Patient Nurse Read Online Free Page B

then, his face hard. “Why are you hiding in here?” he asked Isadora. “We have guests.”
    â€œYes, don’t we?” she replied with a pointed look at Noreen. “I should have asked Larry,” she added.
    Ramon’s eyes had flashed furiously. Isadora darted under his arm and back to her guests, leaving Ramon with only Noreen to take his burst of temper out on.
    And he had.
    â€œThe charlady, in person,” he’d commented coldly, glaring at her eternal jeans and sweatshirt. “You couldn’t wear a dress for the occasion?”
    â€œI didn’t want to come,” she replied furiously. “You made me!”
    â€œGod knows why,” he returned with another cold survey of her person.
    She couldn’t think of anything to say to him. She felt and looked out of place.
    He’d moved closer and she’d backed away. The expression on his face had been priceless. Sadly, her instinctive action had led to something even worse.
    â€œDo I repulse you?” he’d murmured, coming closer until she was backed to the sink. “Amazing, that such a shadow of a woman would refuse any semblance of ardent notice on the part of a man, even a repulsive man.”
    She’d shivered at his tone and crossed her arms across her sweatshirt defensively. “A married man.” She’d hurled the words at him.
    His hands had clenched by his side, although the words had the desired effect. He made no more movements toward her. His eyes had searched hers, demanding answers she couldn’t give.
    â€œMaid of all work,” he’d taunted, “cook and housekeeper and doer of small tasks. Don’t you ever get tired of sainthood?”
    She’d swallowed. “I’d like to go now, please.”
    His chest had risen sharply. “Where would you like to go? Away from me?”
    â€œYou’re married to my cousin,” she’d said through her teeth, fighting down an attraction that made her sick all over.
    â€œOf course I am, house sparrow,” he’d replied. “That beautiful, charming woman with the saintly face and body is all mine. Other men are sick with jealousy of what I have. Isadora, bright and beautiful, with my ring on her finger.”
    â€œYes, she is…lovely.” She’d choked.
    His fury had been a little intimidating. Those black eyes were like swords, cutting at her. He hated her, and she knew it. Only she didn’t know why. She’d never hurt him.
    He’d moved aside then, with that innate courtesy and formality that was part of him.
    â€œI grew up in a barrio in Havana,” he murmured quietly. “My parents struggled to get through college, to educate themselves enough to get out of the poverty. When we came to the States, we rose in position and wealth, but I haven’t forgotten my beginnings. Part of me has nothing but contempt for those people in there—” he jerked his head toward the living room “—content in their pure country-club environment, ignorant of the ways poverty can twist a soul.”
    â€œWhy are you talking to me like this?” she’d asked.
    His face had softened, just a little. “Because you’ve known poverty,” he replied, surprising her. She hadn’t realized he knew anything about her. “Your parents were farmers, weren’t they?”
    She nodded. “They didn’t get along very well with Aunt Mary and Uncle Hal,” she confided. “Except for public opinion, I’d have gone to an orphanage when they were killed.”
    He knew what she meant. “And would an orphanage have been so much worse?”
    The question had taunted her, then and now. It was as if he knew what her life had been like with the Kensingtons, her father’s brother and sister-in-law, and beautiful Isadora. Ridiculous, of course, to think that he understood.
    On the other hand, she wondered if Isadora had ever understood him,