The Spanish Duke's Holiday Proposal. Robin Gianna

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The Spanish Duke's Holiday Proposal - Robin  Gianna


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today she’d proved that wasn’t always true. And taking Mateo up on his offer would definitely not be the quiet, boring route either, would it?

      “Fine.” Her pulse quickened as she agreed. “I appreciate it.”

      “I have a secret reason for asking, you realize.”

      Her heart lurched at the wicked glint that suddenly appeared in his eyes, and a whole lot of possibilities swirled through her head. Was she out of her mind to actually go with him? Her eyes glued to his, she breathlessly asked, “What?”

      “Benny can’t be returned in his current condition.” He held out the little dog. “I’m hoping you’ll take him in the shower with you to get him washed up as well.”

      * * *

      Miranda felt warm from head to toe as she shoved her arms into the oversized white robe Mateo had given her before her shower. She had a bad feeling that the heat pumping from her pores was from more than just the hot shower. That it might have something to do with feeling embarrassed that she was naked in Mateo Alves’s bathroom, and that she’d been thinking thoughts that should not have formed in her brain at all.

      Thoughts of Mateo coming into the small space while she was in the shower, which of course would be horrifying and creepy in real life. But in her fantasy world, safe behind a locked bathroom door? Very, very exciting. And what woman wouldn’t think about that for at least a second, when the man was the most gorgeous male specimen she’d ever laid eyes on?

      Not to mention that there was something about him that made her feel utterly safe. Had even felt absurdly safe in that tunnel with debris showering down on them, which was ridiculous. His body, big though it was, couldn’t have fully shielded her if the entire street had collapsed on them. But that he’d thrown himself on her to protect her the best he could made her feel a little warm glow, even though she knew it was part of his job and he’d been angry with her for even being there in the first place.

      She stared into the mirror and finger-combed her damp hair, glad she’d decided to cut it into a bob a couple of years ago. With her work schedule it was easier to take care of now, and after today’s crazy events it would have been a tangled mess if it had been longer. She shook her head at the sudden wish that she had more than just lipstick, making a mental note to put some makeup in her purse for next time.

      As though there’d be another time she’d rush into danger, be yelled at by the world’s most handsome paramedic, then insistently brought to his home to get cleaned up. No, this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and she needed to get her clothes dried fast and get out of there before she embarrassed herself again by ogling him. Before he remembered he’d been annoyed about her getting in his way today. The kind of annoyance she’d gotten all too used to once Vanessa Davenport had grudgingly allowed her to live with her father and half-siblings.

      “Thanks again for your robe,” she said as she walked into his small but comfortable living room, tying the attached terrycloth belt of the over-large robe even tighter. She stared at him lounging on his sofa and licked her dry lips, trying to sound calm and normal instead of absurdly nervous. Which was obviously a ridiculous way for a mature woman to feel, but boyfriends had been few and far between in her life, mostly because she’d quickly learned that none of them had been interested in her, just in her name and the Davenport money and connections. “Are my...are my clothes almost dry?”

      “They need maybe ten more minutes.” Unfolding his body from the deep leather sofa, he moved toward the bathroom with Benny, now wrapped in a towel to keep the dust from getting everywhere, tucked under his arm again. “I hope you left some hot water for us.”

      Her mouth went even dryer. “You’re...going to shower? Now?”

      Dark eyebrows lifted at her as he paused. “Do you object to me using my own shower? I believe I’m covered in even more silt than you were. And I can’t exactly pass Benny on in his current state, since you refused to take him in with you.”

      “Of course I don’t object.” Which was a lie, because she really wanted to say, Yes! I’d really rather you wait to take off your clothes until after I’m gone! “And I didn’t refuse, you said you’d take care of washing him.”

      “Because I’m an excellent dog washer, and I suspect you don’t have much experience with canines.”

      It was true, but the way he said it seemed to imply he thought she was a prima donna or something. “You sure do claim to be excellent at everything. And I’m sure I could handle washing a little dog.”

      “I have no doubt you handle all kinds of things with aplomb, Dr. Davenport.” That quick grin of his flashed before he disappeared into the only bedroom.

      Apparently, she’d fooled him pretty well, because there was only one thing she was really good at, and that was being a doctor. Something she’d worked hard to do, trying to live up to the Davenport name. The family she only sort of belonged to, and would probably never be worthy of.

      The sound of the bathroom door clicking behind him sent Miranda to perch on the end of the sofa, looking around his small apartment. His decor could be described as minimalist, but the furniture was obviously expensive, and the few pieces of art unusual and eclectic. Not posters from a cheap store but beautifully framed originals hung on the walls, and several excellent sculptures were placed on the modern tables.

      She ran her finger across a bronze with fluid lines. Interesting and unexpected that an EMT would have the financial resources for art like this. Maybe he was the kind of man who bought very little, but when he did, it was only the best.

      Pondering the man, she absently picked up a magazine, surprised to see that it was about horses and horse-breeding, and flicked through the photos of beautiful animals, hoping for a distraction from her nerves. Until the sound of the shower put a completely different image in her head. Picturing a naked, muscular Mateo with water streaming down the dark hair on his chest shortened her breath and did other things to her body that embarrassed her all over again, reminding her of exactly how she’d felt in that tunnel when he’d been lying on top of her.

      Lord, this was ridiculous. What in the world was wrong with her? She was twenty-nine years old, for heaven’s sake, and a doctor who’d seen plenty of naked men in her career. Naked men were in her life every day!

      Except Mateo wasn’t a patient, and she couldn’t remember a single man she’d ever known, patient or otherwise, who’d been even close to as gorgeous as he was.

      She blew out a breath, and just as she was about to go to the small laundry closet to check on her clothes and throw them on, damp or not, a loud knock sounded at the door to his apartment.

      She stared, frozen. Should she answer? The distant sound of the shower told her Mateo wasn’t even close to being done, and if she hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t be answering anyway, right? Besides, what if it was a girlfriend or something? How could she explain being in his apartment in his robe? Then she remembered it might be whoever was coming to get Benny, and decided she’d better answer before they left, assuming no one was home. She moved toward the door as a man’s voice boomed through it.

      “Mateo! Are you there?”

      To Miranda’s surprise, she heard the keypad beep just before the doorknob turned. The door opened to reveal an older couple, probably in their early sixties. The petite woman had dark hair with streaks of gray, coiffed into an elegant chignon, and the man was tall and unusually slender. He held a cane and was walking slowly, a step behind the woman as they came into the apartment. Both stared at her with raised eyebrows as their gazes took in her wet hair and the fact that she was standing there naked except for Mateo’s robe.

      The embarrassment she’d felt before flamed another hundred degrees, and if there’d been anywhere she could have run, she would have torn right out of there.

      “Is Mateo here?” the woman asked, her eyes remarkably cold-looking for being a warm, velvety brown.

      “Um, yes. He’s...he’s in the shower. See, there was an accident today, part of the


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