Minding Her Boss's Business

“It’s not my place.”

“It is. Because that’s what I need from you.”

They were separated by a space of several feet. Even so, she felt the pull of his magnetic personality. “Is that all you need?”

The words left her mouth as if someone else had spoken them. She saw his eyelashes flicker in shock and was appalled at her impulsive gaffe. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Do you not want to hear my answer?”

Every cell in her body trembled with uncertainty. “I think perhaps I should say no.”

“I never took you for a coward, Maria.”

She shook her head instinctively. “We’re away from home...in an unusual environment. We’re not ourselves.”

“Or maybe we’re more ourselves than we’re allowed to be in Alma.”

His words left her breathless...literally. Until it occurred to her that she had for the moment forgotten how to breathe. Exhaling slowly, she weighed her response. Alex was an attractive, appealing man. Sharing his bed would be memorable. Of that she had no doubt.

But in the end, the two of them came from different classes. The United States might pride itself on the ability of a person with nothing to rise to the top, but Maria knew her limitations. “My mother worked in an industrial laundry ten hours a day in order to put me through school in London. And I had two jobs on top of that.”

“I’m familiar with your background.”

“The Ramons are aristocracy...on a par with the Montoros as far as Alma is concerned. I don’t think it would be wise for you and I to do anything we might regret.”

“You’re throwing up barriers where none exist. The delegation was handpicked. You’re here because of your skills and competence. No one looks down on you for not being a native.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“It’s the twenty-first century, Maria.”

“Maybe so. But Alma values the past. Otherwise, none of us would be here trying to reinstate the monarchy. I am proud of who I am, but I’m a realist. You and I walk different paths. Let’s not forget that.”

He stared at her long and hard as if he could imprint his will on her by mind control. “You asked me what I need from you.”

“I shouldn’t have.” Her heart fluttered in her throat like a butterfly trapped.

He smiled, a totally unfair act of war. “I’ll wait until you ask me again. But next time, I’ll answer, Maria.”

Three (#ulink_0af7d7e9-b8c2-5d63-b895-be32e13133bb)

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.”