Rising Stars

“I do not know—how long I can last,” he groaned.

She gave him a smile full of infinite feminine mystery. “So don’t.”

“Querida—”

She unlaced his pants and pulled them down his hips, to his thighs. His hard shaft sprung free from the fabric, and she looked down at him with awe. Reaching out, she took him fully in her hands.

“Callie,” he breathed. Her touch felt too good, causing him to jerk involuntarily beneath her stroke. His heart was pounding. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, impale her, fill her to the hilt now—now—now! “What are you—?”

Her eyes were dark and full of need as she pulled him over her onto the bed. “Take me,” she whispered.

A low growl rose in his throat as he looked down at her, spread across the bed for his pleasure. He didn’t even take the time to pull off his pajama pants. He couldn’t. Leaving them across his thighs, he positioned himself and thrust inside her, filling her.

She gasped, gripping his shoulders. Her face filled with anguished ecstasy, and for a moment he thought he’d gone too far, too deep. He started to withdraw.

“No.” Gripping her fingers into his flesh, she started to move beneath him. “More.”

He pushed inside her again, and she moaned. He rode her, harder and faster, until the bed frame rocked loudly against the wall.

“Stop!” she whispered, looking up at him. “Don’t wake the baby!”

He exhaled in a surprised laugh then, leaning forward, kissed her forehead tenderly. Gripping her hips, he slowly thrust inside her in a controlled movement. Somehow the silence just deepened the pleasure. Made it forbidden. He rode her wet and hard until she gripped his upper arms and he heard her soundless scream of pleasure. With a rush of ecstasy, he slammed into her one last time with a shuddering, silent gasp as his whole world shimmered and exploded.

He fell on top of her. It might have been minutes, or an hour, later before he was aware he might be crushing her beneath the weight of his body. He didn’t know how much time had passed, which was strange. For one precious moment, it had almost felt like sleep….

He started to move away from her, but she grabbed his arm. “Stay with me.”

He hesitated. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep beside her. But in this moment, he could deny her nothing. Without a word, he rolled back and pulled her to his naked chest, spooning her smaller body with his larger one.

She turned around in his arms. “I love you.”

Shocked, he stared down at her in the dark bedroom. Her beautiful, round, upturned face was glowing, tears sparkling down her cheeks in the moonlight.

“I love you, Eduardo.” Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek against his bare chest. “I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

A tremble went through his body as he stroked her hair. Hearing those words on his wife’s lips—the words he’d detested and avoided hearing from any other woman—was a sudden, precious gift. Sweet beyond measure.

Poison in his heart.

Now he had even more to lose. Even more to protect. His arms tightened around her. Would she still love him if she found out what he’d done? After Brandon McLinn explained it to her in the most destructive way possible?

He said with forced cheerfulness, “What do you think about spending Christmas in the south of Spain?”

Pressing her face against his chest, she gave a contented sigh. “Spain?”

He stroked her back, keeping his voice casual. “I have a villa on the coast, not too far from my old village.” And five thousand miles from Brandon McLinn. “What do you say?”

She smiled up at him sleepily. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Eduardo gloried in his wife’s generous spirit and trusting heart. Callie knew his flaws better than anyone. And yet somehow she’d chosen to love him.

It was the most precious gift he’d ever received. And the one he least deserved.

Within minutes, she fell asleep in his arms. Eduardo stared out the windows at the dark city and the vast blackness of the Hudson River. It was cold December, when night lasted forever and spring was a distant promise. She loved him. And it was like hot summer to a half-frozen man.

He would never let her go. Ever. Even if it cost his very soul.

In the darkness, his eyes hardened.

He wouldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SITTING by their pool overlooking the Mediterranean, Callie was trying—again—to convince her body to tan in the warm Spanish sun. She glanced back toward their luxurious, enormous villa, where her baby was taking her afternoon nap. Callie loved it here. All right, she was still shockingly pale, but she’d never been so happy.

Or so sad.

In the four months since they’d left New York, her handsome husband had taken their family all over the world via private jet, to all the glamorous places she’d once dreamed of as a girl. They’d spent Christmas here at the villa, decorating their enormous Christmas tree with oranges. On Christmas Eve, they’d gone to a candlelight service, then after putting the baby to bed she and Eduardo had a midnight supper by candlelight. It had been a special, sacred night between them, the one-year anniversary of the first time they’d made love.

When she woke the next morning, Eduardo was gone, as always. Getting Marisol from her crib, she’d gone downstairs to discover an obscene number of gifts beneath their Christmas tree, and beside it, a debonair Santa with twinkling black eyes, in a red suit far too large for his sleek physique and a fake white beard over his chiseled jawline. Marisol had laughed in wonder and delight, and so had Callie. Santa had presented their baby with so many expensive toys and clothes that it could have satisfied a child army. Marisol had responded by playing with the tissue paper and then trying to chew on her own shoe.

Callie had giggled. “See what happens when you spend too much money on a baby, Santa?”

Santa turned to her. “And I have something for you, Mrs. Claus, er, Cruz.”

Reaching into his big black bag, he’d pulled out a key chain that had her initials, “CC”, created in what looked to be diamonds and gold. She’d taken the key chain with an incredulous laugh.

“It’s beautiful … but are you crazy? People lose key chains. I’ll be scared to use this.”

Santa smirked. “The key chain isn’t the gift. Look again.”

Frowning, she looked down at the ridiculously expensive gold-and-diamond key chain and saw the key. Her mouth went dry as she looked up. “What’s this?”

He gave her a sudden wicked grin. “Go outside.”

Still in her red-and-green flannel pajamas, she’d lifted their baby on her hip, and gone out into the courtyard of the villa, with Santa close behind. Even on Christmas Day, the Spanish sun was warm, and the air smelled of orange groves and the ocean. She’d stopped abruptly in the dusty courtyard.

There, with a big red bow on the hood, she saw a brand-new Rolls-Royce.

“The silver reminded me of you,” he murmured softly behind her. “It’s the color of the dress you wore to the Winter Ball a few weeks ago. You sparkled like a diamond. You shone like a star.”

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 was: 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.

His lips felt hot and hard against hers. She clung to him as he kissed her, relishing the feel of his hard, muscled body towering over her petite frame. She loved him so much. And though he hadn’t spoken those three words back to her, she was convinced it was just a matter of time …

He pulled back with a shiver. “Oh, querida,” he said hoarsely. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Miss me?” She blinked. “Where are you going?”

As they held each other in the pool, the water bobbing against her breasts, he stroked her cheek with a scowl. “Marrakech. To complete a business deal.”

“Morocco? For how long?”

“Hard to say. The man is unpredictable. The negotiations might last a day—or a week.”

“A week? A full week at the villa without you? I can’t face it.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

She took a deep breath. “But it might be the perfect time for me to visit my parents. I’ll just take the other jet while you’re gone …”

He frowned. “What?”

She met his eyes. “I’ve been writing my family every week for four months. It’s not working. I need to go see them.”

Eduardo stared at her. Was it just her imagination, or did some of the color disappear behind his tan? “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” She tilted her head, folding her arms. She’d expected a fight and was ready for it. “You won’t exactly miss us. You’ll be in Morocco.”

“Maybe I’d like you and Marisol to come with me. Marrakech is beautiful in April.”

“That wasn’t your plan a minute ago.”

“Plans change.”

As the cool water of the pool bobbed around them, they glared at each other. Above them, the wind blew through the palm trees, and she could hear the roar of the distant ocean as seabirds cried out mournfully across the cloudless blue sky.

And Callie broke. “I miss them, Eduardo.” She unfolded her arms, blinking back tears. “I don’t know what else to do. I miss them.”

He set his jaw. “I thought you were happy here—”

“I am. But I miss them. Every hour. Every day. It’s like a hole in my heart.” She put her hand over his chest. “Right here.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at him. “I can’t stand the silence. I feel lost without them.”

Eduardo stared at her for a long moment. Then, closing his eyes, he exhaled.

“All right,” he said in a low voice.

“All right?”

He looked down at her. “Not McLinn. But your parents and your sister—yes.”

“I can go see them in North Dakota?” she breathed, hardly able to believe it.

“But I don’t want you and Marisol so far away from me. And I need to be in Marrakech tomorrow …”

Her heart, which had been rising, suddenly pinched. She said dully, “So I should put off my visit.”

“No.” Taking her in his arms, he gently lifted her chin. “I will charter a jet to collect your family. If they agree, they will meet us in Marrakech tomorrow. How about that?”

She stared at him, shocked.

“You will see them. And they will get a chance to meet me.” His jaw clenched as he looked away. “Not just as the CEO who owns the oilfields outside your town, but as your husband. As Marisol’s father.” He looked back at her, his darkly handsome face suddenly uncertain. “Is … is that satisfactory?”

“Satisfactory!” she cried. She threw her arms around him in the pool and kissed him, over and over, kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his chin. “Oh, Eduardo, I love you so much. Thank you, my darling, thank you!”

He straightened in the pool. His hard-muscled body dazzled her. Droplets of water cascaded down his tanned skin, sparkling in the sun as he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“This time,” he whispered, “I’ll let you thank me.”

And he kissed her, long and hard, beneath the waving palm trees and the hot Spanish sun.

Many hours later, Eduardo looked down at his naked wife, sleeping in his arms in the darkness of the bedroom. It was past midnight. And he wanted to sleep with her.

Not just make love to her. Making love was easy. Callie was damn beautiful. A man would have to be dead not to want her constantly. Especially when she was happy, as she’d been today.

She’d been so thrilled to speak with her parents on the phone that afternoon. She hadn’t noticed how shocked her parents were to hear from her, and learn she was in Spain. But after tears on both sides, the Woodvilles had agreed to take his chartered jet and join them in Morocco, after a quick stop at the American consulate to get their very first passports.

Later that evening, as Eduardo discussed necessary travel arrangements with his assistant, Callie had bounced off the walls with excitement and joy. After dinner, they’d played with the baby, given Marisol a bath and put her to bed, and then Callie had grabbed his hand and pulled him to bed, too. Even after making love for hours, for the second time that day, it had still taken unusually long for Callie to fall asleep in his arms: a full ten minutes.

That was hours ago. Eduardo looked bleakly across the luxurious master bedroom of the villa. God knew he’d tried to make himself sleep. But it was always the same. After they made love, he would hold her, his body relaxed, his soul in perfect, blissful peace. He would cherish her in his arms, so soft and willing and warm. But the instant he closed his eyes, sleep disappeared. He tried to relax, but his muscles became tight until beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

He’d never slept with any of the women he bedded. But he’d never wanted to. He’d thought it would be different with Callie. But even with her, he still couldn’t let down his guard completely. Eduardo exhaled, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight, either. He should get up and go to the guest room to sleep, like usual.

Yet he wanted to sleep with his wife.

He wanted to deserve her.

Since the day they’d wed, Eduardo had done everything he could to keep his family safe and happy. He’d supported Callie in every way.

Except one. None of her letters to her family had ever left the house. And she’d never gotten any of their mail, forwarded from New York. When Sami Woodville had tried to phone his office, he’d instructed his secretary to block her calls. When she’d called his cell phone, he’d changed his number.

A cold chill went through his body. Would Callie ever forgive him when she discovered what he’d done? Would she understand that he’d done it for one reason: to protect their family?

He’d been ruthless for a reason. But when Callie had wept with grief in the pool today, something had snapped inside him, and he couldn’t do it anymore—even though he knew all hell would break loose when she spoke with her parents and put two and two together. It was remotely possible for the mail service to misplace a letter, but not scores of them. Callie would soon figure out who’d had means and motive to suppress them.

Eduardo stared bleakly at the bedroom ceiling.

He should tell her himself what he’d done, rather than letting her figure it out. Rather than—say—letting Brandon McLinn be the one to tell her. His jaw tightened. He was sick of feeling the ghost of McLinn always at his back. Tired of waiting for the moment when Callie would finally be disgusted by Eduardo’s flawed soul and leave. Tired of feeling Brandon McLinn always waiting in the shadows, ready to take Callie away the instant he made a mistake.

Was this that final mistake?

His arms tightened around Callie.

Her parents and sister were already somewhere over the Atlantic, but his investigator was having trouble tracking down Brandon McLinn. He believed the young farmer might be on his way, even now, to southern Spain, since he’d discovered their villa’s location from Callie’s family.

Eduardo allowed himself a grim smile. By the time he arrived here, Callie would be in Morocco.

The smile faded as he looked at Callie’s slumbering, trusting face. He should pull his private investigator off Brandon McLinn, along with Walter, Jane and Sami Woodville. He should stop going through his wife’s mail or screening her calls at the villa. He should just take a deep breath, and trust her. Trust everyone.

But he couldn’t. It would mean flying blind. If Eduardo didn’t know the future, how could he prevent catastrophe? How could he keep his family safe? How could he make sure she would never leave, never break his heart; never break Marisol’s?

Listening to her quiet, even breathing, he squeezed his eyes shut. His whole body was tense, and sleep danced away from him, mocking him.

Wearily sitting up, Eduardo watched the gray light of dawn through the windows, and heard the faint call of morning birds above the roar of the ocean. He put his head in his hands. He wanted to deserve her. He wanted to trust her.

He wanted to love her.

“Eduardo?”

He felt a gentle hand on his back. He turned, and saw Callie looking up at him with luminous eyes. “What is it?”

He looked down at her. She was naked, and beautiful, and unafraid. He said in a low voice, “I had a dream that you left me.”

Her eyes went wide. She sat up, shaking her head. “No.” Reaching for him, she pulled him back into the soft comfort of her arms. “That will never happen. Never.”

Reaching out, he twined his fingers in her hair. “My parents loved each other once,” he said. “They wanted a child. They built a home. Then they grew apart, twisted by secrets and lies. My mother met a new man, and my father was destroyed by it. Everything ended.”

Callie took both his hands in her own. “That won’t happen to us.”

Blinking fast, he looked out at the gray dawn. “I had a dream.”

Callie stared at him, suddenly frowning.

“But you don’t sleep,” she said slowly. “You don’t dream.”

Eduardo turned to her. She was so beautiful, his wife. So gentle and kind. She believed the best of everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I do now,” he whispered.

CHAPTER NINE

CALLIE’S hands and feet bounced rhythmically against the interior of their four-wheel drive as they drove from the Marrakech airport. Eduardo, who was driving beside her, reached out and stilled her knee with his hand.

“Sorry.” She looked up at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m excited.”

“Yes.” He smiled back at her, his dark eyes warm. “I know.” Then a troubled shadow crossed his expression, and he turned away to focus on the road, gripping the wheel.

Business negotiations usually didn’t faze Eduardo. Callie wondered why he seemed so tense. He generally relished a good fight. Shrugging it off, she cooed at their baby in her car seat behind them. Through the back window she saw the other vehicle following with their staff and bodyguards as they drove past the twelfth-century ramparts of the medina to the vast sprawling palm desert beyond. The sky was blue above the distant, snowcapped Atlas Mountains.

She turned back to her dark, impossibly handsome husband beside her. He was wearing a business suit, but his dark coloring and black hair made him look like a sheikh. In her own long purple caftan, with the window rolled down and the warm Moroccan wind blowing through her hair, she felt like a cosseted Arabian princess at his side.