Something he intended to rectify.
“Hmm. I can be... Well, how about you, Doctor Lourdes? What do you do for fun?”
His formal salutation felt unnatural coming from her. He knew she used it to put distance between them, but he wasn’t allowing it this time. “I’m afraid to confess my favorite downtime activity is fishing.”
“Really?”
In the corner of his vision, he saw her angle toward him.
“Really,” he responded without hesitation. “I know some would say that goes against the conservationist, animal lifesaving oath I took, but I’m not a vegetarian and I always eat what I catch.”
“It’s not bungee jumping or something equally adrenaline inducing?”
“I know. I’m a letdown. I like fishing because I enjoy the quiet time to think and reflect. And I’m humbled by the way the ecosystem works—how connected everything is.”
“Now who is full of surprises?” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
“My turn. What about your dreams? What do you really want to do?”
“I’m happy to be your assistant.”
He shook his head. “Not what I asked.”
They were only a few minutes away from the Hemingway Home and Museum, and the traffic around them increased, taillights glowing all around like a faux fire.
Portia tugged on her ponytail, thinking.
“In a perfect world? Like a money-and responsibility-free world?”
“Yep.” Tall palms stretched above them, casting shadows over her face.
The bright-colored houses and tropical foliage made the island look more like a movie set than reality. Foot traffic was dense too, but the cruise ship passengers on tour for the day would be pulling out before too long and things would quiet down.
“I think I’d like to do something with art. Maybe a nonprofit for kids that focused on creativity after school. Especially for kids who don’t have a strong family support system. I’d love to help them see they have the ability to create something beautiful and wonderful.”
Her words touched him as he turned the corner, traffic heavier as they drew closer to the historic landmark. “That’s a wonderful idea. There isn’t enough of that in the world. Any particular reason you chose this need over others?”
“When I was younger, I saw a lot of kids bogged down by circumstances out of their control and they had no outlets of support. I hated that.”
He could hear in her voice a more personal reason for her dream, one he felt like she wanted to share. This woman was more like the one he remembered from the night of the storm, the Portia who’d told him of her need to keep on the lights during storms as a child so her brother and her stuffed animals wouldn’t be afraid. But he’d seen in her eyes that she’d craved that light and comfort then too, but even now was unwilling to admit her own need for support. Even as her standoffish ways frustrated him at times, he also couldn’t help but admire her strength.
If he could keep her talking, he could win her over. What he’d do once he had her, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted her like he’d wanted no one and nothing else.
But how to tease this information out of her?
He slowed the car to a halt, the traffic in front of him growing worse.
And then the unthinkable happened, interrupting his thoughts. A crash echoed in his ears less than an instant before the car jolted forward.
They’d been rear-ended. Damn. His protective instincts went on high alert and his arm shot across in front of Portia.
Only keeping her safe mattered.
Three
Her near-electric moment with Easton ended with a resounding thud.
A minivan had rear-ended them.
Easton had flung his right arm out to protect her...and protect their unborn child. Not that he knew anything about the baby, and she wasn’t any closer to being ready to tell him on this far-from-normal day.
As far as dates went, her romantic outing with Easton had been anything but typical. Yet not in the quirky up-for-whatever way that normally characterized Easton’s gestures. She’d seen his protective impulses around his niece and the animals. But this was the first time Portia had been on the receiving end. If she weren’t stunned—and more than a little afraid—she would think longer on how that made her feel.
His blue eyes filled with concern as his hand reached for hers, helping her step out of the car.
“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off, eager to get out of the Corvette and take dozens of deep breaths away from the scent of scorched rubber and brakes. “I promise, I will tell you if I feel the least need to go to the doctor.”
And she would. Keeping her secret wasn’t worth risking her child. Already, she could hear sirens and see cop cars, firetrucks and an EMT vehicle. She would check in with a medical tech.
“All right. I’ll go give the statement to the police.” He squeezed her hand quickly before walking away to check in with one of the officers.
One deep breath after another, she calmed her nerves, taking comfort in the strong breadth of Easton’s shoulders. She winged a prayer of thanksgiving that he was okay, as well. This could have been so much worse than a dented fender.
In all honesty, she had been in a worse accident when she was thirteen, shortly before her mom died. Her mother had taken her to school in a little blue car. At the final turn before the school, they’d been sideswiped by a bright red pickup truck. That day, she’d needed stitches, and her mother had severely damaged her already ravaged liver. Only a few months later, her mother had died, leaving Portia and her brother alone. They’d moved from Nevada and into the house with their father’s older sister in Florida.
While today’s crash had only been a fender bender and there were no overt signs of damage, still, she worried. Had the crash harmed her unborn baby?
The thought brought a wave of nausea as the steady swirl of red-and-blue lights echoed in Portia’s peripheral vision. How much longer until those emergency vehicles wove their way closer?
She was responsible for the life growing inside her. The life she had to protect. A little boy or little girl—
And thank goodness, one of the EMS trucks stopped on the shoulder of the road just one car up. Since there wasn’t a line of others who appeared in need of emergency care, she pushed away from the light pole and moved toward the ambulance.
Smoothing her sundress in an excuse to steady her hands, she approached the younger of the two EMTs. The gold name tag read Valez.
“Uh, sir?” Stammering, she twisted her fingers together, a flush crawling across her face.
“Yes, ma’am?” Valez, a man in his midthirties with a jet-black mustache, asked, gesturing toward the back of the ambulance.
“I feel fine. But...” Oh Lord. This was the first time she would talk about her pregnancy out loud. “I’m pregnant and I just want to make sure everything is alright.”
The rest of the sentence flew out of her mouth, the reality of her situation echoing back to her.
“You did the right thing in coming over here, ma’am. Please, sit down. We’ll get you checked out. If you need additional care, we’ll transport you to the nearest hospital. But let’s hope that’s not needed. Okay?” He lifted her wrist and began taking her pulse. “So just relax and let’s talk. How far along are you?” He glanced at her while waving a hand for the other EMT to come over. The older gentleman handed Valez a bag filled with equipment.
“Umm. Well, not quite two months. But fairly close to that point.” Portia’s voice was a whisper, nearly covered by the sounds of car horns and conversations.
Valez’s brow furrowed, reaching for his stethoscope. “And so far, your pregnancy is going well?”
“Yes.”
He checked her pulse, nodding to her.
“So far, your vitals seem just fine.”
Deep breath out. Good. “What should I watch for?”
Handing his equipment back to the other EMT, Valez turned to face her. “There are two things you can watch for—bleeding and cramping. Based on your vitals, I think you are in the clear. Just be sure to put your feet up and try to relax.”
Portia’s vigorous nod sent loose tendrils of her hair out of her ponytail and into her face. Before she could respond to Valez, Easton strode toward them, concern wearing lines in his ruggedly handsome face.
“Everything okay?”
Heart palpitating, palms sweating, she urged her tongue to find words. “Fine, I’m just fine.”
He glanced at the EMT. “Is that true? She’s a tough cookie who doesn’t complain.”
Valez nodded, holding his medical kit. “We’ve checked her over and everything appears fine. She knows what signs to look for.”
“Signs to look for?” Easton’s brow furrowed, looking confused.
Damn.
Panic pulsed in her throat. This could not be how he found out.
The two technicians exchanged glances. Valez cleared his throat. “Yes, symptoms to look for after a car accident.”
“Symptoms?”
She tried to interrupt, panicked over what the tech might give away, but he nodded at her reassuringly.
“Whiplash, for example. If your neck feels stiff in the morning. Or aches from the seatbelt or from the impact if your airbag went off.”
She inched away. “No airbag. Our vehicle was barely tapped, but I appreciate all the other information you provided. Truly.” She spun to Easton. “We should clear out so they can check out any others who need help.”
“Okay,” Easton answered, giving a final wave to the EMT. “Thank you for taking the time to be so thorough. I appreciate it.”
“Just doing our job.” The tech nodded to her. “Take it easy, ma’am.”
Easton turned back to her, gesturing to the slightly damaged car. A deep sigh escaped his lips, though when he turned to face Portia, a smile manifested. An easygoing smile. One she wanted to give in to. She wanted to lean on him, to rely on him, but she knew that was a recipe for disaster. She had to do this on her own. The sensible thing? Cut her losses on today—on the idea of them.
He touched the top of her arm with gentle fingertips. “This is not the way I envisioned our date going, but I’m glad no one was injured. You must be starving. I know I am. Would you like indoor or outdoor dining?”
The accident shook her ability to remain calm. Though her vitals checked out, she worried about the baby. And that worry made her realize the futility of pursuing anything personal or romantic with Easton. She would always be connected to him, but she couldn’t come to rely on him.
“Honestly, I would like to pick up to-go food and head home.”
“I know it’s a long day driving the whole way down the Keys. Would you rather we get a hotel?” he asked, rushing to add, “Separate rooms of course, if that’s what you want.”
“I want to go home.”
Portia felt downright foolish. She needed space—a place to think. Somewhere away from Easton.
He studied her eyes for a long moment, then shrugged, “Sure, your day. Your date. But it’s going to be damn good carryout.”
* * *
Thoughts of the accident still shook Easton. Though small, the fender bender replayed in his mind.
Portia’s scrunched brow visibly displayed her stress. Her demeanor shifted after talking to the EMT. Easton had the sinking feeling that she wasn’t as fine as she let on. Or maybe the accident had spooked her as it had spooked him. She’d been initially hesitant to accept his offer of the date. Maybe she’d interpreted the accident as a sign that they had to turn back.
He fished his soda out of the cup holder and sipped on the cola. She was safe. They were both safe. The car had received some damage, but that didn’t matter. Not really.
Portia, currently chowing down on carryout, appeared pale, but her color was returning by the bite. She’d chosen a hogfish sandwich, which he hadn’t expected at all, even though the delicate fish had a scallop flavor he personally enjoyed. But he’d thought she would order something grilled on top of a salad, the kind of thing she’d pick up locally when she grabbed them takeout for lunch if she needed to go into town on a workday. Yet, this time she’d chosen heartier fare and downed the sandwich like a starved woman. Even alternating each bite with a conch fritter.
This glimpse of her zest for life, her savoring of the senses, made him hungry for a taste of her. He’d wanted to stop for a roadside picnic, but she’d shot down the suggestion, noting the gathering storm clouds. He had to concur. They needed to start for home.
Traffic in the northbound lane moved moderately fast, but allowed Easton to take in the scenery. Sometimes, he felt like he lived at the refuge. Not a big complaint—he loved his work, knew caring for the animals transcended a job and landed squarely in the realm of a vocation. But he often forgot what a normal day looked like.
Then again, his unconventional childhood had never really allowed for normalcy either.
Regardless, the drive reminded him of just how damn lucky he was to live in the tropical Florida Keys. People on bikes lined sidewalks. Palm trees bowed in the summer wind. Easton could make out the turquoise of the sea catching radiantly in the sunlight, the shoreline dotted with shacks that were homes and shops, colorful and scenic. The natural panoramic view was gorgeous.
But not nearly as gorgeous as the woman next to him.
Portia continued to surprise him. Intrigue him. He had a few hours until they’d be back at the refuge. Maybe he could restart their quiz game. Figure out more about her. Easton wanted to tease answers from her lips. Understand more. He could ask her about her family. He knew nothing about them. In fact, Easton didn’t really know much concerning her life before she came to work for him.
He could ask her if she’d ever been close to marriage. Did she want a family of her own? What was the worst kiss she’d ever had? That could at least break the ice and make them laugh. Or he could ask why she’d been avoiding him over the last few weeks when they worked together every day, for crying out loud.
With a renewed commitment to demystifying Portia Soto, he turned his head, ready to begin the questions again.
But as he opened his mouth, he knew he couldn’t continue.
Her head rested against the window, her eyes were closed and she was fast asleep. He picked up her empty food container, tossed it into the carryout bag, and decided to take comfort in the fact that she felt at ease enough to nap around him. He reached for the radio to turn on a news channel just as his phone rang, the Bluetooth kicking in automatically.
He reached to pick up fast before the tone woke her. But she only twitched once before settling back into even-paced breathing.
He spared a quick glance to the caller ID. His brother, Xander, was on the line. Easton tapped the monitor and his brother’s voice filled the air.
“Hey, dude, check this out.” Background noise echoed as he said, “Rose, baby girl, come back to Daddy and talk on the phone. Tell Uncle Easton what you just told Daddy.”
Easton’s mouth twitched. His brother was such a devoted father, and it was funny as hell watching his starched-suit, executive brother wrapped around that tiny little finger.
Easton’s toddler niece babbled for a few indistinguishable sentences before she said, “Birdies, birdies.”
“That’s great, Rosebud.” Yeah, Easton had to admit his niece was mighty damn cute. “Give the phone back to your daddy now. Love you, kiddo.”
“Hey, brother,” Xander’s voice came back over. “That’s awesome, isn’t it? We have the next generation of veterinarians in our family.”
“Could be, coul
d be.” His eyes flicked back to Portia. She readjusted in her seat, sleep still heavy on her brow. The warmth of the afternoon sun hit her cheekbones, making her glow with natural, sexy beauty.
Xander’s baritone voice snapped Easton back into focus. “Maybe she’ll add to the family portfolio with inventions the way you have.”
“She’ll one-up me, for sure. And how the hell did you know about that? It was supposed to be—”
Xander cut him off, a smile present in his tone. “A secret and you just invested well, I know. But one of your colleagues saw me at a wildlife preserve convention and thought I was you.”
“Ouch.” While the brothers shared the same deep blue eyes and broad-chested build, Xander’s clean-cut executive look could never be confused with Easton’s collar-length hair and slightly disheveled persona.
“It was a windy day. I didn’t look like I’d combed my hair.”
“I think I was just insulted.”
“You were.” A laugh rumbled in Xander’s throat.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. How’s it going on your...what was it you were doing today?”
He was probing. Easton could hear it in his voice. Through clenched teeth Easton replied, “A professional run with my assistant.”
“Right.” Doubt dripped from Xander’s tone. Easton could practically see Xander’s eyebrow raise, incredulous as always. “How’s that going?”
“We’ll be back by the end of the day.”
“Given your wanderlust soul, something makes me doubt that,” Xander teased, but the joke missed its mark. Struck a nerve in Easton.
“We will be.”
“That reminds me of when Mom used to say she’d have us all back to the hotel by dinner, but instead, we’d spend the night somewhere unexpected. You’ve got her sense of time, you know.”
Easton’s jaw clenched tighter. “See you in a few hours, brother.”
He hung up the phone, eyes intensely focused on the road. Wanderlust was one thing, but he still struggled to be taken seriously. To prove he could stay in one spot for a long time, be dedicated to something outside himself. That he wasn’t wandering aimlessly in Neverland.
His Secretary's Little Secret Page 4
