by Phoebe Conn
Maggie leaned close to her husband. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but the woman certainly isn’t subtle.”
It took a moment for Rafael to realize his wife was amused rather than insulted, and he followed her example. “I’ll write to thank her for such a useful gift. May we leave everything here while we’re away?”
“Yes, take them up to Maggie’s room, and they’ll be safe there,” Santos said.
“I’m not ready for the day to end,” Linda murmured softly. Peter took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Our girls are growing up. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I know, but I’m not ready for it.”
“Maybe you need another piece of cake,” Perry suggested.
“What a wonderful idea,” Libby agreed. “Let’s go back to the dining room and eat there, or is that too much to ask of the kitchen staff?”
Santos was getting better at rising to his feet. “No, Tomas will probably be expecting us.” He let Libby go on in ahead of him and hung back to stay with the twins and Fox. “Thank you again for coming for the wedding. It meant a lot to Maggie and me to have the best part of our family together today.”
Fox whispered, “I didn’t mind coming, but next time don’t invite Cirilda.”
“Remind me.”
Santos drew in a deep breath and released it in a sigh, grateful that the evening had gone as well as it had. Connie caught Maggie’s bouquet, blushed bright red and glanced at Fox. Santos noticed, but Fox had eyes only for Patricia, who’d be gone tomorrow. At least his sudden infatuation had kept him from brooding as he usually did, so on the whole, Santos thought they’d ended the evening ahead. He stood on the porch and waved good-bye with the others as Maggie and Rafael drove away. He wasn’t sure he believed in love, but he was positive he’d never repeat silly promises that couldn’t be kept and call it a marriage.
Chapter Eight
Before they went upstairs to bed, Patricia’s mother pulled her aside. “Fox is very taken with you, but you’ll forget him by the time we land in Minneapolis. Don’t let it get past a good-night kiss, or he’ll go back to school madly in love with you.”
“I really like him. His mother was killed in a plane crash soon after she’d married Miguel. He pretends to barely tolerate the Aragon family, but they’re all he has. I won’t add to his problems and break his heart.”
“You won’t mean to,” Linda stressed, “but you will.”
Patricia planned to meet Fox in the den as soon as Libby went to sleep, but her mother didn’t need to know. “I know everyone has feelings; I won’t lead him on.”
“I worry about you, Patricia,” her mother paused to admit and went on to her room.
Libby and Santos remained in the living room. They were seated on opposite ends of the couch and too tired to move any closer.
“Do you suppose Patricia was right about Cirilda not getting enough attention?” she asked.
“No, Cirilda got too much attention from Carmen. Alfonso won’t speak to me now, but I don’t care. Maybe he’ll remember why he and Cirilda divorced and run for his life before they marry a second time.”
“Perhaps.” She glanced around the well-appointed room. “This has been an extraordinary week.”
“Will you expect me to outdo it next week?”
“No, but we’ll find a way to amuse ourselves.” She pulled the pins from her hair and shook out the curls. “I’d like to try the elevator at least once.”
Santos moaned. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I’ve given the staff the day off. Once everyone leaves for the airport, we’ll have the house to ourselves.”
“Can you wait an extra hour? I want to ride to the airport with my family.”
“I’ll have to,” he answered. “I should ride along with the twins and Fox, but they’re leaving earlier.”
“Not too early, I hope. It’s difficult to get teenagers out of bed.”
“Not half as difficult as getting you into one.”
Libby laughed, got up and pulled him to his feet. “With that sexy smile, you’re sure to sell gallons of cologne.”
“I hope so. I’ll earn a percentage on every bottle. Come here.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her throat, then licked the hollow behind her ear.
She slid her arms around his waist and pressed close. He was so alive and so appealing she didn’t want to let go. She cuddled against him. “Do you think it’s safe to drive the Hispano-Suiza tomorrow? You might be followed again.”
“I don’t think so, but we’ll take the Mercedes to the airport and to the bullring tomorrow afternoon.”
“We’re going to the bullfights?” Astonished, she drew back to study his expression. He didn’t look worried, but the prospect terrified her.
“We’ll be sitting in the stands.” He slid his fingers through her hair to pull her back. “The protesters need someone to die in the bullring, not the crowd. I’ll be of no use to them as a target tomorrow.”
“I don’t know. That’s a logical theory, but it scares me anyway.”
He spread teasing kisses along her jaw. “If you’re afraid of nightmares, come sleep with me tonight.”
Everything about the man felt right. She reached up to touch his thick glossy hair, and he caught her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. “Tempting, but not yet. Good night.” She let him ride up in the elevator alone. She’d had enough hurried quickies to last her a lifetime, and from him, she wanted so much more.
When Santos heard the knock at his door, he hoped Libby had changed her mind, but it was Fox. “What do you need?” he asked.
Fox came in, closed the door and leaned back against it. Still in his blazer and gray slacks, he looked sharp and still wide awake. “You know how to get any woman you want. What’s the secret?”
“You’re doing all right with Patricia.”
He gave a reluctant nod. “Maybe, but she’ll be gone tomorrow.”
Santos bit the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing. He wanted to be a responsible adult, but this was a challenge. “I’ll give you the advice Miguel gave me: Don’t give a damn. Women will ignore a dozen men who are eager to impress them to reach a man who’s looking the other way.”
“Is that how you got Ana Santillan?”
Santos put his bookmark in his book and set it on the nightstand. “I got Ana because my father was too sick to keep her, and she liked the Aragon name.”
Fox’s voice softened. “I liked her.”
“I did too, up to a point.”
Fox remained silent for a long moment. “So I should act like I don’t care until I get the woman I want, and even then I shouldn’t care too much? Is that it?”
Santos hadn’t realized how cynical he’d sounded. “Maybe you should ask someone else for advice.”
“I would, but you’re the resident expert.” He looked around the room, but there was no artwork or photos on display to catch his eye. He straightened up. “Thanks, good night.” He opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.
“Good night.” Santos punched his pillows. Every matador had more women than he could handle, so he’d never had to pursue anyone, unless he counted Libby. She was in a class all by herself. Her fiery spirit as much as her beauty attracted him. She easily countered his every move, and he reluctantly conceded he might have met his match. She’d refuse to be just another girl on his lengthy list, but he was a long way from wanting to settle down. The whole idea gave him chills, and he went to Stephen King for less scary company.
While Libby got ready for bed, Patricia remained dressed, sat in their room’s overstuffed chair and shuffled through one of the magazines she’d brought with her. “Where are you meeting Fox?” Libby asked.
Patricia looked up, her eyes wide. “Whatever made you think I’d want to meet him?”
“Please. You’ve been hanging on each other all day. He’s awfully cute and one of the Aragon heirs.”
“Is that why you like Santos?”
“No.” She searched for a way to describe their attraction. He looked so damn good he’d overwhelmed her in the airport; there was no point in looking for an antidote. She’d follow her instincts, and it had been a conscious decision. She knew it couldn’t last but no longer cared. “There isn’t a checklist. Men either appeal to you or they don’t. It’s great when they do, and I’ll give you ten minutes before I come looking for you. Go and tell Fox good night.”
“You’re the best!” Patricia shot out the door and then had to slow down to close it quietly.
Libby looked at her travel alarm clock. She’d just given herself ten uninterrupted minutes to tell Santos good night, but she wasn’t going to take them when they would have tomorrow afternoon all to themselves, if he made it home from the airport alive.
Fox stood near the bookcase by the couch when Patricia came tiptoeing into the den. He’d wanted to be alone with her, and he didn’t want her to think he didn’t know what to do. He reached up to grab a book from the top shelf to give himself a few seconds to practice looking like he didn’t care, but he misjudged its weight, and the heavy tome slipped from his grasp scattering a handful of letters across the floor. The sketch with gouged-out eyes landed on top.
“Oh my God,” Patricia shrieked. “What is that?”
Fox gathered it up with the other letters. He flipped through them quickly. “They’re addressed to Santos, but there’s no name on the drawing. I didn’t know he got such weird fan mail.”
Patricia surveyed the bookcase with a quick glance. “Why would he put it way up there?”
“So we wouldn’t find it?” Fox offered.
“Yeah, but we did. Let’s go show Libby.” She pulled the letters from his grasp and ran from the room with him trailing right behind.
When Patricia came barreling through the door with Fox, Libby was amazed, she’d only been gone a couple of minutes. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Look at this!” Patricia handed her the gruesome sketch. “Fox found it hidden in a book in the den, just like a secret clue in a mystery.”
Shocked, Libby stared at the revolting drawing. Santos thought there was no longer a threat to his life, but this hideous portrait was far too frightening to ignore. She quickly sorted through the letters. They were written in Catalan and Spanish she couldn’t read, but the dates on most showed they’d come from the previous week. “Let’s go see if Santos is awake.”
“He is,” Fox assured them.
Libby slid off the bed and pulled her jacket over her sleep shirt. She led the way down the hall and, taking care not to bother their parents, rapped lightly on Santos’s door.
When he invited her in, she carried the mail to his bed and handed it to him. “What’s the story on this?”
Disgusted the wretched drawing and letters hadn’t stayed where Rafael had hidden them, he shrugged them off as unimportant. “Where did you get these?”
“Where you left them,” Fox replied.
He hadn’t told Fox, the Gundersons or the twins the details on his injured knee, and he didn’t intend to. As far as they knew, he’d just slipped and fallen. “Where are the twins? Don’t they want in on the after-hours party?”
“Shall I go get them?” Fox asked.
“No, don’t,” Santos insisted. He brushed off the threats as though they weren’t worth noticing. “I’ve not paid any attention to my fan mail, and as it turns out, some of it’s scary. I didn’t want to handle it while we had guests, but I’ll take care of it next week. Now I’m tired, and I’d like to get some sleep.”
Libby ushered Fox and Patricia out of the room, but she turned to send him a furious glance as she closed the door behind them.
He’d thought she’d understand why he didn’t want to worry her or her family. Of course not, she was the most unpredictable girl he’d ever met. He’d have to find a way to work it out tomorrow. He turned out his light, and rather than fall asleep, he wondered how to do it.
Sunday morning, Peter met Santos when he returned from the first run to the airport with Fox and the twins. “You’ve been such a gracious host. Last night’s dinner was the best we’ve ever eaten, but the bride’s family pays for the reception dinner, and I’d like to cover the expense.”
Santos straightened up to his full height. He had a charming smile, but there was a stubborn edge to his voice. “I’m glad you enjoyed the party, but Maggie’s last name is Aragon, and I’m her family too, so there’s nothing to discuss. Miguel would have said the same thing. Please come back anytime you’re able, and you’ll always be welcome here.”
Peter frowned but reluctantly nodded. “Thank you again. You must come to visit us so we can entertain you.”
“Wouldn’t a matador be out of place in Minneapolis?”
“Only if you’re looking for work. You’re sure to enjoy the United States as a tourist.”
Their luggage was already in the foyer, and Libby came down the stairs with Patricia and her mother. “You two look so serious, I hope you’re not worried about me staying here, Dad.”
“I won’t be as long as you e-mail us often with something more than the weather report,” Peter responded. He looked at his watch. “Does everyone have everything?”
“I’ll bring home anything you’ve forgotten,” Libby offered.
Manuel entered to carry out their luggage, and Libby went out first rather than lag behind. Her mother hesitated to make certain she had her passport in her purse. “Thank you for everything, Santos. You’ve made staying here a pleasure rather than the awkward few days I’d expected. Please come and see us when you can.”
Santos forced a smile. His father had chased blue-eyed blondes who resembled her his whole life. Or rather, allowed them to catch him. Just looking at her felt like a knife in the gut. This wasn’t the time to defend his mother as Miguel’s one true love, but he remained certain of it. “Thank you. I would like to see the States. I’ll take good care of Libby.”
Linda smiled warmly. “I’m sure you will. Good-bye.”
Santos smelled Patricia’s strawberry bubblegum as she leaned close to kiss his cheek. “I gave Fox my e-mail address, I hope that’s all right.”
“It is, but please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Patricia popped her gum. “You ought to worry about your crazy fans rather than me.”
Santos didn’t appreciate her advice but followed her out to the porch and waved as the Gundersons drove away. The house was empty now, and he took the elevator upstairs to check in Libby’s room and make certain her belongings were still there. He stretched out on her bed to rest his knee and replayed the weekend in his mind.
The Gundersons were a fine example of a happy family, something he’d rarely observed. They made him feel hollow, empty, as though he were lacking some basic component of humankind. He remembered the awful drawing and thought the artist must have come from a family even more screwed up than the Aragons.
Libby found him in her room when she got back and lay down beside him. “Are you moving in with me?”
Expecting an exasperating conversation, he propped his hands behind his head to get more comfortable. “No, but I didn’t want to waste time when you got back. I hid the drawing from you because I didn’t want to deal with it, and I still don’t.”
She’d never forget the gruesome sketch, but she didn’t want to see it again. “Fine, but promise me you won’t hide something that significant again.”
“I can’t, not when I don’t know what hideous thing might turn up tomorrow.”
She’d driven back from the airport thinking how nice it would be to have the house to themselves, and she was in no mood to argue. She cuddled against him instead. “Let’s drop the subject for now, and by the way, I don’t think anything’s a waste of time with you.” She sat up to remove her sandals and tossed them toward the closet. He was wearing his running shoes, and she leaned over to untie them. “You must give Mrs. Lopez fits, parading girls through
here.”
That he’d gotten off so easily amazed him, and he propped himself up on his elbows to watch her. “I didn’t live here until my father became ill, so it wasn’t an issue.”
“It’s an issue now.” She took hold of the bottom of his sweatshirt and pulled it off over his head. “You’ve got a great set of abs. What have you been doing to stay in shape?”
“What is this, a fitness interview?”
She ran her hand over his chest. His skin was a handsome golden tan. “You could look at it that way. You wax your chest?”
She circled his nipples with a tickling touch, and he grabbed her hand. “Yeah, but I absolutely refuse to wax my balls.”
She laughed. “I don’t blame you.” She pulled off her short dress, and sent it sailing toward his sweatshirt. Her bra and bikini panties were a glossy ice blue. “I don’t want to get too rough and hurt you. Tell me if I do.”
“I’m not fragile, but what do you have in mind?”
“Nothing kinky, unless you want me to handcuff you to the bed.”
He sat up. “Did you pack handcuffs?”
“I would, but they show up on the baggage X-ray, and it’s impossible to get them through security.” She gave her lips a suggestive lick.
She’d left her hair down, and he grabbed a handful to pull her close. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”
She leaned down to give him a slow kiss she didn’t end until he had to gasp for breath. “I’ll let you wonder.” He was already so hard she doubted he could consider much.
“I don’t care.”
“That’s the spirit.” She slid her hands around the waistband on his sweatpants. “I’m going to go slow so I don’t hurt your knee.”
He lay back and raised his hands above his head. “You’re already hurting everything else.”
She pulled down his pants to his hipbones and placed a kiss in his navel. “Everything looks all right so far. You always smell so good. Do you douse your whole body with your magic cologne?”
