Hollywood Baby Affair

She gave a throaty laugh. “I’m not commando. I don’t take those kinds of risks.”

His hand moved lower, slid under the slit and covered her. “Oh, yeah? But I want you to go on all kinds of adventures with me. Let me show you, baby...”

Chiara’s eyes closed and her head fell back as Rick’s finger slipped inside her and the pad of his thumb brushed her in a wicked dance. Her lips parted. Oh, my. They hadn’t even made it past the inside of her front door and all she wanted to do was strip for him and let him take her against the hard wall of the foyer, pounding into her until she wept with the pure ecstasy of it, her legs wrapped around him and holding him close.

“Ah, Chiara.” His voice sounded rough with arousal as he nipped and nibbled along her jaw. “So hot. There’s nothing cold about you.”

His words wrapped around h

er like a warm caress. She’d worked all her life to get her walls up and, most of all, be independent and succeed. But with Rick, her defenses came crashing down, and in their place rushed in powerful need.

Rick snaked his free hand beneath the one-shoulder bodice of her gown and cupped her breast. He kneaded her soft flesh and she peaked for him.

A moan escaped her.

“I should have stuck around earlier tonight so I’d know how you got into this gown, and how to get you out,” he muttered.

A laugh caught in her throat, but then the buzz of a cell phone interrupted the mood like the beam of car headlights slicing through the night.

It took a few moments for Chiara to clear her head and get oriented. And then she flushed. She and Rick had gone from zero to sixty in minutes, and any longer...

As her phone continued to buzz from the inside of her clutch on the floor, she pulled away from Rick, and he dropped his hands and stepped back.

“You don’t have to answer it,” he said roughly.

“It’s Odele. I can tell from the ringtone.” She started to bend down, but Rick was faster and retrieved the clutch for her.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Rick commented, his voice edged with frustration.

Flustered and still aroused, Chiara gathered her scattered thoughts. “She’s used to having her calls answered. I—I’ve got to take this. I’ve...got to go.”

“Of course.” His expression was sardonic, knowing, and he raked his hand through his hair. “I’m guessing it’s time for another cold shower.”

Turning away from Rick to regain her composure, she hit the answer button. “Odele, hello?”

“Hello, sweetie. How are you? Did you have a fine evening?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered as she hurried up the stairs. “What can I do for you, Odele?”

“I’m responding to your request, hon.”

For a moment, Chiara was confused, but then she remembered her text to Odele earlier in the evening.

“From what I could see on TV, you and Mr. Stuntman were doing an excellent job at your first public appearance together. But then I got your message about keeping you and Isabel Lanier separated at future social events. Did something happen that I’m not aware of?”

Chiara didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. If not for Odele’s untimely—or rather, timely—call, she’d have been moments away from inviting Rick to follow her to the bedroom. A mistake that she would have regretted.

“Not that I don’t have sympathy,” Odele went on in her trademark raspy voice. “Isabel Lanier reeks of tacky perfume, and her manager is worse.”

Chiara smiled weakly. Leave it to Odele to be competitive with even Isabel’s snarky manager.

“So, honey, are you going to tell me what the story is, or make me guess? I have my sources, you know.”

Chiara lowered her voice even as she reached the privacy of her bedroom and flipped on the light. “Rick and Isabel were involved at one point.”

“Really?” The word was a long, drawn-out drawl.

“Well, not really.” Chiara dropped her clutch on the vanity table. “She sort of threw herself at him in a publicity stunt and that was the end of his friendship with her then boyfriend.”