‘I can and I have,’ he argued firmly. ‘This is going to be the best Christmas either of us has ever had.’
‘It will be. I promise,’ Rosie confirmed, determined to do everything she could to make it so.
‘Why don’t you open your front door, señora?’
‘I suppose if this is my house I’d better show you around—’
‘Why don’t we start with the bedrooms?’
‘Do you seriously think we’ll get that far...?’
The front door opened on a magical scene. A roaring log fire welcomed them inside the beautiful house, and Xavier carried her over the threshold. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the snow-covered mountains, while the décor in rich, warm shades promised that this would be the cosiest of homes in which to spend the holiday season.
‘What’s in all these boxes?’ Rosie asked as she took stock of them.
‘A ready-decorated home would be too easy for you, my beautiful, romantic wife,’ Xavier told her as he lowered her down and stripped off her warm coat. ‘And so I’ve provided all the ingredients you could possibly need to dream up whatever scheme you want.’
‘Christmas decorations,’ she exclaimed. ‘Can we decorate the chalet together?’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Xavier said as he tossed his heavy outer jacket on a chair. ‘Shall we make a start?’
‘I meant you should help me with the Christmas decorations,’ she chastised him as he brought her into his arms.
‘We’ve got all night for that,’ he reminded her, brushing her lips with his.
Rosie couldn’t have been happier with their cosy nest. They were in their own little world, far away from the glare of public scrutiny. ‘You couldn’t have chosen anywhere better. I love it. We can be Mr and Mrs Normal here.’
‘Correction—I can be Mr Normal,’ he argued. He smiled against her mouth as he whispered, ‘There’s no hope for you...’
Grabbing hold of his arms, she attempted to give him a little shake, but he was rock. Her need soared. ‘That rug looks so neglected...’
They cooked Christmas dinner together with the help of a stack of advice from celebrity chefs who had rushed to offer Xavier their congratulations, no doubt in hope of securing franchises at one of his many hotels. They had to be very strict with themselves to make sure the celebratory meal didn’t burn in what had quickly turned into a highly charged second honeymoon. When it came to it, they ended up naked, eating off the same plate on the rug in front of the roaring fire.
Rosie was concerned that her Christmas gift for Xavier wasn’t enough. He had assured her on numerous occasions that their baby was more than enough for every Christmas going forward. Their child was a blessing, as well as the most wonderful gift, but in practical terms Rosie wanted him to have something to open on Christmas Day. And how could she ever compete with the chocolate-box-perfect Swiss Chalet he had given her? She could only hope that her modest gifts would please him.
‘I’ve got another small gift for you,’ Xavier admitted as Rosie brought out a neatly wrapped package.
‘See you, and raise you one,’ she said, smiling as she lifted out a bulkier package from under the bed.
‘This is the perfect Christmas Day,’ Xavier said as he ripped the paper off her first gift. ‘Rosie...’ He stared down with astonishment at the books she’d given him.
‘Do you like them?’
‘First editions of my favourite author—are you serious? I love them.’
‘Margaret helped me—told me which antiquarian bookshop to use. They’re for the library on the island,’ she explained. ‘You don’t have these volumes, do you?’
‘Do you know how rare these are?’
She had some idea. It was only when Margaret had insisted that Rosie must enjoy some of the money from her inheritance that she had been able to afford them.
‘What’s this?’ she asked as Xavier handed her a package that looked very much like the one she was about to give to him.
‘Open it and see,’ he said.
He opened his second gift at the same time, only to discover they’d both had the same idea. Rosie’s bright red Christmas sweater had a cross-eyed reindeer on the front, while the one she had given Xavier had a smiling Father Christmas with rosy cheeks and a long grey beard.
‘Perfect!’ they chorused, laughing as they fell back on the pillows.
‘But I don’t think we need to put them on just yet, do you?’ Xavier murmured, reaching for her.
Five years later...
The sugar-sand beach on sunny Isla Del Rey was packed with islanders, visitors, children, and young people of all ages. The hacienda had been completely renovated, remaining true to its original architectural features, and there was a sturdy handrail on the impeccably maintained cliff path.
Xavier held a barbecue on the beach once a year to host all the suppliers and buyers, who were big supporters of the island’s now famous organic vegetable farm. He cooked and the older children from the thriving Doña Anna Adventure Camp helped him out.
This year’s beach-feast was the biggest celebration yet, as it marked the opening of the third building for their international centre. Interested parties had arrived on the island from all over the world to pick up tips on the magic that turned troubled youngsters into confident young people.
Xavier would have said that it was the Rosie touch. Her eternal optimism meant that she had never given up on a child yet. In Rosie’s opinion, the success of the centre was all Xavier’s doing. He had the drive, the vision, and the practical skills, while she was the dreamer who provided the barefoot fun. Of course, one of their secret weapons was Xavier’s trusted financial director, Margaret, who, having semi-retired from full-time work, was helping them to run the centre.
‘You’re not a bad chef,’ Rosie commented with a grin as Elijah, the four-year-old at her feet, clamoured for another treat from Daddy’s kitchen. Their two-year-old twins, Lily and Grace, were just happy to take everything in, while the bump in her stomach was too busy having a kick-boxing fest all its own to be in a position to ask for something to munch on.
‘Happy?’ Xavier asked, wiping his muscular forearm across his brow. He could only grant himself the briefest of breaks, but the break had to be long enough to kiss his wife. That was his rule.
‘What do you think?’ Rosié teased.
‘I think I love you, Señora Del Rio,’ Xavier whispered, staring deep into Rosie’s amethyst eyes.
‘That’s a relief,’ she teased softly. Holding Xavier’s dark, sexy stare, she hitched Elijah up onto one hip. ‘Because I adore you, señor, and I always will.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A DI SIONE FOR THE GREEK’S PLEASURE by Kate Hewitt.
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A DI SIONE FOR THE GREEK’S PLEASURE
by Kate Hewitt
“Talia…” Angelos’s voice broke on her name, and then, before she could even process what was happening, he pulled her towards him, his hands hard on her shoulders as his mouth crashed down on hers and plundered its soft depths.
It had been ten years since she’d been kissed, and then only a schoolboy’s brush. She’d never been kissed like this, never felt every sense blaze to life, every nerve ending tingle with awareness, nearly painful in its intensity, as Angelos’s mouth moved on hers and he pulled her tightly to him.
His hard contours collided against her softness, each point of contact creating an unbearably exquisite ache of longing as she tangled her hands in his hair and fit her mouth against his.
She was a clumsy, inexpert kisser, not sure what to do with her lips or tongue, only knowing that she wanted more of this. Of him.
She felt his hand slide down to cup her breast, his palm hot and hard through the thin material of her dre
ss, and a gasp of surprise and delight escaped her.
That small sound of pleasure was enough to jolt Angelos out of his passion-fogged daze, for he dropped his hand and in one awful, abrupt movement tore his mouth from hers and stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out in a ragged gasp.
“No…” Talia pressed one shaky hand to her buzzing lips as she tried to blink the world back into focus. “Don’t be sorry,” she whispered. “It was wonderful.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“Why not?” she challenged. She felt frantic with the desperate need to feel and taste him again, and more importantly, not to have him withdraw from her, not just physically, but emotionally. Angelos didn’t answer and she forced herself to ask the question again. “Why not, Angelos?”
“Because you are my employee, and I was taking advantage of you,” he gritted out. “It was not appropriate…”
“I don’t care about appropriate,” she cried. She knew she sounded desperate and even pathetic but she didn’t care. She wanted him. She needed him. “I care about you,” she confessed, her voice dropping to a choked whisper, and surprise and something worse flashed across Angelos’s face. He shook his head, the movement almost violent and terribly final.
“No, Talia,” he told her flatly. “You don’t.”
Copyright © 2016 by Kate Hewitt
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ISBN-13: 9780373134854
A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper
Copyright © 2016 by Susan Stephens
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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A Diamond for Del Rio's Housekeeper Page 16