Trapped with the boss...and now she’s pregnant! Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Catherine Mann!

Millionaire scientist Easton Lourdes has always preferred wildlife over weddings. But when the sexy bachelor is stranded by a hurricane with his prim-and-proper secretary, the raging storm isn’t the only thing that’s out of control. Now Portia Soto is pregnant with his child—and determined to keep things professional until she earns enough money to pay off her brother’s debts. But can she keep her secret that long? Especially when it becomes clear that Easton will stop at nothing to get her back into his bed...

The taste of Easton tantalized her senses, intoxicating and arousing all at once in a double dose of what Portia remembered from their passionate encounter the night of the tropical storm.

A night she hadn’t spoken of since then.

His hand palmed her back and he drew her closer until they were chest to chest. With a will of their own, her fingers crawled up his hard-muscled arms to grip his wide shoulders.

She’d slept with him. She knew the full extent of his appeal, so she couldn’t figure out why a simple kiss could turn her so inside out. Okay, not a simple kiss, because nothing with Easton was ever uncomplicated.

Still, how could her body betray her so, especially after what he’d said about not wanting children? As quickly as that thought hit her, she shut it down again. She’d ached to be in his arms for so long, she was a total puddle of hormones in need of an outlet.

In need of him.

Now.

* * *

His Secretary’s Little Secret is part of The Lourdes Brothers of Key Largo duet— In the wilds of Florida, two wealthy brothers meet the women who will capture their hearts!

His Secretary’s Little Secret

Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author CATHERINE MANN has penned over fifty novels, released in more than twenty countries. After years as a military spouse moving around the country bringing up four children, Catherine has settled in her home state of South Carolina. The nest didn’t stay empty long, though, as Catherine is an active member of the board of directors for the Sunshine State Animal Rescue. For more information, visit www.catherinemann.com.

To my animal rescue pals everywhere—especially

Virginia, Sharon and Tiffany. You bring such

talent, joy and support to this emotional journey!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Extract

Copyright

One

Portia Soto’s mama always said doctors didn’t grow on trees. That an exotic name couldn’t make up for her plain looks. And to count her blessings if she got a proposal from a podiatrist twice her age.

Clearly, Portia’s mama hadn’t counted on her daughter ever sitting beneath a towering palm watching Dr. Easton Lourdes hang upside down by his knees as he tried to save an ivory-billed woodpecker. An endangered species and thus warranting the wildlife preserve veterinarian’s full attention. Which was convenient, since that meant he wouldn’t notice he’d totally captured Portia’s.

Between the branches of the ancient black mangrove, small stars winked into her vision, the lingering violet of sunset fading into black. The moments just after sunset in the wildlife preserve were Portia’s favorite. Night birds trilled overlapping tunes through the dense, steamy woods. Everything seemed somehow prettier, more lush and flamboyant in the absence of sunlight—the preserve transformed into a decadent Eden. At night, the place was a mysterious beauty, far more enticing than Portia had ever considered herself to be.

Except she didn’t feel much like herself when she was around Dr. Lourdes.

To be frank, Easton was hot. Really hot. Sexy in a shaggy-haired, unconventional way. An extremely wealthy heir to a family fortune, and a genius veterinarian with a specialty in exotic animals.

He also happened to be the unsuspecting father of Portia’s unborn baby, thanks to one impulsive night during a tropical storm nearly two months ago.

In the time that had passed since their unplanned hookup, she’d done her best to put their relationship back on a professional level, to safeguard her hard-won space and independence. A task that had been increasingly difficult to stick to, what with him casting steamy, pensive looks her way when he thought she wasn’t aware.

But wow, was she ever aware of him. Always.

So apparently, for Portia, doctors did grow on trees. But that didn’t stop the chaos overtaking her life in spite of her best efforts to carefully organize and control her world. She wanted to figure out her plan for the future before she told her onetime lover about their baby. But she was running out of time.

They’d had an impulsive encounter during the stress and fear of being in close quarters during a tropical storm. Such an atypical thing for her to do—have a one-night stand, much less a one-night stand with her boss. She’d always followed the rules, and she’d denied her attraction to Easton until the tension of that tumultuous frightful storm had led her to give in.

She’d enjoyed every moment of that night, but the next morning she’d freaked out. She’d worried about putting her much-needed job and on-site housing in jeopardy—and about how intensely being with Easton had moved her. She didn’t have time for messy emotions, much less a relationship. She’d been living day to day, working to keep her head above water financially, especially since her brother had started college four years ago.

Now she had no choice but to think about the future for her child. Her need to establish her independence had to be placed on the fast track for her child’s sake. She refused to let her baby have the unsure life she herself had lived through because of her parents’ lack of any care or planning for their children’s welfare.

The thought of the future nudged Portia into movement. A small movement, of course. It wasn’t as if she could just run out of here and leave her boss without the spotlight she was holding. Her hand fell to her still smooth stomach covered by a loose T-shirt layered over trim cargo shorts—her fieldwork basics. Neatly pressed, of course.

A leaf plummeted to the ground with surprising speed. Ten more fell down from the limb above her head, reminding Portia to pay attention to the man above her.

“Can you adjust the spotlight to the left?”

“Sure, how far?”

“To the left.”

Ah, nice and vague. Her favorite sort of directions. “Four inches? Twelve inches?”

“Move and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

“That works—” Portia checked her response. She’d been second-guessing herself more than ever since that night. Things that hadn’t bothered her before now suddenly worried her.

“Stop.”

Four inches. She’d moved four flipping inches. How much easier would it have been for him to say that?

She sighed. She was irritable, nauseated and her swollen breasts hurt like crazy. She needed a new bra ASAP. Under cover of the dark, she repositioned one poking end away from her tender flesh. “Can you see now?”

“Almost got it. Just have to stretch farther.”

The syllables also stretched, just as she imagined his fingers were doing. Always dramatic. Which was part of his allure...

A cracking sound popped through the night. Portia looked up into the twisted web of branches, her eyes desperately trying to process the image before her. She watched Easton fall out of the black mangrove in what felt like slow motion. He was a silhouetted rush of leaves and flailing limbs, culminating in an echoing thud as he hit the ground. The chorus of nighttime birds stopped as if they too were interested in the doctor’s fate.

Panic filled her veins. Her feet and hands grew numb but she pushed them into motion. Fast.

He didn’t move, and from her distance, she couldn’t see if his chest rose and fell. “Easton!”

His name was a plea and a command to answer all at once. His limbs were splayed out inches from the tree trunk. He’d barely missed landing on the protruding roots. From the muted light, it looked like he had barely avoided impaling himself on a decaying tree limb.

She closed in on him, crouched down to examine him. Thank the Lord, he was breathing. She felt his pulse. It was strong, but he didn’t respond to her touch.

Laying a hand on his shoulder, she gently shook him. Wanting him to be okay. Needing him to be okay. The thought of him hurt sent her mind tumbling into the land of what-if? She’d become adequate at shoving the big what-ifs aside, but with the father of her future child lying unconscious, worst-case scenarios flooded her mind.

What if she didn’t get to tell him about the baby? What if he was in a coma? What if...

What if his eyes—sharp blue as lapis lazuli—opened and he continued to look at her like that? Her wild thoughts halted as she saw his mischievous gaze trace her outline in the dark.

“I’m alright but don’t let that make you move,” he muttered, the right corner of his lips pulling up with sexy confidence.

His dark hair curled around his neck—twigs and branches adorning his head like the crown of some mythical forest prince. A sexy prince at that. Her hand lingered on his wrist, making her recall the night they’d spent together. The way he’d held her. She had carefully avoided his touch since they’d woken up to safety and a return to their normal working relationship—since finding out she carried his baby. Everything felt complicated.

She wanted to bolt away. Pushing her back into the neighboring Florida buttonwood tree, she swallowed hard. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her job, living in her cabana on the refuge, and hide the truth. There just wasn’t time to save all the money she would need to be independent before the truth became obvious. The panic nearly made her lose her breath, but she pushed it aside as she’d been doing for weeks.

Yes, she would tell him. He deserved to know. But she wanted to get through that initial doctor’s appointment first, and each day gave her more time to organize her thoughts into the best way to balance this scary turn her life had taken.

A turn of events made all the more difficult by the way her body remembered too well the explosive passion they’d shared. Even thinking about that night, with the feel and scent of him so close now, turned her inside out with want.

He rested on his back, watching her with those clear blue eyes as he stroked a loose strand of her hair. “Damn, you’re a pretty woman.”

“Stop. You don’t mean it.” Why had she said that? It was as good as asking for another compliment and she’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t spend her life wrapped up in appearances as her beauty queen mother had.

His gaze held hers and refused to let go. “Don’t I?”

“Maybe you do in your own way. But you’re a flirt. Get your mind on business. How’s the bird?”

Though the movement made him wince, he straightened, sitting up. He had managed to protect the fragile bird during his fall. Easton held it proudly as it nestled into his hand. “Not a mark on him—not from the fall, anyway. We should get back to the clinic and figure out why he’s unable to fly.”

“I’ll drive. Unless you object, but you really shouldn’t,” she couldn’t stop herself from babbling, “since you did just fall from a tree.”

He shrugged, rising slowly to his feet. “Of course you can drive. Why would I have a problem with your driving?”

“Most men prefer to drive.” Her father always had, declaring her mother too airheaded to be trusted behind the wheel. Scrunching her nose at the memory, Portia stood, dusting off the leaves that clung to her pants.

“I’m not most men. And you’re right. I did just fall out of a tree.” He shed more small twigs as they made their way to the sanctuary’s four-door truck.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll take the wheel.” Driving the massive vehicle would allow her some element of control. And damn, did she need that in spades right now.

“You’re a better driver than I am anyway, even when I haven’t backflipped down a few limbs to land on my ass.”

“Okay, seriously, I can’t think of another man on the planet who would admit that.” As her head moved, a strand of her normally perfectly pulled-back hair caught on her eyelash. On instinct, her hand flew upward, folding it back into her ponytail. Back to order.

He grinned roguishly. “Then they must not have my confidence.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Or arrogance.”

“True.” He slid into the passenger side. “You asked for an appointment with me earlier and then the emergency call came in about the ivory-billed woodpecker. We’ll have some time to talk on the drive back. What did you wish to speak about?”

Telling him about her pregnancy like this? Not at all what she planned. Not at all what she would do. When she told him, it’d be in a calm setting. One of her choosing. Not in the company of a wild, injured animal. Or a wildly sexy, injured man. “This isn’t the time.”

“Why not? Is it that serious? If so, speak up now,” he said firmly, turning to face her. Those blue eyes demanding something of her.

“Let’s take care of business first.” Her lips thinned into a line. Pushing him away. Her mother had depended on a man for everything and then had nothing when that man died bankrupt in prison. Portia had vowed she wouldn’t let herself commit to anyone until she was certain she could stand on her two feet, debt free and independent. She wouldn’t let herself think about how much harder that would be as a single mother.

His eyes narrowed and she could practically see him running through a catalog of possible topics.

“It’s personal?” he asked.

“That’s not what I said.”

“About the night of the tropical storm six weeks ago—” A hungry smile pushed along his mouth.

Damn him for being so intuitive. He had a knack for that. All the more reason for her to be carefully guarded around him.

“Let’s not speak about that now.”

“You haven’t wanted to speak of it since the storm. When are we ever going to talk about it? You’re a determined woman, that’s for certain.”

She knew she couldn’t delay the conversation forever, but right now her stomach was still in turmoil over his fall. And she wanted to go to her first doctor’s appointment to confirm that the pregnancy was on track before turning her whole world upside down.

And yes, she was trying to think of any reason she could to delay, because once she told Easton about his baby, she would lose control of her life forever.

* * *

Dr. Easton Lourdes leaned his seat halfway back, his head still spinning. Partly from the fall, but mostly from the woman beside him and the memory of those moments he’d kept his eyes closed and just absorbed the feel of her against him. Since she’d come to work with him two years ago, he’d suspected there were fires burning behind her uptight demeanor. But hell, he’d had no idea how hot they’d blaze until that one night with her during the storm.

Portia Soto. The most organized secretary on the planet. The woman who—until recently—had kept his eccentric spirit in line. Until their night of passion during a tropical storm showed him just how wild she could be once she let down that tightly upswept hair.

But the next day, she’d gathered her long caramel-brown hair back as fiercely as ever. Tighter even.

He needed his secretary. The Lourdes Family Wildlife Refuge was fast becoming an internationally renowned animal research and rescue center, and he was the man in charge of the science. To make the impact he wanted to make on the world, he needed his secretary. But he wanted Portia. And he wasn’t sure how to have both.

If only he understood humans as well as he did animals. His childhood spent with rich, globe-trotting parents had exposed him to creatures around the world. He’d paid attention and taken in an understanding of animals’ unspoken language. But even though he’d had the best of everything money could buy, he’d lacked much in the way of learning how to make connections with people other than his parents and his older brother. No sooner than he’d make a friend, his family would pack up and jet off to another exotic locale.

Easton cracked his neck, a crescendo of echoing pops responded in his back, the tension finally unwinding. With his neck less contracted, he positioned himself so he could watch her. Portia’s gel manicured nails were still quite perfect as she gripped the pickup truck’s steering wheel at a “nine and three” position that would make any driver’s ed teacher proud. Her doe-brown eyes were focused, attentive to the road.

Intentional. That was how he’d describe Portia. Intentional and proper.

With all her wildness contained.

Despite her manicured look, she fit in well at the wildlife preserve his family owned and funded. Easton brought his world-renowned skills as a veterinarian/scientist specializing in exotic animals. His brother, Xander, ran the family business and fund-raising.

And there sure as hell was a lot of fund-raising and political maneuvering involved in saving animals. Portia’s calm organizational skills were an immeasurable asset on that front too, according to his brother, Xander. Easton only had to show up in a tux every few months and talk about the research he loved.

For the most part, he spent his time handling the hands-on rescue and research efforts, and Portia’s efficiency helped him make that happen. He was lucky his family’s wealth meant he could leave the fund-raising to his brother and get his hands dirty doing what he enjoyed most.

And he tried his damnedest to entice Portia to play in the dirt with him.

Easton’s eyes slid from her face to the soft, yellow lights on the road back to the clinic. The preserve stretched for a few acres on Key Largo, a small island in the archipelago south of Florida. A necessary answer to urbanization and tourist development, Easton believed, as did his new board of directors, apparently.

He was damn lucky. He lived his dream every day. Sure, some people were able to turn passion into a paycheck, but Easton was a veterinarian at his preserve solely for passion. He recognized that he’d been blessed by his family’s money. It had enabled him to follow his vocation without worrying about compensation. He didn’t advertise his lack of salary because, for Easton, it didn’t matter. He felt honored to work for the sole purpose of helping the animals. To do some good in this world. Money had never been a big concern for him personally, but the reality of a small refuge accountable to a board of directors meant he had to worry about things like that on occasion.

As a secretary, Portia was brilliant—organized, dedicated—exactly what a free-spirited guy like him needed. But he also wanted her, as a man, and that made working with Portia increasingly challenging.

Since he’d hired her, he’d noticed her—and then he’d immediately move his attention back to business. But now, he caught himself distracted by the pinkness of her lips, the way she straightened her ponytail when she was thinking. Over and over, he’d replayed that night in his head. In a perfect world, he could have both. His kick-ass secretary and his sexy lover, too. But Portia had made it damn clear he wasn’t welcome in her bed again. She’d sent him a brief morning-after text and then ignored his messages unless they were work related.

His heart pounded as he thought of the last—and only—time they’d been together. The memory ramped him up—before he deliberately pushed it aside.

Regaining focus on the present, he surveyed her tight smile. Portia hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, but as if she needed to fill the space with words, she sliced through his thoughts. “So do you think the bird broke a wing?”

He blinked, troubled at the formality of her tone. “Perhaps. I’ll have to x-ray it to be certain.”

“Good. I’m glad we were able to help him.” Matter-of-fact as ever. All business. No hint, no trace of anything more.

She pulled the truck into the driveway of the clinic, parking it. As she turned to face him, he saw concern pass through her eyes. Had she been that worried about his fall?

His fingers ached to touch her bare skin, to explore her gentle curves. Although her breasts were more generous than he remembered. What else had he remembered wrong from their dimly lit, rushed lovemaking? The space between them dwindled, electricity sparking in the air there.

Her eyes danced, and he saw that spark take hold in her, too. The same spark from the night of the storm.

He wanted to nurture that spark into a flame.

He kissed her. God, he kissed her. Tried to rein himself in so he could savor the moment rather than risking another fast and furious encounter. He didn’t want to send her running as he had before. But damn, she tasted good. Felt good. He slid his hands up to cup her face.

For an incredible moment, she seemed to kiss him back. Then everything shifted. She pulled away, her skin sickly pale.

And then she opened the door and ran. More than ran. She flat-out bolted before he could even form a syllable.

* * *

This man had a way of flipping her stomach upside down on a regular day, and now that she was pregnant, her stomach didn’t seem to know which way was up.

Her ballet flats slammed, skidded against the ground. Her stomach rumbled a protesting gurgle, bile rising in the back of her throat.

She ran inside the clinic, through the side entrance and toward her office off the main reception space. She sagged back against the wall, sliding down to the floor while trying to decide if she needed to race the rest of the way to the restroom or simply stay put, calm, unmoving.

Yes, staying still was best. She drew in one deep breath after another. With each breath, she tried to focus on her immediate surroundings. At least the normally bustling clinic lacked people at this hour. All the staff and volunteers had gone home after settling the animals in for the night. Good, she’d hate to have an audience for this. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she heard the creak of the door that lead to the supply closet.

Portia swallowed again, feeling unease and nausea reclaim her stomach.

A light flicked on in an adjoining office with the door open. Maureen. Easton’s research assistant and sister-in-law. Like Easton, Maureen put in long hours, sacrificing sleep for the animals’ sake.

She had a clipboard in her hand, and a pen tucked in her hair. Maureen must’ve been doing inventory. While keeping a meticulous inventory made life at the clinic run smoothly during all seasons, hurricane season made this task rise to a new level of importance. If the intensity of the tropical storm a few weeks ago was any indication of the hurricanes to come, Portia knew how vital it would be to the survival of the refuge for them to maintain plans and supplies.

But what of her own plans?

Portia took a steadying breath as Maureen noticed her and came over. Her bright red hair bouncing in curls, Maureen crouched next to Portia, green eyes searching.

“Are you okay?” Maureen’s slight Irish brogue lilted.

“I’m fine. I just forgot to eat dinner and I’m lightheaded. Low blood sugar. I’ll be fine.”

Standing, Maureen opened a drawer in the supply room, the one where she’d stashed other sorts of emergency supplies—saltines, PowerBars and gum. “You work too hard.”

Maureen tossed her a packet of crackers. To Portia’s surprise, she actually caught the wrapped package, shaking hands and all. Tearing open the wrapper, Portia stood and took her time nibbling while she searched for the right words to deflect Maureen’s comment.

“I enjoy my work.” Not completely true.

She was grateful for her well-paying job and the adorable one-bedroom cabana that came with it. She had a dream of becoming a teacher one day, but she needed to pay for her brother’s education and save enough to finance her own—

Except that wasn’t going to happen. She was out of time to fulfill her own dreams. She had to think of her brother and this baby. And even if her pay doubled, there wasn’t even enough time to figure all of that out before she had to confess everything to Easton.

She hated thinking about money at all. It made her feel too much like her gold digger mother. But there were practical realities to consider.

Like getting some crackers into her stomach before she hurled.

She nibbled on the edge of a saltine. Each bite settling her stomach. For the moment, anyway.

Maureen glanced around the clinic, leaning around the corner that lead to the examination room. “Where’s the doctor?”

“He’s examining an injured bird we rescued.” Or so she assumed. She’d left him in a bit of a hurry.

What on earth had he been thinking to kiss her like that?

More to the point, what had she been thinking to allow it to happen? To respond? Normally, she prided herself on her control. Her good sense. With Easton, it seemed, she had neither.

Maureen passed over a container of wet wipes, her bright diamond ring glittering. Recently, she’d married Easton’s brother, Xander. “Here.”

“What?” Portia took them, confused.

“You’ve got dust on your knees and on your elbows.”

She looked down to check, heat flaming her cheeks as she remembered being close to Easton. Of their bodies pressed against each other on the hard ground. Not that she intended to share those details with anyone. “It’s messy work out there.”

As if on cue to make her cheeks flame hotter, the side door opened and she heard the long stride that was distinctly Easton’s. From a distance, he glanced at her, the bird cradled against his chest in a careful but firm hold.

Maureen stepped forward. “Do you need help?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got this. You two carry on.”

Easton headed toward the back where they did X-rays, away from other animals. His footsteps grew softer until the sound faded altogether.

Maureen turned back to her. “You seem more of the office job type. I’ve often wondered what made you take on this position.” Blunt and honest conversation with Maureen. While normally Portia appreciated Maureen’s directness, Portia didn’t know if she had the stamina for this sort of exchange right now.

“The pay is more than generous and the locale is enticing.”

Did that sound as lame out loud as she thought? Didn’t matter. It was true. She’d needed the better-than-average pay, with housing included, to save the money she needed to pay for her brother. Her stomach did another flip and she reached for a cracker. The scents of the clinic were bothering her in a way they normally didn’t—the stringent smell of antiseptic cleaner used religiously on every surface, the wood shavings lining crates, the air of live plants.

“And the pay is such because the other secretaries before you couldn’t handle an eccentric boss and his unconventional hours, helping him with X-rays, the animals and fieldwork, cleaning his messy office...or they tried to put the moves on him. And yet you’ve put up with him even though he’s clearly not your type.”

Portia stiffened, biting down hard on the edge of the cracker. She chewed and swallowed before speaking. “What would my type be?”

“Did I sound presumptuous? I’m sorry if that came out wrong.”

“Not at all. I’m truly curious because... Oh, never mind.” The question had sounded innocent, but in a strange way, Portia began to wonder if Maureen knew, or at the very least suspected something had happened between Portia and Easton.

“I just meant I can see you with a suave, well-traveled businessman or a brilliant professor. But of course you’re clearly more than capable of taking care of your own love life. Tell me about your type? Or maybe there’s already a gentleman in your life?”

A gentleman in her life? Time for a stellar deflection.

Portia arched her brow and rolled her eyes. She did everything she could to visually signify that she had no connection to anyone at all. One of Portia’s greatest strengths had always been hiding behind conversation.

“Tell me about your honeymoon plans.” That topic ought to do it. Maureen and Xander had delayed their honeymoon trip because, after they were married, they’d realized just how deeply they cared for each other. Originally their marriage had been for convenience—he’d needed a wife to keep custody of his daughter and she’d needed citizenship—but it had since deepened into true love.

“I cannot wait, Portia. It will be hard to be away from Rose for two weeks, but she’ll be staying with her grandparents.”

Rose, Xander’s sweet, blonde baby girl. Portia’s unborn baby’s cousin.

The weight of that sentiment slammed into her every fiber.

Her baby and Rose would be family. Portia’s hand settled on her stomach. She was connected to this place and this family now, no matter what.

Portia’s brother was connected too, through her, even though he lived in the panhandle—in Pensacola, Florida—getting ready to enter his last year of college. He had emotional support from their aunt nearby, but the older woman barely made ends meet. She had gone above and beyond by taking the two of them in after their mother drank herself into liver failure when Portia was thirteen and her brother, Marshall, was only seven.

It was up to Portia to support her family—including this unexpected baby.

Her head started spinning with how tangled everything had become.

Maureen stepped forward, concern creasing her brow. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“It was a long work day. I’m hungry and exhausted. That’s all.”

She needed to get herself together. Wear looser clothes if need be. Give herself a chance to verify everything was alright with the pregnancy and if it was, take the time she needed to come up with a plan for her future.

She’d worked too hard for her independence to give it up now, no matter how tempting Easton might be.

Two

What the hell was up with Portia?

When he’d stepped into the wildlife preserve’s main building, he had taken note of her pale face and standoffish demeanor. Leaving her alone to talk with Maureen seemed the best option. He’d heard the two women leave a half hour later, each sending a quick farewell shout before heading out.

Easton understood that Portia regretted their impulsive encounter during the tropical storm. He’d almost started to accept that it wouldn’t be leading anywhere. It was one night and no more.

But then he’d seen that look in her eyes today.

Shaking his head in bemusement, he closed the clinic door and punched in the security code before turning away into the inky dark. Night creatures spoke to him through the cover of darkness, a cooing mix of coastal birds and tropical bugs. He could identify each sound as readily as he could identify different human voices. As a young boy, Easton digested each sound the way some men committed the sounds of roaring engines to memory. He knew each voice and wanted to help ensure they all continued to speak.

He’d had offers to work at other, larger clinics in more exotic locales, but the newly named Lourdes Family Wildlife Refuge was a personal quest for him and his brother. And he liked this place he called home.

As much as he’d enjoyed his eccentric life growing up, always on the move with his globe-trotting parents, he also enjoyed waking up in the same place each morning. The Key Largo–based animal preserve blended the best of both worlds for him—the wilds and home.

Even the main house reflected that balance of barely domesticated wildness. A sprawling mansion, it stood two stories tall, complete with open balconies and an extravagant, oasis-inspired pool.

Which was where Easton was headed now. His brother, Xander, sat alone on one of the lounge chairs, a glass of bourbon neat in his hand.

Easton and his brother had always been different but close. Since their parents traveled the world with little thought of creating a home or helping their kids build friendships, he and his brother relied on each other. Even more so after their father died and their mother continued her world-traveling ways, always looking for the next adventure in each new country rather than staying in one place to connect with her children.

This house represented more than Easton’s commitment to preserving animals in Key Largo. This shared space with his brother represented an attempt at familial cohesion. An attempt at proving they could grow something stable, something to be proud of. The moonlight filtered through stray clouds, peppering his walk in a play of shadow and light on the well-maintained lawn.

He didn’t want to blame his parents. They deserved to live their lives as they wanted, to be themselves. And even if they hadn’t been conventional parents, they had more than lived up to their commitment to feed, house and educate their children.

But as much as he didn’t want to blame them, he’d found his rocky relationship with them had influenced him. He found it difficult to sustain lasting relationships with women. He’d had a series of short romances. And the only time he’d even considered the altar, she—Dana—had split up with him right before he could propose. She’d said he was too eccentric, too much of a kid at heart, for a committed relationship.

Which was ironic as hell since he’d already been looking at engagement rings.

He hadn’t told her that. Dana probably would have said he wouldn’t have been much of a husband, or that he wouldn’t have actually bought a ring. And she probably would have been right. He knew he was eccentric, and he’d worked to find the right career to blend his passion and personality with work he cared about. He got to climb trees and play in the woods for a living. Not too shabby as a way of channeling his strengths. He’d taken what he’d inherited of his parents’ quirky ways and toned them down, figuring out how to stay in one place.

None of that seemed to matter, though, when it came to figuring out how to settle down, based on his history with Dana, Laura, Naomi... Damn, he was depressing the hell out of himself.

So where did that leave him with Portia?

Once on the stone ground that surrounded the pool, he grabbed a plush lounge chair and pulled it beside Xander. Easton sat in the middle of the lounger, facing his brother. Xander’s ocean-colored eyes flicked to him.

Xander had taken on the wildlife preserve in memory of his wife’s passing. Reviving the then struggling refuge had been her passion.

This place meant the world to both brothers.

“What’s the deal with you and Portia?” Xander’s tone was blunt and businesslike—the commanding voice that won him boardroom battles left and right.

“What do you mean?” The answer came too quickly out of Easton’s mouth.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I was out for a walk with Rose and I saw the way you looked at Portia when you both got into the truck earlier.” He sipped his bourbon, fixing Easton with the stare of an older brother.

“Why didn’t you say hello or offer to help out?”

“You’re trying to distract me. Not going to work. So what gives between you two?”

Easton chose his words carefully, needing to regain control of the conversation before his brother went on some matchmaking kick that would only backfire by making Portia retreat. She was prickly.

And sexy.

And not going to give him the brush-off another time. She’d been avoiding him more than ever recently and he was determined to find out the reason.

“Easton?” Xander pushed.

“She’s an attractive woman.” Not a lie.

“A cool woman, classic. And she’s been here awhile. She’s also not your type. So what changed?”

She absolutely wasn’t the sort to go out with a guy like him. And yet there was chemistry between them. Crackling so tangibly he could swear he was standing in the middle of a storm with the heavens sending lightning bolts through him. She clearly felt the same way, except the next morning, once the storm had passed, she’d insisted it couldn’t happen again. He’d thought if he waited patiently she would wear down.

She hadn’t.

Until today. “And what would my type be?”

“You really want me to spell that out?” Xander’s crooked glance almost riled Easton.

Almost. Then he reminded himself he was the chill brother normally. He was letting this business with Portia mess with his head.

“No need to spell it out. I’ll get defensive and have to kick your ass.”

“You can try.”

Easton smiled tightly. As kids, he used to lie in wait for Xander, always trying to best him in an impromptu wrestling match. He won about half of the time, which wasn’t too bad considering his older brother had shot up with height faster and Easton hadn’t caught up—and passed him—until they were in high school. Now, they had exchanged the good-natured physical wrestling for well-placed banter.

Silence between the brothers lingered, allowing the chorus of nocturnal creatures to swell. Not that he minded. Easton and Xander could both get lost in their own thoughts, with neither of them rambling on with nonsensical chatter. He’d always appreciated the ability to hang out with his brother without feeling the need to fill every moment with speech.

Easton had to admit Xander was right. Easton had always dated women who were more like him, free-spirited, unconventional types.

Date?

That didn’t come close to describing what had happened between him and Portia.

And maybe that was the problem. What had stopped him from asking her out on a date? Before that night, he’d wanted to keep their relationship professional. But after they’d crossed that line... He’d been trying to talk to her about that night. But he’d never done the obvious. Ask her out to dinner...and see where things progressed from there.

He’d always been a man of action and speed. But why not take things slowly with her? He had all the time in the world.

Easton didn’t know where things were heading with Portia, but he wasn’t giving up. He hoped that dating was the right plan and considered asking Xander for input. Usually he and his brother told each other everything, relied on each other for support—hell, they’d been each other’s only friend when they’d been traveling with their parents. Easton needed a plan. And his brother was good at plans, and Xander had far more success in the romance department.

Except right now Easton wanted to hold on to the shift in his relationship with Portia. Keep that private between the two of them. He didn’t want to risk word getting out and spooking her.

Because, yes, something had changed between Easton and his brother too since Xander had married Maureen, and Easton couldn’t figure out what that was. His brother had been married before and had loved his wife, mourned her deeply when she’d died. Still, Easton hadn’t felt he’d lost a part of his brother then, not like now.

So yeah, he wasn’t ready to share yet.

Or maybe it had nothing to do with his brother.

And everything to do with Portia.

* * *

Up until realizing she was pregnant, the most anxiety-inducing moments in Portia’s life had been when she’d fretted about taking care of her brother and paying bills.

This morning had combined all of her anxieties. Her secret pregnancy coupled with arriving to work a half hour late. She’d been sick for what felt like hours and it had thrown her off schedule. Portia was never, ever late. Tardiness drove her insane. Since the morning sickness seemed to be getting significantly worse, she might have to move up her appointment with the doctor to next week. That made her stomach flip all the more since it would mean facing the uncomfortable reality of having to tell Easton.

Dr. Lourdes.

Her boss.

Damn.

Refocus. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Easton’s schedule needed to be organized for the day. That wouldn’t happen if she didn’t collect herself right now. Tugging on the sleeves of her light pink cardigan, she stepped into the office, ready to do prep work for Easton’s arrival.

Blinking in the harsh white light, her tumultuous stomach sank. Easton sat behind his desk, already at work.

His collar-length dark hair was slicked back, blue eyes alert and focused on a stack of papers in front of him, full lips tightly pressed as he thought.

She drew in a sharp breath, another wave of nausea and dizziness pressing at her. He looked up from his desk, his clean-shaven face crinkled in a mixture of concern and...surprise? She realized he was the one all put together this morning and she was the one feeling scattered and disorganized.

This sudden reversal robbed her of her focus. His eyes traced over her, his head falling to the side in concern.

“Are you okay? It’s just—you are never late. In fact, you arrive to everything at least fifteen minutes early.” He set his pen down, eyes peering into hers.

She swallowed, her throat pressing against the top button of her off-white button-up shirt and her strand of faux pearls. Part of her wanted to lean on him, confide in him and get his support. But how? She didn’t have much practice in asking for help.

“Uh.” Stammering, her mind blanked. “Yeah. I just... I think I may have the stomach flu. I haven’t felt this bad in ages.”

She put a hand to her stomach as if to emphasize her symptoms. But really, her palm on her stomach just reminded her of the life growing inside her and how difficult telling Easton was going to be.

“I think that is going around. Maureen called out with the same symptoms. Should you go rest?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got crackers and ginger ale on hand. Anyway, how’s our little patient doing this morning, Doctor?” She added the last part to keep a professional distance between them.

“Walking around, even attempting to take flight. X-rays show no breaks in the wings and there are no missing feathers, so I’m guessing it’s a strained muscle that will benefit from rest. Then back into the wild.” He ran his hands through his hair, his athletic build accented with the movement.

“That’s good to know. Your risky climb saved his—or her—life.”

“His,” he answered simply.

Oppressive silence settled between them. She hated this. There had been a time, not even that long ago, where conversation had felt easy and natural between them. But since the tropical storm, she’d looked for every reason to put distance between them. This morning was no different. “If you’re busy with patients, then I’ll get to some transcriptions.”

“Actually, I’m not busy with patients. Let the transcriptions wait.” His voice dropped any pretense of nonchalance. Determination entered his tone.

“Okay. But why?”

“Let’s talk.”

Every atom in her being revolted. Talk? How could she begin to talk to him? She wasn’t ready. She needed more time.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t talk. We work.” She fished the planner out of her oversize bag and waved it in the air.

“I think talking is an excellent idea.” A small, hungry smile passed over his lips, blue eyes shining with familiar mischief.

Why did he have to be so damn sexy?

“Please, don’t make things more awkward than—”

“Go out with me on a date.”

A date? With Dr. Easton Lourdes? The world slammed still. “A what?”

“A date, where two people spend time together at some entertaining venue. Tomorrow’s not a workday, so it can be afternoon or evening. I don’t want to presume what you would enjoy because honestly, you’re right, we haven’t spoken very much. So for our date, what do you think about a wine-tasting cruise?”

She couldn’t drink, not while pregnant. She winced.

“Okay,” Easton said, moving from behind his desk, “from the look on your face I’ll take that as a no. Concert in the park with a picnic? Go snorkeling? Or take a drive down to the tip of the Keys and hang out at Hemingway’s old house or climb to the top of the Key West Lighthouse?”

“You’re serious about wanting to go on a date?” What would she have thought if he’d made that request months ago? Or if she weren’t pregnant now? What if he’d made that request when she had the luxury of time to explore the possibility of feelings between them?

Except she didn’t have time.

He sat on the edge of his desk, a devilish look in his eyes. “Serious as a heart attack.”

She could see by his face he meant it. Totally. He wanted to go on a date with her. She’d spent two years attracted to him while never acting on it in order to maintain her independence and now—when the last thing she should be doing was starting an affair with him—he was asking her out.

Her emotions were clouding her judgment. Their impulsive night of sex had flipped her mind upside down. Their attraction was every bit as combustible as she’d expected. It had stolen her breath, her sanity. She’d even entertained pursuing something with him. For a moment, she’d not cared one whit about her independence. But fears had assailed her the next morning. Heaven knew if he’d suggested a date then, she would have run screaming into the Everglades, never to be seen again.

Okay, maybe that was overstating things. Or maybe not.

But it did bring up the point that now, things were different. She really did need to talk to him soon and come up with a plan for their baby. Meanwhile, though, maybe she could use this time to get to know him better on a friendship level and find the best way to tell him about their “love child.”

She just had to ignore the electricity that sizzled between them every time he looked at her.

“Key West,” she said. “Let’s take the drive to see Hemingway’s house.”

* * *

The romantic ride he’d planned just yesterday to Hemingway’s house had somehow gone awry.

What should have been a leisurely scenic drive down the heart of the Florida Keys was getting him nowhere with Portia. He wanted her to open up to him, to reveal something about herself. But she was totally clammed up and he was on fire to know more about her. To find a way past her defenses and back into her bed. To pull her clothes off, slowly, one piece at a time and make love to her in a bed, at a leisurely pace rather than a frenzied coupling in a bathroom during a storm.

And she’d gone into her Ice Queen mode again.

Which had never overly bothered him before but was, for some reason, making him crazy now. Yes, he burned to know more about her than what she took in her coffee—although these days she seemed to enjoy water with fruit slices more than her standard brew. He needed to get her talking.

And he also needed to power his way past this slower moving traffic into a clearer stretch of road.

Checking the rearview mirror, he slid his vintage Corvette into the fast lane, getting out from behind a brake-happy minivan. As they passed the van, he noted the map sprawled out on the dash. That explained everything about the somewhat erratic driving behavior.

He used the opportunity of an open road to check out Portia, noting her slender face, porcelain skin and pointed nose. The edges of her mouth were tensed slightly. Her hair was gathered into a loose ponytail, not completely down, but definitely more casual than her usual tightly pulled-back twist. The hairstyle had led him to believe getting through to her today would be easier.

Apparently, he would have to work harder at getting her to reveal her thoughts. And work harder at restraining the urge to slide his hands through her hair until it all hung loose and flowing around her shoulders. He remembered well the feel of those silken strands gliding through his fingers as he moved inside her—

Hell, there went his concentration again.

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and searched for just the right way to approach her. Often times the simplest ways worked best. Maybe he’d been trying too hard.

“When my brother and I were kids traveling the world with our parents, we became masters at entertaining ourselves during long flights. I’m thinking now might be a good time to resurrect one of our games.”

She tipped her head toward him. “Oh really? What did you two play?”

Ah, good. She’d taken the bait.

“Our favorite was one we called Quiz Show. I was about ten when we started playing. I was determined to beat my older brother at something. He was still so much taller, but I figured since we were just a year apart, I had a fighting chance at taking him down in a battle of the minds.”

“Tell me more,” she said, toying with the end of her ponytail, which sent his pulse spiking again.

“We’d already been on a transcontinental flight and then had to spend ten more hours in a car. So we’d burned out on books and toys and homework. We started asking each other outrageous questions to stump each other.”

The result? Two very tight brothers. He hoped to re-create that experience with Portia. To learn something about her. “Would you like to play?”

“Uh, sure. You go first, though, and I reserve the right not to answer.”

“Fair enough.” A natural quizmaster, he paused, thinking of his first question. One that would help them flow into more personal topics. “What do you do for fun?”

“Are you being rude?” she asked indignantly.

Well, hell. “What do you mean?”

“You said the questions were meant to stump the other person so your question could be taken as an insult.”

“Damn. I didn’t mean that at all. How about consider this as a new game, our rules. I meant what does Portia Soto do for fun? To unwind? Because I don’t know you well and I’m trying to get to know you better.” He needed more than just raw data. He wanted her quirks, her idiosyncrasies. He wanted to figure out his attraction to her. Once he did, then he could put those tumultuous dreams to rest.

Or know whether to pursue an all-out affair.

She shot him a sideways look, her ponytail swishing, the ribbon rippling in the wind. “Okay, I see what you mean. But you have to promise not to laugh at my answer.”

“I would never. Unless you tell me you make to-do lists for fun. Then I might.” He kept his tone casual, his grip on the leather steering wheel light.

“I may be a Post-it note princess, but that isn’t my ‘fun’ time. No. I actually like to draw.” She said the words so quietly that they were almost swept away by the wind.

“You draw?” He spared her a sidelong glance, noting the way her cheeks flushed, even beneath her oversize sunglasses.

She nodded, pony tail bobbing. “I do.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He pressed for progress.

She took a deep breath, hand floating in the air as she made an uncharacteristically theatrical gesture that drew his attention to her elegant fingers. “Oh, you know, the usual kinds of things. Animals mostly. Lots of animals. People, too. Their faces especially. I like the small details.”

“You are just full of surprises, Ms. Soto.” He bet her way of noticing made her a brilliant artist. Nothing seemed to escape her gaze. He liked that about her. He was finding he liked a lot more about her than he’d realized. Apparently before now his absentminded professor ways had made him miss things. His attention to detail wasn’t as fine-tuned as hers.

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, could 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.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.