“Obviously a mistake,” he replied regretfully.
Libby agreed. Maggie and Rafael danced so beautifully together, it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d hoped to separate them. With a scholarship for medical school, Rafael had to be intelligent as well as good-looking. Maggie was half Spaniard, so they couldn’t criticize his place of birth. He appeared to be close to her sister’s age, so he wasn’t too old or too young for her. Still, there had to be something damning in the man’s background, but whatever it was, Maggie obviously didn’t care.
Or maybe she didn’t know. Libby moved closer to Santos and whispered in his ear, “We need another detective.”
Chapter Two
When they returned to the beach house, Maggie led them into the den. “There’s a liquor cabinet filled with all sorts of delicious liqueurs. Isn’t Bailey’s Irish Cream your favorite?”
“Yes, I’d love some,” Libby answered.
Santos poured some for her and Maggie in beautiful hand-blown glasses. “Rafael?”
“Nothing, thank you.” He waited until everyone was sipping their drink and took the chair opposite Libby. He waited for her to swallow. “I spent six years in prison for killing the man who raped my sister.” He caught her glass as it slipped from her hand.
“I know it isn’t something I should include on my résumé, but I won’t hide it either. I plan to tell your parents, but Maggie would rather I didn’t.”
Libby stared at him wide-eyed. “How did you kill him?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“In a knife fight, but he started it when I confronted him. I got cut up too, and my sister later died of a drug overdose, so the story doesn’t have a happy ending. What do you think your parents will say?”
Libby looked to Maggie. “Do you remember how many questions Daddy used to ask before he’d let us go out with a boy? I’m twenty-one, and when I’m home, he still asks about my dates. He won’t like this at all. I wonder if he’s Googled Rafael.”
Maggie slumped into the corner of the sofa. “I should have thought of it. Is there any hope the information he’d find there is all in Spanish?”
“Let’s look.” Santos opened his laptop and went to Google. “There’s your website and a few references as a matador. I don’t see anything in English.”
Rafael handed Libby her glass. “All I have on the website is my schedule and a few photos. There’s no biography. That doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist somewhere, though, but I should tell your father the truth before he discovers it on his own.” He stood. “I don’t want to spoil the evening. I’m going home.”
Maggie set her drink aside and walked him to the front door. “If my parents won’t welcome you into the family, I’ll marry you without their blessing.”
Rafael raised his hands to frame her face and kissed her gently. “I can’t ask that of you.”
“It isn’t your choice, it’s mine. Whether you’re El Gitano or a medical student, you’re the man I love. Now let’s go to your place tonight.”
A slow smile slid across his mouth. “What do you have in mind?”
“You know damn well what I have in mind.” She kept hold of his hand but stepped back to look into the den. “I’ll see you in the morning, Libby. We need to shop for your dress and Patricia’s.”
“Fine,” Libby answered. It took her a moment to realize her sister had left with Rafael. She’d thought he’d looked dangerous when she’d first seen him, but it unnerved her to learn he’d killed a man and served prison time. She gulped the rest of her Bailey’s and the last of Maggie’s.
“Would you like me to pour you another?” Santos asked.
He’d been awfully agreeable tonight, which she found far more appealing than his hostile glare on the beach, but she refused to like it too much. “No, thanks, one is usually my limit. I feel sick. I ought to call my parents and tell them not to come.”
He eased down beside her on the couch. “If you do, you’ll be blamed for whatever happens. Let Maggie handle it, and you two will remain close.”
Libby understood his reasoning, but she felt torn. “She’s five years older and always behaved like a second mother to Patricia and me. But how could she have gotten involved with a murdering matador?”
Santos raised a brow. “He was defending himself. If he’d had a better attorney, he probably wouldn’t have gone to prison.”
Libby ripped the pins from her hair and let it spill over her shoulders. “Whose side are you on?”
Santos sucked in a deep breath and reached over to twirl a golden curl around his finger. “I want what’s best for Maggie. Rafael has to be the one to break her heart, not us.”
His deep voice made his advice doubly convincing. Libby watched him move close and could have turned away. Doing what was smart had lost its appeal. Maybe it was curiosity, or the shock of learning Rafael had been in prison had left her too confused to object. She leaned in to savor his kiss. He smelled so good, tasted like fine brandy and kissed her softly, tenderly, as though he adored her. She was soon seated on his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. She’d kissed plenty of men, and none had ever been this good. None had been Latin lovers either. Maybe it was in their genes.
He slid his fingers through her hair and teased her with lazy kisses. She couldn’t stand men who jammed their tongue down her throat, but Santos merely flicked his tongue in her mouth. He ran a hand down her leg in a smooth slide, and his lazy touch felt as good as his kisses. His hair was thick, soft as silk and curled over her fingers.