“Of course it is.” He smiled down at her, then leaning forward, he whispered, “This time we’re going to do it right.”
It was a warm evening in late July as Callie stepped out of her parents’ farmhouse to the porch, where her father was waiting in the twilight.
Walter Woodville turned then gasped as he saw his eldest daughter in her wedding gown. “You look beautiful, pumpkin.”
Callie looked down shyly at the 1950s-style, tea-length gown in ivory lace. “Thanks to Mom. She did the alterations from Grandma’s dress.”
“Your Mama always makes everything beautiful. And so do you.” Tears rose to his eyes as he whispered, “I’m so proud to be your father.” His voice was suspiciously rough. Clearing his throat, he held out his arm. “Are you ready?”
She walked with him the short distance across the gravel driveway. The rising moon glowed across the wide ocean of her father’s barley fields. The night was quiet and magical. Fireflies glowed through the sapphire night. As they went toward the barn, she could hear the cicadas at a distance, but even their eerie singing wasn’t enough to drown the loud drumbeat of her heart.
Clutching her father’s arm with one hand, and a bouquet of bright pink Gerbera daisies in the other, Callie looked back at the farmhouse. Her childhood home was a little careworn, with yellow paint peeling in spots. But it was snug and warm and full of good memories. She looked at the swing on the porch, at her mother’s red flowers in pots. So many memories. So much love.
“I just hope we do everything right,” she whispered.
Her father smiled. “You won’t.”
“Then I hope we do half as well as you and Mom.”
He put his hand over hers, his craggy face sparkling with tears. “You will. You two were made for each other. He’s a good one,” he said gruffly.
Callie resisted the urge to laugh. Her father had a new appreciation for Eduardo since their three days up at the fishing cabin in Wisconsin. Any man who could face Callie’s father, her four uncles and six male cousins, and Brandon, all with guns and hunting bows, was clearly man enough to be Walter’s son-in-law. The way Eduardo had humbly asked permission for his daughter’s hand in marriage hadn’t hurt, either.
Somehow, even Brandon and Eduardo had managed to bury the hatchet. The story she heard afterward was a bit muddled, but apparently while they were at the cabin Brandon had nearly shot Eduardo in the foot with his hunting rifle. Callie was rather dubious about how this equaled friendship, but afterward the two men had drunk beer around the campfire. “Marrying you two Woodville sisters, we realized we needed to be allies,” Eduardo said with a grin, and Callie wasn’t sure whether she should be offended or not.
Eduardo had won Jane’s approval even more easily, simply through his vigorous appreciation for her cooking and fruit pies. “Although,” her mother had said coyly, “a few more grandchildren wouldn’t hurt.”
Eduardo had looked at Callie with a wicked grin, even as his voice said meekly, “Yes, ma’am.”
At the thought, Callie’s eyes welled up. She was finally sure about a question that had distracted her for days. She could hardly wait to tell Eduardo …
“Don’t cry!” her father said, aghast. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat to dab at the corner of her eye. “Your mother would never forgive me if she thought I said something that smeared your makeup.”
“I’m not crying,” Callie wept. Blinking back tears of his own, he patted her hand and led her past the outdoor reception area, which had a temporary dance floor lit up by torches and surrounded by coolers full of beer and the finest champagne. They reached the barn, and Callie stood in the huge open doorway in her wedding gown beside her father, who was beaming with pride.
The music on the guitar changed to an acoustic version of the Bridal March. All at once, her friends and family rose from the benches used as makeshift pews, gasping as they stared at Callie.
But she had eyes only for Eduardo.
He stood at the end of the aisle, handsome in a vintage suit. His dark eyes lit up when he saw her, and he looked dazzled. He was flanked by the best man and maid of honor, who themselves were planning to wed in just two months’ time. Sami’s leg still hadn’t completely healed, and she used a crutch, but she glowed with happiness. So did Brandon, every time he looked at her. He’d cheered Sami throughout her hospital stay by talking about the small farm they would buy once they wed, using the insurance check from the wrecked Rolls-Royce. Callie felt a lump in her throat as she looked at two of the people she loved most in the world, who were both happy at last.
And so was she.
Today, she would marry her best friend. But Eduardo wasn’t just her best friend. He was her soul mate, her lover, the man she trusted, the father of her child. The man she wanted to sleep with every night. The man she wanted to wake up to every morning. The man she wanted to fight with, to make love to. The man she wanted to yell at and laugh with. The man she wanted to love for the rest of her life. Her partner.
“Dearly beloved,” the parson began, “we are gathered here today …”
As he spoke the magical words that would make them once again man and wife, Callie looked at her once and future husband. Swaying lanterns glowed above them in vivid colors as Eduardo looked down at her. Love illuminated his chiseled, angular face. His dark eyes were deep with devotion.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“Her mother and I do,” Walter said, and Callie heard the tremble beneath his rough voice, felt the shake of his burly arm as he handed her over to Eduardo’s keeping. Kissing her father’s cheek, Callie smiled down at her mother in the front row, who held baby Marisol in her lap.
As the parson spoke the wedding homily, Callie listened to the soft wind against the barley. She heard the creak of the old barn around them as Eduardo spoke his wedding vows, and the low timbre of his voice reverberated through her soul. She felt the strength of his powerful, gentle hand as he slid a plain gold band on her finger, simple and special and eternal. Just like their growing family.
Callie hid a smile. She could hardly wait to tell him that he wasn’t just becoming her husband again, but a father again, too. Their baby was due in February. Perhaps she would whisper the news in his ear during their first dance, while they swayed together surrounded by flickering torches, beneath a sky so wide it stretched forever. Maybe they’d spend the summer here, autumn in New York, winter in Spain. Their love crossed oceans. But when it was time for her baby to be born, she knew there was only one place she wanted to be. Home.
And as she looked up at Eduardo, that’s exactly where she was. In his arms, she was home. No matter where their lives took them.
“And do you, Calliope Marlena Woodville, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and cherish from this day forward, until death do you part?”
In the breathless hush, Callie glanced back at her baby, at her family and friends in the old barn. It was exactly like she’d always imagined it would be. Closing her eyes, Callie took a deep breath, remembering all the impossible dreams she’d had as a girl.
Then, opening her eyes, Callie turned back to Eduardo, and spoke the two words that made all those dreams come true.
A Night of Living Dangerously
Jennie Lucas
CHAPTER ONE
“Is someone here?”
The man’s voice was harsh, echoing down the dark halls. Clapping a hand over her mouth, Lilley Smith cut herself off mid sob and ducked back farther into the shadows. It was Saturday evening, and except for the security guards in the lobby downstairs, she’d thought she was alone in the twenty-floor building. Until five seconds ago, when she’d heard the elevator ding and she’d dashed into the nearest private office to hide, dragging her file cart willy-nilly behind her.
Stretching out her foot, Lilley silently nudged the door closed. She wiped her puffy, tearstained eyes, trying not to make a sound
as she waited for the man in the hall to leave so she could cry in peace.
Her day had been so horrible it was almost funny. Coming home that morning from an unfortunate, one-time-only attempt at jogging, she’d found her boyfriend in bed with her roommate. Then she’d lost her fledgling dream business. Finally, calling home for comfort, she’d been disinherited by her father. An impressive day, even for her.
Normally it would have bothered Lilley that she’d had to catch up with work on the weekend again. Today it didn’t even register. She’d worked as a file clerk for Caetani Worldwide for two months, but it still took her twice as long as Nadia, the other file-room clerk, to get her files sorted, delivered and returned.
Nadia. Her co-worker, roommate and, as of this morning, former best friend. Exhaling, Lilley leaned back against her cart as she remembered the stricken look in Nadia’s face as she’d tumbled out of bed with Jeremy. Covering herself with a robe, Nadia had cried and asked Lilley for forgiveness as Jeremy tried to make their betrayal sound like Lilley’s fault.
Lilley had fled the apartment and gone straight for the bus downtown. Lost, desperate for comfort, she’d called her father for the first time in three years. That hadn’t gone too well either.
Thank heaven for work. This job was all she had now. But when would the stranger in the hallway leave? When? She couldn’t let him—or anyone—see her like this—with red puffy eyes, working at a snail’s pace as every single letter and number shimmered and moved back and forth on the files. Who was the man, and why wasn’t he dancing and drinking champagne at the charity ball with everyone else?
Lilley shivered. She’d never been in this office before, but it was cavernous and cold, with stark, expensively appointed furnishings of dark wood, a gorgeous Turkish carpet and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed twilight across downtown San Francisco and the bay beyond. Her head slowly tilted back to view the frescoed ceilings. It was an office fit for a king. Fit for …
Fit for a prince.
Lilley’s lips parted. Panic ripped through her as she realized for the first time whose office this had to be. She gave a terrified little squeak.
The office door creaked open. Lilley reacted on pure instinct, throwing herself through the shadows into the nearest closet.
“Who’s in here?” The man’s voice was harsh and low.
Heart pounding, she peered through the gap in the door. She saw the hulking silhouette of the stranger’s broad-shouldered body in the dim light of the hall, blocking her only avenue of escape.
She covered her mouth with her hands, realizing she’d left her file cart behind the black leather sofa. All the man had to do was turn on the light and he’d see it. Being caught sobbing in the hallway would have been humiliating. Being caught skulking in the CEO’s office would be a career-destroying disaster!
“Come out.” The man’s footstep was heavy on the floor. “I know you’re in here.”
Her heart stopped in her chest as she recognized that husky, accented voice. It wasn’t some random janitor or junior assistant who was about to catch her. It was the CEO himself.
Tall, dark and broad-shouldered, Prince Alessandro Caetani was a self-made billionaire, the CEO of a luxury conglomerate that reached to every corner of the globe. He was also a ruthless playboy. All the women who worked in his San Francisco regional headquarters, from the youngest secretary to the fifty-something female vice president, were madly in love with him.
And now he was about to catch Lilley alone in his office.
Trying not to breathe, she backed farther into his closet, pressing her body behind his jackets, against the back wall. His suits smelled of sandalwood and musk and power. She closed her eyes, praying the prince would turn and leave. For once in her life, she prayed her skill at being invisible to men would actually pay off.
The door was ripped open. The jackets were shoved aside as a large hand ruthlessly grabbed her wrist. She gave a little shriek as he pulled her out of the closet.
“I’ve got you now,” he growled. He switched on a lamp, and a circle of golden light filled the dark, cavernous office. “You little …”
Then he saw her, and his black eyes widened with surprise. Lilley sucked in her breath as, against her will, she looked straight into the face of her boss for the first time.
Prince Alessandro Caetani was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, from his muscular body beneath his black tuxedo to the cold expression in his dark eyes. His aristocratic Roman nose was offset by the slightly thuggish curve of his sharp, dark-shadowed jawline. He looked—and was, if the legends were true—half prince, half conqueror.
“I know you.” Prince Alessandro frowned, looking puzzled in the soft glow of the lamplight. “What are you doing here, little mouse?”
Her wrist burned where he touched her, sending sparks up her arm and down the length of her body. “What—what did you call me?”
He abruptly dropped her wrist. “What is your name?”
It took her a minute to remember. “L-Lilley,” she managed. “From the file room.”
Prince Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. He walked around her, slowly looking her up and down. Her cheeks went hot. Compared to his gorgeous perfection in his sleek, sophisticated tuxedo, she knew she was frumpy and frightful in her sweatshirt and gray baggy sweatpants. “And what are you doing here, Lilley from the file room? Alone in my office on a Saturday night?”
She licked her dry lips, trying to calm her shaking knees. “I was … was …” What had she been doing, anyway? Where was she? Who was she? “I was just … um …” Her eyes fell on the file cart. “Working?”
He followed her gaze, then lifted a dark eyebrow. “Why are you not at the Preziosi ball?”
“I … I lost my date,” she whispered.
“Funny.” His sensual mouth curved in a humorless smile. “That seems to be going around.”
The sexy, deep, accented timbre of his voice moved over her like a spell. She couldn’t move or look away from his masculine beauty as he towered over her, strong, powerful and wide-shouldered, with thighs like tree trunks.
Thighs? Who said anything about his thighs?
Ever since Jeremy had arranged her file-room job, Lilley had done her best to make sure her billionaire boss never noticed her. And now, beneath the prince’s black, hypnotic gaze, she found herself suddenly wanting to blurt out why. She wasn’t very good at telling lies, not even white ones. The hot, searing depths in Prince Alessandro’s dark eyes whispered that she could tell him anything, anything at all, and he would understand. He would forgive and show mercy.
But she’d been around powerful men before. She recognized the intensity of his gaze for what it actually was: an emotional shakedown.
The ruthless playboy prince, show mercy? No way. If he knew about Lilley’s father, about her cousin, he’d fire her. Or worse.
“Lilley,” he mused aloud in the silent office. He tilted his head, and his eyes suddenly gleamed in the small circle of lamplight. “What is your last name?”
“Smith,” she said honestly, then hid a smile. No help for him there.
“And what are you doing in my office, Miss Smith?”
The scent of him, sandalwood and musk and soap and something more—something uniquely him—washed over her. She gave an involuntary shiver. “Returning, um, files.”
“You know my files go to Mrs. Rutherford.”
“Yes,” she admitted unhappily.
He moved closer. She could practically feel the warmth of his body through his crisp black tuxedo jacket. “Tell me why you’re really here.”
She swallowed, looking down at the expensive carpet beneath her old, scuffed jogging shoes. “I just wanted to work for a few hours in peace and quiet. Without anyone bothering me.”
“On a Saturday night?” he said coldly. “You were searching my office. Going through my files.”
She looked up. “No!”
Prince Alessandro folded his arms. His dark eyes were hard, his e
xpression like chiseled stone.
“I was hiding,” she said in a voice almost too soft to hear.
“Hiding?” His voice was silky. “Hiding from what?”
Against her will, the truth was ripped out of her. “From you.”
His dark eyes sharpened. He leaned forward. “Tell me why.”
Lilley could barely even breathe, much less think, with Prince Alessandro Caetani so close to her.
The soft golden glow of the lamp, the darkening twilight outside the windows filled the enormous, high-ceilinged office with deepening shadows. “I was crying,” she whispered over the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t stay at home, I’m days behind on my work, and I didn’t want you to see me because I was crying!”
Struggling not to cry, Lilley looked away. If she wept in front of her powerful boss, her humiliation would be complete. He would fire her—whether for skulking in his office, for crying in such an unprofessional way, or for being so behind on her work, it hardly mattered. She would lose the last thing she valued. The perfect finale to the second-worst day of her life.
“Ah,” he said softly, looking down at her. “At last, I understand.”
Her shoulders sagged. He was going to tell her to gather her things and get out of his building.
The prince’s gaze was full of darkness, an ocean at midnight, deep enough to drown in. “You were in love with him?”
“What?” Lilley blinked. “Who?”
The corners of his sensual mouth curved upward. “The man.”
“What makes you think I was crying over a man?”
“Why else would a woman weep?”
She laughed, but the sound was almost like a sob. “Everything has gone wrong today. I thought I might be happier if I lost some weight. I tried to go for a jog. Big mistake.” She looked down at her old running shoes, at her baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. “My roommate thought I’d left for work. When I came back to the apartment I found her with my boyfriend. In bed.”
Alessandro cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
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