shoot and should get to bed, but there’s no rush if there’s anything more you’d like to say.”
“I’ve already said too much. I’ll have just one more creampuff and go. I didn’t come by for a sympathy—”
“Don’t you dare say that word,” she cautioned sternly. “That’s never been what happens between us.”
He flashed a killer grin. “You’re finally admitting it’s more than great sex?”
She’d meant to be strict, but he melted her resolve so easily, so continually, she doubted she’d ever be able to say no to him. She’d never let him know, though. “You’re pushing your luck, Mr. Vasquez. Last night’s truce won’t last forever.”
“Why not?” He got up and carried the plate into the kitchen, wrapped the last two creampuffs and put them in the refrigerator. When he returned to the living room, he gave her a hand to rise. “We agreed to fight only on Tuesdays, but I can’t handle discord tonight. Why don’t you keep a list, and we’ll argue about it the next time Tuesday comes around.”
“There’s nothing new,” she replied with a shrug. She rested her hands on his chest to kiss him good-night, and he blurred the first kiss into so many more she lost count. He needed her tonight even if he couldn’t admit it. “Stay,” she breathed softly against his lips.
“What about your early job? Don’t you have to look well rested?” He smoothed her hair back to kiss her ear.
It tickled, and she brushed him away. “It’s a shoe ad. My one foot that can work will look great regardless.” He slipped his arm around her waist to support her as she hopped into her bedroom. “I hope the kittens don’t get too hungry before you come home.”
“You caught me. I fed them before I came here,” he confessed.
He pulled her so close she couldn’t mistake how badly he wanted her. She slid her hand between them to rub him and felt him grow harder. “The ability to plan ahead is a significant plus in an executive, and you have other talents as well.”
“I didn’t sleep my way to the top,” he murmured between kisses.
“No, but you surely could have.”
They’d been together often, but he showered her with a fierce passion tonight. She welcomed his lavish kisses and deep thrusts and clung to his broad shoulders. She rolled her hips to rock against him and cried out as she came. He hovered above her, and she clasped her core to stoke him into bliss and lay pleasantly limp beneath his comforting weight. When he moved, she held him tight. “I like holding you.”
“You don’t feel crushed?”
“No, only warm and safe.”
He kissed her tenderly, nibbled her ears and licked her breasts until his beard tickled. He rolled over to pull her up on top and wound his arms around her to keep her close. “Tomorrow will come too soon, but I’m not tired.”
She kissed his cheek and wiggled against him. “Neither am I. What shall we do, count sheep?”
He smoothed his hand over her bottom. “I can’t remember the numbers above one when you’re so close.”
“I can get closer,” she promised, and he welcomed her delicious kisses and created another night neither would ever forget.
Rafael Mondragon listened to the news on the drive to medical school each morning, and he was shocked to learn of Orlando Ortiz’s death. Maggie would already be at the American high school preparing for her classes. He called her as soon as he parked. “My mother may wait a year before marrying another millionaire, but I doubt it’ll be much longer.”
“Will she expect us to attend the funeral?”
“She might, but I’m not going.”
“I don’t blame you. How old was he?”
“Sixty-two, which doesn’t sound all that old to me anymore. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Maggie didn’t see her sister, Libby, until lunch and drew her out onto the patio where they could eat at a table by themselves. “Orlando Ortiz died. While Rafael refuses to speak to his mother, I have the awful feeling she’ll contact him to demand his support.”
Libby opened her salad container and dribbled on the dressing. “Carlotta can demand whatever she wants, but your husband won’t give in. You have to know that.”
“Of course I do, but he doesn’t need the aggravation and neither do I.”
“Send flowers to the funeral and let it go. Ana Santillan married Orlando’s son. I wonder if she’ll keep modeling or simply run their social life. The family is probably involved in several charities, so she’d have plenty to do. We should call her and offer our sympathies.”