accessorized from head to toe.”
Sofia’s heart began to hammer in her chest. This was too much. What part of six damned outfits that he hadn’t even discussed with her was making sure she didn’t feel like she was losing control?
She opened her mouth to refuse it all—the carte blanche, the outfits, Clarice’s knowledgeable assistance—and then she remembered what Eric had said as he’d held her hand and leaned toward her. He wanted to do this for her because he knew she was beautiful and he wanted her to believe it, too.
She closed her eyes and made sure she was still breathing. Oh, this was dangerous, that she was even considering this. She didn’t just want to surprise him when she walked into that cocktail party and she didn’t just want to look like she fit.
She wanted to feel pretty again.
She wanted to make Eric’s brain stop functioning.
“Can you make me look great? Like, really great?”
Clarice’s eyes lit up. “It would be my pleasure.”
Sofia was a mess of nerves. She hadn’t been able to eat breakfast and hadn’t slept more than twenty or thirty minutes at a time last night. For once, it had nothing to do with the twins teething.
Her luggage, packed with five different outfits and three pairs of shoes for a three-day trip, stood by the front door, waiting. Eric was going to pick her up sometime in the next fifteen minutes and drive her to the airport. From there, he, Sofia and the Nortons would fly in Eric’s private jet to St. Louis.
She was doing this. She was going away for a weekend with Eric. Business trip be damned. She had sexy lingerie in her bag, far too beautiful to keep hidden underneath clothes.
No, no—she wasn’t nervous about that. Eric wasn’t going to see her panties. She was just…nervous about flying. She’d been on an airplane exactly twice in her life, flying to and from Cancún for her honeymoon with David. She hadn’t liked it then, and that had been a big plane. Eric’s jet wasn’t much more than a puddle jumper.
In fact, the only thing keeping her from a full-on panic attack was the fact that she was being mobbed by adorable babies.
“Are you going to miss me when I’m gone?” she asked, sitting on the floor with both Addy and Eddy on her lap. Eddy’s lip began to tremble. “I’ll come back,” she promised. “I always come back, don’t I? You’ll have a lot of fun with Abuelita and Abuelito. Story time at the library, a trip to the park—”
“Pak!” Eddy yelled, flopping off her lap and toddling over to where his shoes were.
Sofia laughed. The boy would sell his sister for a swing set. “Later,” she said. “When Miss Rita gets here, you can go to the park.” Rita was a new addition to their routine, a young woman who reminded Sofia of what Rosa must’ve been like twenty or thirty years ago. Rita was a first-generation Mexican American, taking night classes, already working one part-time job and now helping out with the twins in the mornings.
Watching Rosa Cortés with Rita was a little like watching Mrs. Jenner buy dresses for Sofia when she had been a girl. Mom went out of her way to make extra food that Rita could take home because she wouldn’t have time to get anything before class. Mom often had a sweater or a dress that she’d bought because she’d thought it would fit, but when she got it home it didn’t—and it just happened to be in Rita’s size.
Sofia was just glad Mom liked Rita and seemed to embrace her help with the twins. Sofia worried less about her parents now that there was backup.
That didn’t make it any easier to leave her babies, though. Addy snuggled into Sofia’s lap, her thumb in her mouth. Sofia stroked her daughter’s hair, savoring this moment of closeness. God, she was going to miss them. But she wasn’t going to cry. She swallowed hard a few times as she breathed in Addy’s sweet baby smell. No crying allowed.
But was it wrong she was excited about this weekend trip? She was going to have a hotel room all to herself at the Chase Park Plaza, with room service and no one to wake her up in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t have to cook or clean. She had two new dresses that made her feel beautiful and the company of a man who made her want more than she could even dream about.
She had no right to dream of him, but that hadn’t stopped her from wondering if he’d wear a tux to this party. Or how he’d look if she reached up and tugged on that bow tie, unraveling the ends and pulling him toward her and—
The doorbell rang and Addy launched herself off Sofia’s lap. She and Eddy ran to the door.
“That’s the driver, Mom,” Sofia called to her mother in the kitchen, her stomach doing a little flutter. She gathered the black pashmina wrap Clarice had insisted pulled the whole look together and her purse. That, at least, was still hers. She couldn’t bring herself to let the accessorizing go so far as to include handbags. She knew exactly how expensive those things could be.
It was ridiculous that he was coming for her. He could’ve saved himself a lot of time if they’d met at the office.
But no. And he didn’t even send a separate car. Instead, his driver was picking her up, even though it was way out of the way to drive from the Gold Coast where Eric lived down to the Pilsen neighborhood where she lived with her parents.
The Nortons lived close to the Chicago Executive Airport, where Eric kept his plane—which was on the far northern side of the city. So they’d meet them there. Which meant it would just be Eric and Sofia in the car. In the back seat. Hidden from the rest of the world.
Not that it mattered, because it didn’t. This was a work-related trip. The brand-new clothes she was wearing were work clothes—although Sofia had not yet figured out in what alternative universe a silk georgette blouse and cropped white trousers constituted a “traveling outfit.” In her world, white pants were a disaster waiting to happen. But she was wearing them anyway. The same went for the cocktail dresses. The outfits had nothing to do with the way Eric had held her hand in the store or told her to let him take care of her. Not a damned thing.
She might engage in some gentle flirting because that seemed unavoidable. But Eric flirted with everyone, so that was fine. Safe, even. As long as they kept it at flirting. No undressing, no lingerie.
The doorbell rang again. Sofia took hold of Addy as Mom hurried out of the kitchen to scoop up Eddy.
Sofia opened the door, saying, “My bag is—”
The man standing in the doorway was not the driver. Eric Jenner himself stood there, looking sinfully handsome in a brightly colored button-up shirt with a linen blazer over it. Her mouth fell open and all she could do was stare at him. His hair had more of a wave than normal and he looked so damn good she could feel her resolve crumbling like a cookie in a toddler’s hands—and they hadn’t even made it to the car yet.
She was going away with him for the weekend. And he wanted to take care of her.
Oh, God.
“Sofia,” Eric began, but then his gaze was drawn to Addy, who’d curled against Sofia’s shoulder. “Good heavens,” he went on, sounding almost severe about it. “These children are even cuter in person than they are in pictures. I didn’t think that was physically possible.”
“Mr. Eric!” Mom said, struggling to hold on to Eddy. “Oh—we weren’t expecting you! Oh!” she said again, her hand flying to her chest as she looked him over. “My, you’ve grown up so much!”
Eric took that as an invitation. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Then, before Sofia’s eyes, he bowed. Bowed! “Mrs. Cortés, you haven’t changed a bit. You are as lovely as I remember.”
Mom blushed—which only made Sofia stare even more. When was the last time