"What?" Domitian asked.
"Well, this isn't North America," she pointed out.
"No," he agreed.
"Mortal police can get pretty testy about jurisdiction and whatnot," she said with a grimace. "Don't the South American Council mind that your uncle has come into their jurisdiction in pursuit of a perp? Or did your uncle contact them and coordinate with them on this operation?"
Domitian made a face, and then admitted, "Actually, I assumed they knew, but when we were on the way to the docks, a call came from the villa that the South American Council were there and wanted to see him. Uncle Lucian just said he'd be back soon and hung up, but one of the men, Justin Bricker, said, 'Uh-oh. They've found out we're here.'"
"Hmm." Sarita bit her lip. If immortals were anything like mortals, she suspected there might be a mini turf war happening on the mainland about now and wondered what that looked like between vampires. A duel at dusk with stakes? Shaking her head, she reached for another cracker, intending to make another cracker sandwich, only to pause as she realized they were all gone. They'd eaten every last crumb of food from the tray Domitian had brought as they'd talked. There wasn't even an olive left.
"Time for dessert," Domitian announced, grabbing the tray and slipping quickly out of their sheet-wrapped cocoon. When he didn't reappear again right away, Sarita frowned and crawled across the bed to tug the sheet aside and see what he was doing.
Setting the tray aside and stripping off his boxers maybe? she thought hopefully. He would make a lovely dessert. But when Sarita looked out she saw that the room was empty. Domitian had left.
Releasing the sheet, she dropped back to lie on the bed with disappointment. The man was sending mixed messages. Saying no he didn't plan to have sex with her, and then saying he'd lick the crumbs off her later. Now he had apparently gone off to find them dessert. She had no idea what he had planned.
Nine
Domitian cut the last profiterole in half, filled it with ice cream like the others, and then retrieved the chocolate sauce he'd left to stay warm on the range. Tipping the pan, he drizzled it slowly over the profiteroles he'd arranged on the plate, and then set the plate on the tray with the wine and small dessert plates. He took a moment to go over the items on the tray, making sure he had everything, and then picked it up and headed back to the bedroom.
Sarita had chosen bananas flamée as her dessert the three times she'd eaten at his restaurant, but after her reaction to the sirloin in mango salsa, he wasn't making the mistake of serving her the dessert she usually ordered too. He was hoping the profiteroles would be better received.
"More wine?" Sarita asked with amusement as he pulled the sheet aside and climbed back into their cocoon.
"It is a muscat, perfect with profiteroles, but I made cappuccinos too. You can have one or both as you wish." He settled on the bed and let the sheet drop back into place as he set the tray on the bed between them.
"Profiteroles?" she asked with interest and leaned over to look at them. Her eyes widened. "Did you make these?"
"Of course," he said with amusement.
"I've never had freshly made profiteroles," she confessed. "I've had the frozen ones they sell at the grocery stores in Canada, but-"
"Garbage," he assured her as he slid two onto a small plate and offered them to her with a fork. "These will be much better."
Sarita smiled slightly at his bragging as she took the plate and fork. She cut off a piece of ice cream – filled profiterole and slid it into her mouth as Domitian busied himself pouring her a glass of the muscat before pushing the sheet aside and leaning to set the wine bottle on the bedside table and out of the way.
"Mmmmmmmm."
Domitian let the sheet drop back into place and turned to smile at Sarita as she moaned over her first bite of profiterole. "Good?"
Sarita nodded and swallowed. "Oh yeah. Heavenly," she assured him. "You're a keeper."
"I am glad to hear you say that," Domitian said solemnly, and recognized the moment when she realized what she'd said by how she stilled and then flushed with embarrassment. When Sarita followed that up by gulping down a mouthful of wine, Domitian sighed to himself and picked up his own plate to eat.
The woman hadn't yet accepted that they were life mates, and he knew he shouldn't rush her, but couldn't help himself. He had waited more than two millennia to find his life mate. Fifteen years ago he had found her, but had forced himself to wait for her to grow up and become her own woman. The plan had been to wait until she had worked for a couple years in her chosen profession and then find and woo her, but Dressler had cut some time off that goal with his actions. Still, to his mind, Domitian had been incredibly patient. However, it seemed he would have to be patient a bit longer. He could do it. One did not live this long without learning patience. But that didn't mean he would enjoy it.