the phone back. “Who else would I be talking to?”
“Why did you try to hide the messages from me?”
“Because they’re private. They’re my friends, not yours!”
“No.” Did she think he was that stupid? He glared down at her. “There’s a reason.”
She narrowed her eyes, then said resentfully, “Fine. I wanted to ask you later tonight. After I had the chance to butter you up. Fat chance of that now!”
“You can’t butter me up,” he said arrogantly. She snorted, then shook her head.
“My friends were worried, since they hadn’t seen me around for a while. They went to my apartment and Mildred told them I went away with some man.”
“Not just a man. Your husband.”
She sighed. “I didn’t share that part yet. They were shocked enough as it was. I just said you were an ex who’d come back into my life.” She bit her lip. “They’re dying to know more. Tess invited us to Thanksgiving dinner next Thursday. I want to go. And tell them everything in person.”
Rodrigo looked at her blankly.
“You know Thanksgiving, right?” she said, with exaggerated patience.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s one of the most profitable film weekends of the year in the US.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s also a time to be with friends. Family. Turkey and mashed potatoes. Football on TV? Does that ring any bells?”
“I know Thanksgiving,” he said, annoyed. “My mother was American.”
Her eyes lit up. “So you know how important it is to spend the day with the people you love.”
“It’s not that big a deal. My parents usually were away that day. With...friends.” His mother typically went jet-setting with her current lover, while his father either lost himself in work or pursued her in a rage, depending on his mood. Pushing the memory aside, he said, “But my mother always told our cook to bake me something like turkey. Often it was Spanish chicken with saffron rice.”
“You’re kidding.” Shock flashed through Lola’s eyes. “Your parents left you alone on Thanksgiving?”
“Somehow I survived,” he said dryly.
She shook her head decisively. “You deserve a real holiday.”
“So you’re offering to visit your friends in New York for my sake? Noble.”
“All right, you got me. I want to see them. Selfishly.” Lola put her hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t invite them to our wedding. I wanted so badly for them to be there. But now Tess and Stefano are hosting Thanksgiving at their new home. I want to spend the day in New York. Either with you—” she lifted her chin “—or without you.”
For a moment, Rodrigo was distracted by her soft touch against his arm, and the full view of her breasts as she looked up at him with defiant hazel eyes. His blood quickened. “You’re not taking my son away from me on Thanksgiving.”
Her lips quirked. “So now it’s suddenly a super-important family holiday?”
Staring at her full, wet lips, he murmured, “It’s growing on me.” Then he looked up. “Tess and Stefano? You don’t mean Prince Stefano Zacco, the fashion billionaire?”
“That’s him.”
“You’re best friends with Zacco’s wife?” His eyes narrowed. “And what about the other one... Hallie? Do I know her?”
Lola gave him a cheeky grin. “You often stay at her husband’s hotels.”
His eyes widened. “She’s married to Cristiano Moretti? Your best friends are both married to billionaires?”
“So?”
“Were they the ones who were going to help you fight for custody?”
She nodded. “We look out for each other.”
So she’d never been plotting with Sergei Morozov behind his back. All his irrational fears had been just that—irrational. As she set down her phone, he said quietly, “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“Yeah. You should stop it.” Putting a hand on her hip, she gave him a tilted glance beneath her dark lashes. “Get this through your head. I’ll never betray you, Rodrigo. Ever.”
Hearing Lola speak those words caused a strange rush through his heart. His gaze fell to her full, lush breasts in the bra, traveling down her nearly naked body, to her tiny bare waist, expanding to the curve of her hips, with the little flimsy black lace panties. Behind her in the mirror, he could see most of her backside, with only the tiny strip between.
“Show me,” he whispered.
Pulling her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers. Pushing her against the wall of the changing room, he gloried in the feel of the soft curves of her body pressed against his own. He felt the tremble of her lips. Felt her hesitate.
He lured her, tempted her. He gripped her wrists to the wall, ruthlessly kissing her until her lips began to move against his, slowly at first, then hungrily, as her fire matched his own.
Pulling her wrists from his grip, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him down harder against her.
Outside their small changing room, in the exclusive, private waiting area, their baby was still noisily snoring in the stroller, parked beside the white leather sofa and three-way mirror. For now, they were alone, but at any moment, Rodrigo knew they could be interrupted. Perhaps the boutique’s salesgirls would come in to offer him more champagne, or bring more ball gowns for his wife to try on. He glanced back at the waiting area. For all he knew, there were security cameras.
He should take her back to his apartment, he knew, where they could be assured of privacy. But it would take too long. It would be twenty minutes. Thirty.
He needed her now.
Jerking the velvet curtain closed over the changing room doorway, Rodrigo kissed her passionately, cradling her face in his hands.
She was so sweet. So indescribably sweet. His earlier suspicions had melted away, and his heart was full of an emotion he didn’t want to identify.
I’ll never betray you, Rodrigo. Ever.
Lola belonged to him, him alone, now and forever.
Her long blond hair tumbled down her back as he slowly kissed down her throat. Her skin smelled of vanilla and summer, soft, warm and sweet. He felt her tremble as he caressed her bare arms, to her naked waist, his hands running over the hot skin of her back. He unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the parquet floor.
He cupped her full, magnificent breasts, and heard her intake of breath. Lowering his head, he kissed her creamy skin, all the while running his hands over her hips, her back, her delectable backside.
He
