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Tomas had just sent out the pastries and coffee when Maggie arrived. Julian hurried back inside to fetch her a cup and a plate. Libby greeted her with a weary sigh. “Wait until you hear the latest.”
Maggie took a chair and a sip of coffee. “Tell me everything.”
Libby sat back and let Santos explain how horribly the morning had begun. “Libby kept telling me to be careful, but I’d never dreamed Victoria would launch such a vicious attack. She must have wanted to blind me and leave me badly scarred, but there was no way she could have gotten away with it.”
“From the first awful drawing,” Libby reminded him, “none of this has come from a rational mind.”
Maggie leaned back in her chair. “I don’t feel like looking at apartments today, do you?”
Libby shook her head. “Not really. I’m going to sit right here until the sun sets.” Santos raised a brow, but if he thought she’d sit out there nude after dark, he was dead wrong.
That night, Santos insisted upon taking Libby out to one of his favorite restaurants for dinner, a romantic place with soft lighting and candles on the tables. He’d worn a pale silk shirt and dark pants, and she looked pretty in an aqua top with her tie-dye skirt. “I needed to get away from the house tonight,” he said. “I hope you’ll find something you’ll like on the menu. I usually have the filet mignon. It’s always excellent here.”
“I’ll have it too then.” She closed her menu and set it aside. “I’m not keeping up with my e-mails to my parents, but Daddy didn’t want weather reports, and that’s the most innocent thing I can send.”
He laughed. “How do you mean ‘innocent’?”
She reached under the table to give his thigh a playful pinch. “You know exactly what I mean. Your bed, or closet, is a blissful haven compared to the everyday strangeness we’ve seen. I hope it’s over now.”
“So do I, but I’ve never worried about violent fans, and I should have been better prepared.”
“Victoria and her brother weren’t fans, though. I don’t want to think about them tonight.” There were couples seated as close as they were in nearby booths. The conversations around them were soft, intimate, with the diners more into each other than their meals. A guitarist sat on a stool in a darkened alcove, strumming soft love songs for a seductive musical background.
“This place has an incredible ambience. It would be popular no matter what they served,” Libby said. “Do men bring their dates here, hoping to seduce them?”
“I’ve no idea what other men expect,” Santos assured her. “I don’t ever want you to sleep with me if you’d rather not.”
The soft light gave his dark gaze a hint of mystery. Enjoying the wine, she licked her lips. “I’m afraid I can’t even imagine such an unlikely event.”
Their waiter approached their table. “Matador, how good it is to see you again, and your beautiful lady.”
Libby looked up, and the waiter’s eyes widened in surprise. With her blonde hair, he must have mistaken her for Ana Santillan as he approached, but she smiled as though she hadn’t noticed his startled reaction.
Santos placed their orders and refilled her wineglass. “I like it here because it’s quiet and photos don’t turn up in the tabloids after I’d been here. Let’s just relax and enjoy each other as though nothing existed beyond our table.”
As far as she was concerned, nothing did. “That’s fine, but we get along remarkably well no matter where we are.”
He reached for her hand and kissed her fingertips. “We do. I have a present for you.”
She was thrilled but didn’t want to look like an overeager kid. “It’s not my birthday.”
He pulled a small, shimmering gift bag from his pocket and handed it to her. “I hope you like it.”
The drawstring bag was tied with a ribbon bow and easily came open. The lavender tissue inside held an intricately designed gold-link bracelet and was one of the prettiest pieces of jewelry she’d ever seen. “Oh, Santos, I love it! Help me put it on.”
It had an intricate clasp, and he had to play with it a minute to open it. “Tell me if this is too long or too short, and I’ll get you another one.”
She waited until he’d fastened it on her wrist and turned her hand. “It’s perfect. Thank you!” She doubted she’d ever want to remove it. “What sort of present could I give you?”
“Men are supposed to give women gifts. You don’t owe me one in return.”
“I think you already own everything except for a squawking parrot, and I’m sure you don’t want one of those.”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t.” He sat back as their first course was served.
Libby kept her eyes on the exquisite bracelet as she ate. She didn’t know when he’d had time to shop. Perhaps he knew of a jeweler who delivered, or maybe, like his father, he had a drawer of gifts handy. It saddened her to think he might.
“You’ve gotten awfully quiet. Is it the food, or me?”
