Free One Night with the CEO by Mia Sosa

“Did you put her up to this?” he asked Gracie.
    Gracie laughed. “What kind of question is that? Does anyone ever have to put Mimi up to anything?”
    “No, I suppose not,” Ethan replied.
    A group of women laughing in the corner drew his attention. At the center of their circle stood a man around his age. The women hung on his every word—and he appeared to have plenty of words to share.
    Mimi brushed against him. “That’s Daniel,” she said with a sneer. “Friend of the family and wannabe Casanova.”
    “Be nice, Mimi,” Gracie said.
    “I’m not sure I know how,” Mimi replied without a hint of amusement on her face.
    Unfortunately for Daniel, he chose that moment to join their small gathering. “Gracie, Ethan. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”
    Gracie greeted Daniel enthusiastically. Ethan? Not so much.
    Mimi even less so. “Daniel, how can you handle all the adoration? The player in you must be in his element.”
    Daniel fingered a lock of Mimi’s blond hair. “Tell me this, Mimi. Is it frustrating when people make assumptions about you because of your looks? Because of the sound of your voice? Because of that slight Southern accent you work so hard to disguise?”
    Mimi’s pale skin blushed a furious red, but her blue eyes flashed with anger. “Changing the subject. Definitely a skill well within your wheelhouse, I see.”
    Daniel chuckled, seemingly unconcerned with the fire in Mimi’s eyes. “I could say the same about your talent for unnecessary rudeness.”
    Gracie’s head snapped back. Ethan widened his eyes in shock And Mark dropped his head and stared at his watch. Well, damn.
    Oblivious to the tension between Daniel and Mimi, Karen joined them, a clean plate in her hand. “I’m going to stuff my face. Mark, would you like me to give you a rundown of the dishes?”
    No. Not really. He imagined her “rundown.” With his luck, she’d use words like tender , rich , and succulent . Oh, and moist . He couldn’t forget moist . She’d have him panting within seconds. But since he wanted no part of the boxing match between Daniel and Mimi, he nodded and got the hell out of there.
    Minutes later, he marveled at the heaping plate of food in his hands. Karen had, in fact, used some of the words he’d imagined she would use—except for succulent . That word only sparked his own imagination apparently.
    She inspected his plate and snapped her fingers. “You don’t have rice. No Puerto Rican meal is complete without rice. That’s in the kitchen. You should just go in there and help yourself. My grandmother makes a giant vat of it, in a pot the size of a witch’s cauldron, and no one ever bothers to haul it into the dining room.”
    He held the overfull plate in his hand and listened to the sounds of silverware clattering in the kitchen. Laughter and music mixed with the bustle of still more food preparations. “I’ll follow you, if you don’t mind.”
    Her deep brown eyes shone, and she cracked a smile. “They won’t bite, you know. My grandmother’s a spitfire, but she’s sweet, too. C’mon. Stay behind me and keep your gaze on the ground. No sudden movements.”
    “What are we? Paratroopers?”
    She laughed. “I’m just kidding, Mark. Relax.”
    Older women moved at a frantic pace in the kitchen—stirring sauces, tasting each other’s concoctions, and handing each other items in assembly-line fashion. One woman, however, leaned against the sink and gestured with her hands as she spoke rapid-fire Spanish. He guessed she was Karen’s grandmother. He also guessed the matriarch of the family gave orders, and the others happily did her bidding. They all looked happy.
    In the corner, a middle-aged couple laughed and danced to the music. He took in their features and coloring and made the connection: Gracie and Karen’s parents—they had to be.
    Karen’s grandmother pushed her butt off the sink and shuffled toward them. She lifted her chin in his direction. “ Quien es