by Jennie Lucas
Callie shook her head. “I keep telling people—Brandon and I are just friends!”
Sami gave a hoarse laugh. “Man, you’re dumb. Just as dumb as he was.”
“Was? Have you told Brandon how you feel?”
“Not yet.” Sami looked away. “I’m scared. We’ve spent a lot of time together lately, ice skating, looking at the stars, running errands. Whatever.” She shivered beneath the fading afternoon sun of the Marrakech market. “Once, I almost thought he was going to kiss me. Then he turned away and started talking about you.”
“He did?” Guilt went through Callie. “He must hate me.”
“He hates Eduardo. Not you.”
“Then why didn’t he ever write me?” Callie whispered.
Sami looked at her as if she were crazy. “He did. I know he did. He showed me the letters.”
The strange feeling went through Callie again, a dark cloud like a shadow over the sun. How was it possible that her family hadn’t gotten any of her letters? Or that Callie hadn’t gotten any of theirs?
Pushing the thought away, she turned back to Sami, putting her hand on her shoulder. She said firmly, “You should tell him how you feel.”
Sami’s eyes lit up then faded. “But what if he’s not interested? What if he just laughs at me?”
“He won’t.”
“Yeah, but what if he does?”
“Life is short. Don’t waste another day. Call him. Call him now.”
“You’re right.” Sami stared at her then suddenly hugged her tight. “Thank you, Callie.” Pulling away, she wiped her eyes. “I’ll go back to the house. And call him in private. Oh,” she breathed, wiping her shaking hands on her jeans, “am I really going to do this?”
“Sergio!” Callie called, wiping tears from her own eyes as she waved the bodyguard over. “Please take my sister back to the house.”
“And you, Mrs. Cruz,” Sergio Garcia said, his expression a smooth mask.
“I haven’t finished my shopping.”
“I can’t leave you alone here, señora.”
“I’ll be fine,” Callie said impatiently. She motioned to the busy souk. “There’s no danger here!”
The bodyguard lifted an eyebrow. Turning away, he used his cell phone and spoke in low, rapid Spanish. Hanging up, he turned to Sami with a broad smile. “Sí. I can take you home, señorita.”
“Thank you,” Callie said, surprised. He’d never been so reasonable before. “Would you mind taking these bags back with you?”
“Por supuesto, señora.” Garcia took her purchases, gifts for her parents, clothes and toys for Marisol, even a silver koumaya dagger for Eduardo. “Stay right here, Mrs. Cruz, in the open market.”
“I will.” Callie hugged her sister and whispered, “I think you and Brandon are perfect for each other.”
“Thank you,” Sami breathed fervently. “I love you, Callie.” Then she was gone.
Callie was alone. She took deep breaths of the exotic, spicy scent of the air, of the distant leather tannery, of flowers and musky oriental perfumes. No bodyguard. No baby. Not even her husband. Callie was alone in this exotic foreign market. After so many months, the sudden freedom felt both disorienting and intoxicating.
Smiling to herself, she ignored the shouts of sellers trying to get her attention and walked through the market, feeling light as a feather on air as she continued to shop for gifts. Who knew if she’d ever return to Morocco again?
Her eye fell upon a tiny star carved in wood. It reminded her of Brandon’s hobby that Callie found intolerably boring—astronomy. Thinking of him, a pang went through her.
Why didn’t he ever write me?
He did. I know he did. He showed me the letters.
With a ragged breath, Callie lifted her gaze to the sky, turning toward the fading warmth of the sun. Above the busy, crowded, chaotic souk, a bird flew toward the distant Atlas Mountains. The setting sun had turned the snowcapped peaks a deep violet-pink.
“Callie.”
She sucked in her breath. Slowly she turned.
Brandon McLinn stood in front of her.
Time slowed as he came toward her, tall and thin, standing out from the rest of the crowd in his cowboy hat, plaid flannel shirt and work-worn jeans. He stopped in front of her.
“At last,” Brandon breathed, his eyes wet with tears. “I’ve found you.”
“Brandon?” she whispered, her throat choking. “Is this a dream?”
“No.” Smiling through his tears, he put a skinny hand on her shoulder. “I’m here.”
“But what are you doing in Morocco?”
His hand tightened. “It took a miracle, all right,” he said grimly. His eyes narrowed beneath his black-framed glasses. “No thanks to that Spanish bastard.”
Callie gasped. “Don’t call him that!”
He blinked, frowning. “But you hate him. Don’t you? You said he was a playboy, that he had coal instead of a heart … that he couldn’t be loyal to anything but his own fat bank account!”
Hearing her own words thrown back at her hurt. She closed her eyes against her own cruelty. “He’s not like that,” she said over the lump in her throat. “Not really. He’s—changed.”
“Must be Stockholm Syndrome,” Brandon snorted then his voice grew serious. “I’ve been so worried about you, Callie. I just let him take you away. I didn’t save you.”
Callie opened her eyes in shock. “You felt guilty?”
“I swore I’d leave no stone unturned, until you and your baby were back home. Safe, and free.”
Smiling through sudden tears, she put her hand over his. “But we are safe. And free. I know our marriage had a rocky start, but he’s been nothing but good to us.”
“Good?” Brandon’s jaw hardened. “He’s had me followed for months.”
“Followed?” she echoed.
“When Sami told me she was leaving for Marrakech, I skipped out in the middle of the night, slipping past the man watching my house. I drove to Denver and booked a flight. I’ve been staying at a hotel off this square, following your movements through Sami’s messages.”
“You knew I’d be at the market.” Callie stared at him. “It was you I felt, watching me. Following us.”
“Hoping to get you alone.” He looked down at her, his eyes owl-like beneath his glasses. “I tried to contact you. Letters, phone calls. I tried everything short of a singing telegram. Last December, he called me in the middle of the night, warning me off. I threatened to call the police in New York. So he spirited you overseas. For the last four months, I had no idea where you even were!”
Callie remembered the night she’d caught Eduardo talking on the phone to a rival, he’d said, who lived far away. That very same night, he’d suddenly suggested they go to Spain. Once there, he’d never let her out of his sight, or even let her drive her own car, without a bodyguard. He’d said it was to keep her safe.
But safe from whom?
“I promised myself I wouldn’t abandon you,” Brandon said. “I’ve been waiting … praying … desperate. All the time he kept you prisoner.”
Prisoner. Callie stared at him with a sick feeling in her belly. She was starting to think that Eduardo’s planned talk later didn’t involve him taking her in his arms and declaring his eternal love.
“I always knew the man was bad news.” Brandon narrowed his eyes. “From the moment I first heard you talk about him. When he leased you that apartment in the Village, I knew he wanted you.” His voice became bitter. “And from the sound of your voice, I knew you would let him.”
“So you told Eduardo we were engaged,” she said slowly. “The night he stopped by the apartment, you said …”
“I just told him the truth,” he said stubbornly. “We were engaged. We said, if neither of us were married by the time we were thirty …”
“That was a joke!”
“It was never a joke to me.” He looked down. “But I guess it was to you.”
She stared at him, her
cheeks aflame, unable to speak.
“I loved you, Callie,” he said gruffly. “Since we were kids, I loved you.”
She felt a lump in her throat, remembering their childhood. Chasing fireflies on warm summer nights. Watching fireworks on the Fourth. Christmas dinner with her cousins, aunts and uncles, turkey and stuffing and homemade pumpkin pie, sledding with her sister down McGillicuddy’s hill. Even going out with Brandon’s telescope at night and looking at stars until she wanted to claw her eyes out. It had been wonderful.
Her throat hurt. “I should have known. I’m sorry. But … I don’t feel that way about you.”
“Yeah. I figured that out.” He took a deep breath then gave her a sudden crooked smile. “I’ve started to think that maybe I should look for someone who can love me. Who can see me. As more than a goofy, dependable friend.”
Her heart broke a little in her chest. She tilted back her floppy pink hat. “Brandon—”
“But first I’m taking you and the baby home. We’ll get you a good divorce lawyer. I don’t care how much money Cruz has, the courts will see that you are in the right.”
“You don’t understand—”
“You don’t have to be scared. We’ll be with you every step of the way. Me. Your family—”
“I’m in love with him, Brandon,” she blurted out. At his intake of breath, she lifted her eyes miserably. “I love him so much I think I might die of it. Every day all I can think is that I would do anything, absolutely anything, to make him love me back.”
Brandon stared at her, his face pale. His Adam’s apple bobbed then he looked at his feet as he said in a low voice, “I remember that feeling.”
“I’m so sorry.” Reaching out, she pulled him into her arms as she wept. “Forgive me.”
For a moment, he accepted the comfort of her arms. They held each other, like kids dodging a storm.
“How can you love a man like that?” Brandon said in a low voice. “I accept that you can’t love me. All right, fine. But a man who keeps you prisoner? Of all men on earth, you choose Cruz? A cruel, selfish beast of a man?”
Her heart lifted to her throat. “You don’t know him, Brandon. He’s been hurt in the past. But he’s not selfish and he’s not cruel. If you only knew. He has such a good heart—”
Her voice ended in a gasp as Brandon was violently wrenched from her arms.
“Don’t touch my wife!”
Turning in shock, Callie saw Eduardo’s handsome face distorted with rage. A beam of blood-red light covered his black, civilized business suit, from the sun setting fire to the west.
“No, Eduardo, no!”
But he didn’t hear her. Drawing back his fist, he punched Brandon so hard across the jaw that the other man, totally unprepared, dropped like a stone into the dust.
“No!” Callie shrieked. Around the souk, people stared at them across the busy, crowded market, speaking in a cacophony of languages. Fist raised, Eduardo started for Brandon again.
Callie ran between them, so fast her hat fell off her head. Holding up both her arms, she cried, “Don’t!”
Eduardo whirled on her, his black eyes so hot that she should have burned to ash. “You told him to meet you here!”
“No, of course I didn’t!” Looking at him, all Callie could suddenly think of was how he’d been lying to her face for months. How he’d caused her family pain. Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, she knelt down in the dust and checked on Brandon, who was knocked out cold but seemed otherwise fine. Rising to her feet, she glared at Eduardo. “Brandon couldn’t contact me. A fact you know well.”
Eduardo stared at her, breathing heavily. “What did he want from you?”
She lifted her chin. “To help me go back to North Dakota and file for divorce.”
“And what did you say?”
“What do you think I said?” she cried. “I said no! Because I’m married to you. I have a child with you. I love you! Of course I told him no. Are you out of your mind?”
Baring his teeth, Eduardo grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the staring eyes of the souk and down the warren of streets to the parked car. Pushing her inside, he started the engine. It was only after they were back on the road that he spoke to her through gritted teeth.
“I found you in his arms.”
Callie whirled on him. “I was comforting him!”
“I trusted you,” he ground out.
“Trusted me?” She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “That’s a joke! You never trusted me. You kept me a virtual prisoner, locked away from my family. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Eduardo looked at her, his handsome face pale beneath his tan. Setting his jaw, he didn’t answer.
“When I think of all the time I spent,” Callie whispered. “Sending them picture after picture, letter after letter.” She looked up at him fiercely. “And the whole time, you were keeping them away, and me, locked away in your own little cage!”
He turned his eyes grimly back to the road. As he drove from the fortified gates of the medina toward the sprawling palm desert, he was silent, his jaw tight.
“You’re not even trying to deny it,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
He changed gears with more force than necessary. “I was going to tell you about it,” he retorted. “It’s why I told Sanchez he could leave you there. I wanted to surprise you at the market, and take you out to dinner just the two of us, so we could talk in private. So I could try to make you understand.”
“I understand, all right!”
His hands clenched on the wheel. “I was trying to protect you. To protect all of us.”
“Brandon said he was followed. Did you have me watched, too? What about my family?”
Eduardo looked at her then looked away.
“Keith Johnson had the detail,” he said flatly.
The hot Moroccan air blew through the car window, whirling over her skin. “Keith Johnson?” she faltered. “But you use him to gain information on your rivals. On your enemies.” She looked at him. “Which one am I?”
“You’re my wife,” he said tightly. “I was trying to keep you safe.”
Her emotions were so jumbled she felt numb. “Safe!”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “What was I supposed to do?” he said roughly. “Let another man destroy our marriage?”
Callie’s throat hurt. She closed her eyes, hearing the purr of the engine and soft whirr of the tires against the road.
“No,” she whispered. “You destroyed it yourself.”
She looked at him, and his dark eyes burned through her. Then wordlessly, he looked back at the road as the car turned into the gatehouse and drove up the sweeping entrance to the riad.
“We left Brandon,” she cried. “Injured in the medina …”
“I’ll send someone to check on him,” Eduardo said coldly, not looking at her. “I wouldn’t want your best friend in all the world to be left abandoned and alone.”
Parking the car, he turned off the ignition and got out. Callie didn’t move. She stared at the beautiful tile work of the grand home, at the green gardens and swaying palm trees above the blue-water pool. This place truly was paradise.
Her hands were shaking. She felt chilled to the bone.
The car door opened.
“Come, querida,” Eduardo said quietly, reaching for her hand. She did not resist as he pulled her from the SUV and into the house. Inside the riad, all was quiet. Perhaps her parents and baby were sleeping. Callie heard only the soft burble of the fountain from the courtyard garden.
She felt her husband’s hand in her own, as strong and protective around hers as it had ever been. But everything had changed. Was it only that morning that she’d been so happy, feeling like all her dreams were coming true? As Eduardo led her through the cloistered walk around the interior courtyard, she felt cold in the fading light of the sun.
“Why did you do it?” she rasped. “Why?”
&nbs
p; Eduardo stopped.
“I’m tired, Callie,” he said wearily. “Tired of trying to keep you. Tired of feeling like I’m failing. Tired of knowing, whatever I do, it won’t be good enough.”
“I did nothing but love you.”
“Love is nice.” His eyes glittered like hot coals as the edges of his lips curved. “Love changes nothing.”
She stared at him, her heart chilled. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know,” he said grimly, and that was the end. Her heart frosted over.
“You were right about one thing,” she said. “Brandon was in love with me. But you’ve been so wrong about the rest. You are a wonderful father, Eduardo. But—” she gave him a trembling smile “—a terrible husband.”
Hearing the noise of servants down the hall, he pulled her into their bedroom, closing the door behind them. Looking down at her in the shadows, he spoke in a low voice.
“I always knew that someday you would see through me.”
She felt trails of ice on her cheeks and lifted her hand to discover she was weeping. She loved him. But she wouldn’t be his prisoner. Not anymore.
“I loved you, Eduardo.” Her voice choked. “I loved you so.”
His handsome face was hard with anguish. “Loved?”
“I would have done anything to make you love me,” she whispered. “Anything.” With a deep breath, Callie looked up at him through her tears. She squared her shoulders. “But I won’t be your prisoner.” Pulling off her diamond ring, she held it out to him with a trembling hand. “So I can’t be your wife.”
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS like a punch through Eduardo’s gut, a blow so deep it reverberated against his spine.
When he’d found Callie embracing McLinn, it had been like walking into a nightmare and seeing his worst fear come to life. He’d felt fury that he’d never known. He’d wanted to kill the man with his bare hands. And he might have done it, if not for Callie.
Now, sinking down on the bed, Eduardo stared at the ten-carat diamond ring twinkling in his palm. And realized that seeing Callie with another man had only been his second-worst fear.