Desert Jewels & Rising Stars

by Sharon Kendrick

  “Great!”

  “You might not like them.” He smiled again, but for the first time she noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes. His hand was gripping the stem of his martini glass, his shoulders tense. “Like you said, I’m helpless in the kitchen. Not like some men, who are undoubtedly born chefs.”

  Callie frowned, puzzled at his sudden change in mood. “Is something wrong?”

  He showed his teeth in something like a smile. “Not a thing.”

  “You just seem—strange.”

  “I’m fine. Shall we have dinner?”

  “Sure,” she said reluctantly. Maybe she was so tired she was starting to imagine things. Or maybe it was her guilt talking. With a sigh, she looked around. “Have you seen my purse? I just need to make a quick call.”

  “Your family?”

  “No,” she said, irritated at the suggestion. “I called them from the hospital and look where it got me. No. Brandon.” Eduardo’s dark eyes flashed in the shadowy room. “No.”

  “He must be back in Fern by now. I’m sure he’s worried about me, and I’m worried about him—”

  “He’s fine,” Eduardo said coolly. He finished off his martini and placed the empty glass on the marble mantel. “I just spoke with him.”

  She stared at him. “You did?”

  “He’d been calling for hours. I got sick of the phone ringing. Ten minutes ago, I answered the phone and told him to stop.”

  “What did he say?”

  “An earful,” he said grimly. He set his jaw. “What exactly did you tell him about me?”

  Her cheeks grew hot. “I was angry after you fired me. I might have called you a world-class jerk.”

  “A jerk?”

  “And a workaholic with no heart, who lures a new woman into bed each night, only to put her out with the trash each morning,” she whispered. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  Eduardo gave her a hard smile. “You just told him the truth.” Reaching for his empty martini glass, he pulled the olive off the toothpick with his white teeth and slowly chewed. “I am all of those things. Just as you are secretive, naive and ridiculously sentimental.”

  Protestations rose to Callie’s lips then faded. After the way she’d acted, how could she argue with that—any of it?

  He came closer, his face silhouetted by the huge windows that sparkled with the lights of the city. “But we must endure it.”

  “Endure it?” she whispered.

  “Each other,” he said coldly. “For Marisol’s sake.”

  Pain cracked through her heart. Just a moment before, she’d been filled with hope. But now she saw she really was alone. No one was on her side. No one.

  Stiffening, she held out her hand. “Give me my phone.”

  “No.”

  “Fine,” she bit out. “I’ll find it myself.”

  Moving through the swinging door, she went into a large, luxurious kitchen, with top-of-the-line appliances, a wine fridge, and a pizza oven, overlooking the sparkle of the city and black void of the Hudson River. Her eyes widened as she saw her bag on a granite countertop. She snatched it up, digging all the way to the bottom.

  “It’s not in there,” Eduardo said, watching her.

  Still digging, she didn’t bother to look up. “Where is it?”

  “I threw it away.”

  Her hand stilled. “Are you kidding me?”

  His voice was like ice. “I won’t let you call him.”

  “You can’t stop me!” Her eyes were wide as she gasped with outraged fury. “You had no right!”

  “I’m your husband. I had every right.”

  “I’ll get a new phone!”

  His black eyes glittered. “Try it.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’m not your prisoner!”

  “For as long as we are married, I expect your loyalty.”

  “He’s my best friend!”

  “And you are my wife.”

  “You can’t possibly feel threatened by—”

  “No, why would I?” His voice was low and full of dislike. “Just because he is the man you adore, the man you trust, the man you wanted to be Marisol’s father. The man you tried to marry two days ago.”

  “Only because I was pregnant—”

  “You were engaged years ago, Callie,” he snapped. “Before I even met you!”

  Her mouth fell open. “What?”

  Eduardo leaned his hand on the kitchen countertop. “Last Christmas Eve, when we made love,” he ground out, “I couldn’t sleep with you in my bed—”

  “So why didn’t you kick me out?”

  He ground his teeth. “I went for a walk. I decided to stop at your apartment to collect a few of your things. I was going to ask you to stay. I never expected to find a man living there with you.”

  “You—what?”

  His jaw was hard as he shook his head. “After our years together, I’d actually thought I could trust you. But just hours after you gave me your virginity, I met your live-in love. Your longtime fiancé.”

  She gaped at him.

  “What, no witty comeback?” he jibed.

  “Brandon wasn’t my fiancé. Not back then!”

  His eyes grew wild. “Stop it, damn you! Will you never stop lying? I met him!”

  “But we only got engaged a few weeks ago!”

  Eduardo folded his arms, his expression as hard as the wooden floors. “Then how do you explain it? Either you are lying, or he was. Which is it?”

  She licked her lips. “Brandon wouldn’t lie,” she said weakly. “Unless—” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  If we’re not married by thirty—Brandon had taken her hands in his own—let’s marry each other.

  Sure, she’d laughed. On the night of their senior prom, thirty had seemed a million miles away. Why not?

  She’d thought it was a joke. But could Brandon have taken it seriously? Could that be why, the day after Eduardo had gotten her an apartment, Brandon had suddenly shown up in New York with no job and a suitcase full of jeans? Because he’d heard in Callie’s voice that she was falling completely in love with her boss, and wanted to protect his territory?

  No. It couldn’t be. Brandon loved her as a friend. Just a friend!

  She glared at Eduardo. “Either you misunderstood him, or Brandon was trying to warn you off. To protect me from a sleazy boss.”

  “Sleazy?” he gasped.

  She folded her arms. “But there’s never been anything romantic between Brandon and me. Let me call him and prove it!”

  “He’s in love with you.” His eyes were like ice. “You’re either lying, or blind. But I won’t be played for a fool ever again. You will not communicate with McLinn in any way. Not by phone, by computer or via carrier pigeon. And not through your parents. Do you understand?”

  Callie couldn’t believe he was being so unreasonable. Tears rose to her eyes. “But I just left him there,” she whispered. “Standing in the street on our wedding day. He deserves an explanation!”

  “He saw you leave with me. That is all the explanation he needs. And if not …” He allowed himself a cold smile. “I just told him everything he needs to know.”

  A chill went down her spine. “What did you say to him?”

  Turning away, he scooped up quesadillas and rice on a plate and shoved it toward her on the countertop. “It’s simple. Contact him during our marriage, just once, and you are in breach of our agreement.”

  “Fine, I’ll be in breach! Keep your stupid alimony. I don’t care about your money!”

  “Do you care about custody?”

  She sucked in her breath. “What?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “It seems you did not read our prenuptial agreement very carefully before you signed it.”

  She struggled to remember the words of the prenup, but the truth was she’d barely skimmed the first pages. “I was in labor! In pain, under duress! Whatever I may have signed, it will never stand up in court!�
��

  He gave her grim smile. “Shall we find out?”

  Callie couldn’t believe he could be so heartless. No, on second thought, she could. What she couldn’t believe was her own stupidity—in believing it was possible for Eduardo Cruz to be anything but heartless! Blinking back tears, she tried to keep her voice from trembling. “Just let me talk to him once. You can listen on the other line. I just need to tell him I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes. “When I think of what I did to him …”

  “Yes, I can only imagine how badly you feel,” Eduardo said sardonically. “Knowing you caused him pain by flinging yourself enthusiastically into bed with me and conceiving my child instead of his. A pity raising Marisol is now a responsibility more important than the romantic longings of your heart!”

  His sardonic tone tore at her soul like nails on a chalkboard. “Why do you even care?” she spat out. “Our marriage will be over in months. For that matter, why did you even marry me? Why make such a song and dance about giving our child a name and a father and a home, when we both know you’ll never last for long?”

  His hand tightened into a fist on the counter. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you too well,” she said. “I know the life you love. Traveling around the world, beating your competitors, buying expensive toys you barely take time to enjoy, any more than the women whose names you can’t remember. Keeping score with your billions in the bank.” She lifted her chin. “Am I leaving anything out?”

  His dark eyes were cold. “My priorities have changed.”

  “For how long? A few days? A week? How long will you last before you abandon us?”

  “Abandon?” he ground out. “You mean, how long until I let you rush into another man’s arms?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sick of your stupid jealousy!”

  “And I’m sick of constantly being told it’s impossible for me to be a decent husband, oh, no, not like some unemployed farmer who hangs on your every word. Too bad for you he’s not Marisol’s father!”

  It was the last straw.

  “Yes, it is!” Callie cried, blinking back tears. Grabbing her plate of quesadillas and rice—which indeed looked very poorly cooked—she yanked violently through the cupboards until she found a fork, then stomped across the kitchen. Stopping at the swinging door, she turned and yelled, “Three months can’t come soon enough!”

  Then with a sob, she ran upstairs, where she could eat and cry in peace with the one person in this world who still loved her—her baby.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Three months later

  IT HAD been a horrible three months of watching Eduardo be a perfect, loving, devoted father to their baby, who’d gone from tiny newborn to chubby baby who slept better through the night. Three months of being treated with distant courtesy as his wife. Three months of being tortured with memories, of silent hurt and anger and repressed longing by day—and haunted dreams at night. Three months.

  Over.

  Looking at herself in the bedroom mirror, Callie zipped up her silver dress, a slinky, strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline that emphasized her bustline. She put on the three-carat diamond stud earrings that matched the ten-carat diamond ring on her hand. Leaning forward, she applied mascara and red lipstick. Stepping back into crystal-studded high heels, she straightened. She stared at her own unsmiling image.

  It was like looking at a stranger.

  Callie thought of herself as plain and plump but the mirror now plainly told her otherwise. Her light brown hair was long and lustrous, blown-dry straight twice a week at the best salon on the Upper West Side. Her arms and legs had become toned and sleek from carrying Marisol and taking her on long autumn walks. She went to the park almost every day, rain or shine, eager to escape the penthouse, where she felt useless, trapped in the same house as a husband who did not care for her.

  But her transformation into his trophy wife was complete. She no longer looked the part of the farm girl, or even the secretary. She was Mrs. Eduardo Cruz. The oil tycoon’s unloved wife.

  But tomorrow morning, her three-month marriage sentence would be over. She and her baby would be free.

  Callie’s green eyes were pools of misery.

  Every night, she’d slept alone in his big bed as he slept in the guest room down the hall. Every day when Eduardo came home from work—earlier than he ever had, before dinner—his face lit up with joy as he scooped Marisol up in his arms. At night, when the baby couldn’t sleep, she heard him walking the halls, cuddling her against his chest, singing her to sleep in his low baritone. Callie had a million new memories that would always twist her heart, because after they divorced, she’d never see them again.

  Eduardo had been unfailingly courteous. He’d never brought up Brandon, her family, or any other subject that might cause an argument. Instead, every night as she sat beside him at the dinner table, he read the paper over dinner and kept the discussion to small talk. And her gaze unwillingly traced the sensual curve of his lips and shape of his hands, her body electrified with awareness as she breathed in his masculine scent and felt his warmth.

  He never touched her. All he expected of Callie was for her to take care of their child and occasionally accompany him to charitable events. As they were doing tonight.

  In the intimate world of New York society, the official Christmas season was kicked off in early December by the annual Winter Ball, which raised money for children’s charities across the five boroughs. Tonight was the last night Callie would wear an elegant gown and accompany Eduardo in his dashing tuxedo. The last night she’d have to look up at her husband and pretend her heart wasn’t breaking.

  Tonight was the end.

  Fitting that their marriage would end at a Christmas party, she thought dully. Just as it had begun with one. Tomorrow, as outlined by the prenuptial agreement, she would move out and Eduardo would begin divorce proceedings.

  Standing in front of her bedroom mirror, Callie exhaled. She didn’t believe for a single second that he’d been faithful to her. She knew him too well. He wasn’t the type of man who could go without physical release for a month, much less three. He must have had lovers since their marriage—but where? How? It tortured her.

  She put a trembling hand to her forehead. What did she care? Tomorrow, she’d be packing for North Dakota. For home. She missed her family. Sami. Her mother. Brandon. Even her father. She’d missed so much. Harvest. Autumn. Apple dunking and hot mulled cider. Thanksgiving with her father carving the turkey and her mother’s prize-winning pumpkin pie. But she’d been resentful and angry. She’d wanted them to call and apologize. They had the number. But they hadn’t called, and neither had she.

  But tomorrow, she’d go home. She’d noted the date in her planner and circled it with a black pen. This sham marriage would be over.

  No doubt Eduardo, too, had been watching the calendar. He’d done a wonderful job as a father but he must be exhausted, hiding his love affairs, working only nine hours a day instead of his usual sixteen, eating dinner at home every night. Honestly, she’d never expected him to last this long.

  Callie shivered as if she felt the cold December wind blowing through the canyons of the city.

  He’d never tried to touch her during their marriage, not once. They’d only had that single night together, the night they’d conceived Marisol. One perfect night, the fulfillment of all her innocent dreams. One night. And so much she would never forget. The sudden hot hunger of his gaze across the hotel ballroom. The warmth of his sensual lips as they kissed in the back of a taxi heading south on Fifth at a breakneck pace. The woodsy, clean scent of his black hair as he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom and how silky it had felt clutched in her fingers as he covered her naked body with his own. The low rasp of his breath as he cupped her breasts. His hard gasp as he pushed inside her. The sound of her own scream ringing in her ears as her world exploded like fireworks, like a million dreams coming true at once.

  Tomorrow, she�
��d go home and try to find a regular job. She’d face her family. She’d forget Eduardo. She had to; otherwise the rest of her life would be bleak …

  “Querida.”

  She whirled around. Eduardo was standing in the open doorway of the master bedroom, wearing a well-cut black tuxedo. He looked so devastatingly handsome that her heart lifted to her throat.

  His eyes were as black as his jacket. His dark, short, wavy hair set off his handsome, chiseled face to perfection. As he came into the bedroom, the muscles of his powerful body seemed barely constrained by the civilized, sophisticated tuxedo.

  He slowly looked her up and down, and his eyes seemed to devour her in the floor-length silver dress. “You look ridiculously beautiful,” he said huskily. “Every man will envy me tonight.”

  “Oh,” she said in shock, and blushed. She had no idea how to react. He’d never said such a thing to her before. On this, the last night of their marriage, she suddenly felt as awkward and self-conscious as if they were on a first date. “Thank you. Um. You, too.”

  He smiled. “I brought you a gift.”

  Pulling a black velvet box from his tuxedo pocket, he opened it in front of her. Her jaw dropped when she saw the priceless emerald and diamond necklace sparkling inside.

  She looked up with a gasp. “That’s—that’s for me? Why?”

  He gave a low laugh. “Do you really need to ask?”

  She bit her lip. “Is it like—a going-away present?”

  “No.” He shook his head then gave her a charming, crooked grin. “Think of it as an early Christmas present.” Setting down the box on the bed, he pulled the necklace from the black velvet setting. “May I?”

  Nervously she held up her long brown hair and allowed him to place the necklace’s heavy weight around her neck and latch it in the back, shivering as she felt his strong, warm hands brush against her nape. It was the first time he’d touched her in months, and it caused a tremble to rise from deep inside her. Moving away, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She put her hand over the green jewels sparkling in the light from the black wrought-iron chandelier.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said over the lump in her throat.