Page 117 of My Favorite Kidnapper

And the pool was still her favorite place to frolic.

I grinned, thinking of the amount of water that had been splashed. I turned and let my managers know I was leaving and headed across the street. Inside the bakery, I inhaled the warm aromas of cinnamon and sugar, chocolate, and coffee. I loved coming in here, not only to see my wife, but to snag some treats.

The women behind the counter greeted me, laughing as I grabbed a cookie from the display and headed to the kitchen. The shop was empty now, and they waved as they left, turning the sign on the door to Closed.

I found Brianna working in the kitchen, her brow furrowed in concentration as she piped a design. I studied her for a moment, noting she looked a little tired today. Maybe she needed a break. She had staff she trusted, and I was at her constantly not to work so much. This seemed a good time to bring up the idea of a trip.

I stood behind her, looping my arms around her waist. I kissed her neck, liking the fact that she still shivered at my caresses.

“Hey, Little Bee. Almost done?”

“Yes. I see you were dipping into the profits again.”

I reached around her and grabbed some cake scraps on the worktop, munching them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She laughed and added a final swirl. “There. Done.”

“Special order?”

“The most special. A very picky customer.”

She moved away, and I studied the cake. It was a pair of baby booties, yellow and white, the icing mimicking the knit pattern. It was so realistic, even the size. I narrowed my eyes and read the writing.

“Congratulations, Daddy.”

I kissed her temple. “Seems a shame to have such a little cake, but it is fabulous, Little Bee. Someone is going to be happy today.”

“I hope so.”

“Are they picking it up or delivery?”

“We can just take it home,” she murmured.

“Home? They’re picking it up at the villa?” That was a first, and I wasn’t sure I wanted people coming to the villa to pick up a cake. “I can take it to them.”

Brianna sighed, her voice patient. “I made it for you.”

“But why would I want—holy shit.”

Everything stopped. She was tired. Extra cuddly these days. She made me a baby bootie cake. Because the baby was mine.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.”

I pulled her into my arms, joy filling my body. I kissed her repeatedly, running my hands over her stomach in wonder. “How pregnant?”

“About six weeks. The trip to Naples for the weekend.”

I grinned at her. “The terrace.”

She nodded. “The terrace.” She winked. “Not bad for an old man.”

I laughed.

“Is everything okay? You’re okay?”

“Everything is good. I’m a little tired.”