Fierce Passion (37 page)

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against her cheek.

“Hmm.” She knew he’d want more, and so would she, but for now, she wished she could purr as loudly as Romeo.

Chapter Eighteen

The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke Ana Tuesday morning. Alejandro’s scent lingered in her bed, and she rolled herself in the sheets to soak him up. When he didn’t bring her a mug, she rose. She’d removed the wig before dawn, and her hair streamed about her head in wild disarray, perfectly suiting her mood. She donned her white satin robe and hopped into the kitchen. When she found Fatima rather than Alejandro, she forced a smile to hide her disappointment. “Good morning.”

Fatima nodded toward the dining room table. “Your visitor left a note. I won’t offer an opinion on the company you keep, but I’m sorely tempted.”

Ana turned and found a beautiful drawing of the cats curled around each other. Alejandro had used paper from her printer, written they’d all missed her and signed with a fancy A that could have come from the cover of a Gothic novel. She hopped by her housekeeper into her office and added it to a folder to be filed later.

She wouldn’t justify how she’d spent her night to Fatima or anyone else and promptly changed the subject. “I haven’t decided what to wear this afternoon. Do you have a suggestion?” she asked.

Fatima poured a mug of coffee and carried it to the dining table for her. “You don’t really do ruffles and frills, but you have a floral dress that would do.”

“You’re right. That is pretty.” She took her chair at the dining room table and glanced through the paper. She suspected the editors of printing the same sad stories every day and just moving them around so readers would mistakenly believe the reports were current. She enjoyed working the crossword puzzles; those were always new.

“Are you in the mood for another poached egg?” Fatima asked.

“No, thank you, fresh fruit will do.”

Fatima removed berries and melon from the refrigerator. “I’ve been thinking of baking some little creampuffs for this afternoon. It won’t take me long to make a custard filling. Dusted with powdered sugar, they’d go nicely with what’s left of the nut bread sandwiches.”

“What’s left?” She hadn’t told Alejandro about the tea, and it tickled her to think he’d taken a handful on his way out. “I must have eaten more than I thought.”

“Apparently so, but it can swiftly be replaced.” She brought a serving of fruit to the table in a crystal bowl.

“Thank you, Fatima. I don’t thank you often enough.” She opened the paper to the crossword puzzle and ate her fruit slowly as she worked it.

Alejandro shoved away from the desk and stood to watch the activity along the docks. The view had fascinated him as a child when it had all been a game with a thousand moving parts. What he felt now was the burden to keep everything moving where it should. The
Mediterranean Queen
was in port that week, and he couldn’t look at her without wishing the voyage he’d planned on the
Siren
had gone his way. He rubbed his neck, stretched, and had to admit he really needed to get more sleep than he’d had last night. He hoped Ana didn’t have plans for the day so she could stay in bed, but he wished he could have remained with her until Fatima had yanked the covers off the bed and insisted they get up.

The tea was more fun than Ana had thought possible. Fatima put on a black dress and white apron to serve, and the ladies had dressed in their finest for the party. Ana had little in common with the four widows she’d invited other than a home address, but they told such entertaining stories she was sorry she hadn’t gotten to know them sooner. Vivien had married a childhood sweetheart. Ingrid had eloped with her father’s business partner. Judith and Helen had married men their families had encouraged them to wed, but only Judith had been happy.

Helen had had a difficult life. “I’d have left my husband long before he died, but I couldn’t disappoint our children or force them to take sides.”

“Life goes by so swiftly,” Vivien observed. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a loving marriage.”

Helen shrugged. “I’m grateful he left me well provided for, and I may be luckier the second time.”

“You’d marry again? Aren’t you afraid you might do worse?” Ingrid asked.

Ana enjoyed a creampuff as the ladies laughed about the possibility of happy second marriages at their age. By the time they were all ready to leave, they’d talked away the afternoon, and Vivien promised to give the next tea soon.

“They were all really fun,” Ana told Fatima. “I don’t think people change much with age, do you?”

“Not from what I’d seen. Sweet people stay sweet, and the nasty ones just keep on getting nastier. Do you want me to fix dinner before I go?”

“Thank you, but I ate one creampuff too many, and I’ll wait until later.” She stretched out on the sofa and read through the latest edition of
French Vogue
. She’d hoped to hear from Alejandro, but when it grew late and he hadn’t called, she warmed the leftover pisto manchego. It was even better than it had been Sunday night.

The call Alejandro had dreaded came late in the afternoon. His father had suffered a heart attack and died. Carlotta had been with him at the end and had left for home to tell their sons. Alejandro thanked the doctor for all he’d done, and remained at his desk to write a brief announcement for the staff. He gathered the department heads in the conference room and told them himself. Several sobbed into their handkerchiefs, but he felt nothing and remained dry-eyed.

“While not unexpected, this is still a blow,” he said. “My father was not a religious man, and he often told me rather than a traditional funeral, he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered at sea. It’s appropriate for a man who gave his life to the Ortiz Line. I’ll let you know when arrangements have been made. Take off as much time as you need.”

There were questions, and he gave the best answers he could, but what was really needed was the assurance he would continue to head the firm. “Yes, I will,” he promised, his voice firm, but it wasn’t an honor he welcomed or would continue indefinitely.

It was late when Alejandro came to Ana’s door, but the seriousness of his expression made it plain he hadn’t stopped by for sex. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.”

“My father died this afternoon. I wanted you to know before it’s on the news, but I won’t stay.”

She caught his arm and pulled him through the door. “I’m so sorry. You’ll stay long enough to eat a creampuff, won’t you?”

A skeptical frown crossed his brow. “A creampuff?”

“There were some left from the tea I gave this afternoon, but all the nut bread is gone. Let’s have coffee and sit quietly together if you’d rather not talk.”

“I’d rather not talk, but I’m sorry if I ate the nut bread you’d planned for a party.”

She leaned close to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome to whatever is here. From now on I’ll put notes on anything I want to save.” She hopped into the kitchen, and he followed.

“Go sit down, and I’ll make the coffee,” he urged.

“Fine.” It amazed her how easily he glided into her life, and it was more than mere excellent chemistry. Whatever the intangible was, it exerted a constant pull even when she’d been furious with him. She returned to the sofa where she’d been reading. They’d called a truce last night, and she wouldn’t mention a need to extend it when he’d come with such tragic news. He brought the whole plate of creampuffs into the living room, and thinking he might finish them all, she took the first one.

“How is your stepmother?”

He placed her coffee on the end table beside her. “She’s taking it better than expected. She was with my father and swears she felt his spirit drift away. He would have hated being an invalid. It’s a blessing he’s gone. I don’t feel anything, not sorrow, or relief, nothing at all. I called my mother when my father first entered the hospital, so his death didn’t come as a shock. She said she’d pray for his soul.” He took a creampuff. “How was the tea?”

She searched his face for a shadow of emotion, but he looked as cool as he sounded. This was a man who never mentioned love, so maybe today’s lack of reaction was nothing unusual for him. Maybe he simply welcomed a distraction. “It was a lovely afternoon. I didn’t grow up going to tea parties, and my mother never hosted one, but it was fun. I invited the widows in the building I’ve only seen occasionally and wanted to know. It’s one of my efforts to sample the real world. Does that sound strange to you, or simply silly?”

“Neither. We get wedged into our lives, and it’s good to step out on our own whenever we can. I don’t suppose you told them about the baby?”

He was closely studying his creampuff. He never looked at her when there was something he really wanted to know. In gambling, such a giveaway was referred to as a
tell
. She stopped analyzing him to respond. “It’s too soon, Alejandro, and they aren’t dear friends. None would call the tabloids, but they’d tell someone, who’d tell someone, and soon everyone would know.”

He swallowed a bite of creampuff. “How would that be bad?”

“Let’s not go there.” She licked a drop of custard filling from her finger.

“I should go.”

“Have another creampuff and finish your coffee first.”

He loosened his tie and kicked off his loafers. “I didn’t mean to stay, but clearly you don’t want me to go.”

She laughed. “I don’t?”

“No, or you’d not have offered a creampuff in the first place.”

“Are you doubting my motives?” She still mistrusted his but couldn’t help herself.

“Ask me later.”

His father had died, and while he refused to admit it, it had to affect him. Maybe it had seeped so deep he couldn’t feel it yet, but it would hit him someday. Every death was a loss, and Orlando Ortiz had cut a wide swath through Alejandro’s life. Maybe Alejandro hadn’t come for sex, but clearly he’d wanted a friend, and she didn’t mind at all.

“Fatima could work as a pastry chef,” he said.

“She could, but please don’t encourage her. I love having her work for me and would rather not have to train someone new in the way I want things done.”

He nodded. “I understand. My father set out early to train me. He began taking me to the office when I was five or six. He talked to me as though I were an apprentice he expected to learn quickly. He cautioned me not to praise people for doing the job they were paid to do. He expected excellence and paid good salaries, so he didn’t waste his breath on praise. One of his employees had to do something extraordinary to win an accolade. ‘Keep them hungry,’ he advised. I didn’t know the word manipulation then, but I knew what he did was wrong and people deserved to be recognized for their work beyond a paycheck.”

Now that he’d spoken about his father, she encouraged him to continue. “So his business lessons didn’t take?”

He sipped his coffee and kept the warm mug clasped in his hands. “I learned his rules for success and could repeat them verbatim, but I didn’t believe them. Now I have the choice of following his strict silent way of doing business or turning the Ortiz Line on its head. It’s a tempting thought, but I won’t do anything to harm the people depending on us for work. In the not too distant future, however, I hope to turn the whole operation over to someone who’d be much better qualified than I.”

“Where do his younger sons fit in?”

“One of them may develop a passion for business when he’s grown, and I’ll drop the whole mess in his lap. But they’re still kids and can’t run anything yet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with this.”

“I don’t feel burdened at all,” she responded and had to cover a yawn. “I have an early shoot and should get to bed, but there’s no rush if there’s anything more you’d like to say.”

“I’ve already said too much. I’ll have just one more creampuff and go. I didn’t come by for a sympathy—”

“Don’t you dare say that word,” she cautioned sternly. “That’s never been what happens between us.”

He flashed a killer grin. “You’re finally admitting it’s more than great sex?”

She’d meant to be strict, but he melted her resolve so easily, so continually, she doubted she’d ever be able to say no to him. She’d never let him know, though. “You’re pushing your luck, Mr. Vasquez. Last night’s truce won’t last forever.”

“Why not?” He got up and carried the plate into the kitchen, wrapped the last two creampuffs and put them in the refrigerator. When he returned to the living room, he gave her a hand to rise. “We agreed to fight only on Tuesdays, but I can’t handle discord tonight. Why don’t you keep a list, and we’ll argue about it the next time Tuesday comes around.”

“There’s nothing new,” she replied with a shrug. She rested her hands on his chest to kiss him good-night, and he blurred the first kiss into so many more she lost count. He needed her tonight even if he couldn’t admit it. “Stay,” she breathed softly against his lips.

“What about your early job? Don’t you have to look well rested?” He smoothed her hair back to kiss her ear.

It tickled, and she brushed him away. “It’s a shoe ad. My one foot that can work will look great regardless.” He slipped his arm around her waist to support her as she hopped into her bedroom. “I hope the kittens don’t get too hungry before you come home.”