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Turning to face him without a word, Callie pulled down his white beard. Eduardo’s handsome face was revealed, his dark eyes glowing with admiration.
“And every day, Mrs. Cruz,” he said, stroking her cheek, “you’re more beautiful still.”
With an intake of breath, she threw one arm around his neck and, standing on tiptoe, gave Santa the kiss of his life. It wasn’t until Marisol began to squirm and complain that Callie recalled that she was squashing their baby, and that she probably shouldn’t let her baby see her kissing Santa Claus anyway.
Callie drew back with tears in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered, then shook her head with a laugh. “But I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed with my gift to you.”
“What is it?”
“Soap-on-a-rope and a really ugly tie,” she teased.
“Oh, yeah? I’ve been needing those.”
She smiled at him. In reality it was a homemade coffee mug she and Marisol had made together, etched with her baby’s tiny handprints, which she knew he’d love.
He sobered. “You give me a gift every day, Callie,” he said softly. “By being my wife.”
She’d looked at him, her heart in her throat. Then her smile faltered. “I just wish I’d heard from my family today.”
Eduardo’s eyes darkened, and he gave her a tight smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Do not worry, querida. I am sure you will hear from them soon.”
But she hadn’t, not in all the months since then. She’d sent her parents and her sister a letter every week, filled with photographs of Marisol and of their life in Europe. She’d told them how the baby was growing. She’d told them about Marisol’s first tooth, the first time she’d turned over in her crib, the first time she’d sat up by herself. She’d described everything that had happened over the seven months of her baby’s life. Callie had even poured out her feelings about Eduardo, her former boss, whom she’d once tried to hate but now loved. She wanted to undo the damage she’d once done, and let them see Eduardo as he really wa
s: a good man.
In response to all her carefully written letters, she’d gotten only cold silence.
She tried not to let it bother her. When Eduardo was home, he gave her and the baby his full attention. He’d needed to take business trips again, to the Arctic and Colombia and elsewhere. But whenever he traveled to a destination he thought his family might enjoy, he brought Callie and Marisol along, traveling on the private jet with a full staff and Mrs. McAuliffe in tow. It was amazing.
They’d spent Valentine’s Day in Paris, in a royal suite at a five-star hotel with a view of the Tour Eiffel. After the baby was asleep, Eduardo had surprised Callie with a romantic, private dinner for two in their suite. She shivered, remembering champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries and hot kisses that had lasted for hours.
Most recently, they’d gone to Italy. In Venice, he’d rented a palace overlooking the Grand Canal and they’d shared a romantic gondola ride; in Rome, Marisol had had her first taste of lemon gelato, which she’d savored by letting it dribble down her chin.
Such adventures they’d shared as a family. Growing up on her parents’ rural farm, the farthest Callie had ever traveled as a child was to the county fair. She’d never have imagined she’d someday have a life like this. International. Glamorous.
Now, the afternoon sun lowered behind the swaying palm trees as Callie sat beside the gorgeous infinity pool back at their villa. She turned her face toward the blue sky. Taking a drink of cold, lemon-flavored water, she closed her eyes, stretching out on the lounge chair, relishing the warm Spanish sun on her cheeks.
Seven months of marriage and she still wasn’t pregnant. But Eduardo never seemed to tire of trying. He wanted her pregnant. Each night, after they made love, he held her till she slept before he slipped away to the nearest guest room to sleep alone. She hated waking up alone. But that was a tiny thing, nothing really, compared to the multitude of joys in her life, with her baby and husband she loved.
But she still missed the family she’d left behind in North Dakota. It was a heartache that never quite went away.
Her letters hadn’t worked, in spite of her best efforts. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at the blue sky. Maybe it was time to do something drastic.
“Callie.”
She heard her husband’s voice across the pool. Lifting her head, she smiled as she watched him walk toward her, wearing only swimming trunks that showed off his tanned, magnificent body. She could not look away from his hard-muscled torso, powerful arms and strong thighs. The sensual way he moved seduced her—without him even trying!
“I like seeing you by the pool,” he said appreciatively. Lifting a dark eyebrow, he looked over her pale body in her tiny bikini. “You look hot, in all those clothes.”
She giggled. “You always say that. You told me I looked hot when it was pouring rain in London in January. I was shivering like a drowned rat and you started taking off my clothes!”
“I’m always available to help take off your clothes.” Taking her hand in his own, he said innocently, “Care for a nice refreshing swim?”
Eduardo had a look in his dark eyes that made her suspect their “nice refreshing swim” would soon lead to rampant nakedness for them both. The heat in his gaze left her breathless. Her husband didn’t seem to see any flaws in her post-pregnancy figure. He called her beautiful, gorgeous, and irresistible, and once she was naked in his arms, he told her so with his body.
“All right.” Smiling, Callie let him pull her to her feet and lead her into the pool. The bobbing water felt cool against her bikini and sun-warmed skin. Once in the deep end of the pool, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
