Wanting an answer, he headed back downstairs where he found her alone in the kitchen, cooking.
Valerius hesitated in the doorway. She stood sideways from him, a perfectly serene profile. She was truly a beautiful woman.
Her faded black jeans hugged long legs and an extremely attractive rear. She wore a short-sleeved, buttoned-up black sweater that rode high, leaving a large amount of tanned flesh exposed between the low-riding jeans and her navel, which, if he wasn't mistaken, was pierced.
Her long auburn hair was pulled back and she looked strangely tranquil standing over the stove in her bare feet; a silver toe ring twinkled on her right foot. The radio was turned on, low, playing Martin Briley's "Salt in My Tears." Tabitha's hips moved in time to the music in an erotic rhythm that was far more alluring than he wanted to admit.
Indeed, it was all he could do to not move toward her so that he could dip his head down and sample some of the succulent skin that beckoned him.
She was a spitfire who would surely ride him well. He took a step forward and she jumped, then kicked her foot out. Valerius cursed as said foot made contact with his groin and he doubled over with the pain of it.
"Oh my God!" Tabitha gasped as she realized she'd just racked her houseguest. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
He gave her a menacing glare. "No," he growled, limping away from her.
Tabitha helped him toward the step stool chair that she kept in the small kitchen. "I'm really, really sorry," she repeated as he sat down and held the heel of his hand against himself. "I should have warned you not to sneak up behind me."
"I wasn't sneaking," he said from between clenched teeth. "I was walking."
"Here, let me get you some ice."
"I don't need ice. I just need a minute to breathe and not talk."
She held her hands up in surrender. "Take your time."
After he turned several interesting shades, he finally recovered himself. "Thank Jupiter you didn't have another knife in your hands," he muttered, then said louder, "Do you kick every man who comes into the house like this?"
"Oh, Lord, not another one!" Marla said as she entered the room. "Tabby, I swear it's a wonder you have a personal life at all the way you treat men."
"Oh, hush, Marla. I didn't do it on purpose... this time."
Marla rolled her eyes as she grabbed two Diet Cokes from the fridge. She handed one to Valerius. "Hold that to your wound, sweetie. It'll help. Just be grateful you're not Phil. I heard they had to perform a testicle retrieval operation after Tabby caught him two-timing on her." Then she popped the top on her drink and went back upstairs.
"He deserved it," Tabitha called after Marla. "He's lucky I didn't cut it off."
Valerius really didn't want to pursue that conversation. He stood up and set the Coke on the countertop. "Why are you cooking?"
Tabitha shrugged. "You said you didn't want something out of a can so I'm making you pasta."
"But you said-"
"I say a lot of things I don't mean."
He watched her as she turned the stove off, then took the pot of boiling pasta toward the sink. A bell sounded.
"Wanna get that for me?"
"Get what?" he asked.
"The microwave."
Valerius looked around the kitchen. In all his life, he'd seldom seen a kitchen and knew very little about the appliances that one cooked with. He had servants for such things.
The bell chimed again.
Assuming that was the microwave, he went to it and pulled the handle. Inside was a bowl of marinara. He took the fish-shaped potholder that was lying in front of the microwave and pulled the bowl out. "Where should I put this?"
"The stove, please."