“That’ll make me sad,” he said, the amusement thicker now, “but I meant we’ll have to meet because I’m employing your company to host my medical seminar.”
“What?” She glanced at Trudy, listening in on the call, of course. Trudy only shrugged. “I didn’t specify my business in my medical records.”
“I looked you up on Google.”
“You did a search on me?”
“Doesn’t everyone these days?”
“No!”
“You did when you took an appointment with me.”
“That doesn’t count. That’s how the clinic operates.”
“And you chose me for what? My empty schedule?” he asked, sounding sarcastic, “or my resemblance to your ex?”
“For your information, your photo looks nothing like you. I chose you because you’re well qualified and I felt sorry for you.”
He chuckled. “Sorry?”
“Yes. Because nobody else booked you.”
“Thanks for your charity, Ms. March. I’m flattered. As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, I have to go. I actually have a patient waiting, believe it or not, so can we please confirm a date for our appointment?”
Lourdes mentally scolded him. Blackmailing son of an evil doctor. “I’m afraid my schedule is full. I doubt if I can fit in another event for...” She flipped noisily through her diary. “Ten years.”
His soft laugh vibrated through the receiver down to her very bones. “I’ve checked your schedule, too, Ms. March. It’s as dry as a desert. Send me a contract for the sixteenth of August. My secretary will get the details to you. Shall we make it Monday at ten, your office?”
Lourdes opened her mouth to tell him where he could send his details, but Trudy interrupted. “Noted. Thank you Dr. Bouwer. See you Monday,” she confirmed and quickly disconnected.
Lourdes gaped at her. “What did you do that for?”
“Because we’re dead without the business, and you know it.”
“Sadist,” Lourdes mumbled, but Trudy only blew her a kiss.
~ * ~
Monday morning found Lourdes a nervous wreck. She didn’t want to talk about Dirk. More than that, she didn’t want to meet the arrogant Dr. Bouwer again. Just looking at him reminded her of all the reasons she had fallen for Dirk, and why it had been the worst move of her life. True to his word, his secretary had emailed her a list of detailed requirements, down to the kind of music and flowers Dr. Bouwer fancied. She had even included the maximum time his guests should have to wait for a drink. If she didn’t need the business so badly...Well, she did. No use pondering the ifs.
At ten minutes before ten, Dr. Bouwer announced himself at the downstairs security desk and was shown up to the small office space Lourdes rented in a prominent business block. In her industry, appearance was everything. Even though not spacious, her office was uncluttered and tidy. A white leather chair faced her Bauhaus wooden desk. An original Francisco Copello print—a gift from her late father–adorned the wall and a white mohair carpet added warmth to the parquet floor.
The image that greeted her when the optometrist walked through her door rendered Lourdes speechless for a second. His copper-colored hair looked as if he’d just tumbled out of bed. For some silly reason, she had pictured him in his white doctor’s coat, not in tight, faded jeans and a black T-shirt that hinted at impeccable abs. His broad smile indented the dimple that gave him a boyish appearance.
Lourdes got to her feet behind her desk and pulled on her black jacket. She had chosen the most professional outfit she owned—a linen suit tailored for her by a friend studying fashion design. She extended her hand, but she should have known better from their first encounter. Dr. Look-Alike rounded her desk and pecked her on the cheek.
She didn’t miss Trudy’s lifted brow, before the traitor scampered from her desk and held out her hand. “Trudy. Lourdes’ assistant.”
Dr. Bouwer didn’t kiss her. He shook her hand jovially. “Pleased to meet you.”
Trudy beamed as if he had just praised her for an impeccable job. “Tea?” Her smile was so broad Lourdes worried her face might crack.
“Please. Milk, two sugars.”
“Got it.” Trudy all but ran to the small kitchen at the back.
Lourdes indicated the chair facing her desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Of course, the doctor wheeled the chair around so that it faced her from the corner of the desk, a much more intimate position.
Lourdes pushed her chair back involuntarily. “About the event—”
“I’d like to start with Dirk.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
She had to admit, she was curious about how they were related. “Why didn’t you say something when I came to your consultation room?”
He tipped his fingers together. “I thought you had realized it when you picked me. Once I saw the shock on your face, it was clear you didn’t know. I wanted to tell you but...” He looked at his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have said something.”
“You knew who I was beforehand?”
“Of course I knew. I knew the minute I saw your name on my schedule.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“You were so shocked...” He broke off and looked back up at her. “I realize none of this makes sense, but I need to ask something of you. I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t mean the world to me.”
“Wait.” She held up her hands. “How are you related to Dirk?”
He frowned. “You haven’t put the pieces together?”
She shook her head as she looked at him expectantly.
“I’m his twin brother.”
“Twins?” Her voice came out in a whisper, “No. Dirk didn’t... Dirk would have ...”
“He never mentioned me,” he said sadly.
Unable to speak, she only stared at him.
“Dirk and I haven’t seen each other since the day he left our parents’ house.”
She blinked rapidly. “But you have different surnames.”
“Dirk took my mother’s name. It’s a long story, and one I don’t wish to bore you with, so—”
“Oh no. You opened this can of worms, so you have to spill the beans.”
“Let’s just say there was a family row with my father, and Dirk blamed me. He left, against my father’s wishes, and was disowned.”
“That’s terrible,” Lourdes whispered.
“Yes, and I wish to make amends.”
The reason for his call dawned on her. “And you want me to put you in touch with Dirk.”
His look was so pleading, she almost faltered. “The answer is yes, again. I want you to talk to him for me. He’ll listen to you.”
Her laugh sounded hollow in the quiet office. “You don’t understand the circumstances under which we broke up. He won’t want to listen to anything I have to say.”
He tilted his head and studied her. “Oh, but you’re wrong. He’ll hang on your every word.”
“Dr. Bouwer—”
“Please, call me Henk.”
“Henk, I–”
His hand lifted and cut off her words when he gently touched his finger to the corner of her left eye. “How’s your eye?”
Her lips remained parted. She wanted to say something. Really. If she could only remember... Trudy saved her by bustling through the door with a tray, which she planted on Lourdes’ desk. Lourdes’ eyes widened when she spotted the plate of biscuits. They didn’t keep biscuits. Trudy had run to the store? Seeing Lourdes’ expression, Trudy cocked her shoulder, took the seat behind her own desk and leaned her chin on her hand as she studied Henk Bouwer.
Henk gave Lourdes a devilish smile. “I realize your time is precious with so many events lined up. How about if we run through mine, and then I'll pick you up for dinner to discuss the other private issue?”
Trudy’s eyes almost popped out of her head. Lourdes shifted uncomfortably. She was about to decline when Trudy said in her sweet secretary
voice, “Where shall I make a reservation, Ms. March?”
Lourdes shot her a cutting look, but Henk took charge. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of it. Eight sharp? Now, about the event...”
~ * ~
Lourdes stood in front of the mirror, inspecting her reflection. Why did she even care what she looked like? Ten times she had picked up the phone to call off the dinner with Henk, but her curiosity had won out. She had chosen a green sleeveless dress, nothing too formal or too casual, since she did not know what Henk had in mind as a venue. He rang her bell at eight sharp. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and then held that breath. Henk leaned on the frame, wearing white shorts and a blue T-shirt. Without meaning to, her eyes moved from his biceps to his calves. He definitely worked out. His hair was damp, as if he’d just stepped from the shower.
“Good evening, Lourdes.” His eyes traveled over her in turn. “You look lovely. Ready to go?”
She grabbed her purse, locked her door and followed Henk downstairs to a Triumph TR6 parked on the curb.
Lourdes inhaled sharply. She ran her hand over the bonnet.
“Like it?” Henk said, holding the door for her.
“Love it. I have a thing for vintage cars, especially British cars in racing blue.”
He gave an appreciative smile, closed her door and went around to get behind the wheel. He patted the dash. “Had her restored down to the original wooden panels and leather seats.” He turned to her suddenly. “Would you like to drive?”
Lourdes shook her head. “No, thanks. I know she’s a hard drive.”
Henk grinned. “Top down okay, or shall I put it up?”
“Down, of course.”
His grin widened. “I was hoping you’d say that. Most women worry about their hair.”
She pulled her auburn hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck and marveled at the powerful sound as Henk started the engine. The noise made conversation difficult, so Lourdes sat back and enjoyed the ride. They drove in the direction of Las Condes, toward the hill. After ten minutes they left the double carriage way and noisy buses behind to take the residential turn-off. The houses became sparser and the properties bigger as they made their way up the mountain.
At a traffic light, Lourdes studied Henk’s profile. His skin was tanned, not pale like Dirk’s. While Dirk had model looks, Henk’s features were slightly squarer, more masculine. Her awareness of his hand resting on the gearshift, close to where hers lay next to her thigh, was worrisome. The way his fingers folded around the stick was like a gentle, yet firm caress. For a second, she imagined that hand on her leg, his broad palm cupping her knee, and her mouth went dry. She bet he knew exactly when to take and when to give control.
“Taking stock?” he said with a smirk in her direction.
Not wanting him to think she was “taking stock” for the wrong reasons, she said, “Just observing.”
“And?”
“You’re darker than Dirk.”
His smile faded. “I spend time outdoors.”
“Are you a sports fanatic like Dirk?”
“I won’t say fanatic. I enjoy tennis and weekend hikes.”
“Dirk likes hanging out in the gym.” Yet, he definitely didn’t have the muscle definition of his brother. “Who was the firstborn?”
He sounded wary when he answered. “I was.”
The light changed, and he pulled off to take the road to the ski resorts. Just before the mountain pass, he turned in the opposite direction and drove a short distance down a gravel road to a wooden house situated on a large property.
Lourdes regarded him with surprise. “I thought we were going to a restaurant.”
Henk cut the engine and turned in his seat to face her. “What I’d like to discuss needs to be done in private. It won’t be comfortable in a restaurant.” He probably sensed her hesitation because he continued, “The minute you ask me, I’ll take you home. Promise.”
She believed him. Henk surrounded her with a sense of comfort and protection. Relaxing a bit, she looked at the house and asked, “Is this yours?”
“Yes. Moved in a couple of months ago.”
“Where were you before?”
“New York.”
Dirk had told her his family was from Amsterdam. “Your accent is stronger than Dirk’s, but you don’t sound Dutch.”
“I studied in the States.”
“Dirk hated the States. He always told me how much he missed Europe.”
His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “I’m not Dirk, and he’s not me. We look the same. That doesn’t mean we have to be the same.”
She frowned at his sudden animosity. “I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it. I know it’s hard not to compare.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he opened his door. “Come. Let me show you around.”
The house consisted of two levels with a deck that overlooked a narrow gorge and river. Like the walls, the floors were wood, giving the spacious rooms a cozy ambience. The interior was decorated with colorful Mapuche tapestries and carpets that accentuated off-white sofas and armchairs, and curtains and lampshades in earth tones. A massive fireplace dominated the open-plan lounge. Henk’s house was just like him—understated elegance.
After starting the barbecue grill on the deck, Henk led Lourdes to one of the comfortable chairs surrounding a wooden table and poured her a glass of wine. It was pleasant outside, and she eased back in the chair. With the fire blazing, Henk disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates of ceviche.
“Starters,” he announced, placing one in front of her.
“You made this?” she said.
“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Dirk never cooked...” She trailed off and bit and her lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Compare. It’s all right. I guess it’s hard not to. That’s the mistake my father made. He expected us to be the same.”
Even if she didn’t know Henk very well, it was obvious that he and Dirk were worlds apart. She sensed the pain in his words. “Have you tried to speak to Dirk?”
He refilled their glasses. “Many times. He never responds to my emails or messages.”
“Excuse me for sounding blunt, but if he makes it so clear that he doesn’t wish to see you, why force him?”
“Because Dirk is in trouble.”
Lourdes didn’t have to ask. “It’s the gambling.”
“He owes the wrong kind of people a lot of money, Lourdes. I wish to help, but he won’t let me. If I didn’t believe he was in danger of destroying himself, I wouldn’t be so assertive. I want to help him. I want to make amends for our past.”
“What exactly do you wish me to do?” Lourdes took a bite of the marinated fish. It was one of her favorite dishes, and she almost closed her eyes in ecstasy.
“I need you to talk to Dirk and convince him to accept my help.”
She ate some more, contemplating the request. “What happened between the two of you?”
“My dad wanted us to follow in his footsteps and go to medical school. Dirk had no such desire. How much has Dirk told you of his past?”
“Not much. He told me he didn’t have family.” She gave Henk a compassionate look.
He nodded, his eyes sad. “He was trouble from a young age: getting into fights, sneaking out of the house, smoking and experimenting with alcohol. When I went to med school, Dirk decided to take a year off studying to travel. Only, he was deported back to the Netherlands shortly after for illegal gambling. My dad gave him an ultimatum. He tried to force him to join me at the university, but Dirk wanted to study art. Dad said that wasn’t a profession and he wouldn’t pay for a degree in fine arts. I believe if Dad hadn’t pushed him so hard to be someone he wasn’t, things might have been different.”
He took a gulp of wine and swirled the liquid in his glass. “I wish Dad hadn't compared us the way he did. I got good grades, but Dirk didn’t. He held it like a sword over Dirk’s he
ad until Dirk started hating me.”
Lourdes leaned over the table to squeeze Henk’s hand.
He gave her a faint smile. “After Dirk returned from his interrupted travel, he got involved in on-line gambling and lost a substantial amount of money. Dad paid off the people who came after him, but he had reached the end of his patience. He kicked Dirk out of the house and disowned him. Dad said the day Dirk gave up his gambling habit, he’d welcome him back with open arms. By then, Dirk had already been taken in by a famous player who trained him for the poker table.”
He paused. “My mother was heartbroken. My dad spent everything he couldn’t give to Dirk on me, both his money and his affections. To Dirk, I was the favorite—the golden child. Dirk had always been the black sheep, but now he was a poor, homeless black sheep. I tried to speak to him, but he pretended I didn’t exist. He turned his back on us, and for a while, no one knew where he was or how he survived.
“When we had news of him again, he was in a coma at a London hospital. Someone in the poker scene had accused him of cheating and decided to teach him a lesson. Dad flew out there, rented a car...”
He stared at the bottom of his glass for so long that Lourdes thought he wouldn’t finish the sentence. Finally, he said, “On the way, Dad had an accident. He was killed on impact.”
Lourdes swallowed. She thought the biggest secret Dirk had hidden from her was his gambling addiction.
“Henk, I’m so sorry.”
He looked up. “It’s not your fault. Anyway, I did blame Dirk for a long time. I can’t deny it. When he came to, I told him it was his fault our father was dead.” His voice softened. “I’ve regretted it ever since, but he’s never given me an opportunity to apologize.”
Lourdes’ heart squeezed painfully for both brothers. “I wish I had known.”
His gaze fixed on the horizon for a while, and when he turned back to her, he said, “Why did you and Dirk break up, Lourdes? I know my brother isn’t an easy person to live with, but I mean, why did you really give him the boot?”
She set her fork on her plate and wiped a hand over her face. It wasn’t something she cared to discuss, but after Henk had opened up to her, it seemed unfair to shut him out.
Propose To Me Page 2
