happy since...” He narrowed his eyes. “Since before my mother started pushing me to formalize my engagement. Do you know why I worked such late hours when you were at the office with me? Because you were at the office with me. Now I want to be home. Because that’s where you are. Actually, now you’re in Ireland and guess where I am?”
She pressed her lips to keep them from trembling. His face was blurring and she sniffed. “You’re not just saying that?”
“When have you ever known me to be sentimental for the sake of it? Sorcha, I love you.”
She sniffed again and threw her arms around him. “I love you, too.”
“Finally,” he groaned, tightening his arms around her.
“I love you so much.” She started to cry.
“No, mi amor,” he murmured, catching her up then sitting her in his lap as he lowered to the sofa. “Please don’t cry.”
“Happy tears,” she assured him, arms around his neck. Kissing his throat. “Happy, happy, happy.”
He cradled the side of her face and covered her mouth, kissing her sweetly. Lovingly. Then he looked into her eyes. “I’m happy, too. I didn’t know love could feel like this. So beautiful. So right. I adore you, mi amor. Stay with me always.”
“I will,” she promised.
SORCHA DID WHAT she swore she would never do and pulled rank with Cesar’s assistant, overriding concerns that Señor Montero was anxiously awaiting the completion of this report and sending her out for a long lunch.
Then she knocked on his office door and walked in without waiting for him to grant entry.
“I said I didn’t want to be—” He looked up, recognized her, recognized what she was wearing, and sat back, expression speculative.
Sorcha couched a smile, pleased to have just knocked her husband speechless.
Smoothing her hands down the blue skirt that was just a teensy bit too short to wear in the office, she walked toward him, dropping her purse in the first chair she passed, pausing to shrug out of her short jacket and revealing the top that was going to burst its buttons despite the fact Enrique had weaned ages ago. Apparently these postpregnancy breasts were here to stay.
Licking her lips, she leaned both hands on his desktop and said, “Do you know what today is?”
Cesar slowly leaned forward, like a man who was about to negotiate, but his one hand shot out to cuff her wrist, pinning her in that position of leaning forward across his desk. Without a word, he lifted his other hand and flicked her buttons.
The taut fabric loosened as the opening gaped, revealing her lacy bra. Her nipples, raised with anticipation as she’d prepared for this meeting, visibly protruded against the fine silk cups.
He casually moved the dangling sapphire pendant out of the way, resting it behind her shoulder so the chain gave a little pull across her neck. Then he leisurely enjoyed the view.
“I believe it’s Tuesday,” he said in a voice that held a rasp she recognized. He was really turned on. “The ninth.”
“It is exactly five years since my date of hire,” she announced.
His gaze finally came up to hers. “Well, aren’t you the efficient PA, coming to tell me that.” He flattened his hand over hers, like he was gluing her palm to the desktop. “Do not move.”
He rose and came around the desk to stand behind her.
She could imagine what he saw: her skirt about to burst its seams over a bottom that was almost but not entirely back to her prepregnancy figure. Her shoes were far too high and sexy for a real day of work in the office, but perfect for seducing one’s husband with a bit of role playing.
She playfully arched her back and cocked a hip to ensure he had the best possible view.
“I believe a raise of some kind is in order,” he murmured, and slowly began to lift her skirt.
She closed her eyes, instantly seduced by the warmth of his hands sliding up the outsides of her thighs, taking the hem of her skirt up, up, up. Her stomach fluttered. Cool air washed across her thighs. A moan of excitement began growing in her throat.
“Did you lock the door?” he asked, pausing.
“I am an extremely efficient PA, sir. The door is locked and the girl has been sent for a long lunch. The phone is going to voice mail.”
“I love you,” he groaned, hands finishing the job then splaying hotly across her buttocks. “You’re naked!”
“I took them off in the ladies’ room down the hall.”
“You want to kill me, don’t you?”
They almost killed each other. Two hours later, they were sprawled in a tangled heap across the sofa where they’d first made love, naked, champagne open on the table, bodies lethargic with sexual satisfaction, when they heard a thump beyond the door.
“If my ears don’t deceive me, that’s the sound of a handbag going into the desk drawer,” Sorcha murmured.
Cesar cursed and they both sat up to reluctantly begin gathering their clothes.
“Oh, um—” She shot him a sheepish grin as she wriggled her skirt up her hips. “I had another reason for coming into the city today.”
He sent her a disgruntled frown. “This wasn’t a special trip for me?”
“I’ve been planning this for ages,” she assured him with a flirty peck on his mouth. “But I was able to get an appointment this morning on short notice so it was convenient to take it.”
“Where?” He glanced down at her skirt and she could hear him wondering who else had seen her in it. It wasn’t that racy. He was the only one who saw it as a sexual invitation.
“The doctor,” she replied. “Remember that thing we talked about a month or so ago? About whether Enrique would like a little brother or sister?”
He froze in tying his tie. “Are you serious? And you let me ravage you on the desk? Sorcha!” he scolded, coming across to pull her in close. His hands slid over her as if searching for damage.
“I’m fine!” she assured him. “I liked it.”
“Well, we’re going to be more gentle from now on. Dios, really? A baby? Feel my heart.”
She pressed her palm to his chest, laughing at the race of it. Her own had been dancing since she’d begun to suspect.
“I’m going to be with you every minute,” he promised.
“I know,” she said, believing it. Excited for what was to come.
He was with her. He even napped alongside her after the midnight birth, waking to fetch their son when he cried and bringing him to her to nurse.
“Ha!” he said as he turned on his phone, ready to advise the world of their blessed event. “Look what came in from the Ferrantes while we were in the delivery room.”
He showed her a photo of a blissful Octavia holding their newborn daughter.
“Good thing we didn’t meet them in London,” Sorcha said.
Octavia had jokingly invited her to, once they’d shared their pregnancy news with each other.
“They might have mixed them up again. You could have wound up with a girl,” Sorcha teased.
“I would love a girl,” Cesar said, cupping a gentle hand behind his son’s head. “I love my boys, but a girl would be nice sometime in the future.” He kissed her. “If you’re up to it.”
“Do