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“So you’re about to have a baby with a man you’d rather not know?”
“Thanks for putting it so succinctly.”
“You forgot to mention the accident that’s left you suffering from post-traumatic stress. That has to be a factor.”
“Thank you again. When we reach the restaurant, you ought to make notes for future reference.”
He was quiet the rest of the way. “Here we are. The reviews are all good. Have you been here?”
She looked out at the sign above the door showing a buxom farm girl carrying a heaping basket of vegetables. “No, but it looks promising.”
The restaurant was as dimly lit as Alejandro had promised, and the warm, crusty bread had the most appetizing aroma. She buttered a thick slice while reading the menu. “The scrambled eggs with asparagus sounds good.”
“It does, but I’m going with the mushroom zucchini pasta. We’ll want to begin with soup.”
“I’m not really that hungry.”
He picked up the nearly empty breadbasket. “Some of this was supposed to be for me, but I’ll order more.”
She laid her knife on her bread plate. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. You’re supposed to be hungry.”
“Please don’t remind me.”
He added gazpacho to their order, and the waiter brought them a second basket of bread. He took a slice. “This is good. They probably churn the butter here.”
He had polished manners and was an exemplary companion in most respects. None of it mattered now. “Alejandro, what would you have done, if you’d been the one in the accident, and I’d told you we were married, when we weren’t?” His eyes narrowed, and she knew exactly what had crossed his mind. “You’d believe I’d posed as your wife for your money, wouldn’t you? You were furious when you discovered I’ve hidden my identity, and you’d never forgive me for lying about a marriage.”
The restaurant was busy but quiet, and he responded with a lazy whisper, “But you wouldn’t have said you were my wife to stay with me, would you?”
“Your father would have beaten me to the hospital, and I wouldn’t have had the opportunity. But I would have been there for you.”
“Thank you, but let’s hope neither of us is in another accident.”
That wasn’t the way she’d hoped the conversation would go. She’d wanted him to understand why she couldn’t forgive him, but he’d slipped right out of the question. There was no reason to press the issue now.
The gazpacho was filled with crisp green pepper chunks, and she paused to savor the mix of flavors. “This tastes as though it were made in the last ten minutes.”
“It probably was. When I was a kid, asparagus was the only vegetable I liked, and I’d eat it with my fingers when my mother wasn’t looking. Finally you’re smiling. Did you do that too?”
“Of course, and green beans.” She concentrated on her chilled soup rather than her handsome companion, but she could feel him watching her. “What?”
“You’re a very beautiful Goth girl.”
“Thank you. The scar gives me a steampunk edge.”
“The scar isn’t noticeable, Ana.”
Their entrées were served before she could argue. Her savory dish was sprinkled with paprika for color and tasted as delicious as it looked. Living in the moment had many advantages, but each time she glanced up, he was still admiring her, although his food was disappearing more rapidly than hers.
“You might as well tell me what it is you want in exchange for your silence. Isn’t it the reason we came here tonight?”
“We’re here because I wanted to see you, and the subject is too important to discuss on the phone.”
She laid her fork on her plate and knotted her hands in her lap. “You have a sly twinkle in your eye, so it can’t be good.”
“Ana, really. I wouldn’t suggest anything mean. All I want is to come with you on your doctor visits so I’ll know everything is going well.”
