'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. 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 ensued 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 to 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 said 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 might'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 round 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, 'but 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, and 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 impatient.'

'No, you're not.'