by Lynsay Sands
Pet fell silent then and waited for his response but began to feel uncomfortable when she noted the expression on Santo’s face. The man looked like he’d just been hit by a Mack Truck. Raising her eyebrows, she asked, “What?”
Santo shook his head. “I can see where Parker gets it.”
“What?” she asked on a half laugh, bewildered by the comment.
“His tendency to think so much and spit out facts and data,” he said in a rumble.
Before Pet could respond, Parker rushed in to the kitchen. He was in his pajamas, face scrubbed clean, and teeth brushed, ready for his good-night cuddle. Pet smiled at the boy and bent to kiss his cheek and hug him. As she straightened, she reminded him, “Don’t forget to set your alarm on your cell phone.”
“I won’t,” he promised, and then surprised her by moving around her to give Santo a hug good-night too.
If she was surprised, it was no less than Santo. His eyes widened incredulously, but he did hug the boy back, and even ruffled his hair affectionately, before watching with a somewhat bemused smile as Parker ran out of the room again.
“Kids, huh?” she said with a smile, and then turned to the coffee machine and began to make a pot.
“Yes,” Santo murmured, and then announced, “I would like to have another child. Actually I would like to have many more.”
Pet stiffened and then turned to peer at him. “You have a child? You’re married?”
“No, I am not married,” Santo assured her firmly, and then added, “But I had children with a female immortal who was not my life mate. Five of them. Twin boys, twin girls, and then a lone boy.” His jawline clenched briefly, and she saw pain flicker in his eyes, and then he added, “They are dead now, along with their mother.”
Pet let her breath out slowly and then swallowed before turning back to the coffee machine and murmuring, “I’m sorry. What happened to them?”
Santo was silent for so long that she was sure he wouldn’t respond. Pet didn’t press him or comment, she simply continued going about the business of making coffee and then moved away to get cups, sugar, and cream. She had just finished gathering the items and returned to watch the coffee begin to drip when Santo released a long sigh and then said, “House fire.”
Pet glanced quickly to him, but saw the closed expression on his face and merely murmured, “I’m sorry,” again and turned back to the coffeepot. But after a moment, she couldn’t stand the silence anymore and moved past him to enter the hall, muttering, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Pet bypassed the hall bathroom and went around the corner to her own. Flicking on the light and fan with one hand, she closed the door with the other and then stopped when she saw herself in the mirror. She knew from the pictures she’d seen of her biological mother that she looked like her, which she was grateful for. Pet had always thought her mother pretty, and liked to think she was too. Now she examined herself critically.
Her hair was long, straight, and jet-black. Her nose was small, her cheekbones wide, and her mouth small but plump, almost pouty-looking. Her eyes were a boring dark brown, but big and round, with a parallel crease. All in all, she was pleased with the face she’d been given. It was her body she’d never been pleased with. Short, whip thin, and with little to brag about in the chest department. As a teenager, Pet had longed to be tall and curvy like Marguerite, and had prayed for a growth spurt to give her long sexy legs and some curves. That growth spurt had never come. At thirty-six, she was still short at five foot two and still lacking the curves she would have liked.
While Pet had learned to live with what she’d been given, now she was looking at herself unhappily and wondering what the mother of Santo’s children had looked like. In her mind, she was picturing someone Amazon tall with long legs and big breasts, and feeling completely inadequate in comparison.
“Idiot,” Pet muttered to herself impatiently and turned away from the mirror.
As she took care of the business bathrooms were meant for, she told herself it didn’t matter what the woman had looked like, she was dead now. Besides, Santo seemed to find Pet attractive enough. Not that it mattered since she didn’t intend to get involved with him anyway.
But what about an affair? that part of her brain that had earlier seemed so wise suggested now and pointed out. You don’t have to get involved to have good monkey sex. Heck, he’s not even going to be around long enough to get involved. Another day or two and that backup they’re waiting for should show up so they can deal with the Purdy situation. They might even arrive tomorrow. He could be gone by tomorrow afternoon or night.
Pet frowned at that thought . . . Santo gone from her life as quickly as he’d appeared. For some reason, that didn’t please her as it would have the night Marguerite had shown up with the men and she’d noted their eyes and realized they were immortal. Which was just last night, she realized quite suddenly, and was shocked at the knowledge. Had he really only been in her life for twenty-four hours?
She shook her head at that and then considered the affair business. In truth, it wouldn’t even be an affair really. Well, not if the immortals cleared things up and left Albany the next day, which was possible. So, if she walked out there and jumped his bones right now, it could be a one-night deal. A one-night stand, Pet realized, and while she didn’t normally go in for that kind of thing, Santo was a pretty tempting treat.
Tempting is right, her wise voice assured her. It wouldn’t just be a one-night stand, it would be a best-night-of-your-life stand. Pet nodded, pretty sure that was true. The kind of chemistry she experienced with Santo was rare, and the passion she’d experienced with him was too. What she enjoyed with him was the kind of thing she wasn’t likely to encounter again in her lifetime, Pet admitted to herself as she flushed the toilet and stepped up to the sink to wash her hands. A short affair with him would give her something to reminisce over in her dotage. What was wrong with that?
“Nothing,” Pet told her reflection as she turned off the water and dried her hands. “You’re a big girl. You can handle hot meaningless sex with the big guy without getting emotionally involved. Just concentrate on sex and avoid talking so you don’t get to know him any better and it should all be good.”
They needed to talk, Santo acknowledged grimly as the coffee machine spat out the last of its brew. He’d known that was true as he’d watched Pet walk away up the hall, her expression shuttered. For a minute, when she’d bypassed the nearer bathroom and disappeared around the corner toward her room, he’d feared she’d recognized his lie when he’d told her how his children had died. He’d feared that after being so open and honest about her desire to have a child but her belief she wouldn’t now, his lie had upset her so much she might close herself in her bedroom and not return. The thought had made his chest constrict with panic, and then he’d heard the bathroom fan turn on, followed by the sound of a door closing, and his common sense had returned. She wouldn’t just leave him to see himself out. She was going to the bathroom.
But it had made Santo think. She was his life mate, his chance for peace and happiness and a life less lonely. With her, he could have incredible passion, a family, his other half. Knowing that, he could never just walk away from her. But Pet could. She was mortal and didn’t know any of that. She had no idea how wonderful life could be for them. To her, he was just a guy she had admitted she found attractive and whom she’d experienced a taste of passion with. And it might not even be more passion than she’d experienced with mortal men. They hadn’t yet enjoyed the full-blown passion they could have together. Pet hadn’t touched him other than to put her arms around his neck that first time in the Caprellis’ kitchen, and he hadn’t let her touch him here earlier tonight. Knowing Parker was nearby and that the pizza delivery would show up soon, Santo had deliberately kept her from touching him to keep them both from losing control. That being the case, he had no doubt Pet could just walk away from him at this point.
He needed to change that. He needed to let her
get to know him. And he needed to tell her the truth about how his children had died. Fire had been a part of it, but it had been so much worse than just a house fire. So bad, in fact, Santo had never been able to bring himself to talk about it, to anyone. Not even his mother knew the full extent of what had happened that day, and she knew more than most. But he could hear Marguerite’s voice in his head telling him he needed to talk to Pet and let her get to know him, and he knew he should probably tell her about it since it was a large part of what made him who he was.
Grimacing, Santo moved to stand by the coffee machine as it finally finished. Yes, they definitely needed to talk, he decided as he began to spoon sugar into each cup. She had to know him. He wanted her to, he thought as he poured them both coffee and added cream. He’d reveal himself to her and, hopefully, earn a part of her heart.
And then he’d sew it up with life mate passion and ask her to be his life mate.
Satisfied with that plan, Santo stirred both cups of coffee and then picked them up and carried them out to the living room. Once there, he paused, though. While Parker had sat in the chair and they’d shared the couch earlier, he didn’t think that was a good idea now. If he wanted to get any talking done, it was probably better if he sat in the chair, and she sat on the couch. There was less chance of an accidental touch or brushing of arms or legs, which might lead to a kiss, and then . . .
“Definitely better,” Santo muttered, setting her cup down on the coffee table in front of the couch and then carrying his own to the end table beside the chair. He’d just set it down when he heard the faint sound of the bathroom door opening and the rustle of her returning up the hall. Pleased that he’d arranged everything so that they could have that talk they needed, Santo settled in the chair and tried to relax.
Pet’s feet slowed as she stepped out of the hall and glanced around to see that the kitchen was empty. She was just starting to worry that all her fretting had been for naught, and Santo had left while she was in the bathroom, when he called out to her from the living room.
“I made both of us coffees and brought them out here so we could talk,” he announced, drawing her head around to see him seated in the chair Parker had occupied earlier.
Pet’s eyebrows rose and then lowered slightly. He sounded very serious, which made her nervous as she wondered what he wanted to talk about. In fact, his intention to talk didn’t really fit with the decision she’d just made about having a short, completely sexual affair. She was thinking more along the lines of not talking and filling their time with crazy hot sex, so that at the end she could walk away as she would from a great, wild ride at an amusement park. One she might get to go on again someday, but might not.
“Come before it gets cold,” Santo said when she simply stood staring at him.
Sighing, Pet moved reluctantly out into the living room to join him, but paused by the couch and frowned as she peered at him in the chair. It was going to be hard to instigate any hanky-panky with him so far away.
“Wouldn’t you rather sit over here with me?” she asked.
Santo shook his head and picked up his coffee. “I am good here.”
“Oh,” she muttered, and settled unhappily on the couch. This wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped, Pet thought grimly as she picked up her coffee and took a sip.
“I was born in 965 b.c.”
The coffee Pet had just taken into her mouth came back out like water from a pinched garden hose as she gasped in shock, and then choked and sputtered over that announcement.
Santo was immediately out of his seat and at her side, his face wreathed with concern as he pounded her back. “Are you all right?”
“Y-yes,” she gasped, holding her hand up to make him leave off thumping her. Good Lord, the man didn’t know his own strength, she decided, relief rushing through her when he stopped pounding. In the next moment, he was gone, and Pet glanced around with confusion, only to see him already halfway back from rushing to the kitchen at immortal speed to grab some paper towels. He moved so quickly that she’d hardly realized that when Santo was already kneeling in front of her, mopping up the coffee she’d spat out onto the cream-colored carpet.
“I’ll do that,” Pet muttered with embarrassment, bending forward to try to take the paper towel from him.
“It is done,” he said, and was upright and heading back to the chair before she could even get close to touching the paper towels or his hand.
Pet glanced at the carpet then, surprised to see that he was right and it was done. The carpet was Scotchgarded to protect it from staining. It now looked good as new.
Sighing, Pet started to reach for her coffee, then decided to leave it where it was and sat back in her seat to stare at Santo. After a moment, she arched one eyebrow and asked, “Did you say you were born in 965?”
Santo nodded warily and then added, “b.c.”
“b.c.,” Pet echoed, and closed her eyes as she tried to absorb that. He was born in the tenth century b.c. Before Christ. Dear Lord, he was older than Christ would be today, she thought with dismay, and then forced herself to stop thinking and breathe for a minute.
“Are you okay?” Santo asked suddenly.
“I’m fine,” Pet said quickly, but even she could hear how high and strained her voice was. Clearing her throat, she said in a more normal voice, “Just give me a minute.”
Santo grunted.
Pet ignored him and tried to think. She was a history professor. Even so, her training didn’t generally stretch back that far. All she knew about that period was that it followed the collapse of the late Bronze Age in what they now referred to as the Near East, and that he was born in the century when the Early Iron Age started there, or at least really took hold.
Which didn’t really matter, Pet supposed, because he wasn’t from western Asia but Italy. Except that there had been no Italy then. Well, the land had been there, of course, but the country Italy hadn’t existed. Dear God, he was older than Italy too. The man was just—
“Pet?”
Opening her eyes, she peered at him solemnly and said, “You’re really old.”
“Sì,” Santo agreed solemnly.
“I mean, I was thinking you were old like fourteenth or fifteenth century old. But you’re really, really old.”
Santo merely grunted this time.
“It’s no wonder you have a tendency to grunt all the time. You’re like caveman old.” His eyes were widening at that when Pet frowned and said, “Okay, not caveman old, they died out something like forty thousand years ago and you’re a decade or two short of three thousand years old, but—oh, my God, you’re a decade or two short of three thousand years old,” she gasped with horror.
“Perhaps I should not have started with my age,” Santo said dryly.
Pet blinked and asked, “Started what?”
“Talking,” he said in a rumble, and then added, “Telling you about myself so that you can get to know me better.”
“Oh,” she breathed weakly, thinking, wasn’t that just her luck? All she wanted from him was sex, and he wanted them to get to know each other better. Which was the last thing she wanted. Right now she liked him. But talking might bring about more liking, and possibly love, which was the last thing Pet wanted to feel for an immortal who was going to walk out of her life soon. She’d really been kind of counting on the hot monkey sex, though.
“Pet?”
Pushing her thoughts aside, she peered at him in question, but when Santo opened his mouth to speak, she stood abruptly and muttered, “I need wine.”
Twelve
Pet strode into the kitchen with purpose. The apartment had come with a little wine fridge in the island. She went there now and opened it to consider her options. She wasn’t much of a drinker unless with her sister. Then the two of them tended to get into the booze. Other than that, though, she really didn’t drink the stuff. Which was a shame since wine was the go-to gift her coworkers and friends usually bought for any celebration. Bir
thday? Wine. Christmas Secret Santa? Wine. Get tenure? Lots of wine. Her wine fridge was stuffed with bottles that she’d received and never drank. Pet considered them now, wondering which, if any, would be good, and then simply grabbed the middle one on the top row.
It wasn’t until she set it on the counter that she noticed that it was a rosé and had a screw top rather than a cork. She almost put it back then, sure that was probably a bad sign, but then thought what the hell, she wasn’t drinking it for flavor anyway and the label was pretty. Pet fetched a wineglass out of the cupboard, then grabbed a second one in case Santo wanted to join her.
Pet opened the cap and started to pour, her eyes widening appreciatively when she saw that it was a sparkling wine. Santo joined her at the counter as she finished filling the first glass and started on the second. Pet glanced at him and then back to what she was doing, filling the second glass until it too was full.
“No. Grazie,” Santo murmured when she picked up both glasses and offered him one.
Shrugging, Pet set one back on the counter and lifted the other to her mouth. The wine was actually quite nice. It was light and fruity but not overly sweet. Refreshing. It made her think of picnics and pool parties.
Curious, she turned the bottle so she could read the label as she took another drink. LOLA was in big letters with Pelee Island in smaller type beneath it and she now recalled where she’d got it. Jill Brandon was a professor in the social welfare department and a good friend. She and her husband had a cottage up in Ontario somewhere that they spent their summers and Jill had brought this back for her last fall, claiming she loved it and Pet had to try it. It had sat in her wine fridge ever since. But Jill was right, she liked it.
“Good?” Santo asked as she took another drink.
“Very nice,” Pet murmured. “Sure you wouldn’t like some?”
When he shook his head, she took her glass and headed back to the living room. She returned to her seat on the end of the couch, but when Santo headed for the chair again, she frowned and asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit on the couch with me?”