“So, why did Krista choose to marry here?” Raffaele asked, changing the subject.
“She always wanted a destination wedding,” Jess explained. “And years ago decided it would take place in Punta Cana.”
“But could she not have held it at a better time of year?” he asked. “When it wasn’t so hot, for instance.”
Jess chuckled and shook her head. “The wedding was a year to the day from when Pat proposed.”
“Ah.” Raffaele nodded with understanding. “She is sentimental.”
“Yes, although when someone told her how hot and humid it could get this time of year, she did briefly consider changing the date. But it would have meant a lot of people couldn’t attend.”
“Because?” he asked.
“Because most of her friends and cousins are still in university or college and couldn’t take ten days to attend a wedding during classes.”
“Ah, yes.” He nodded again.
“And,” Jess added, “because off-season means great deals. The price during the busy season would have been at least double what we paid to be here now. That would have meant that at least half of the people who are here wouldn’t have been able to afford to attend. Including me.”
“I knew it!” Raffaele said with disgust. “Zani had us vacation here because it was cheap.”
Jess chuckled. “I’m not buying your supposed outrage for a minute, buddy. You told me in the elevator not five minutes ago that this was the perfect spot to vacation in.”
“Yes, I did,” he admitted, enjoying her amusement. “But do not ever tell Zanipolo I said so. He will become unbearably smug and say ‘I told you’ so at least twenty times a day for the next three centuries if you tell him I did.”
She raised her eyebrows at the obvious exaggeration, and then pursed her lips. “I don’t know. It seems to me that he deserves to know that you are pleased with the trip.” Jess clucked her tongue a couple times and then waggled her eyebrows up and down. “What will you give me if I keep my mouth shut?”
“Blackmail?” Raffaele asked with delight, knowing she was teasing.
“Hey, I’m a starving student, buddy,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll take what I can get.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, his mouth twitching with amusement, and then offered, “How about if I buy you dinner, then?”
She snorted at the suggestion. “This place is all-inclusive, my friend. You won’t have to pay a thing.”
“True,” he agreed solemnly. Raffaele then pursed his lips, and followed it up with some clucking in imitation of her, before asking, “Well, what would you have of me, then?”
Jess opened her mouth to answer, and then paused as they rounded the building they’d been walking by, and they heard music from the restaurant ahead. A slow smile claimed her lips then, and she announced gleefully, “A dance!”
“Done,” he said at once, unable to tear his gaze away from her happy face. She was absolutely stunning when she smiled like that, and he couldn’t wait to claim that dance . . . at least until he recalled his intention to keep his distance from her until they were back in North America. Holding her in his arms on the dance floor, her body pressed to his, didn’t seem likely to help him with that.
“Do you see them?” Jess asked moments later as they entered the busy bar/restaurant.
Raffaele narrowed his gaze and peered around the dim interior, and then shook his head. “They are probably out on the deck overlooking the beach. That is where we were when we spotted you in the water.”
“Really?” Jess asked with surprise as he took her arm to usher her through the crowd.
“Really,” he assured her, and then said, “Aha!” as he spotted Santo.
“You see them?” she asked, craning her head to try to see over the crowd.
The tables were all full and people had resorted to standing in small groups, drinks in hand. It looked to him as if everyone from the bus was here. Although he didn’t see Allison, he noted as he nodded in response to her question.
“Where are they?” Jess asked as he urged her through the crowd.
“On the deck, and at the exact same table we were at when we spotted you and the shark in the water.”
“There wasn’t really a shark!” she protested on a laugh.
“There was,” he assured her as they reached the deck and made their way to where Santo and Zanipolo waited at a table full of food. “Ask Santo. He was the one who spotted it first.”
“Who spotted what first?” Zanipolo asked, catching the tail end of the conversation as they reached the table.
“The shark,” Jess said, settling in the seat Raffaele pulled out for her. “There wasn’t really a shark, was there?”
“Sì,” Santo assured her.
“Yeah,” Zanipolo agreed as Raffaele took the seat between him and Jess. “Santo saw it just seconds after Raffaele pointed you out to us. We thought for sure you were a goner, but it lost interest about ten or twenty feet away from you and just turned around and swam the other way.”
“Damn,” she breathed, looking horrified.
Raffaele reached out to clasp her hand and squeeze it, and then glanced from Santo to Zanipolo. “No Allison?”
Both men shook their heads, and then Santo said, “She obviously went elsewhere.”
“Hmm,” Raffaele murmured and, noting the frown on Jess’s face, pointed out, “If she hasn’t returned to your room by the time you finish eating, we can go to the reception desk and get another key.”
“But where is she?” Jess asked with a frown.
“She was walking away with some fellow as we tried to get through the crowd in the lobby to reach you two,” Zanipolo announced. “They looked pretty chummy. Maybe she went to his room.”
“Tyler?” Jess asked, her eyes going wide. “Tall guy? Blond hair, green T-shirt?”
“Yes,” Santo said with a nod.
“Oh, they’d never—Well, I don’t know him. He might if he doesn’t know her, but Allison positively loathes all of Pat’s friends. She’d never . . . Nuh-uh.” She shook her head firmly.
“Then perhaps they have gone to a club in town,” Zanipolo suggested.
Jess appeared to consider that, and then sighed and turned her attention to the food on the table. Her expression immediately transformed into one of amazement. “What’s all this?”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I ordered two of several different dishes,” Zanipolo said with a grin. “Eat up. There’s plenty of everything.”
Raffaele surveyed the various plates on the table, not recognizing much of it. But then he hadn’t eaten in centuries and while he had, on occasion, kept Zanipolo company as he ate, he’d never troubled himself to pay much attention to what his cousin was eating. Mostly, he’d spent his time trying to avoid showing his distaste of the smells assailing him, and calculating how long it would be before Zanipolo finished and he could escape those smells. The scent of food had often turned his stomach over the past couple of centuries. He didn’t know why. It hadn’t bothered him before that, but . . .
Shrugging the concern away, Raffaele took a tentative sniff of the various scents wafting up from the dishes spread out before them, and raised his eyebrows. This food wasn’t turning his stomach. In fact, some of the smells filling his nose were rather interesting, Raffaele thought as he watched Jess pull a plate with little misshapen light brown logs, thin, pale yellow sticks, and a very tiny bowl of some kind of thick pinkish/red liquid with seeds in it toward her. She picked up one of the logs, dipped it in the small bowl of syrupy liquid, took a bite, and moaned with pleasure.
“What’s that?” Raffaele asked with interest, unable to tear his gaze away from the expression of ecstasy on her face.
“Chicken fingers with sweet Thai chili sauce,” she said on a little sigh. And then dipped the log again and leaned toward him, holding it out. “Here, try it.”
Raffaele didn’t have to be asked twice. It smelled scrumptious. Leaning forward, he took a bite and then abruptly sat up straight in his seat, his eyes widening incredulously. Sweet and heat exploded in his mouth together first and were followed by the spice in the breading and the unmistakable flavor of chicken as he chewed.
“Good, huh?” Jess asked with a grin.
Nodding, he swallowed the food and then glanced around to catch the eye of a passing waitress. When he did, he smiled at the woman. She smiled in return and immediately made her way to their table.
“What do you want to drink, Jess?” Raffaele asked, turning to her in question when the waitress reached them.
“A glass of the house wine would be nice,” she said, offering the waitress a smile.
“Sí.” The woman nodded and then glanced to Raffaele in question.
“Water is fine for me,” he murmured, not wanting to partake of alcohol, but unsure what else would be good. He didn’t normally drink even water. The blood he consumed generally took care of nutrients as well as hydration. But he also didn’t normally eat food either, and this food was tasty, but spicy and a bit salty. Raffaele suspected he’d need a drink or two to help wash it down.
“Do you want half?”
Raffaele glanced to Jess at her question, and saw that she had shifted the plate between them so that he could share. He smiled, but knew it was probably a little wry. As much as he liked the chicken fingers, and would be happy to partake of them, he’d quite enjoyed her feeding it to him as well. However, it appeared he would have to forego that pleasure now. A good thing, Raffaele assured himself. He’d barely refrained from licking or nipping her fingers the last time she’d held the food out. He didn’t trust himself not to do it the next time if the log was shorter and her fingers closer.
“Eat up,” Jess suggested, nudging the plate a little closer to him.