missed out being talent-spotted at Tim’s age, so he wanted to make sure that Tim had the chances he never had.’
‘Even if Tim doesn’t really want to be a professional footballer?’
‘Toby just needs time to think about it.’
‘Toby?’
‘Tim’s father.’
Oh. So they were on first-name terms already? Jealousy twisted in Ramón’s gut. No way was he letting that bully loose on his Jennifer.
‘Anything you wanted in particular? I have some obs to do,’ Jennifer said.
‘Of course.’ He paused. ‘But I want to thank you properly. Have lunch with me?’
‘Thanks, but there’s really no need. I was just doing my job.’
Her voice was quiet but determined. He realised that if he insisted now, he’d lose her. But he wasn’t going to give up. He was just going to take a different route. And he knew exactly where to start.
THE next morning, Jennifer opened her desk drawer to find a neatly wrapped box sitting on top of her roster sheets. Odd. It wasn’t her birthday and any presents from grateful parents were always shared among the ward staff. Frowning, she looked at the card. The bold black script simply said, ‘Gracias. R.’
When she undid the ribbon and removed the paper, she discovered a box of very exclusive chocolates. Her favourites. Ones she never bought herself. The only person who ever bought them for her was Meg, at Christmas and for her birthday.
Why was Ramón buying her chocolates? Or had he done it for all the ward staff? No, surely not—he’d only been with them a week, and she hadn’t heard that he was cutting his secondment short.
She got the chance to ask him three hours later, when she was sitting with Sophie, an eight-year-old girl who had had a tonsillectomy, and teaching her how to draw horses.
‘Buenas días, señorita,’ Ramón said with a broad grin. ‘And how’s my favourite girl today?’
Jennifer stared at him in shock. He couldn’t possibly be this blatant! But, no…of course not. He was talking to their patient.
‘How are you feeling today, Sophie?’
‘My throat’s sore,’ Sophie croaked. ‘And Sister JJ made me eat toast for breakfast.’
‘For a good reason, I assure you,’ Ramón told her. ‘And that’s a very good picture you’ve drawn.’
‘Sister JJ’s teaching me. Look—she drew a sketch of me, too,’ Sophie said, passing the sketchbook to Ramón.
He glanced at the book. ‘A woman of hidden talents. I didn’t know you could draw so well, Sister Jacobs.’
There had been a time when she’d intended to make her career in art. But that had been a long, long time ago. Another world. In the days BA—Before Andrew. ‘Um, it came in handy for my exams.’
As if he sensed how embarrassed she was, he changed the topic. ‘Sophie, while I’m here I may as well check your throat, see how you’re healing,’ he said.
Sophie nodded. ‘I just open my mouth and say, “Ah”?’
‘That’s right.’ He smiled, and placed a depressor gently on her tongue so he could shine a light down her throat. ‘Good. Very good. I think that calls for jelly and ice cream today, Sister Jacobs.’
‘I’ll make a note of it.’ Jennifer smiled at the girl. ‘And I’d better go and see some of my other patients before Dr Martínez tells me off.’
‘He won’t do that,’ Sophie said confidently. ‘He’s too nice.’
‘Why, thank you, señorita.’ Ramón gave her a formal bow.
Jennifer left the cubicle. ‘Dr Martínez, may I have a word, please?’
‘It’s Ramón,’ he reminded her.
She flushed. ‘I just wanted to say thank you for the chocolates.’
‘Pleasure,’ he said. ‘You helped me out of a sticky situation yesterday. I wanted to show my appreciation.’
‘Anyone else on the ward would have done the same.’
‘No. Only you,’ he said softly. ‘Will you have lunch with me today?’
‘No.’
‘I know, you don’t like being obligated. How about if you buy me lunch, so I’m the one who’s obligated?’
‘No.’
‘Dinner?’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’ Jennifer asked.
He smiled. ‘I always get what I want in the end.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘No, cariña, it’s a promise,’ he said softly.
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she wasn’t sure whether it was one of pleasure or just plain fear. Why couldn’t he see that she wanted to be left alone, in her quiet, comfortable life—just her and her cat?
‘Why are you wearing those? They look ridiculous with that dress. Don’t you know anything? Go and put some proper shoes on—ones with high heels.’
She recognised that look on his face. He’d had a bad day. Someone had answered him back. And he was going to make himself feel better in the way he knew best. Putting her down. She knew all that…but it didn’t stop it hurting.
‘Come on, come on, we’re going to be late! I told you to be ready.’
Ready for another business dinner. Another dinner where she’d know nobody—though if she talked to anyone, he’d want to know exactly what she’d said. What the conversation had been about. Whether she’d shown him up or flirted or…
‘Don’t you ever listen to a word I say?’
Yes. Of course she did. But where had her attentive lover gone? The man who’d wanted to cherish her when they’d first met, put her on a pedestal. The one who loved music, who enjoyed wandering through art galleries hand in hand with her. The one who’d said he knew he was too old for her and should give her a chance to meet someone her own age who could make her happy, but he loved her too much to let her go. Where had he gone? And just when had this hurtful, critical impostor taken his place?
Keen to avoid a row, she rushed upstairs to change her shoes. And then wished she hadn’t a couple of moments later.
‘What’s this? Sketching?’
