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“I’d much rather be in here than out there.” I gesture to the mountain.
We’re light on intel on Gemma’s background, but our guess is skiing wasn’t a part of her Colombian childhood, and from what we know about Rafael, he likely wouldn’t tone down his extreme sport tendencies for anyone.
“Ah, yeah.” She breathes out her answer and slams her palm down on the water. Tiny droplets splatter. Her flawless face scrunches up as if she’s smelled something rotten. “I have to go to ski schoolmañana.”
“Me too.” It’s a lie, but this is an opportunity. Possibly. Knowing Gemma, she’s got a private. “Or, well, I have a private.”
I swirl the water back and forth with my hand.
“Me too. I don’t know why, though. I could be in ski school continuously for the rest of this month and I’d never be able to ski like Rafe.”
“Oh, I’m in the same boat. Damian can ski anything. He likes to jump off helicopters. As if.”
Gemma’s eyes widen and her mouth gapes open. “Oh, my god. I thought Rafe was the only crazy. Well, and Rafe’s friends.” She spits out the word friends, her dislike evident. Interesting.
Our mimosas arrive, and she taps my glass with hers and says, “Salud.”
“Cheers.”
“You know, your husband is quite handsome.Un papacito, no? Sexy?” A coquettish grin spreads and she raises her eyebrows.
Sure, Fisher’s a good-looking man. But is she interested in him? Is she another Lauren?
“Don’t tell me I shock you.” She laughs, and it’s a lighthearted, innocent sound. “Surely you know you married a… how do you say… hot man.”
“Hottie,” I supply. “Oh, I know.” And I do. Thanks to Lauren, I’ve been aware of his looks since I was fifteen years old. One day, I really am going to have to find a way to tell Lauren he played my husband, without, of course, spilling any CIA secrets. It might need to be when we’re eighty, but I’ve got to tell her one day. She will flip out.
“My friends, they think I’mlocato marry a man so much… older. But I think they’re cray cray. Young men, they’re all about them. No give. Older men, they know how to work a woman’s body. And look at this.” She waves her arm around, much like I did earlier. “You think my friends’ men bring them to places like this? No way.” She wags her finger in the air. “Nada. This, what we have, brilliant.”
“True. Damian loves for me to go shopping.” I curl my lips conspiratorially. “Well, love might be a strong word. I think I give him heartburn sometimes.”
She laughs and stretches an arm over the edge of the tub, relaxing. Her breasts rise above the waterline, but she’s oblivious. “Men. How long you been married?”
“Sixteen months. You?”
“Ten. We’re talking now about what we’ll do on our first anniversary. I wouldn’t mind a baby moon, you know?”
This is interesting. According to our sources, Rafael doesn’t have any children. And Gemma is his fourth wife.
“What about you?” She glances down in the water, presumably at my body. “You going to have kids soon? Or is…what did you say his name is?”
“Damian.”
“Does he want to wait?”
“Well…” A Langley instructor’s voice materializes. Stick to the truth when possible. “I don’t know about him, but I want to wait. I’m only twenty-two.” Really, I’m twenty-five, nearly twenty-six, but age doesn’t matter here. And that would sure as hell be my answer if I was twenty-two.
“I’m twenty! But my mama, she had me at eighteen. She keeps saying, ‘Why wait? Give that man babies. Give me babies.’” She sips from her glass and sets it back down. Her dark brows lower thoughtfully. “Your mama say the same?”
As close to the truth. Bond. “My mom…” I give my head a shake. My mother passed away a long time ago, but emotions still stir when I think of her. “She died when I was young.” I force a smile and lift my glass to partially shield my face. “My dad has a young son from his second marriage. I think he’s fine waiting for me to produce offspring.” A moment passes between us, a softening of her eyes and a dip in her shoulder. I halfway expect her to give me a hug because she’s got that kind of oversized, warm personality.
“And Damian, not in a rush?”
“He’s a man. Why should he be in a rush?”
“Isn’t that the truth?” She sips from her glass thoughtfully. “Does Damian have any kids?”
“No.”
