She rolled into the spot he’d vacated and buried her face in the pillow. The scent of him remained there, and she reveled in it, the same as she had last night. She could stay there all day, indulging in his manly aroma. Instead, she slipped naked from the bed and went into her bathroom to put on a lightweight robe. She brushed her teeth and then went downstairs.
It was Sunday, which meant Ms. Ernestine was off. Daniella didn’t bother making coffee because Cyrus wouldn’t drink any. He had an aversion to anything remotely like a drug. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and searched the cabinets and refrigerator for items to make breakfast.
All of the canned and jarred goods in the cabinet had the label facing outward, and like items were grouped together. Another one of Cyrus’s quirks. Thanks to Ms. Ernestine, he hadn’t driven her crazy with his OCD. The housekeeper made sure the kitchen was organized in the exact order he wanted.
It wasn’t long before Cyrus came in from his run, sweating and breathing heavily. His shorts showed off his tight, muscular calves from years of running. Morning stubble shadowed his jaw and gave him a raw, sexy look.
“Good morning,” he said, watching her, as if he couldn’t believe she was actually there, making breakfast.
“Good morning.” She waited for him to say something else, perhaps mention last night and gloat about the fact that she’d initiated sex—in her sleep, no less. Subconscious or not, she’d wanted him and made the first move.
But he didn’t gloat. He came close and with a hand at her waist, pulled her in for a kiss. She didn’t pull away, even though he was sweaty and musty. The kiss was quick and more of a greeting by the way their mouths quickly touched before he withdrew.
He swiped sweat from his face with a forearm and then pulled a bottled water from the refrigerator. She could feel his eyes on her while he drank it.
She broke an egg into a glass bowl.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.
“Omelets.” She cracked another egg.
“While I was running, I had a thought,” he said. “Ivy thinks I should take a vacation. My whole family does, actually.” Knowing him, he probably should. He took his role as head of the family and the company very seriously and was the kind of person who thought if he wanted something done right, he had to do it himself. Which meant he seldom took time off.
“Are you planning to take one?” Daniella asked.
“I think we should both take one,” he replied. “We should go back to Spain.”
She paused. They’d gone there for their honeymoon, but the trip had been cut short because of business. She’d loved the location and often thought about it. “Back to Costa del Sol?” she asked hopefully.
“That’s what I was thinking. Can you take the time off?”
“Yes, but can you?”
“I have a few business trips to take first, but I’ll be able to in a few weeks.”
“How long will we be able to stay?” She was getting excited.
“How long do you want to stay?”
“A week would be nice.” If not, there was no point in going. By the time they recovered from jetlag, it would be time to return.
“Then we’ll stay a week.”
She wanted him to promise he wouldn’t let business interfere, but she didn’t feel comfortable saying it. With his responsibilities, it would be hard for him to completely shut out business.
“Short of someone dying, we won’t cut our trip short,” he promised. He must have read her mind.
Grateful, she smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then his face slowly sobered. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”
She didn’t really know, but she was starting to think he wasn’t as selfish as she’d always thought. That maybe he’d changed a little in the past three years. She was saved from answering when he reached up into the cabinet and pulled down a small jar of jalapenos.
“I like these in my omelets,” he said.
“Then I’ll add them,” Daniella said. “By the way,” she added, when he was about to walk off. “You know that’s weird, don’t you?”
“Jalapenos in eggs?” he asked. “That’s not so weird.”