Santiago Sol Read Online Free PDF Page B

I pray?”
    “Of course not,” he replied, setting aside the silverware he’d already loosed from the napkin. To Tansy’s surprise, he reached across the table and held out his hand, palm up. She laid her fingers across his and tried to ignore the electric current that traveled up her arm. Then she swallowed and focused her attention on God.
    “Lord, thank You for this food and for Sebastian. Thank You for sending him to help me. I pray that he will find rest and refreshment during our time together and that You will make the way smooth and clear for his business endeavors.” Her skin prickled with embarrassment. She peeked at Sebastian, relieved to see he didn’t seem affronted by her prayer.
    He drizzled syrup over thick slices of baguette, dipped in egg and milk and fried to a perfect golden brown. Sliced ripe bananas and bright golden chunks of pineapple, sprinkled with ruby red pomegranate arils, complemented the toast.
    “So we’ll visit the Parque Forestal first.” He speared a piece offrench toast and lifted it to his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “And then, this evening, of course, the worship meeting.”
    “That sounds lovely,” she murmured, watching him eat.
    “But that won’t make for a full day,” he said, stabbing the air with his fork.
    “What else did you have in mind?”
    His gaze came to rest on her face, and he seemed to consider his response.
    Tansy picked up her fork and took a bite from her own plate. Flavors—sweet, tart, buttery—exploded on her tongue. Stifling a groan of pleasure, she closed her eyes.
    Sebastian chuckled. “ Bueno , no?”
    Her eyes snapped open, but she kept them focused on her plate. “It’s beyond good. Thank you.”
    “This afternoon I’d like to take you to Los Dominicos.”
    “What is it?” She swirled a piece of bread through the syrup.
    “It’s a restored monastery that now houses local artisans and their wares.”
    “Shopping?”
    “Yes. If you see something you like.”
    She grimaced. “I... I haven’t heard back from my employer about the stolen traveler’s checks. I don’t have any money with me.”
    “No matter.”
    She set down her fork with a clatter. “I can’t even pay for my part of breakfast.”
    “Please, Miss Chastain, don’t insult me. You forget, South America is still a land of chivalry. I’d be humiliated if you paid for our meal. And as for the shopping, if you see something you want, I’ll get it and you can, if you insist, pay me back later.”
    “I will pay you back. North America is the land of equality.”
    “We’ll take that up when the time comes. For now, enjoy your meal.”
    “I insist. I can’t go shopping until I have some money of my own.”
    He eyed her over his cup of coffee, and then smiled. “Fine. If your money doesn’t come through today, we’ll go tomorrow.”
    Tansy watched him, feeling a sudden, unwelcome kinship with Eva’s daughter. If Sebastian MacKenna was anything like the rest of his country’s male population, she understood on a very elemental level why Darcy had refused to leave at her father’s command.
     
    ****
     
    Sebastian guided Tansy through the crowd outside Melba’s with one hand on the small of her back. He kept his contact with her light and relaxed, even as his other hand clenched the paper in his pocket with a bruising grip. He had no desire to frighten her, but he recognized the name of the ministry on the flier. Iglesia Espiritu Santo. Holy Spirit Church.
    He’d heard it often during his childhood, whispered in gossipy tones and hurled as an invective during noisy arguments. It was scalded onto his subconscious like a brand, invoking both shame and curiosity. Could it be a coincidence? Was it possible the memoir Tansy was writing was that of his maternal grandmother? What sort of bizarre game was God playing?
    He glanced at the slender young woman beside him. She was almost jogging to keep pace. In his agitation, he’d started walking faster. He slowed his