the tip of her tongue now. Every time she watched him tenderly hold their baby. Every evening they spent together on the poolside terrace at sunset, drinking a glass of wine after Jett was asleep. Every night he took Lola to bed and moved his hot, sensual body against hers until he set her world on fire.
She loved him. She wanted to scream it to the world. She wanted to look into his rugged features and speak the words, again and again, like a sacred incantation.
Then she wanted him to say the words back to her.
Please, she thought. She didn’t want any expensive gifts for Christmas. She didn’t want anything but this: for her husband to love her.
“Mrs. Cabrera?”
Pasting a smile on her face, Lola lifted her baby out of the car seat. Walking to the front door of the sprawling beach house, she looked up at the tall, slender palm trees, swaying in the wind, silhouetted purple against the lowering sun in the orange and red horizon.
Squaring her shoulders, she carried the baby to the front door, her footsteps echoing against the flagstones. She opened the door.
And gasped.
The great room of the beach house, with its luxurious furniture and double-story window views of the Pacific, had been filled with roses of every color, hundreds of them, pink and red and yellow and white. But that wasn’t even the most amazing part.
Rodrigo stood beside the doorway, devastatingly attractive in a tuxedo, holding out a long-stemmed pink rose.
Lola’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her hand shook as she took the rose. “What’s this?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Christmas.”
“It’s not even Christmas Eve yet.”
“Tomorrow’s for family.” His dark eyes gleamed down at her. “Tonight’s for us.”
“For us?” A flash of heat went through her, and her cheeks burned. “I thought we’d be getting a Christmas tree tonight.”
“We are. In a way.” He allowed himself a smug smile, then glanced behind him. “Mrs. Lee will be watching Jett.”
The housekeeper came forward, smiling as she took the baby from Lola’s arms. “Have a nice evening, Mrs. Cabrera.”
“But—where are we going?”
“Go to our bedroom,” Rodrigo said, his dark eyes burning through her.
“Now?”
“Right now.”
Going down the hall to the palatial master bedroom, Lola dropped her shopping bag in shock when she saw a famous personal stylist waiting for her, with two makeup and hair stylists.
“Hello.” The personal stylist, who dressed movie stars for worldwide events, gave Lola a cheeky smile. “I’m here for you, my dear. To make you even more impossibly beautiful than you already are.” He motioned toward a rack of ball gowns and brand-new designer shoes. “Choose your favorite. They’re all in your size.” He held up a sleek, well-used sewing kit and double-sided tape. “I can make any gown fit.”
Thirty minutes later, Lola felt so ridiculously like a princess, she was sure even Johanna would approve. Looking in the full-length mirror, Lola hardly recognized herself.
Her long, highlighted blond hair was sleek and perfect, falling nearly to her waist. Her strapless pink chiffon gown fit her perfectly, showing off her curves. Black kohl and fake eyelashes lined her eyes, making the hazel color pop dramatically, and her lips were pink.
Standing in the sparkling six-inch designer heels, Lola breathed, “I don’t even need jewelry.”
The stylist gave her a wicked grin. “You sparkle enough on your own.”
“I feel like Cinderella,” she said.
“You look like her, too.” He tilted his head. “You married the most powerful man in showbiz, girl. This city, this world, is yours to command.”
Lola felt like she was in a dream as she walked back down the hall in the strapless pink chiffon gown. Even the six-inch heels felt fantastic on her feet, as if she were floating on air. She’d never had a problem with designer heels making her feet hurt. They were too beautiful—too expensive—to hurt.
But what were they doing tonight?
Lola looked down at the glamorous pink gown. Obviously, not going Christmas tree shopping.
When she returned to the great room, the housekeeper and Jett were gone. Rodrigo stood alone amid the roses.
His eyes widened when he saw her.
“Querida,” he whispered. “You take my breath away.”
“Thanks.” Coming forward shyly, she reached up to straighten his black tie. “You don’t clean up so badly yourself.”
“I bought you some Christmas decorations.”
“Mistletoe?” she guessed.
“I should have thought of that. But no.” Pulling a black, flat velvet box from his tuxedo jacket pocket, he held it out. Lola sucked in her breath when she saw a magnificent diamond necklace, sparkling in the twilight, amid all the sweet-scented roses.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Hold up your hair,” he said huskily.
She did as he commanded. Dropping the black velvet box on an antique side table, he placed the diamonds around her neck, attaching the clasp behind her.
The necklace felt cold and heavy against Lola’s skin. But the feather-light brush of his fingertips as he hooked the clasp sent a flash of fire through her body.
“There.” Turning her to face him, he stroked her cheek, tilting her head upward. “Now you are ready.”
Lola looked up at him, her heart thudding in her chest. I love you, Rodrigo. The words lifted to her throat. Her lips parted—
“Don’t look at me like that, querida.” He gave a low, rueful laugh. “If you do, I’ll cancel our plans tonight, and spend the next twelve hours with you in bed.”
“Would that be so horrible?”
“No...and yes.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Because I have something very special planned for you.”
“Are we exchanging our Christmas gifts tonight?”
“Maybe,” he said huskily. “Except my gift to you can’t be wrapped. Something I know—” his eyes met hers “—is your heart’s desire.”
Joy pounded through her, making her dizzy. He was going to tell her he loved her. Tonight. She blurted, “I have something for you, too.”
Turning, she raced back to the master bedroom, where the stylists were
