This time, she went directly to the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea.
“I am not thirsty,” he said from behind her.
“I want tea.”And time to talk , she added silently.
His dark brow rose, but he bowed slightly. “Then we shall have tea.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I am humoring you. It is not the same.”
“I see. Why are you humoring me?”
“For obvious male reasons. I hope to sweeten your temperament toward me so that I may have my wicked way with you.”
She laughed. “I think you know you can seduce me without a pot of tea first.”
“But I prefer not to seduce.”
“You want me to offer myself?”
“Is that so bad?”
She shrugged. She didn’t suppose it was, but she frowned anyway. “You think indulging before bed will make me more inclined to invite you to share mine?”
“I will do my best to convince you.”
“I thought you weren’t out to seduce me.”
“Reminding you of the pleasure we shared last night is hardly a seduction.”
Right. “And that’s your plan, to remind me?”
“And entice you with thoughts of what tonight could bring.”
Luckily for her already heating libido, the teakettle whistled and she jumped into action, making a pot of herbal tea that would not keep either of them awake. Though she had a feeling Sandor would effectively do so anyway.
They were sitting at her small 1950s restored yellow Formica kitchen table when she broached the subject of his dad. “Have you ever considered finding your father?”
Sandor’s body tensed. “I suppose it was too much to expect that my time on the phone would not provide the opportunity for Mama to open this particular can of worms tonight. What happened, did she drag out the sorry tale of how my grandfather beat James Foster and chased him away?”
“You’re uncannily prescient.” She grinned teasingly, wanting to keep it light, but not sure that was going to be a possibility with the look on his face. “I don’t suppose you were eavesdropping?”
He sighed and drank his tea. “No, but it’s a story she’s tried to feed me more than once.”
“It’s not a story. Your mother wouldn’t make something like that up.”
“I have no doubt my grandfather did as she said, but what does that change? My father was too weak to return for her. That is the bottom line.”
“He tried.”
“She told you about the letter, too?” Sandor sounded pained.
“Yes.”
“Look, I read that letter and it was hardly the missive of a love pining away for her company. He had finished university, he thought they could see each other again…for old time’s sake. He said nothing of the love she insists they both felt so strongly. He said something about thinking she might have married by now because Greek girls married younger than American ones, or some such rot.”
“Did you think he should have poured his heart out in a letter to a woman he couldn’t even be sure wasn’t married?”
“If his love was as great as my mother claimed, he would have.” Sandor’s tone was hard, brooking no argument.
She gave it anyway. “Wouldyou have?”
“I do not believe in that kind of love.”
“Yes, I know, but even if you did, I don’t believe you would put your heart on the line until you knew the lay of the land.”
That seemed to take him back a little. “What is the point of this conversation?”
“I think you should find your father, if not for your sake, then for hers.”
Sandor pushed his tea away and leaned back in his chair, the caged lion coming to mind again. “You think I do not take her feelings into account when I refuse to seek him out?”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” He rubbed his hand over his face as if tired all of a sudden. “Tell me, what do you think it would do to my tenderhearted mother to discover my father married soon after graduation and has other children and a wife he adores?”
“Does he?” Had Sandor had the man investigated?
“I do not know and that is the point. In this instance, ignorance is bliss. At least as far as my mother is concerned.”
“But if he is married, you would not have to tell her about him.”
“I would not…could not lie to Mama.”
“But is a lie of omission always a lie, if you are just protecting her? Wouldn’t it be better for you to know?”