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“I’ll handle it.”
“Run a test if you like, but I’ll insist upon a second one. Good night.”
The attorney left the room at a brisk clip with Mrs. Lopez hurrying along behind him. Libby hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath and exhaled slowly. “You are amazing,” she whispered.
He pushed his plate away. “I thought I knew what was coming, although naming me the father of the baby was a surprise. Thank you for not mentioning Rigoberto Avila. I didn’t want to give Ramirez the opportunity to blame everything on him.”
Libby had lost her appetite too. She curled her napkin in her lap. “Do you actually intend to raise Miguel Angel?”
He rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
“You have such a convincing manner, I think Ramirez believed you. The point is whether or not Victoria believes you.”
“She must have thought I’d be easier to deal with than a dead man. She’s wrong. I’d never seen her before the day Patricia met her on the beach. You know I’m careful. I don’t intend to father any children, ever.”
Libby pulled her lower lip through her teeth. She knew his stance on the matter, but it still saddened her. “I’ve always wanted a family.”
“I’ve done the family bit, over and over. I’m not repeating my father’s mistakes.”
“You’re not your father, Santos. You’re a different man.”
“Not really. Think of the ego it takes to strut into a bullring. Matadors are not good husband-and-father material.”
“I’m not interested in statistics. We’re talking about you. You’ve created your own family with Maggie, the twins and Fox. They all regard you as a wonderful brother.”
He finished his wine. “That’s some sort of success, I suppose, but women I meet aren’t looking for great brothers.”
“I was, but that swiftly went off the track, didn’t it? You’re the one who matters, Santos. If you want a loving family, you’ll have one.”
He looked away, obviously unconvinced. “Let’s talk about something else.”
She was leaving in August, and there was no point in extolling the virtues of a happy family when she wouldn’t be there to create one with him. That would be lunacy. She had a backup plan and went with what they did have. She leaned close to whisper, “All right. Let’s talk about sex. Why don’t we make love again in the closet with your fancy suits? Maybe it’s only the way your cologne lingers in the air, or the delicious darkness, or—”
He laughed and laced his fingers in hers. “Stop. Tomas has made a special dessert. Let’s have it first.”
Libby licked her lips. “I hope it’s something with whipped cream.”
“I don’t care what it is. I’ll ask him to top it with whipped cream just to see you lick it off your lips.”
“You can imagine it in the dark.”
Julian came in to clear the table, and Santos nodded to thank him. “This table is one of my favorites.”
That memory made Libby feel warm all over, and when Julian reappeared with baked apples topped with berries and whipped cream, she grinned through the first bite. “I swear I’ve fallen into paradise.”
Santos laughed and winked. When they finished, he asked Julian to help him up the back stairs. Libby used the main staircase and met him in the hallway. She waved her long skirt with a dancer’s graceful flourish.
“I like dressing for dinner. At home, we came to the table in whatever we’d put on that morning.”
Santos looked down at his navy blue shorts and white dress shirt. “I’m sorry I can’t do better than this. We used to have much higher standards.”
She slid her arms around his waist and kissed him. “Your present standards work fine for me.”
“It’s nice you’re so easy to please.”
She laughed and didn’t remind him he’d had another opinion of her that afternoon when she’d pulled Victoria from the sea. She waited for him to bring the key to unlock the closet, walked in and turned to face him. When he closed the door without turning on the light, she had to push his suits back along the poles in the dark. He propped his crutches against the wall and leaned back on the door to remain steady.
“Let me undress you,” he murmured, and his voice sounded even deeper in the small room.
