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Either way, Gabby decided she was done with everything and burst into tears, and that sure took the wind out of Zac’s smug sails. I could see his internal debate on whether he should lift her and risk getting splattered again.

Since his ego was forever in need of being taken down a notch—along with the assurance he wasn’t upset about the milky shrapnel—I sat back and reveled in his burgeoning horror, interested to see how things would play out from here.

Not so cocksure and noisy now, are you, ovaries?

Mamá cast a dismayed expression my way, as if she couldn’t believe I wasn’t rushing to Zac’s rescue. But if I did that, how would she ever learn that her diabolical plans to rouse a maternal instinct within me wouldn’t work? That’d likely go double for Zac after this whole experience, a theory supported by how speedily he handed her off once my mom offered. Happy babies were one thing; the reality of all the crying and pooping that came alongside was another.

He released a relieved breath as he returned to his seat, and I went ahead and expelled one too. We might actually survive this here party, our white lie about being together, notwithstanding.

As if the crying had summoned my sister, Angélica rushed over, her husband a few paces behind, and given their mussed hair and crinkled clothes, they’d put their recess from the party to good, sexy-times use.

“Did I hear right? About the dance being a waltz?” Zac asked, jerking his chin toward the dance floor, where Mariana and Lorenzo were getting into place for the father-daughter dance.

“Yeah. It’s tradition.” My knee knocked into his as I twisted closer and lowered my voice. “I’m sure the party seems a bit over the top if you haven’t attended one before, but the entire day is a celebration of womanhood, family, and community. Sometimes, it’s frustrating being born a girl in this world, but as my mom and aunties told me the night before my big fifteenth birthday bash, the women in our family have always fought for the rights of ourselves and others in need of having their voices amplified.”

I slung my arm over his shoulder and tucked my chin on top of my bent elbow. “Don’t act too surprised by this information I’m about to blow your mind with, but we Mendes and Flores women have mighty loud voices, and don’t mind telling others how it is or how it should be.”

“No,” Zac said, his shock as bogus as our relationship. Had his mouth moved closer to mine or was it a result of being so homed in on the curve of his lips, and how damn kissable they always looked.

My heart skipped a beat, and then two and then three, the adoration shining through his features throwing me off my game. Like, I couldn’t remember why I’d decided to explain or where I was at in the narrative, and that hardly ever happened to me.

Strike that—itneverhappened to me.

Not since the first time I’d been granted lead on a case, only to discover that watching and thinking I had all the answers and presenting the facts while battling the opposite counsel wasn’t quite as easy as it looked.

It didn’t help that the lawyer I was going up against was insane levels of hot. His jet-black hair, umber skin, and killer grin were enough to turn even the harshest of judges and jurors into giggly schoolgirls—and by that, I meant men, women, and nonbinary folk alike.

After that guy reduced me to a babbling, blushing rookie, I’d sworn to never let myself be so affected by attraction and charms again.

Yet here I sat, turning into a puddle of a girl because the smokin’ hot dude I hit up for booty calls was emoting as much charisma as Ryan Reynolds holding a batch of kittens.

No, no, no. I wasn’t supposed to be enticed by sweetness and manners.

My libido disagreed, engrossed by the idea of getting this version of Zac naked, sweaty, and on top of me.

“That makes sense,” Zac said, and my blood pressure screeched into the danger zone. Had I voiced my admiration aloud? Had my family heard?

“Why you became a lawyer,” Zac continued. “I admire you for using that stubborn, fiery attitude to defend yourself and others in the courtroom. You’re like a sexy tornado, spouting off a torrential downpouring of words that are impossible to keep up with, much less contest. Whenever you’re sure you made a hard hitting point you follow it up by pouting your lips…”

Time ground to a halt as he lifted his thumb and swiped the pad over my lower lip, rendering me speechless for the second time this afternoon. It was like I was in the middle of presenting my closing argument in order to sway him to my side, only to forget what side I was even on. “No one else stands a chance.”

I blinked at him, endeavoring to force my tongue into motion. Did I thank him? Tell him he didn’t need to butter me up, as he was already going to get lucky tonight? Or was this all for the benefit of our audience—except their attention was on Mariana, where mine should be too.

“So, it got lost in the rest of our conversation, but the reason I asked about the waltz is because I have to dance it at my brother’s wedding. It’s a tradition in Jeremy’s family, and it turns out that Julia’s the one teaching us the steps, which is bound to be a whole new level of…” Zac glanced at and revised to, “torture.” He wound one of my curls around his finger. “Thank God I’ll have the great Catalina Mendes, Attorney at Law, as my backup.”

Backup?The word rang through my head, louder and higher pitched each time. “That’s where you’re severely mistaken, Zachary…” It took me a moment to find where I’d stored his surname in my brain. “Tommasi. I, Catalina Mendes, do not do backup.”

Why was his grin getting wider? Did he not understand I was about to strangle him for daring to imply as much? “Fair enough, and not how I meant it. But as my girlfriend, you should probably know something about me…”

He leaned closer, and my pulse fluttered out of control as his mouth brushed the shell of my ear. “My full name’s not Zachary. It’s Izaac.”

“I don’t know your actual name,” I hissed in alarm. That was definitely something I should know about my fiancé or boyfriend or whatever he was supposed to be to me tonight.

Zac remained nonchalant, as though he’d merely told me his favorite color or another inane fact about himself. He bracketed my face with his hands, using his hold on me to drag his mouth over mine.

“You do now,” he whispered onto my lips, his voice dipping low, and my stomach seemed to follow. As the song swelled, and the crowd oohed and aahed, Zac glided the tip of his nose across my cheek, those indecent lips of his returning to my ear. His tongue darted out and a shiver of pleasure scurried down my spine. “And now that you do, I expect you to put it to good use.”

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