“My father had paid my way through university to get my bachelor degree, but I felt I should pay my own way for my master’s, so I worked for a year to get the money together and continued to work while getting my master’s,” Sarita explained softly.
“Si . . .” Domitian nodded as he eased the raw eggs from the bowl onto the second frying pan. Glancing to her then he grinned and said, “You cannot know how sorry I was to learn you had chosen a career that needed such long schooling. Although,” Domitian added dryly, casting her the stink eye. “I understand a master’s degree is not necessary to become a police officer, so you took longer than absolutely necessary.”
Sarita laughed at his expression and shrugged. “I want to be a detective someday. So I went for a master’s in criminology with a minor in psychology.”
“And then it took forever to get accepted to the police force,” he said grimly.
“Yes, there’s a pretty lengthy selection process,” she admitted. “There are three stages of assessment with tests and whatnot at each stage. It takes a while, and then once you’re accepted, you still have to go to the police college for training.”
“Si. I know this,” Domitian assured her. “I found it out when I learned what you wanted to do. I was trying to judge how long it would be before I could come and woo you,” he admitted, and then shook his head. “However, when I saw you that night in my restaurant, my good intentions flew out of the window, and if I had caught up to you, my noble plans would have been meaningless.”
“Noble, huh?” Sarita asked with amusement.
Glancing up from the bacon he was turning again, Domitian eyed her seriously. “Believe me, waiting was noble. A sacrifice. I had already waited more than two thousand years to find you when I first saw you. They seemed to me to pass so slowly, but these past fifteen years?” He shook his head. “They seemed longer than the two thousand that came before.”
Turning, he pushed the button to start the bread toasting and then grabbed two plates and butter. As he set them next to the toaster, Domitian admitted, “I searched for you that night. I called every hotel in the city looking for where you and your father were staying.”
“We stayed in my grandfather’s apartment,” Sarita said softly.
“Si. That was also in the report I got the next day, but by then you were on a plane back to Canada.” He fetched another plate, lined it with paper towel and shifted the bacon strips from the pan to the plate one at a time. “I forced myself to calm down then. I told myself it was fate making sure I stuck to my original plan, and I would wait until you had graduated and worked two years in your field.”
Domitian glanced over to see Sarita watching him with an indefinable expression. She looked serious, but her expression was uncharacteristically soft at the same time. Wondering what she was thinking, he set the plate of bacon before her and turned his attention to removing the now perfect sunny-side-up eggs to two plates.
“And when I came for my father’s funeral?” Sarita asked, walking around the island to begin buttering the toast when it popped.
Domitian almost sighed inwardly. He’d planned on skipping that trip, not wanting to upset her as talk of her father had last night, but it seemed fate was pushing them that way anyway, so he admitted, “I struggled then too, but a little less. You were in the police college. Once done I would only have to wait two years to come woo you.”
“So, you were planning to come to Canada this summer?” she asked with curiosity.
“I already have the plane ticket,” he admitted with a shrug. Turning off the heat under both frying pans, Domitian carried the plates with the eggs on them around to set on the island in front of their seats.
“And how did you plan to approach me?” Sarita asked, following with the toast.
Domitian held her chair for her as she sat down and set the toast on the island, then claimed his own seat before turning to her and saying solemnly, “I was going to walk up to you and say, ‘My name is Domitian Argenis . . . You are my life mate . . . Prepare to be loved.’”
Sarita blinked at him several times, and then recognition bloomed on her face, and she cried, “The Princess Bride!”
“Si.” Domitian grinned, pleased she recognized it.
“As you wish!” she said suddenly and shook her head. “I knew it reminded me of something when you said that, I just . . .” Sarita shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on it at once. I love that old movie. It’s a classic.”
“It is not that old,” he protested.
“It was made before I was born,” she said dryly.
“Si, but you are still young,” Domitian said, and she grinned.
“Yeah, and I always will be to you . . . because you’re so old,” Sarita taunted.
“You do enjoy reminding me of that,” he said wryly.
“Hey,” she said with a shrug. “I find amusement where I can. Life is short.”
“It does not have to be,” he said solemnly.
Sarita had turned back to her plate, but seemed to freeze at his words. The moment she did, Domitian could have kicked himself for saying them. It was too soon. He was rushing her and would scare her off if he wasn’t careful.
“Orange juice,” he said abruptly, and got up to go fetch glasses and the juice.
“Domitian.”
He just managed not to hunch his shoulders as if against a blow as he heard the solemn tone to her voice. Forcing himself to remain calm and relaxed, he smiled at her inquisitively as he carried the glasses and orange juice back to his seat, trying not to look like he knew she was going to say something that would alarm him. “Si, mi tresoro?”
“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” Sarita started carefully, and he heard the but coming before she said, “But once we are off this island and I’m sure my grandmother is safe, I am returning to my job and home in Canada.”
Domitian forced himself to nod mildly. “Si. And I will follow.”
She frowned. “You’d follow me to Canada?”
He shrugged. “I have family there. It would be nice to be closer to my sister.”
Her eyes widened incredulously. “You mean you’d move there? But what about your restaurants and—?”
“Mi Corazon,” he interrupted gently, “you are my life mate. I will not rush you. I will remain patient and give you the time you need, but I will follow you to Canada and woo you as you deserve.”
He saw Sarita’s throat move as she swallowed, but then she turned her face down to her plate and he wasn’t sure how she was taking his words. Domitian supposed he’d hoped she’d throw her arms around his neck and declare him the most wonderful man in the world and vow to be his. He knew that was a ridiculous hope, however. Life never went that easily.
They ate in a mostly companionable silence, and then cleaned up together. Domitian was about to finally get to his plan to lure her to the bedroom when she suddenly took his hand and led him from the kitchen. Thinking he wouldn’t need to lure her to the bedroom and that she was leading him there instead, he followed easily. However, he frowned with confusion when instead of turning toward the bedroom, Sarita instead led him across the living room and outside.
“Er . . . Sarita?” Domitian asked finally as she tugged him toward the pool. “What are we doing?”
“We’re going in the pool,” she announced, releasing him to reach up and undo the towel wrapped around her torso. Letting it drop to the ground, she stepped over it and dove into the water.
Domitian stared after her with bemusement for a minute, his mind frozen on the view he’d got of her in the tiny, pale pink bikini she was wearing today. It was smaller even than the white one he’d first seen her in and contrasted beautifully with her tan skin.
“Hey! Come on. Hurry up.”
Blinking, he forced the image of Sarita that was still frozen in his mind’s eye away and peered at the real woman to see that she was by the waterfall and appeared to be waiting for him. That was when he got the idea she might want to talk about something that she didn’t want overheard by the cameras. Kicking himself into action, he walked to the edge of the pool, dove in, and swam toward her, surfacing just a foot or so in front of her.