she’d done it very well, she thought to herself. Each time she’d woken, that had been her only coherent thought. She’d screwed up. Big time. No unauthorized person should have been anywhere near that airport, and if she had been paying attention to her work instead of Andres, she wouldn’t be in a hospital bed now.
“Well, I can’t believe you almost got yourself killed for the likes of him. He isn’t worth the time of day, much less your life. I don’t want you having anything to do with him, Lena.” His voice rose stridently, as if he were winding up a case. “You can’t trust him and he’ll hurt you again. Do you hear me?”
“Everyone can hear you. But it doesn’t matter one way or the other. I have no intentions in that direction, I can assure you.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve finally gotten some sense about the son of a bitch because I don’t care how important he is, the man’s still a worthless bastard.”
With the last word ringing in the air, the door of Lena’s room suddenly swung open…and Andres stood on the other side.
Lena’s eyes swept over the man in the doorway. Dressed in a navy suit, his chiseled shoulders filling the opening, Andres held a crystal vase of Brazilian orchids, their petals snowy white and curved against the somber color of his jacket.
“Am I interrupting?”
His voice was reserved, polite even, but he’d heard what Phillip had said. Something in the set of his expression told her this and she was assaulted instantly by a complicated storm of emotions. She spoke quickly before her father could reply. “P-please come in, Andres. You’re not interrupting a thing.”
He walked inside and set the vase down on the table beside her. The faint, sweet smell of the flowers drifted over Lena’s bed. When they’d been together, he’d always brought her orchids.
“They’re beautiful,” she said despite herself. “Thank you.”
When he didn’t reply, she looked up. Andres and her father were locked in a staring battle, the tension so fierce between the two of them Lena could almost see the cloud of pressure taking shape over her bed. She wasn’t surprised since they’d always disliked each other, but there was something different in the air this time. Something thicker, denser.
Surprisingly, her father looked away first. He reached for the briefcase he’d left beside his chair, and spoke—to Lena only. “I have to get back to the office. If you need anything, you call me, baby.”
She accepted his kiss on her forehead then watched him go out the door. He said nothing to Andres. Didn’t even acknowledge his presence.
Her gaze went back to the man she’d almost married. He stared at the closing door with a brow-marring frown that cleared only after he realized she was looking at him.
“What is it with you two?” she asked in exasperation.
“You don’t really want to know.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Your father loves you,” he said after a second. “Let’s just leave it at that.” He moved toward the window and looked outside before turning to speak again. “Tell me how you feel today.”
“Better,” she said automatically. His answer hadn’t satisfied her. For a moment, she considered pursuing the topic, even though she knew Andres would say no more. Why on earth would there be even more animosity between the two men now? When Andres had left her at the altar, Phillip had gotten what he wanted.
“Better?” He raised one eyebrow. “¿Verdad?”
“Yes. I feel more clear, if that makes sense. Still sore, but more with it.” She reached again for her water, but he did as well. Holding the plastic cup closer, his fingers over hers, he bent the straw toward her mouth. His touch was warm, his whole hand covering hers.
“I can do it myself,” she said.
“I know that.”
They stared at each other for a second, the same old sparks flying between them, heating her up. Lena took a deep breath and pulled the cup away. He acted as if it didn’t matter one way or the other, stepping back from the bed with a neutral expression.
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