Dionne had no argument left in her and reluctantly gave up the fight. Arguing with Dr. Pelayo wasn’t helping her cause, so she considered her options. She thought of calling a taxi to pick her up, but remembered she had no purse, no wallet, no money. Phoning her assistant or one of her senior life coaches was out of the question. She didn’t want anyone to know about the attack and hoped to keep it a secret. Sharleen was in Fiji with Emilio, her sisters were home with their kids and her parents were at work. Though retired, they both worked part-time to stave off boredom, but Dionne knew if she called them they’d drop everything and rush to the hospital. The problem was, she didn’t want them there. She felt ashamed, embarrassed that the mugger had attacked her, and wanted to put the whole ugly incident behind her as quickly as possible.
“Please reconsider calling your husband,” Dr. Pelayo urged. “I understand that you’re separated, but you need his love and support now more than ever.”
No, I don’t. I need a glass of Muscat and a hot bubble bath.
“Tragedies have a way of reminding us what’s important in life and bring us even closer to the people we love. I think your husband would want to be here with you.”
A sharp knock on the door drew Dionne’s gaze across the room. Immanuel entered in all of his masculine glory and nodded politely in greeting. Dionne stared at him. So did Dr. Pelayo. The physician was wearing a dreamy expression on her face, one that indicated she was head over heels in lust. Immanuel had that effect on everyone—nurses, housekeeping, doctors—and seemed oblivious to the commotion he caused whenever he entered a room. That made him all the more appealing in her eyes.
“Sorry I took so long to return. Traffic was crazy on the freeway...”
He spoke quietly in a smooth, sexy tone. His voice was seductive, his cologne, too, and when their eyes met Dionne had to remind herself to breathe. He moved with confidence, like a man who had the world at his feet—and he probably did.
“How are you feeling?”
Better now that you’re here, she thought, but didn’t say. Immanuel was the calm in the midst of the storm, and Dionne was glad he was back. “Almost as good as new.”
Immanuel was holding a shopping bag in one hand and a garment bag with the Gucci logo in the other. He placed both items on the bed. “These are for you. I hope you like them.”
“What’s all this? All I asked for was shampoo and body wash.”
“You’re going home today, and I figured you’d need something nice to wear.”
The shopping bag was filled with sweet-smelling toiletries, everything from deodorant to scented oils and perfume. Dionne unzipped the garment bag, and a gasp fell from her mouth. A navy pantsuit, and a silk scarf were inside. Inside the shopping bag was a shoe box with black red-heeled pumps.
Dionne couldn’t believe it, thought she was dreaming with her eyes open. How did Immanuel know her size? Who’d told him that Gucci was her favorite designer? She’d tried on the same outfit last week at Saks Fifth Avenue, but couldn’t justify spending thousands of dollars on clothes when Jules was fighting her about money. Touching the lapel of the jacket, she admired the intricate design along the collar of the white ruffled blouse, then quickly re-zipped the bag. “Immanuel, I can’t keep this. It’s too expensive.”
“It’s a gift.”
“But it cost forty-five hundred dollars.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone firm. “You had a rough night, and I think you deserve to leave the hospital in style. Don’t fight me on this.”
Dr. Pelayo’s eyes lit up, and Dionne knew the physician was impressed. So was she. Not because of the staggering cost of the outfit, but because Immanuel—someone she’d just met—had done something kind for her, something her ex never did. Jules had relied on his secretary to buy her gifts, even had her sign the cards on his behalf, regardless of the occasion. If Jules had been more thoughtful and attentive, our marriage wouldn’t have fallen apart—
“Have you been discharged?” Immanuel asked.
Dionne blinked and broke free of her thoughts. “No, not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Before Dionne could answer, Dr. Pelayo told Immanuel about the hospital discharge policy and expressed her opinion on the matter. “Mrs. Fontaine is going to need a lot of emotional support in the coming weeks, so it’s imperative she reach out to her friends and family for help,” the doctor explained. “I’m trying to convince her to call her husband.”
Immanuel turned to Dionne.
The heat of his gaze left her breathless and tingling all over. Dionne smoothed a hand over her hair, and winced when she felt tangles in her wavy dark locks. Is that why Immanuel’s staring at me? Because I look a hot mess?
“Is that what you want? For Dr. Pelayo to call your husband?”
Hell no. Knowing her response would raise eyebrows, she swallowed her retort and shook her head. Dionne wasn’t calling Jules, and she wished Dr. Pelayo would stop pressuring her to do so. Besides, Jules would never come pick her up. Work was all that mattered, all he cared about, and that would never change.
“I can drive you home.”
Dionne met his gaze. “You can?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, moved by his words. “You’ve already done so much for me, and I’d hate to inconvenience you.”
“It’s no inconvenience at all. I live in Brookhaven too, remember?”
“That’s right, we’re neighbors, I forgot.” Dionne wanted to break out in song. Now she wouldn’t have to bother her family to pick her up, and no one would ever know about the attack. Immanuel Morretti was a hero, a stand-up guy with a heart of gold, and Dionne was grateful for everything he’d done for her in just a short period of time.
A shiver whipped through her body. It frightened her to think what would have happened if Immanuel hadn’t come to her rescue last night.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Immanuel said, glancing at his gold wristwatch. “I’ll go home, swap my McLaren for my SUV and meet you at the front desk at four.”
“You don’t have to go to all that trouble. I’m just grateful for the ride.”
“Are you sure? It’s a small sports car, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m positive,” she said, blown away by his thoughtfulness. Dionne returned his smile, deciding right then and there that Immanuel Morretti was the most considerate, compassionate man she’d ever met, and she liked him immensely. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness.”
“You don’t have to. I’m a Morretti, and we’re not happy unless we’re rescuing someone,” he said with a hearty chuckle. Immanuel touched her hand and gestured to the door with his head. “I’ll be in the waiting room. Take as long as you need.”
As Immanuel and Dr. Pelayo exited the room, Dionne saw the doctor make her move. Resting her hand on his forearm, she leaned into him and spoke in a sultry whisper. Is she giving him her number? Asking him out? Inviting him over for drinks?
Dionne sat up and tossed aside the blanket. She told herself she didn’t care, and that it was none of her business what they were talking about. But if that were true, then why did she want to jump out of bed and wrestle the pretty doctor to the ground?
* * *
“Sorry for making you wait, but I’m ready now.”
Immanuel glanced up from the September