by Jennie Lucas
“Don’t call here again,” he growled, and hung up.
A little squeak escaped her lips. Who was Eduardo talking to? An old lover? Was that why he’d snuck out of bed to talk to someone in private, so his wife couldn’t hear? Even as Callie tried to tell herself that she was overreacting, that he could be talking to anyone, her heart was gripped with fear.
There has been no other woman since the night you were in my bed. Do you understand what I am telling you? No other woman.
She exhaled as the vise grip on her heart loosened. Eduardo was not a liar. If anything, he was cruelly honest. As his secretary, she’d seen him callously dispose of one lover after another, plainly telling them to their faces that he was bored with them, or that he had absolutely no intention of being faithful. He was not a liar.
But then, he’d never had to lie. He’d never been married before.
“What are you doing awake?”
With an intake of breath, she saw him in the doorway, looking down at her with dark eyes. “Um …” Her fingers fidgeted with the belt of her blue chenille robe. “I got up to feed Marisol and you were gone.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” His handsome face was impassive. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She bit her lip, feeling guilty that she’d slept so well. “Is something wrong? Was I snoring, or …”
He gave a low laugh then shook his head soberly. “I just don’t sleep well with other people in my bed. I have never managed it.”
She frowned. “Never?”
“Have you ever heard of me letting a woman sleep over?”
Callie stared at him, remembering when he’d been her boss, the most heartless playboy in the city. “N-no,” she said hesitantly. She gave him an awkward smile. “You were kind of famous for your one-hour stands, actually.”
He leaned against the door frame, looking down at the floor. “It’s hard to let down my guard.”
“Even with me?”
He looked up. “Especially with you,” he whispered.
The low lights of the hallway caused hard shadows across the angles and planes of Eduardo’s face. His jawline was dark with stubble, giving him a piratical air. He looked like a pirate all over, in fact. A sexy, dangerous, hard-bodied pirate. Without thinking, she put a hand on his warm, hard, bare chest above drawstring cotton pajama pants slung low on his slender hips.
“Is there anything I could do to help you sleep?” Realizing how blatant that sounded, she blushed. “I mean, could I get you some warm milk or something?”
“No,” he said abruptly then amended, “but thanks.”
She looked at him. “Why didn’t you kick me out?” she whispered. “Last Christmas, the night I stayed at your house?”
His eyes met hers. “You weren’t just some starlet I picked up at a gala. You were important to me. I wanted you to stay.”
“You did?” she breathed. “Why?”
“Don’t you know?” Pulling her into his arms, he lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Then he smiled … the charming, megawatt smile that always twisted her heart in a million pieces. “I need you, Callie.”
Eduardo looked at his wife in the shadows of the hallway. Her pale cheeks were rosy, her emerald eyes bright, and her light brown hair, long and wavy, fell over the shoulders of her blue robe. She was so sexy, so soft and desirable. He’d just had her, and already he wanted her again. He wanted her even more.
Callie’s eyes filled up with tears.
“You need me? I thought … I thought you only wanted me here because of the baby.”
He moved toward her, gently brushing her hair off her shoulders. “That’s not the only reason.”
Trembling, she looked up at him. Words seemed to tremble on her lips, but at the last moment, she turned away. Staring down the dark, quiet hall, she wrapped her arms around her body. The sleeves of the blue chenille robe hung long over her wrists, making her look like a kid playing dress-up.
“I want to stay with you,” she said softly. “And be your wife.”
Eduardo’s heart rose with fierce triumph. “Querida—”
She held up her hand. Her green eyes were luminous. “But I will no longer neglect and ignore my friends and family just to coddle your insecurity.”
Her harsh words were like a slap across the jaw. His eyes widened then narrowed. “Coddle my insecurity.” His voice was low and dangerous. “You mean how I’ve forbidden you to talk to Brandon McLinn.”
“Yes.”
Jaw tight, he took a step toward her. “You should just let him go.”
“No.” Her eyes glittered defiantly. “He’s my friend.”
“Friend!” he snarled. He shook his head. “He told me you’d been engaged since high school. He said even if you’d fallen into bed with me, I meant nothing to you and that you’d soon be done with me—”
Eduardo stopped, his jaw tight, his heart pounding. He hadn’t meant to say so much. Brow furrowed, Callie came closer, and the soft light from the guest room illuminated her pale, beautiful face. She gave an awkward laugh.
“Want to hear a funny story? At senior prom, we made this silly pact that if we weren’t married by the time we were thirty, we would marry each other.”
“You’re only twenty-five.”
“Yes, I know. I’m starting to wonder if perhaps Brandon was—” she licked her lips uncomfortably “—well, maybe threatened by you.”
Suddenly it all made sense.
Eduardo sucked in his breath. “You weren’t in love with him, were you? He was trying to get rid of me, and it worked.” He clawed back his hair with his hand. “Once I was out of the way, he used your pregnancy as an excuse to move in for the kill.”
Drawing back in confusion, Callie shook her head. “He loves me, yes, but like a brother!”
“I was such a fool.” Pacing two steps down the hall, he could hardly believe his own stupidity. That night, that beautiful Christmas Eve night when they’d first made love, when he’d taken Callie’s virginity, he’d thought their relationship might be different from all the rest. But he’d thrown away that precious connection—based on the insinuations of his rival!
“Brandon McLinn is in love with you,” he ground out. “I saw it in his face.”
“He must have been trying to protect me.”
“You may be blind to his true feelings. I am not.” His eyes narrowed. “You will never contact him again. Or your family.”
“What?” Callie’s mouth fell open. “What does my family have to do with anything?”
Eduardo couldn’t explain, or she would find out everything he’d been keeping from her—for her own good. “I am your husband. You will trust me and obey.”
“Obey?” Callie glared at him, folding her arms. “What century are you in? You might be my husband, but you are no longer my boss!”
“Am I not?” he said softly. He reached his hand to her cheek, stroking softly down her neck. She closed her eyes, and he felt her shudder beneath his touch. “I am trying to protect our family. I have my reasons. Believe me.”
But Callie stiffened, stepping back, out of his reach. “No.”
His eyes widened then his brows lowered. “No?”
“I want to be your wife, Eduardo. I do,” she whispered. “But I have to see my family. And Brandon.”
“I could take you to court. The prenuptial agreement—”
“So do it.” She looked at him evenly. “Take me to court.”
She was calling his bluff. He had no desire to sue his own wife, the mother of his baby. And now they both knew it. He exhaled, clenching his hands. “I will not allow you to—”
“It’s not a question of you allowing me. I’m telling you. I need a relationship with my family—including Brandon—and so does Marisol. I’m going home to visit my family. You can divorce me. But you can’t stop me.”
Checkmate, he thought, almost with despair.
He still couldn’t forget—or forgive—the way her parents h
ad treated Callie when she’d called them just two hours after the birth, anxious to tell them about the baby. She’d had every reason to relax and get some rest, but instead she’d tried to share the joyous news with her mother and father. She’d been left sobbing with grief. The memory still made his jaw clench.
Eduardo had always dreamed of having a family of his own. A family that was kind and loving, not cruel or harsh as his own had been.
He wouldn’t let anyone make Callie cry like that. Ever.
Staring at her, a thought took hold of his brain. Morally reprehensible—but then, he thought grimly, he was already in so deep he might as well go a little further.
It was for her own good, he repeated to himself. For her own good, and the safety of their little family.
“Have you considered, querida,” he said in a low voice, “that perhaps they might not want to see you?”
Callie looked at him with stricken eyes. “What?”
It was cold, it was cruel, it was wrong. But he pushed aside his twinges of conscience. He had to be ruthless. “Has McLinn contacted you once in the last three months?” He tilted his head. “Has anyone in your family tried to call you back, even once?”
Her folded arms fell, and she looked uncertain. “No.” Swallowing, she blinked fast. “But I can’t blame them. I let them down.”
“No,” he said sharply. “You had a baby. You got married. And when you tried to share that news with them, they ripped you apart.”
She took a deep breath. “I know it might seem that way …”
“They were cruel to you.” He could still remember the rasp of her father’s voice. You’ll never be a decent husband or father, and you know it. If you’re even half a man, you’ll send her and the baby home to people who are capable of loving them.
“I’ll make them forgive me.” Callie’s emerald eyes glittered suspiciously. “I have to try.”
As she turned away, he grabbed her arm. “Write to them first.”
She turned back to face him. “What?”
“If you show up in person, who knows how they’ll react? What if they shut the door in your face? Do you really want to risk it?”
Callie looked pale, staring at him.
“Write first,” he said smoothly. “It’s the best way to gather your thoughts. And give them time to consider theirs.”
“Well.” She took a deep breath, her expression crestfallen. “Maybe you’re right.” She looked down at her feet. “I would die if they shut the door in my face. Or if they refused to see Marisol. I can’t even imagine it. But then,” she said unhappily, “I thought they would call me before now….”
He put his hands around her shoulders. “Write to them.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.”
She bit her lip. “Even Brandon?”
Exhaling, jaw tight, he gave a single nod.
She sighed. “All right.”
“All right?”
She looked up. Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she said haltingly, “for helping me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Eduardo had never seen her look so beautiful. Mesmerized, he reached down to stroke her cheek then pulled her into his arms. He felt her soft breasts press against his chest, and breathed in the floral and vanilla scent of her hair. He felt the warm whisper of her breath against his bare chest, and his drawstring pajamas suddenly felt three sizes too tight. “I told you,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t want your thanks.”
“But—”
“Don’t.” Especially since he had no intention of allowing her letters to reach her family—or McLinn. He put his palm against her cheek, his fingers threading through her hair. “You are my woman, Callie. I would do anything to keep you safe and happy.”
Looking up at him, she suddenly blurted out, “Who were you talking to on the phone?”
He stared at her. “What?”
Looking grumpy, she folded her arms. “I wasn’t going to ask,” she sighed. “I was going to be totally stoic and silent about it.”
“Oh, querida.” Smiling, Eduardo stroked her cheek. She was so transparent. He loved that about her. “You wondered if I was talking to some woman?”
“The thought crossed my mind. Every woman wants you….”
“And I want only one woman in the world.” Lifting her chin, he looked straight into her eyes. “I am yours and only yours, my beautiful wife. I will never betray you, Callie.”
“You won’t?”
“I was just talking to a rival … who lives far away.”
“Oh,” she said. With a sigh of relief, she hugged him, pressing her face against his bare chest.
Stroking her back through the soft chenille robe, Eduardo exhaled at how close it had been. She must have heard the end of his phone call. If she’d heard the whole conversation, she wouldn’t have been worried about some imaginary woman. No, it would have been far more dire.
“Try to contact my wife again,” Eduardo had growled, “and you’ll regret it.”
“You can’t keep me from her. We both know you’re not good enough. You’ll never make her happy.” McLinn’s voice had been angry, and with an edge of desperation that had grown over the months Eduardo had blocked the man’s letters and phone calls. Yesterday, there had even been an attempted delivery of a cell phone in a padded envelope. His bodyguard had opened the package while Callie was upstairs getting ready for the Winter Ball.
An hour ago, Eduardo’s anger had finally boiled over. Rising from their bed as Callie slept, he’d used the number from his investigator, and called McLinn’s cell phone in the middle of the night.
The young farmer had actually threatened him, saying he was going to call the police and claim Callie was being held against her will. Against her will!
Eduardo narrowed his eyes. The police he could deal with. But McLinn had threatened to return to New York. He could not guard Callie at every moment in the city, keeping her from any unexpected meeting. Nor could he risk letting her talk to McLinn. He could only imagine what the man would tell her.
He needed a third option.
From the day they’d wed, he’d assigned the same investigator who got dirt on business competitors to keep track of his wife and all her family. Eduardo had burned the angry letters sent by her father, the pleading tearstained cards from her mother. He’d tossed her sister’s bouquet of sappy flowers shaped like a pink baby carriage in the trash.
At first he’d done it because he didn’t trust Callie. Then he told himself he was just trying to protect her. Sure, her father was trying to be nicer now, but even Eduardo’s own parents had had their good days. He wouldn’t allow them access to Callie until he knew for sure they wouldn’t hurt her again.
But deep in his heart, he knew that wasn’t the only reason.
You weren’t even man enough to come and ask me for her hand. The memory of her father’s cold words still rankled in his mind. You might own half our town, but I know the kind of man you really are. You’ll never be a decent husband or father, and you know it.
To Walter, as to many others, Eduardo was just a selfish, demanding tyrant, the foreign CEO that his employees obeyed—but despised.
So be it. Eduardo didn’t need the man’s respect. But he wouldn’t let anyone insult his wife. Or cause them problems that could tear his family apart.
Stroking her back, Eduardo took a deep breath. He was starting to trust Callie again. But he didn’t trust the world. Whenever he let himself care for someone, they disappeared from his life. He wouldn’t let that happen. Not this time.
“Eduardo?”
Callie was looking up at him in the shadowy hallway, her brow furrowed. Her robe had fallen open slightly to reveal her plump breasts, and suddenly he knew exactly what he needed. He pulled her closer, stroking the edge of her neckline as he murmured, “You said something about helping me sleep?”
“Er.” She suddenly blushed. “I just thought …”
“Yes.” Grabbing her hand, he led her back to the master bedroom. Pulling the robe off her unresisting body, he pushed her back against the bed. His wife looked like an angel in the moonlight, he thought, her light brown hair silver twined with gold, her pale skin luminous. Her breasts were huge, their full rosy tips bright and vivid against her white skin.
Eduardo kissed her hard and deep. He felt her respond, kissing him back with equal fire, and wanted her as if he hadn’t already been satiated that night. He wanted her even more than he did yesterday, and all the year before that. Her small hands roamed his body, stroking his naked chest, caressing his shoulders, his back. He exhaled when she ran her fingers lightly over his backside then groaned aloud as she ran her hand questingly over the hard shaft beneath his drawstring pajama pants. Her face was rapt as she stroked his hard length through the fabric. He grabbed her wrist.
“I do not know—how long I can last,” he groaned.
She gave him a smile full of infinite feminine mystery. “So don’t.”
“Querida—”
She unlaced his pants and pulled them down his hips, to his thighs. His hard shaft sprung free from the fabric, and she looked down at him with awe. Reaching out, she took him fully in her hands.
“Callie,” he breathed. Her touch felt too good, causing him to jerk involuntarily beneath her stroke. His heart was pounding. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, impale her, fill her to the hilt now—now—now! “What are you—?”
Her eyes were dark and full of need as she pulled him over her onto the bed. “Take me,” she whispered.
A low growl rose in his throat as he looked down at her, spread across the bed for his pleasure. He didn’t even take the time to pull off his pajama pants. He couldn’t. Leaving them across his thighs, he positioned himself and thrust inside her, filling her.
She gasped, gripping his shoulders. Her face filled with anguished ecstasy, and for a moment he thought he’d gone too far, too deep. He started to withdraw.
“No.” Gripping her fingers into his flesh, she started to move beneath him. “More.”