Spotting her through the glass doors, Domitian used the one she'd left open and slipped outside to stand by the pool. He then just stared at her.
Sarita stared back, wondering why he'd gone to the office.
"Are you okay?" he asked finally.
"As okay as a cockroach in a Roach Motel," she said sarcastically. When confusion covered his face, she realized he wouldn't understand the reference and explained, "They are cockroach traps. The cockroach goes in, but is caught and can't get back out."
Domitian didn't smile at her poor joke. Expression serious he said, "We are not trapped, Sarita. I promise I will get you off this island and take you somewhere safe."
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."
"I can keep it," he assured her.
"You're forgetting that Dr. Dressler could be back at any moment. He could be pulling up to the dock in a boat right now," she pointed out.
"He will not come here so soon," Domitian assured her.
"You can't know that," she said.
"His letter said he had this house renovated and updated for just this eventuality," he reminded her and pointed out, "He would hardly go to that trouble and expense for one day's use."
"True," Sarita said thoughtfully. She'd forgotten about that part of the letter. "But why did he do it? What the hell does he want from us?" she asked, and heard the frustration in her own voice.
"I do not know," Domitian admitted, and then announced, "I made us a meal."
Sarita almost snapped that she wasn't hungry, but she actually was, and taking out her temper on him would not get her the answers she wanted. Shaking her head, she moved to the stairs and walked out of the pool.
Domitian was waiting with a towel held open.
"Thank you," Sarita murmured, when he wrapped it around her shoulders. Clutching the ends under her chin, she moved past him, saying, "I'll just go change. I'll be quick."
If he responded, she didn't hear it as she hurried back inside.
Two minutes later, Sarita had removed the damp towel Domitian had wrapped around her and was glancing from it to the somewhat lacking wardrobe that was available to her. She briefly considered pulling on a dry swimsuit and pinning a fresh towel to it, one that wasn't damp, but really all the remaining swimsuits had thong bottoms that were just plain uncomfortable. She wasn't eager to wear any of them. Besides, the towel she'd worn as a toga that day was a dirty heap by the pool, the one she'd just removed was damp and would be uncomfortable, and between their using them after showers and swimming, and her raiding them to carry their items, the stack of towels was shrinking quickly. They'd soon be out of clean towels if she kept using them as clothing.
Dropping the damp one, she turned resolutely to the clothing supplied to her and wondered with disgust who had picked all these ridiculous nightgowns. Muttering under her breath, she settled on a black one with a short, sheer skirt, but lace on the top that would mostly cover her breasts. She'd have to wear a thong with it for it to be anywhere near decent, but the top was what Domitian would see sitting at the table and that was her main concern. Most of the other gowns were sheer there too.
She pulled it on quickly, found a black thong, donned it with a grimace and then hurried into the bathroom to run a brush through her wet hair. Her gaze slid briefly to the makeup table as she did, but then slid away. This wasn't a date. The last thing she needed was to make herself attractive. They already had trouble keeping their hands off each other and she didn't want to end up splayed on the dining room table and howling for the cameras as Domitian-
Sarita cut that thought off quickly as she felt heat pool in her groin. Honestly, she was like a bitch in heat around the man. Just thinking about him made her . . .
Rather than finish the thought, she threw the brush on the counter and hurried from the room.
Domitian was in the dining room, standing behind a chair that he politely pulled out for her when she entered.
Sarita glanced at his face as she approached, caught the way his eyes started to glow that strange silver as his gaze slid over her latest ensemble and just managed not to shake her head as she took her seat. Much to her relief, Domitian didn't so much as touch her shoulder, but eased her chair in and then immediately moved around to claim the seat opposite.
Sarita glanced down at her plate and then stopped and said with surprise, "Lomito en salsa de mango!"
"Si." Domitian smiled faintly when she glanced to him with amazement. "It is what you ordered each of the three times you were in my restaurant, so when I saw we had the ingredients to make it, I did."
Sarita smiled crookedly. "Well, now I know which restaurant you own. Buena Vida was my father's favorite. But expensive-it was only for special occasions," she said with a reminiscent smile. "Before my mother died, Papa took her there every year on their anniversary. The first time I got to go was the night before we moved to Canada. He wanted 'our last meal in Venezuela to be memorable,' as he put it, so he took me there."