The Latin Lover

Lucky for her that she was not in the fertile part of her cycle, because they had not used prot

ection the night before.

He smiled, reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “All will be well, byba. You must trust me on this.”

She wanted to blurt her love out right then. He was looking at her with such tender care—like so many times in the past. “You are a good man,” she said instead.

His smile was brilliant. “Thank you. Shall we continue?”

“You’ve already covered the lack of a big wedding.”

“But I did not mention number four.”

The promise for total fidelity.

“I…You…” She felt the need to explain, but words were deserting her.

He waited patiently, his expression unreadable.

“You said you’d been with a lot of women. That you hadn’t married any of them.”

“I said I’d kissed many women I did not end up married to.”

“But I knew what you meant.”

“And you assumed I would continue?”

“No, I thought you might get bored,” she said, all in a rush.

“After last night, you thought this?” He shook his head, his expression only too easy to decipher now. Total disbelief marked his handsome features. “Impossible!”

“It’s not. It can’t always be that good.”

“You are right.”

She swallowed another lump of emotion.

“It will be better,” he said with absolute conviction. “I want no other woman but you. I have not since I kissed you the first time.”

“Is that true?”

“I do not make it a habit to lie.”

“Only when you are trying to protect yourself from betraying your honor,” she said in wonder.

“Yes. But it did not help and I will never do it again.”

“Good.”

“So we are in agreement?”

“Yes.”

They toasted their fully discussed deal with a glass of champagne.

He proposed that night, over a candlelight dinner in his apartment. Then he made love to her again, and he had been right. It was better.

Once again he made her go home—but told her to be ready to travel early the following morning.