Libby got up to circle the table and hugged her father. “Yes, we’ll have a wonderful celebration. I’m so glad you and Mother are here.”
Peter nodded grudgingly, but his wife barely managed a smile. “Are there any more confessions I should hear?” she asked.
Maggie was quick to assure her. “No, nothing important, nothing at all.”
Libby sat back down and scooped up a bite of saffron-flavored rice. “I’m going to need a trainer myself if I keep eating Tomas’s meals.”
“Maybe you’ll finally grow some boobs,” Patricia suggested.
“Patricia!” Peter began to laugh.
Libby made too many jokes about her lack of figure herself to be offended and remained at the table until everyone finished dessert. Then she went looking for Santos, which she had to do too often. He needed a microchip so she could track him like a missing pet. She’d insist upon a daily schedule so she wouldn’t have to chase him down next week.
Santos was in the den, watching a video of his father in a bullring. “Come on in. I watch this at least once a week. My father’s advice was always good, but watching him teaches me more.”
Libby joined him on the sofa. He had the sound turned down low, so there was only a faint murmur from the crowd shouting, “Ole!” She knew Miguel hadn’t died in the ring, but watching him work so close to the bull was still unnerving. “It’s all in the rhythm, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. His every move is smooth. If I’m out of the ring for several weeks, I’m going to lose whatever finesse I had.”
“Do you have videos of your own fights?”
“Yes, but I don’t watch those. All I can see are the mistakes.”
“I doubt you make many.”
He looked at her and grinned. “We’ll see.” He reached for her hand and laced his fingers in hers. His skin was tan and hers fair, but their hands fit together easily. “Maybe I should take last Sunday more seriously and not ask you to stay. You were right to worry about your family’s safety yesterday. If you’re with me, you’re in danger too. It could be too great a risk.”
“We won’t really know that until I’m shot in the heart.”
“Libby!”
He looked horrified, and she leaned close to kiss him. “I’m sorry. I do care what happens to my family, but they’ll soon be back home. I can’t worry about myself.”
He stared at her, taking in the bright sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her smile. If anything were to happen to her, he’d never forgive himself. “Let’s decide right now that if whoever had the mirror makes what even hints as being another attempt on my life, you’ll go home.”
She glanced toward the video. The bull Miguel had been fighting now lay dead in the dirt. It was a very bad sign. “Only if you’ll come home with me rather than remain here as a target.”
“What am I going to do in Minnesota?”
“You could pose for some promotion photos for my personal trainer web site.”
“You should have your father take photos of me now so I’ll look even better in the ‘after’ shots.”
She eyed him with a skeptical glance. “I can’t work miracles.”
Too amused to be insulted, he grabbed her in a boisterous hug. He’d never dated a woman who made him laugh as often as she did, and he liked it. He released her slowly. “You must have a guy waiting for you at home. What’s he going to say when you stay?”
She pulled back. “The senior I dated last year graduated in May and moved to New York, so taking your job offer won’t break anyone’s heart.”
Her hair fell softly over her shoulders, and he sifted the ends through his fingers. “He didn’t ask you to go with him?”
“No, I need to finish my last year of school. Staying in Spain for the summer is just a tangent.”
“Am I only a tangent?” That was so absurd he couldn’t believe she’d said it.
“This is why we need a contract, Santos. We can tease each other and have fun, but I’m leaving at the end of August, and you might be really glad to see me go.”
He leaned toward her, but her father heard their low voices and looked in. “Let’s write up the contract and get it over with.”