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Another person she’d hurt. She slowly rose to her feet, her body sore, her legs shaking with exhaustion. As she tucked her sleeping daughter into the bassinet, she suddenly remembered the tender light in Eduardo’s dark eyes when he’d held Marisol for the first time. Remembered how he’d dozed on a chair in their hospital room, cuddling their daughter against his naked chest so the baby could feel the warmth and comfort of skin on skin. Strange. In this moment, she felt closer to Eduardo than anyone else. Eduardo.
Creeping softly out of the nursery, she went to the bedroom, where she found the suitcase of new clothes his staff had brought to the hospital. Opening it on the enormous bed, she selected a pink cashmere lounge set and sighed. It probably cost the equivalent of a week’s salary. But the cashmere felt soft.
Taking a hot shower in the marble en suite bathroom was pure heaven. After combing her wet hair, Callie put on the soft cashmere set over a white cotton t-shirt and went downstairs.
It wasn’t just a penthouse, she thought in amazement. It was a mansion in the sky. She went down the sweeping stairs to the great room, with a fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows that
showed the sparkling lights of New York City by night.
“What do you think?”
She jumped and turned. Eduardo walked toward her with two martini glasses. He was wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off his exquisitely muscled body. “It’s incredible,” she breathed. “Like nothing else I’ve seen.”
“Good.” He gave her a slow-rising smile. “I’m glad you like it, since it’s yours.” She blushed, but still couldn’t look away from his powerful body, or the masculine beauty of his face. Hers. If only that were true!
He held out an orange-filled martini glass. “Here.”
“I can’t drink while I’m nursing.”
He held up his own drink, a clear martini with an olive. “This is mine.” He pushed the orange-colored drink into her hand. “This is juice.”
“Oh. Thanks,” she said, suddenly realizing she was dying of thirst. She drank it all in one swallow, then wiped her mouth and realized she was hungry, too. “Something smells delicious from the kitchen,” she said hopefully, setting down her glass.
Eduardo was staring at her. “I made quesadillas and rice.”
“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?”
