Mouth tightening, at the thought of the unpleasant task to come, Ildaria pulled out a pair of baggy jogging pants, and anoversized sweatshirt and tugged those on as well. Fully dressed now in the most unattractive clothes she owned, Ildaria stoppedto drag a brush through her damp hair, put it up in a ponytail, and then take several deep breaths.
It didn’t help much, but then she doubted anything would, except getting this over with. Turning away from her reflectionin the mirror, she patted her leg and said, “Come on, buddy, let’s go see your dad.”
H.D. leapt off the bed and scampered out the door the moment Ildaria opened it. She followed more slowly, half hoping G.G. would snatch up H.D. and leave before she could get to the living room, and half afraid he would.
He didn’t. G.G. was standing by the island with H.D. in his big, brawny arms, petting him when she reached the kitchen. Buthe stopped to give her the once-over, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
“Only you could make sweats look sexy,” he said with weary amusement as his gaze slid back up to her eyes.
Ildaria frowned. There wasn’t anything the least sexy in what she was wearing. But perhaps it was the effect of the dreams,she thought. With the memories of those dreams crowding the mind, she could probably wear a potato sack and look sexy to him.Just as he would appear sexy to her in whatever he chose to wear. But he wasn’t dressed in unattractive clothes. He was wearinghis usual Night Club outfit of black dress pants and black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. Sort of casual dressy,but still very sexy.
“Your cocoa,” G.G. said quietly, nodding toward the two cups on the island. “I had a sip of mine. It doesn’t taste as goodas yours, but I just followed the directions on the can. I suspect you do something different.”
“I add a little cream,” Ildaria explained, moving past him into the kitchen to fetch the cream Marguerite had brought withthe groceries two weeks ago. It was nearly gone now. She’d have to buy more soon, she thought as she carried it back to adda little to both their cups.
“Thank you,” G.G. murmured, setting H.D. down and taking one of the cups as she replaced the cream.
When she returned, he was standing to the side of the table, waiting for her to take a seat. Ildaria picked up her own cup, and then chose the nearest end chair. She wasn’t surprised when he chose the opposite one, as far from her as he could get. Now that he knew they were life mates, he would avoid touching her at all unless he decided to agree to be her life mate. She had no doubt he knew enough about life mates to realize how highly combustible they were. One touch could be enough to set them off and have them tearing at each other’s clothes.
They were both silent at first. Ildaria had no idea what G.G. was thinking, but she was fretting over where to begin her explanationfor her lack of experience. In the end, she just admitted, “I don’t know where to start.”
“Just start at the beginning,” G.G. suggested.
Ildaria nodded. “I guess it starts with my mother then. She was apparently something of a wild child. My abuela—my grandmother—said my grandfather was very strict, and my mother was always rebelling against his strictness. At sixteen,my mother decided she’d had enough and ran off with her boyfriend, telling my grandparents they’d never see her again.”
When G.G.’s eyebrows rose dubiously at that, she smiled wryly and said, “Yeah. Famous last words. She popped up a year laterwith me in tow. I was six months old. She’d been three months pregnant when she left, but too ashamed to tell them.”
“Ah,” G.G. murmured with understanding.
Ildaria nodded. “Anyway, had my grandfather still been alive, my abuela thinks things might have turned out differently, but he’d suffered a massive heart attack and died six months before. The same day I was born as it turns out. My abuela always thought that was important for some reason.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Abuela took us in, and agreed to help raise me, but only if my mother stopped drinking and partying and got a job.”
“But she didn’t,” G.G. guessed.
Ildaria shook her head. “I gather she was there for less than a month before she found a new boyfriend to move in with. Myabuela begged her to leave me with her, but she refused and dragged me along. It was the first of many such moves. I guessit was the same pattern over and over. New boyfriend, she’d move in, taking me with her. They’d drink and party and fightand fall apart, and then she’d land back at Abuela’s with me three to six months later. I don’t remember any of that, butAbuela says the first couple of men were mean drunks and verbally abusive, which was bad enough, but then my mother movedon to men who were physically abusive.
“Same pattern,” she added with a shrug. “She just came crawling back to Abuela with bruises and whatnot rather than in a highdander about whatever the latest boyfriend had done. My abuela tried to talk to her, worried about her but also about me.I hadn’t been hit yet
