“You think I’m completely incompetent?” Rodrigo drawled.
“You’ve never held a baby in your life.”
“Then I must be a natural.” He didn’t bother to explain that while she’d been studiously ignoring him on the flight, when he’d been working on his laptop, he’d actually been reading articles about the proper care and handling of infants. He wasn’t going to let Lola lord her greater knowledge over him, or be forced to ask her for the favor of teaching him what to do.
Once, he would have asked her, without thought, and been willing to humble himself for her. But not anymore. Their relationship was still on too shaky a footing for that. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d bullied her into marriage and returning to California. But he had no regrets. It was the most efficient means of getting what he wanted.
As they walked toward his sprawling, luxurious beach house, the front door opened. His executive assistant, Marnie McAdam, appeared in the doorway, her eyes eager behind her thick glasses. “You’re back—” Her expression changed when she saw Lola and the baby. “What...what’s she doing here?”
For an answer, Lola lifted her left hand in a movement so violent it was almost an obscene gesture, to show her the huge diamond ring.
Marnie’s eyes went wide as she looked between them. “You’re married?”
“Isn’t it wonderful news?” Lola said.
His assistant looked pale. A year older than Rodrigo, Marnie McAdam had been a college graduate traveling in Madrid when he’d hired her as his first employee at his new company, Cabrera Media Group, after he’d taken over his father’s small studio. Over the last fifteen years, Rodrigo had come to depend on Marnie for her dedication and loyalty. Before Lola had arrived, she’d been his top assistant.
No wonder the two women hadn’t liked each other. Marnie was the one who’d told Rodrigo about Lola’s past, telling him all the awful facts as she’d put the photographs in his hands.
And Lola knew it. She gave the older woman a hard smile.
He had the sudden alarming image of the two women coming to blows. He was fairly sure Lola, with her hard-edged fearlessness, would emerge the victor. He had no desire to see Marnie in the hospital, so he stepped abruptly between them.
“That’ll be all for today, Marnie. You can head home.”
“Whose baby?” She breathed unsteadily, looking at Jett in his arms.
“Mine,” he said.
“You didn’t know?” said Lola sweetly. “I thought you might have arranged things for us in New York.”
“No,” Rodrigo said. “She didn’t.” He looked at Marnie. “We might need some additional baby furniture, though. I’ll contact you later.”
“Of course, Mr. Cabrera.” Turning to Lola, she said, “Congratulations.”
Lola glared at her. “You heard what he said. Get going.”
Biting her lip, Marnie looked at Rodrigo.
“Thank you, Marnie,” he said, more kindly.
With a nod, she turned and hurried to her car. As the older woman drove out of the gate, Rodrigo turned on Lola coldly. “Was that really necessary?”
His wife didn’t answer. Taking the yawning baby from his arms, she strode ahead of him into the beach house, proud and scornful as a queen.
Irritated, he followed her into the house’s enormous great room, with its wall of windows overlooking the beach and bright blue ocean.
“You can’t hate Marnie for telling me the truth about your past.”
“The truth?” Lola looked at him incredulously. “Is that what you think?”
“Are you saying you didn’t pose for those pictures? You didn’t let that man—” But he couldn’t go on. Just remembering the rest of Marnie’s report still made his blood boil with unwilling jealousy and rage.
Lola’s lovely face was pale as she turned away. “I need to put Jett to bed.”
“Wait. I’m talking to you—”
“Not now.” Behind them, two bodyguards were bringing in suitcases from the SUV. Lola pointed at her suitcases. “Can you please take those to the baby’s room?”
“Baby’s room?” Tobias Watson asked, frowning.
Glancing at Rodrigo, she said coolly, “I assume there is one.”
“I told Mrs. Lee to arrange the best guest room,” he said grudgingly.
As the bodyguard nodded and started down the hall, Lola said without looking at Rodrigo, “I’ll be sleeping in there, too.”
Without another word, she collected the diaper bag and swept down the hallway, leaving Rodrigo alone in the great room with the amazing view of the Pacific.
He ground his teeth.
But he could understand why Lola was already so defensive and irritable. Part of him felt the same. Having her back here, in this house where they’d once been lovers, gave him a sense of vertigo, like an earthquake beneath his feet. Wistful memories of their love affair still lingered in every room.
Looking slowly around, Rodrigo gave an involuntary shiver. There he’d made love to her against the wall. There they’d lazed Sunday mornings on the sofa. He looked out through the double-story windows. Closing his eyes, he felt the sun burning hot and bright against his face, without the gentle mercy of clouds.
And there, on that white sand beach, one moonlit night beside the bonfire as the Santa Ana winds blew, Lola had told him she loved him. For answer, Rodrigo had taken her in his arms and kissed her hungrily, as she’d clung to him as if her life depended on it. The explosive heat of that sensual night! He shivered at the memory. They’d always been scrupulously careful about protection, but that one time, they’d been carried away by passion. Which was another way of saying they lost their minds. It was almost certainly the night she’d conceived their baby.
Turning away, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. A few minutes later, when Lola returned from the baby’s nursery, he saw her before she saw him. She’d long since taken off her coat, but she still wore the same black shirt, leggings and boots she’d been married in. He suddenly yearned to take those off, too. To feel the warmth of her naked skin.
A flash of heat went through him.
He gulped the last of his Scotch, letting it burn his throat as he set down the glass with a bang. “You’re not sleeping in the nursery, Lola. I thought I made myself clear. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. With me.”
She whirled to face him, her beautiful face wild. “Forget it.”
Rodrigo took an unwilling step toward her.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t forget.”
The memory of all the times he’d kissed her in this house, all the nights he’d made love to her, all their moments of laughter and lazy sensuality and joy burned through him. He had to clench his hands at his sides to keep himself from pulling her roughly into his arms.
“You forgot me long ago.” Lola looked at him in the warm pink and gold light of the late afternoon sun, her eyes bright. “I’m sure you’ve had lovers here by the score since you tossed me out.”
“Wrong,” he said.
He heard her intake of breath. “What?”
Coming forward, Rodrigo cupped her cheek.
“I’ve had no other woman here. None,” he whispered. Slowly, he ran his thumb along her tender bottom lip. “Not here, nor anywhere else. For the