Page 34 of In Love With a Master (Interview With a Master 2)

I sighed heavily into the phone. “Doc, just tell me one thing…”

“Yes…”

“Are you my best hope?”

“Yes.”

I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Let’s do it,” I said.

By the time I set the phone back into its cradle I felt wrung out and emotionally exhausted. I swung round in the chair and stared out through the window at the darkening night, feeling something unfamiliar… emotions that had long ago become a stranger to me.

Hope and fear.

Everything around me had changed color. The realization that I was no longer condemned or held chained by bleak despair had altered the way I saw the world. The night sky was just as black and just as brooding as it had been the night before. The same cars wound their way down the mountain road, and the same shroud of menacing storm clouds hung heavy in the sky – and yet somehow the car lights seemed a little brighter, the clouds a little less threatening, the night a little less grim. I had hope, and I clutched at that small flickering flame of it, and held it close to me so that its small bright glow was like a lantern illuminating the blackness.

As I sat alone in the office, that flame of hope grew steadily brighter and became courage – and dread.

I had three days to live – just a few precious days to put my affairs in order, and to make my peace.

I sat at my desk long into the dark night, wrestling with my conscience in the face of impossibly hard decisions.

I didn’t sleep.

Chapter 23.

Leticia drove in through the gates at sunset. The rain from the previous day had left the ground heavy with mud. She parked her car close to the front door, and came up the steps with a suppressed hum of happiness.

Her smile was warm and genuine but I could see traces of ordeal in her eyes and a flicker of uncertainty at the edges of her smile. It hung on her lips, brittle and fragile.

“Jonah, I missed you,” Leticia said in a soft breath.

She came into my arms and we embraced in the foyer. Leticia gazed up into my eyes, searching my expression.

“I missed you too,” I said. “I am sorry again about yesterday morning.”

Leticia brushed aside my apology but I sensed, like the rain, the abrupt manner I had left her had made the ground between us unsure.

She looked up into my face and her smiling expression slowly transformed into one of concern. “Jonah, you look tired. Is everything alright?”

I forced a smile. “Everything is fine,” I lied. “I just didn’t sleep very well.”

Leticia let the moment pass. She clutched at my arm and squeezed tightly. “Well, maybe you couldn’t sleep because a certain someone wasn’t lying in your bed beside you,” there was a bright little glitter in her eyes.

I nodded. “That must be it,” I agreed dutifully. “Who do you suggest?”

“Me, of course!” She slapped at me playfully, and everything between us was all right again.

The house was empty and cold, and instinctively we drifted into the warmth of the kitchen, where the last of the day’s light was streaming through the westerly windows in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. Leticia looked puzzled.

“Where is Mrs. Hortez?”

She looked around the kitchen area. There was nothing cooking, no pots, no pans simmering, and no fresh aromas.

I shrugged. “She left earlier in the day,” I explained. “She has a son at college, and she went to visit him for a day or two.”

Leticia spun on me. “Mrs. Hortez has a son? I never knew.”

I nodded. “He’s a fine young man,” I said. “I’m actually paying for his education.”

Leticia did a thing with her face – some kind of an unreadable expression, like maybe she was surprised, or maybe intrigued. “That’s very generous of you.”

“Not really,” I shook my head. “Mrs. Hortez is part of the family, and her son’s education is important.” I frowned. “Besides, it’s only money.”

Leticia wandered around the kitchen like she was seeing it for the first time. She opened pantry cupboards and utensil drawers with the critical eye of someone who enjoyed cooking. She went to the refrigerator and held the door open for a moment, then looked over her shoulder at me. “So you’re a bachelor?”

“Yes,” I smiled. “I have been left to fend for myself and feed myself for a day or two.”

“Have you eaten?”

I shook my head.

“Are you hungry?”

I nodded.

“Would you like me to cook something for you?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

There was an apron hanging from a hook behind the kitchen door. Leticia hung it over her neck and belted the trailing ribbons of fabric tight around her waist.

I scraped a chair away from the kitchen table and sat. “Are you going to cook dressed like that?”

Leticia looked at me then glanced down at herself. The apron was a riot of bright floral pattern beneath which she wore a light woolen pullover and snug fitting, faded blue jeans. She looked back up at me, puzzled.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

I frowned and then shook my head. “Leticia,” I poured every ounce of conviction into my next words, “Everyone knows you can’t cook fine food unless you’re naked.”

Leticia blinked, hesitated for just a moment, and then slowly began to smile. She propped one hand on her hip, looking like she was a glamor model for kitchen cookware. “Is that so, mister?”

I nodded. “It’s a proven fact,” I said. “Every great chef around the world mastered their craft by cooking naked.”

Leticia’s smile became wider, and she played along good-naturedly. “Okay…” she said slowly. “I am prepared to cook naked for you, provided you are prepared to eat it naked.”

I smiled at last. “You drive a hard bargain,” I said and then sat back with a sigh. “Maybe you should cook wearing your clothes and we can enjoy dessert naked.”

Although the kitchen was unfamiliar to her, Leticia worked with impressive efficiency, moving from the stovetop to the refrigerator to the kitchen counter like a series of orchestrated dance moves. The big empty house began to fill with the aroma of sausages and eggs frying and hissing in the pan. She carried the food to the table and made a little ‘ta-dah’ sound as she set a plate before me.

“Enjoy,” she said, resting one hand intimately on my shoulder and leaning so close that I could feel her face near mine and smell the scent of her perfume.

“Thank you,” I said with genuine appreciation.

Leticia watched me hawk-like as I put the first forkful of food into my mouth, and chewed slowly. She sat, poised on the edge of her chair, and I sensed she was waiting for some sign of my approval. At last, I made a sound of appreciation and nodded my head enthusiastically. “This is fantastic,” I enthused, and saw a radiant glow of pleasure beam across Leticia’s face. She let out the breath she had been holding in a gush of delight and relief.

“I’m so glad you like it!” she said. “My mother always told me the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.”

We ate in comfortable silence, and then stacked the plates into the dishwasher. Leticia left the apron hanging back on its hook and I took her hand in mine and led her up the staircase.

We got to the bedroom door and paused at the threshold.

“Time for dessert?” Leticia giggled.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m in the mood for something sweet and juicy.”

Leticia went straight to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. She leaned herself back, propping her weight on her outstretched arms and licked her lips in a luscious gesture to provoke me. “Well… Now you have me, whatever do you plan on doing with me?” Her voice was the throaty husk of a femme fatale.

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