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“Wait a minute, your death? And what do you mean you don’t eat? You told me to bring you dinner.”
A dull red flush stained his cheeks and he glanced away. “I wanted to taste food again, even
if I could not eat it. It was delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But what’s this about you being dead? You seem pretty alive to me.”
“No. I died in 1967, in a…boating accident. But it was not my time to die so an arrangement was made. When the terms are fulfilled, I will resume my life.” His eyes clouded with the same pain she’d seen earlier. “A life, rather. Not mine. Mine ended. I had been told but I did not truly understand.”
Sam longed to comfort him but didn’t know how. And she was having some trouble adjusting to his revelations herself. She’d just made love to someone who’d died before she was born. How freaky was that?
He traced patterns on her skin with one fingertip. “I am trapped in this half-life until I give you the pleasure you requested when you invoked me. Tomorrow your training begins in earnest. We will begin at dawn.”
She shivered, imagining a day devoted to carnal exploration. If it were anything like what he’d done to her tonight before they finished, she’d be the one who was dead.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” She pressed her index finger lightly against his scowling lips, silencing his unvoiced objection. “You’re trapped by magic but I’m trapped too. By bonds of duty and devotion. I have to take care of my mother. That means tomorrow driving her to her hairdresser’s, to lunch and to go shopping for a toy.”
There was something else on her agenda too. Something about Master Giacomo. She struggled to remember, but could recall only that it was important.
He pulled her fingertip into his mouth and nibbled lightly on the pad of her finger. Sam moaned softly, her body instantly heating, and stopped trying to think. Tomorrow could take care of itself.
He licked and nibbled his way up her finger, to the palm of her hand. She sighed with pleasure as he swept his tongue along the sensitive paths of nerve endings she’d never known she had. Then he moved his attentions to the inside of her wrist. Licking, kissing and nibbling, his featherlight touches made her writhe in ecstasy.
“Is there no one else to care for her?” he whispered against her flushed skin.
Care for who? Oh right. Her mother. “In an emergency, my sister. But she has her own family. I can’t call her just to spend the day with you.”
“What of cousins?” His lips nibbled a trail up to the inside of her elbow.
“They live in Virginia and Texas. They’re out of the picture.”
He sighed dramatically, his breath steaming her inner elbow and turning her blood to lava. “If you must, you must. But I cannot spend the day watching television. It will drive me mad.”
“I’ve often felt the same way.” She smiled, thrilled to be able to offer him what she considered a luxurious treat. “I can drop you off at the library while Mom’s having her hair done then pick you up when our errands are done. You can read books, magazines, newspapers—I’ll even give you my library card so you can use the public terminals to surf the Internet.”
Sam straightened up and twisted to face him, needing to see his reaction. “You can find anything on the Internet. I’m sure someone, somewhere, has digitized all the news since 1967. You can find out—”
She stopped, suddenly realizing she might have overstepped her bounds. Emily Post never wrote an article detailing the proper way to discuss the circumstances of someone’s death with him.
Master Giacomo’s already dark brown eyes seemed to darken even further until they were nearly black. He smiled, a predatory expression of teeth that had nothing to do with pleasure and that chilled her to her marrow. Instinctively she pulled away, only to be brought up short by the arm of the recliner behind her.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Finally, I will know.”
Chapter Five
Sam slept late the next morning and had to listen to her mother’s constant lectures and recriminations as she snatched a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and coffee and dressed in a feminine blouse and skirt set of pastel peach, aqua and coral flowers, suitable for being seen around town in, and strappy sandals. She wasn’t dressing in her frilliest clothes to impress Master Giacomo. She just didn’t want to embarrass her mother if they met any of her friends while they were running their errands.
Even as she told herself that, she didn’t believe it. Maybe because when she’d glanced in the mirror, her first thought had been to wonder if he’d find her desirable in this outfit.
Despite her mother’s dire warnings, they arrived at the beauty salon with fifteen minutes to spare. She pulled into the handicapped space by the door and circled around the car to help her mother out.
Her mother leaned heavily on her arm until they entered the salon. Because they were early, the stylist was still working on her last appointment. One of her mother’s former friends from the garden club was under the dryer.
Normally Sam would seat her mother on the first chair beside the door, take care of checking her in for her appointment then wait until the stylist came to walk her into the back of the salon. This morning however, her mother pushed her arm away and stepped toward the receptionist.
“Mom, shouldn’t you—?”
“I’m not an invalid, Sam. I can take care of myself. You go to the library and I’ll meet you for lunch.”
