“At least until you’re too old to get it up.”
“Learn to bite that tongue, preciosa,” he warned with a glint in his eye. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
* * *
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Octavia, I really don’t,” Sorcha told her friend over the tablet. She had always thought she’d done the hard part of organizing an event when she had sourced all the options, but making the final decisions was the more stressful task. “If I had to ask my mother-in-law for advice, she’d think me completely incompetent.”
“You’re not at all— Grazie,” Octavia said to someone off-screen, then showed Sorcha the cup of espresso she’d been handed. “I’m sending you some of these beans. One of Sandro’s contacts in South America got us onto it and they’re incredible.”
She was curled up in the corner of a settee and both of them were enjoying a rare conversation without at least one of them nursing or soothing a baby. Both boys had finally cut their bottom front teeth and were napping soundly.
“I thought the first time we entertained, it would be a few of Cesar’s business partners, not hundreds of strangers. His parents will be the only people I know. I wish you could come so I’d have one friend, at least!”
“Of course I can, if you want me to.”
“Are you serious? Yes, please! I would love that!”
She’d opened up to Octavia a lot since they’d met, but her friend had no real idea how out of her depth Sorcha was. She couldn’t talk to her mother about how insecure she felt as Señora Montero, either. It was like complaining about winning the lottery. And her mum wanted to believe Sorcha was living happily ever after.
She was, to some extent. They were settled in their new home and Cesar had fallen into working a couple of long days at the office in the first half of the week, then working from home the rest. She and Enrique had accompanied him for a brief business trip to France and he’d delegated another to Rico so he could stay home.
Cesar took Enrique when he walked the vineyard on Saturday mornings, usually leaving her in bed, dozing off his lovemaking. They made love constantly. Inventively.
So she told herself to quit being so damned greedy. A girl like her couldn’t ask for more. Wasn’t it enough that she had a man who told her she was beautiful when she was still wearing her robe and didn’t even have her evening gown on yet?
* * *
“Can you zip me?” she asked the night of the gala, moving across to where he stood fastening his cuff links.
Her gown was a simple, strapless black with a ruched waist that gathered on her hip, disguising those last few pounds she was still fighting to lose. A scalloped, off-the-shoulder lace overlay of three-quarter sleeves would lend it a Spanish flair and her hair was pulled to one side in a rope of straight gold that had fallen behind her left shoulder.
Cesar’s warm fingertips smoothed her hair to the front, baring her back to him, making her shiver.
“Like that?” he murmured, stroking her exposed spine down the length of the open zipper. “I can’t stop thinking about your mouth around me the other night.”
“Cesar,” she gasped, clutching at where her heart almost leaped out of her chest. “Why do you always talk about it?”
“Because it turns you on,” he said, tone heavy with smug amusement. He continued to caress her nape and set a kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Doesn’t it?” he demanded against her skin.
She was blushing, flushed with pleasure at knowing he enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she did.
He lifted
his head and something cool and smooth and surprisingly heavy slid across her upper chest.
He clipped the necklace into place, then zipped her dress before touching her shoulder to turn her.
“Oh! I didn’t know I’d be wearing it.” She moved so she could see herself in the mirror. The pendant on the thick platinum chain was a teardrop-shaped blue sapphire set in a splash of platinum rays accented with glittering diamonds. Cesar had arranged with the jeweler to have it included as part of her silent auction fund-raiser. “It’s so beautiful.”
“On you, very,” he agreed, appearing behind her and smoothing her hair back behind her shoulder again. “And that clinches it.”
“Clinches what?” She met his gaze in the mirror.
“I’ll make the final bid. There are earrings to match.” He nodded at the open velvet box on the side table.
She was only touching the edges of the stone, not wanting so much as a fingerprint to dull its sparkle, but she looked up at him with a kind of admonishment.
“I don’t expect this, you know.” She’d already picked up on the great pride his mother took in showing off things her husband purchased for her, but Sorcha didn’t see how Javiero’s buying a red convertible for his wife translated into anything but a conversation starter over lunch.