small guesthouse.

“Welcome,” she said in softly accented English. “The Montoros are glad you are here. I have prepared a light meal and afterward you may want to relax for a bit. At four, someone will come to escort you to the main house to join the family.”

Alex nodded. “Thank you.”

The housekeeper waited patiently as they explored. Maria’s wide-eyed expression amused him as she took in the lavish amenities. The villa had two guest rooms, each outfitted with a massive king-size bed and expensive teak furnishings. The chauffeur brought in the luggage, placing Maria’s in the dove-gray and shell-pink room, and Alex’s in the navy-and-yellow suite.

When the tour was complete, the housekeeper held out a hand. “Would you like to eat in the sunroom?”

Alex looked at Maria and nodded. “Of course.”

Soon, they were digging into a light but flavorful luncheon of fish tacos, mango salsa and conch fritters.

Alex took a sip of his really excellent pinot and shook his head. “I think they’re trying to impress us.”

“Isn’t that our role?” Maria had devoured her food every bit as eagerly as he had.

“Maybe they want to make very clear how little they’re interested in returning to Alma…in any fashion.”

“Oh.” Her crestfallen look urged him to comfort her. But the unexpected wave of tenderness made him uneasy. She caused him to feel things that were inappropriate at best and dangerously seductive at worst. How could he fulfill his mission if he were constantly derailed by his baser instincts?

A life of public service meant subverting his own needs for the greater good. For the benefit of his country and for the sake of his pride he would have to ignore the way she made him feel.

She had left her blond hair loose today, confined only by two small tortoiseshell clips, one at either temple. Though he knew she came from a background far less privileged than his, she carried herself with a regal grace and dignity that surpassed her years.

He had suggested her as one of the team for this trip, but ultimately, she had been chosen by the committee. Her talent and hard work impressed everyone who witnessed her in action.

She’d been right to call him on his preoccupation. Nothing at the moment was more important than the Montoros.

As they finished their meal, the housekeeper hovered, spiriting away empty plates and keeping their glasses full. At last, she left them alone.

Alex cleared his throat. “Would you like a nap?”

“The answer is yes, but I’m not going to take one. I’m determined to beat this jet lag. How about a walk instead?”

“You do know it’s hot as hell out there.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yes. But it’s Florida. I’ve never been here.”

He held out his hands. “Far be it from me to stop you. I’ll tag along to make sure you don’t get lost.”

Maria changed clothes so quickly he was stunned. Instead of the subdued navy dress she had worn earlier, she came out of her room wearing white shorts that showcased her long, tanned legs and a raspberry-colored tank top. Her hair was now caught up in a free-falling ponytail. The outfit shaved half a dozen years off her age, reminding him again of how young she was.

He swallowed against a tight throat. “That was fast.”

She shrugged. “My mother believes in a woman being herself. Too many lotions and potions breed vanity…or so she claims. I started sneaking mascara and lip gloss when I was fourteen.”

“Such a rebel,” he teased.

“I tried to behave. I really did, because I adored my mother, even as a bratty teenager. But I wanted to be like all the other girls.”

“Not such a terrible failing.”

“I suppose not. But she came home from work early one day before I’d had a chance to wash my face, and she was so…”

“Angry?”

“No. Not that. It was worse. I had disappointed her. She told me that it was a mistake for a girl to primp and paint herself to attract a boy. That I should be proud of who I was inside. That the exterior didn’t matter.”

“Wise words.”

“Yes. But they came from a place of pain. I never knew the details, though it was no secret that my father abandoned her before I was born. When it came to love, she had chosen poorly, and she paid for it the rest of her life. My goal has been to earn enough money to set her up in a little retirement flat. I owe her so much. And I want to give her a chance to enjoy life while she is still strong and healthy.”

“You’re a good daughter.”

For a fleeting second he witnessed a surprising vulnerability in her aquamarine eyes. “I hope so.”