Dreaming Of... Italy: Daring to Trust the Boss / Reunited with Her Italian Ex / The Forbidden Prince. SUSAN MEIER
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On Monday morning, she woke with a headache and by the time she got out of the shower she was so dizzy she could barely stand.
Racing out the door, Laura Beth told her to take the day off. Heading into the shower, Eloise agreed. So she unwound her towel and walked to the dresser for clean pajamas. Almost too tired to lift them out of the drawer, she struggled to get the top over her head and the bottom pulled up to her waist.
Exhausted, she fell face first on her bed. Vaguely, she heard the sound of Eloise leaving for that day’s interview but that was her last conscious thought.
* * *
At twenty till ten, Tucker Engle sat at his desk staring at the phone. He had no idea why Olivia hadn’t come into the office today but he had one of those sneaking suspicions she’d told him about.
She was quitting. After almost complete silence between them for days, their only words to each other questions and answers about that day’s work, she’d had enough.
He supposed it was her prerogative to leave Inferno, but no matter how close they’d gotten in Italy, how disappointed she was in his ability to return those feelings, she still had to turn in a notice. Two weeks was customary.
He could have Human Resources call her. But what would he do if she told them she was quitting because he’d kissed her? Or she was quitting because they’d connected in Italy and now he refused to be personal with her?
He didn’t think she’d do that, but he also didn’t want his private business advertised. So he called Human Resources, got her cell phone number and called her.
He waited four rings before the call went to voice mail.
Which probably meant her phone was busy.
He gave her twenty minutes then hit redial. After four rings, it went to voice mail.
Ten minutes later, he hit redial again and it went to voice mail.
Five minutes later, he hit redial. And finally she answered.
“Hello?”
Her weak voice cracked. She sounded like she was on death’s door.
Cold fear flooded him. He cursed the feeling. Not just because he wasn’t supposed to like her but because he hated anything he couldn’t control.
“Are you all right, Miss Prentiss?”
“What?”
The disorientation in her frail voice sent panic through him. But he forced himself to remain professional. “Okay, I’m guessing you’re sick.”
Nothing.
“Miss Prentiss?”
Nothing.
“Olivia?”
“I’m fine.”
No, she wasn’t! He could tell from her weak voice that something serious was wrong. He disconnected the call and summoned his driver. The forty minutes it took to get to her apartment increased his panic and he raced into her building. He sighed at the three flights of stairs he had to climb and in the end took them two at a time. When he reached her apartment door, he knocked and knocked. Just as he was considering finding her building superintendent to get a key, the door opened.
Her hair was a tumble of knots. The puffy lids over her glazed eyes drooped. His gaze fell to her soft pink pajamas. The top had thin straps that all but bared her shoulders to him and revealed a plump pink strip of cleavage. The loose bottoms clung to the swell of her hips.
He swallowed hard. He’d never met anyone as naturally beautiful, as naturally built, as she was. And yet she believed she wasn’t good enough.
“Well, at least you’re not dying.”
She looked at him, but said nothing. Tucker wasn’t really sure she saw him.
He shepherded her back into her apartment, which was small, but neat and clean. “Which room is yours?”
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