She caught his arm and pulled him through the door. “I’m so sorry. You’ll stay long enough to eat a creampuff, won’t you?”
A skeptical frown crossed his brow. “A creampuff?”
“There were some left from the tea I gave this afternoon, but all the nut bread is gone. Let’s have coffee and sit quietly together if you’d rather not talk.”
“I’d rather not talk, but I’m sorry if I ate the nut bread you’d planned for a party.”
She leaned close to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome to whatever is here. From now on I’ll put notes on anything I want to save.” She hopped into the kitchen, and he followed.
“Go sit down, and I’ll make the coffee,” he urged.
“Fine.” It amazed her how easily he glided into her life, and it was more than mere excellent chemistry. Whatever the intangible was, it exerted a constant pull even when she’d been furious with him. She returned to the sofa where she’d been reading. They’d called a truce last night, and she wouldn’t mention a need to extend it when he’d come with such tragic news. He brought the whole plate of creampuffs into the living room, and thinking he might finish them all, she took the first one.
“How is your stepmother?”
He placed her coffee on the end table beside her. “She’s taking it better than expected. She was with my father and swears she felt his spirit drift away. He would have hated being an invalid. It’s a blessing he’s gone. I don’t feel anything, not sorrow, or relief, nothing at all. I called my mother when my father first entered the hospital, so his death didn’t come as a shock. She said she’d pray for his soul.” He took a creampuff. “How was the tea?”
She searched his face for a shadow of emotion, but he looked as cool as he sounded. This was a man who never mentioned love, so maybe today’s lack of reaction was nothing unusual for him. Maybe he simply welcomed a distraction. “It was a lovely afternoon. I didn’t grow up going to tea parties, and my mother never hosted one, but it was fun. I invited the widows in the building I’ve only seen occasionally and wanted to know. It’s one of my efforts to sample the real world. Does that sound strange to you, or simply silly?”
“Neither. We get wedged into our lives, and it’s good to step out on our own whenever we can. I don’t suppose you told them about the baby?”
He was closely studying his creampuff. He never looked at her when there was something he really wanted to know. In gambling, such a giveaway was referred to as a tell. She stopped analyzing him to respond. “It’s too soon, Alejandro, and they aren’t dear friends. None would call the tabloids, but they’d tell someone, who’d tell someone, and soon everyone would know.”
He swallowed a bite of creampuff. “How would that be bad?”
“Let’s not go there.” She licked a drop of custard filling from her finger.
“I should go.”
“Have another creampuff and finish your coffee first.”
He loosened his tie and kicked off his loafers. “I didn’t mean to stay, but clearly you don’t want me to go.”
She laughed. “I don’t?”
“No, or you’d not have offered a creampuff in the first place.”
“Are you doubting my motives?” She still mistrusted his but couldn’t help herself.
“Ask me later.”
His father had died, and while he refused to admit it, it had to affect him. Maybe it had seeped so deep he couldn’t feel it yet, but it would hit him someday. Every death was a loss, and Orlando Ortiz had cut a wide swath through Alejandro’s life. Maybe Alejandro hadn’t come for sex, but clearly he’d wanted a friend, and she didn’t mind at all.
“Fatima could work as a pastry chef,” he said.
“She could, but please don’t encourage her. I love having her work for me and would rather not have to train someone new in the way I want things done.”
He nodded. “I understand. My father set out early to train me. He began taking me to the office when I was five or six. He talked to me as though I were an apprentice he expected to learn quickly. He cautioned me not to praise people for doing the job they were paid to do. He expected excellence and paid good salaries, so he didn’t waste his breath on praise. One of his employees had to do something extraordinary to win an accolade. ‘Keep them hungry,’ he advised. I didn’t know the word manipulation then, but I knew what he did was wrong and people deserved to be recognized for their work beyond a paycheck.”
Now that he’d spoken about his father, she encouraged him to continue. “So his business lessons didn’t take?”
He sipped his coffee and kept the warm mug clasped in his hands. “I learned his rules for success and could repeat them verbatim, but I didn’t believe them. Now I have the choice of following his strict silent way of doing business or turning the Ortiz Line on its head. It’s a tempting thought, but I won’t do anything to harm the people depending on us for work. In the not too distant future, however, I hope to turn the whole operation over to someone who’d be much better qualified than I.”
“Where do his younger sons fit in?”
“One of them may develop a passion for business when he’s grown, and I’ll drop the whole mess in his lap. But they’re still kids and can’t run anything yet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with this.”
“I don’t feel burdened at all,” she responded and had to cover a yawn. “I have an early