“Lola,” a female voice called out, “it’s so fun to bump into you again.”
Fast approaching was Petra Flynn, the blond TV bombshell Lola had met at the health spa.
For a moment she almost forgot the bountiful blonde’s name, then it came to her. “Petra,” she exclaimed just in time, “how are you?”
“Better than the last time I saw you,” Petra responded, pulling her escort over, huge breasts spilling out of a low-cut red dress. “Meet my new man,” she said proudly. “Jump Jagger.”
“Any relation to—”
“No,” Jump interrupted, a tall, skinny rock ’n’ roller with multiple piercings and tattoos.
“Jump’s a rock star in his own right,” Petra confided, giggling. “He’s going to be huge. Oh, sorry, honey,” she said, clinging to his arm. “I didn’t mean you’re going to be huge, we all know you are huge.”
Where is Isabelle when I need her? Lola thought. Petra Flynn is too much for me to deal with.
Then she saw him. Tony Alvarez, walking into the party for Raja Mestres, his Puerto Rican baby-faced tramp clinging to his arm. Not only did the girl look twelve, she was also short.
Tony hadn’t spotted her yet, but Lola knew it would be only seconds before he did. The magnetic force that existed between them was undeniable.
Sure enough, he glanced over and their eyes met. They shared one of those looks-across-a-crowded-room moments.
She immediately turned her head and started talking to Petra and her rock star boyfriend. “How did you two meet?” she asked, not at all interested.
“I was in New York doing a voice-over for a commercial,” Petra explained, only too happy to relate the story. “And as I was walking out of the recording studio, there was Jump walking in. We literally bumped into each other. I started asking him about his tattoos ’cause I just had one put in a place that I’m not revealing to anyone. And he recommended a terrific guy in L.A. So I asked him if he ever came to L.A. And he said he didn’t have a place here, and I said he could come and spend the weekend with me. And here we are.”
“Sounds romantic,” Lola murmured, although she hadn’t listened to a word.
“Good for you.”
“I read about your sister getting shot,” Petra said, lowering her voice to a respectful whisper. “That was so terrible. Was she the sister I met at the spa?”
“No,” Lola said, keeping one eye on Tony as he maneuvered his way across the room, slowly making his way toward her. “It was my other sister, Selma.”
“How awful!” Petra exclaimed.
“I’m happy to say she’s out of her coma and doing well.”
“It’s incredible what they can do at hospitals,” Petra said, absently fingering one of her enormous implants.
“Hospitals don’t bring people out of a coma,” Lola said. “They come out of it on their own.”
“What a drag that they can’t do that,” Petra said. “Isn’t that a drag, Jump?”
“Yeah,” Jump agreed. “Anywhere around here I can go take a smoke?”
Suddenly Tony was upon them. God, he had a nerve, approaching her with his girlfriend by his side. How dare he!
“Lola,” he said, dark eyes sexy as ever.
“Tony,” she responded, desperately attempting not to fall into them.
“Meet Maria.”
“Hi, Maria, dear,” she said, coolly, looking down at the girl, who was not only short but flat-chested, with no ass. She must sing one hell of a song in the bedroom, Lola thought sourly.
“Hi,” Maria answered in a little-girl voice.
“Do you know Petra Flynn and Jump Jagger?” Lola asked, playing gracious hostess. “And no, he’s not any relation to—”
“To who?” Tony interrupted.
“Mick Jagger, of course.”
“Why would he be related?”
Tony was purposely being obtuse. Go screw yourself, she wanted to say to him as he stood there with his baby girlfriend by his side. He thought he was so smart. Well, he wasn’t. Tony Alvarez was a thug, and she knew it.
“How’s Selma doing?” Tony asked.
Oh yeah, like you care. “She’s doing well, thank you. The doctors assure us she’ll be out of the hospital within days.”
“I’m pleased.”
So you should be, you bastard. It was all your fault.
“Who’s Selma?” Maria piped up in her thin, annoying voice.
“Lola’s sister,” Miss Know It All Petra said. “The one who got shot. I read about it in the Star. It was horrible! Ohmigod—,” she exclaimed, suddenly realizing who Tony was. “You were with her, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Tony said. “I was there.”
An awkward silence took place while Maria looked at him questioningly, waiting for an explanation. There was none forthcoming.
“Oh,” Petra said, waving across the room. “Isn’t that Ricky Martin? I must go say hello.” Dragging Jump by the arm, she departed, leaving Tony, Maria, and Lola standing by themselves.
There was another awkward silence. This time Tony broke it.
“Maria,” he commanded, “go look at the paintings.”
“I’ll wait for you,” Maria ventured.
“No,” Tony said sharply. “Go look now. I’ll catch up with you.”
Maria was too young to argue. She took off with a hurt expression.
“Dealing in juveniles now?” Lola said, arching an eyebrow.
“She’s eighteen,” Tony replied evenly. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Let me ask you something,” Lola said. “If I was with an eighteen-year-old boy, would you think that was a bad thing?”
“Ah, but you wouldn’t be,” Tony responded knowingly. “You prefer your men seasoned.”
They exchanged a long, lustful look.
“Have you explored this house?” he said. “The architecture is quite something.”
“That’s what I told Matt,” she said. “He didn’t seem to get it.”
“Where is your old man?”
“Watching a ball game in the kitchen with the waiters.”
“Then maybe I should show you around. I’ve been here many times before. Jorge is a close friend.”
“Why not?” she said, her voice husky.
“Come,” Tony said, taking her arm and leading her in the opposite direction from Maria.
Somehow, now that Selma was better, her bargain with God did not seem so important.
• • •
“What are we going to do?” Pete asked. They were sitting in his SUV in Shelby’s driveway.
“Nothing right now,” she replied.
“We can’t go on pretending that there isn’t something happening between us.”
“Pete, you know the position I’m in.”
“Yes, I do. And I also know that you shouldn’t wait any longer,” he said forcefully. “Linc’s living with someone—doesn’t that tell you it’s over between the two of you?”
“I suppose so,” she answered listlessly.
“Then act on it.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Monday.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, gently at first, but as the kiss progressed, things became more intense.
She found herself responding to him with a rush of passion, remembering the long, steamy necking sessions they’d indulged in way before she’d met and married Linc.
After a few minutes he backed off. “Why don’t we go to my house?” he suggested.
“I can’t,” she responded breathlessly. “This is my parents’ last night in L.A. I have to be here for them in the morning.”
“You sound more like a schoolgirl than a big movie star,” he said, amused.
“Aren’t we all kids when it comes to our parents?”
“Guess so,” he said, and he leaned in and started kissing her again, long, dreamy soul kisses. “When?” he asked.
“As soon as they leave,” she promised, thinking that Pete was a very special man, and if Linc hadn’t come along, who knew what would’ve happened?
“I’ll wait,” Pete said.
“I know you will,” she answered softly, reaching for the door handle.
“Where are you going?” he asked, loath for her to leave.
“Home. I live here. Remember?”
“Can I come in with you?”
“No, Pete. My parents . . .”
“Man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re making me feel like I’m back in high school.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, jumping out of the driver’s seat and running around to open the passenger door for her. “I kinda like it. Makes me feel young.”
She stepped out of the SUV and into his arms. He kissed her again, holding her close for several minutes.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered, extracting herself.
And she entered her house, wondering how he’d feel when she told him she was pregnant.
• • •
“I’m ravenously hungry,” Cat exclaimed as Nick’s Maserati sped along the Pacific Coast Highway at ninety miles an hour. “And you’re about to get us arrested.”
“For what?” he said, clicking on the CD player, flooding the night with the raucous sounds of Fifty Cent.
“Speeding, of course. And driving half drunk.”
“I am not half drunk,” he protested. “Had a coupla beers, that’s it. Besides, alcohol doesn’t affect me.”
“It might not affect you,” she lectured. “However, I don’t think the cops would be too happy. The speed limit on PCH is probably like thirty-five. What do you think?”
“I think I like this car a lot,” he said, shooting her a quick look. “Almost as much as I like you.”
“Oh, so now I’m in competition with a car, am I?”
He laughed. “You’re not in competition with anyone. You’re an original. You’re funny, talented, unusual, knowledgeable; now all I gotta do is find out if you’re a great lay.”
“Ha! I don’t have to prove anything,” she said. “You do.”
“You wanna know if I’m a great lay?” he said quizzically. “I’ll give you a book of references, how’s that?”
“Your girlfriends write you references, do they?”
“I’ve had a couple of English ones write about me in the London tabs. ‘Nick Logan is the greatest lover I’ve ever had,’ and that’s a direct quote.”
“I know all about the English papers. Those girls say it about any famous guy they can lure into bed. They get paid big bucks for scoring with a celebrity—doesn’t matter who it is. Jack Nicholson, Nic Cage, Rod Stewart. They always claim the guy is the greatest lover they ever had, with the biggest dick. It sells more papers.”
“No shit?”
“Like you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t,” he protested.
“Yes you did.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Where the hell are we going, Nick? Did you buy me a beach house?”
“Yeah, right.”
“Then where?”
“You’ll see.”
“When?”
“Stop bitchin’.”
“Can we pull over and get something to eat?”
“Close your eyes and be patient.”
“I am patient.”
“No, you’re not.”
“It’s been such an incredible night for me,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Finishing the movie, and then the party.”
“The party was great,” he agreed.
“So . . . right now I’m not into a magical mystery tour. I’m tired and I’m hungry.”
“Can we add horny?”
“You wish.”
“Five more minutes,” he promised. “How’s that?”
“Okay,” she said, glancing pointedly at her watch. “But I should warn you, I’m timing you.”
Five more minutes, and true to his word he spun the car off the road toward a private gated estate, where-upon he entered a security code and the large gates swung open.
“Where are we?” she asked curiously.
“A friend’s house. He lent it to me.”
“What friend?”
“You have to know everything, don’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“A very discreet friend, ’cause I knew you wouldn’t want to go to a hotel.”
“You could’ve come to my place.”
“Nope. We’re not doing it at your apartment where you can throw me out after it’s over. This is neutral territory. Not my turf or yours. Smart, huh?” he said, speeding the car up the long, palm-tree-lined driveway.
“This must be a very rich friend,” Cat remarked.
“He’s got a buck or two.”
“It’s not your mafia friend who owes you a favor, is it?”
“I didn’t say he owed me a favor, I said they offered me a favor. Big difference,” he said, pulling the Maserati up in front of the house. “C’mon,” he said, jumping out of the car. “It’s time for you and me to see if we really connect.”
• • •
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lola asked, her heart pounding, because Tony always had that effect on her.
“Locking the door,” he responded.
“You can’t do that,” she argued.
“I can’t, huh?” he said, throwing her one of his looks.
“This is obviously the master bedroom, and the windows overlook the party.”
“Nobody’s spying on us.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m sure.”
She wandered around the room for a moment, taking in the lush furnishings—everything in various tones of brown and beige. Then she sat on the edge of the king-size bed. “Well,” she said, her heart still beating fast. “Here we are again.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Here we are.”
“What do you want from me, Tony?” she asked. “What do I want from you?” he replied. “The question is, what do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you come in here with me?”
“Because I thought you were showing me the house.”
“Last time I saw you it was a different story,” he said. “Remember?”
“Nothing’s changed,” she replied, wishing he wasn’t so damn hard to resist. “We still shouldn’t be together.”
“That’s why I got myself engaged.”
“Because of me?”
“Yeah. Thought it might cool things down for you now that you’re back with that prick you’re married to.”
“Y’know, I should be going,” she said, getting up and heading for the door.
Tony quickly moved in front of her, blocking her way. She attempted to dodge past him. He refused to allow her to. Then he began running his hands up and down her body.
“Tony,” she said in a low husky voice, “this is impossible.”
“Missed you, babe,” he said, touching her breasts, before sliding his hand up the slit in her skirt and caressing the top of her thigh.
“We . . . can’t do this,” she said, his touch already driving her crazy. “I’m back with my husband.”
“You get off on it, babe. I know you too well.”
“There’s people outside,” she protested. “Your girlfriend, my husband. We could be seen.”
“Who gives a fuck?” he said, unzipping his pants. “We got a thing goin’ nobody can break. So, c’mon, baby, suck my cock. You know you do it better than anyone.”
She thought about refusing, walking away, telling him to get lost.
But the truth was that she was incapable of doing or saying any of those things.
She didn’t want to. Tony Alvarez was still her addiction of choice.