Lavish Loving
Zuri Day
Only one man can claim this Drake beauty’s heartAfter dazzling the fashion capitals of the world, London Drake comes home to Southern California for a well-earned rest at her family’s resort spa. But a chance sighting of her former lover, international playboy and trending fashion designer Ace Montgomery, sends the headline-making supermodel into seductress mode. Only this time London wants more than a hot fling.Eight years, and Ace still isn’t over the sensual London. Reconnecting with her in West Coast wine country is fraught with risk, and not only to Ace’s heart. She is the ideal candidate to be the face of his upcoming women’s clothing line. As New York Fashion Week draws near and a rekindled passion leads to an intimate affair, is London finally ready to commit to Ace? Or will a dangerously obsessed stalker sabotage their precious second chance?
Only one man can claim this Drake beauty’s heart
After dazzling the fashion capitals of the world, London Drake comes home to Southern California for a well-earned rest at her family’s resort spa. But a chance sighting of her former lover, international playboy and trending fashion designer Ace Montgomery, sends the headline-making supermodel into seductress mode. Only this time London wants more than a hot fling.
Eight years, and Ace still isn’t over the sensual London. Reconnecting with her in West Coast wine country is fraught with risk, and not only to Ace’s heart. She is the ideal candidate to be the face of his upcoming women’s clothing line. As New York Fashion Week draws near and a rekindled passion leads to an intimate affair, is London finally ready to commit to Ace? Or will a dangerously obsessed stalker sabotage their precious second chance?
Though Ace was probably a factor, she reasoned, the strenuous walk was the cause of her rapid heartbeat—the exhilaration of simply being alive.
“Clarisse.”
She turned around. Her breath caught. Her heartbeat increased. Ace had found a plot of grass and removed the contents of the bag he carried. Two boxed lunches sat on a plastic tablecloth, along with a bottle of sparkling water, a bowl of fruit and two plastic cups. She looked from the modest spread to the man who’d prepared it, catching the challenging yet vulnerable look in his eyes. She saw the jacked-up little boy he’d described the other night thrown into a world of wolves. And for the first time in a long time she imagined someone’s feelings above her own.
She walked to stand in front of him, raised her lips for a quick kiss. “I’ve eaten in the finest restaurants in exotic places all over the world. But by far, this is sure to be my favorite meal.”
She watched his eyes shift from conveying worry to relief. He pulled her into an embrace.
Dear Reader (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059),
I landed the perfect first job at the age of sixteen as a cashier at a Sears Outlet store. Rarely did my first check make it home. Instead, I’d stash away cute clothes from the weekly shipments and cheerfully give my earnings right back to the store. My love of fashion inspired me to enroll at a junior college nearby for a degree in fashion merchandising and a career in clothing.
By my sophomore year, I was managing a small, chic boutique at the local mall. Great job, fun times, but my meager checks going back to the store instead of into the bank foretold a paltry future for this fashionista! So I switched careers and switched again and along the way fell into writing. But my love of the fashion world remains, so it was a joy to vicariously live there once again through London’s story. And who knows? One day I might still own that chic boutique with one-of-a-kind fashions.
Zuri Day never stops dreaming...
Zuri
Lavish Loving
Zuri Day
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ZURI DAY is the national bestselling author of almost two dozen novels, including the popular Drakes of California series. Her books have earned her a coveted Publishers Weekly starred review and a Top Ten Pick out of all the romances featured in the spring 2014 edition. Day is a winner of the EMMA and African-American Literary Award Show Best Romance awards, among others, and a multiple RT Book Reviews Best Multicultural Fiction finalist. Book six in the Drakes of California series, Crystal Caress, was voted Book of the Year and garnered her yet another EMMA in 2016. Her work has been featured in several national publications including RT Book Reviews, Publishers Weekly, Sheen, Juicy and USA TODAY. She loves interacting with her fans, the DayDreamers, and when she sees them in person gives out free hugs! Contact her and find out more at zuriday.com (http://www.zuriday.com).
Anything worth having is worth fighting for. When the fight is for love, it’s worth so much more. Facing fears, beating foes, minor problems, you see. When all ends with a chance to love lavishly.
Contents
Cover (#ud00b9842-72da-56b7-9a65-1f95f9ca74a0)
Back Cover Text (#u51b53f36-b37e-5062-9d96-afb31b38fbaa)
Introduction (#u05fe3c27-1361-5f8e-b7a8-532e768fd153)
Dear Reader (#ue7a351ad-d33f-5f0e-94bf-184e10ffa8e4)
Title Page (#u82c7276e-1c8b-5e7c-9d27-593026e468b3)
About the Author (#ua3134bb0-9d9d-5bd4-8783-37c3ef672c1e)
Dedication (#ue6e98bcc-4a82-5e1e-821e-9fabaf1f7a58)
Chapter 1 (#u39f91c77-de74-5137-9c25-b03a6c49f37e)
Chapter 2 (#u8f54f74b-0821-5b19-ac80-012ae9f50f44)
Chapter 3 (#u3b9b239c-caa0-5e76-a248-dd2d3a6a3133)
Chapter 4 (#u9575cb98-8e17-571b-97fe-564faa7a4671)
Chapter 5 (#u602e0ee6-5926-50cf-8d24-3b4e3ae9928e)
Chapter 6 (#uece6d225-3dd4-5105-9d66-96e48d947e27)
Chapter 7 (#u431e9579-30ba-5334-a36c-60395427f111)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
Was that...? No. Couldn’t be. Not here in Temecula, California, a place London Drake only knew about because that’s where her cousins lived. Nothing against the town. It was quaint, cozy and home to dozens of Southern California’s celebrated vineyards as well as Drake Wines Resort and Spa, where she was now. But there was no way former celebrity model, current fashion mogul and any woman’s favorite fantasy, Ace Montgomery, could be here. Was there?
These rapid-fire thoughts collided with one another as London quickly shifted her body for a second glimpse. That she was on an escalator was totally forgotten. She grabbed the rail to keep her balance. The unconscious step backward as she attempted to get a better view almost created a domino effect that would have felled the women behind her. The group reached their destination unscathed, but the stumble hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Diamond. Just thought I saw someone I knew, that’s all.”
Diamond Drake Wright, London’s first cousin and a company executive, took the lead as the ladies entered Wine, the trendy new bar on the second floor of the resort’s boutique hotel. She greeted the hostess, waved away the offer to be escorted to their reserved booth and led the ladies to a roped-off area that featured artfully arranged seating—velvet love seats, matching chairs, fabric-tufted benches and an array of unique-looking tables to hold food and drink. The area was positioned on the small side of the L-shaped room, tucked behind the hostess station, and offered a modicum of privacy in this popular public place.
London sat on a champagne-colored love seat. Her sister-in-law Quinn plopped down beside her. “Sure you need a drink? Your clumsiness gives the impression that you’ve knocked back a couple behind our backs already.”
London gave Quinn the kind of look that required no words but conveyed shut the hell up quite nicely.
“She saw a cute guy,” Diamond offered as she too sat on the love seat.
“Oh.” Quinn drew out the word meaningfully. “That makes sense. It wouldn’t be the first time London has fallen head over heels for a man.”
“Oh, be quiet.” London swatted Quinn’s arm as the women around her laughed. “I saw someone I thought I knew. Not just some cute guy.” The ladies shared dubious looks between them. “Did y’all forget the industry I work in?” London huffed. “And that I’ve modeled with some of the best-looking men on the planet? If I fell over every time I saw one, I’d live on the floor.”
True statement. London’s supermodel-turned-celebrity lifestyle had allowed her to not only work with but to date the types of men most women only saw on glossy magazine pages, a computer screen or TV. Like her ex Maxwell Tata, the handsome, successful A-list director. Like the man who’d almost made her fall head over heels tonight...for a second time.
But he wasn’t there. Couldn’t be. He was busy running a fashion empire in San Francisco. It had been years since they’d talked, but that’s what she’d heard. And that he’d gotten engaged. She hadn’t heard or read about a wedding, though. Was that why he was here? To marry his fiancée? Wouldn’t that be the irony of ironies, if he was here for a wedding and she for a funeral?
A couple more minutes, another sip of wine and London had successfully convinced herself that she hadn’t seen Ace, but seeing a man who could be his twin took her back to the magical night they’d met. And made love. And spent the next two days in a fantasy world before reality took them in different directions.
* * *
It was her eighteenth-birthday weekend, and London, who’d been discovered by a modeling scout the year before, couldn’t have imagined a more perfect celebration. She’d just finished her first hectic, whirlwind week in the city that had inspired her name. Her family had flown to England to watch her walk the runway. After enjoying a private dinner prepared by a world-renowned chef, she’d said goodbye to the Drakes and been whisked away to an exclusive party held just for her. Incomparable, the number one modeling agency in the world, had pulled out all the stops to make the night memorable. They’d rented a castle for the grand affair, a testament to the fact she was the agency’s queen bee. The guest list read like a who’s who of fashion, entertainment and sports. One of the guests was Ace Montgomery, a runway veteran at the ripe old age of twenty-one, whose sexy underwear ads had made him one of the most recognizable, bankable and sought-after models on the globe. London had not been immune to his charm, had salivated over his pictures like any red-blooded woman would. His eyes had seared her from across the room, caused a shiver down her spine and a flutter in other places. Throughout the evening she caught him looking. Or vice versa. But he didn’t approach. She guessed him to be arrogant and aloof, so when chance brought them together in the long hallway of one of the castle’s quieter wings, his shy, somewhat corny nature had thrown her off guard.
“Hi.” His voice was softer than she’d imagined it would be, and raspy.
“Hey, what’s up?”
He stopped. She didn’t.
“London, right?”
Already steps away from him, she paused, turned and answered while walking back to where he stood. “Yeah.”
“Last name Bridges?”
She gave him an eye roll.
“Fog?”
A hint of a smile, just barely.
“London lightbulb? On account of how bright you’re shining?” The comment combined with the doofus-looking expression on his face made London laugh out loud.
“You’re stupid!”
“Sometimes.” He held out his hand. “Ace Montgomery.”
Her eyes slid from his eyes to the extended hand and back. They were the only things that moved. “Like I don’t know who you are.”
“No, like I’m just being courteous and greeting you formally.” His arm remained outstretched.
She placed her small hand in his extralarge one. An electrical shock ran through them.
“Whoa!” Ace snatched back his hand. “Did you feel that?”
“That’s what happens when you touch a lightbulb,” London deadpanned. “Nice talking to you.”
London walked away without looking back. He was exquisite to look at, but the shine faded when he opened his mouth.
That was her first impression. Later that night her publicist yielded her seat in the crowded room so that London and Ace could sit and “get to know each other.” No coincidence, London knew. Her publicist was strategizing. Always on the hunt for a story that would keep her client in the public eye. The flashbulbs that went off shortly afterward confirmed this belief. The conversation that followed led to a better second impression.
In the next half hour Ace came out of his shy, quiet shell and became quite engaging. He flawlessly handled the stream of admirers that came his way but continued to make London his central focus. Impressive. Not easy to do.
Photo ops and interviews pulled them away from each other. When London saw him an hour and two glasses of wine later, she asked the question that had tickled the tip of her tongue all night.
“I have a question for you?”
“Sure.”
“Is the bulge beneath those sexy black boxers you made famous real or concocted?”
“Concocted—good word.”
“You know, like from a sock or a certain vegetable or something.”
A bit of the cockiness London expected oozed through Ace’s megawatt smile. “No, baby. What you see in those pictures is grade-Ace beef.”
London’s look was dubious.
“Don’t believe me?”
“Nope.”
“Want to see for yourself?”
A slight lick of his lips brought moisture to a set of hers.
“Sure, why not?”
He took her hand, led her to an empty bedroom and locked the door. They didn’t come out for two days.
* * *
“London...” Quinn softly nudged her.
“Hmm?”
“Stop thinking about the cute guy and pick up your glass. Diamond wants to propose a toast.”
“Oh. Okay.” London lifted her champagne flute, unaware of when it was placed there or filled.
Quinn and Diamond shared a glance, but she said nothing more.
While others shared a glass from a bottle of the vineyard’s premiere champagne, Diamond, its namesake, lifted a glass of sparkling white grape juice. “To our dearest Papa Dee. May he have half as good a life in heaven as he had here on earth.”
“All of those young beautiful angels in heaven? Papa won’t be resting at all!”
“Right!” London chuckled at Katrina’s comment. They’d crossed paths at their large biannual family reunions but this was her first time really hanging out with this funny, feisty and fearless cousin from North Carolina. For equally carefree London, it was love at first hug.
Katrina’s statement brought much-needed levity to what had been a sad and exhausting day. More than five hundred people, including over one hundred members of the Drake clan, had gathered at the resort to pay last respects to the family patriarch, David “Papa Dee” Drake, who at the blessed age of 104 had earned his angel wings. Three of London’s cousins and two of her in-laws had decided to separate from the throng of friends and relatives still at the resort for some quieter, more intimate bonding before tomorrow, when everyone would start going their separate ways. For a while, funny stories of Papa Dee and recollections from the past two days dominated conversation. But eventually it came back around to London and the cute guy, courtesy of Katrina.
“So, London, who’d you see earlier that had you falling on the stairs?”
“Hopefully not another stalker,” Quinn offered.
“No stalker, thank God.”
And never again, she hoped. London still got chills when she thought of the man who’d followed her from Paris to Milan, all the way to a hotel room in New York. He’d been arrested, deported and jailed, so it couldn’t be him. And again, London thought, thank God.
Burying the thought, she turned to her cousin. “And I didn’t fall, Katrina, not even close. Not even when I climbed the tourist-unfriendly mountain to Papa Dee’s final resting place in my five-inch Choos.”
“Which is why I strongly suggested you choose a different, more appropriate shoe.” The mere implication of a resort imperfection caused marketing and PR director Diamond Drake Wright to bristle, though the discomfort of being eight months pregnant might have contributed, too. “And while only you could have turned that earlier stumble into a graceful, even sexy, curtsy type of thing, you’re avoiding Katrina’s question. So spill the tea. Who was it, and don’t say just some guy, because we’re not buying that at all.”
London shrugged. “Wish I had something juicy to bring to this obviously bored table, but whoever the person was reminded me of a casual friend who lived in Europe. No one you guys would know.”
“Oh, good,” Diamond said, looking around to ensure her next words would be as discreet as she intended. “Because Ace Montgomery is here but wants his stay to remain private.”
“Ace Mon—” Katrina began to exclaim.
“Shh!” Diamond interrupted.
“The model?” Diamond’s sister-in-law Marissa was the quiet one in this group, but even her whisper held excitement.
“The one in the sexy underwear ads!” Katrina whispered. “Oh, my goodness, what’s his room number? It’s about to go down!”
Katrina began to rise.
“No, you’re about to sit down.” Diamond caught Katrina’s arm and gave her the don’t-mess-with-the-pregnant-lady eye. Katrina dutifully sat down. “That’s confidential information only shared with family.” She looked at Katrina. “Something that on second thought may not have been the best idea. This baby obviously has my brain as cramped as my organs feel right now.”
She leaned back to relieve the pressure from her expanded girth. Finding none, she stood.
So did London. “Are you okay?”
“Just too uncomfortable to keep sitting.” She rubbed her stomach. “I think little Jackson is ready for bed.”
London reached for Diamond’s purse. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s okay, cousin. Stay here and enjoy yourself.”
“I was headed to the bathroom anyway.”
“There’s one right behind you.”
“I’d rather use the one in the lobby.” Diamond grunted. “Stop being so independent. I’m going to walk you down.”
Two steps out of Wine and the conversation continued. “No.”
“What?” London asked Diamond, her face a study in innocence.
“What?” Diamond parroted. “I’m not stupid. Earlier, it was Ace you saw, and by your reaction whatever happened in Europe with this friend—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—wasn’t as casual as you claimed. Now try and deny it.”
“Dang, was I that transparent?”
“No, I’m that good at reading people. Especially those on the prowl in hotels.”
“I am hardly on the prowl.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. I don’t look for men. They look for me.”
“Then you wouldn’t be interested in any information I’d have about him. His room number, for instance? Or that he checked in alone?”
They reached the hotel entrance and stepped outside.
“Okay, what is it?”
“No, you’re probably right. No need to share information you won’t even use.”
“I might use it. Make a phone call. Have a chat.”
“Just a phone call, huh? You can do that through the front desk. Just dial zero and ask for him.”
“I don’t want the hotel staff in my business.”
Diamond raised a brow. “Or your relatives?”
“What’s the room number?” London huffed.
“Oh, darn. Look at our observant and efficient valet staff. Already here with my car.” Diamond spoke to the young man who held the car door open and got inside.
“Diamond!”
Diamond laughed, blew a kiss. “Sweet dreams, London. See you tomorrow at brunch!”
London hid her exasperation behind a smile and waved goodbye. Her frustration was gone before Diamond’s car left the hotel driveway. It had been a few months since she’d broken things off with Maxwell and London was more than ready for some horizontal aerobics. Nothing serious, though. A friend with several inches’ worth of benefits. Or someone like the hotel guest who reminded her of the bad-boy blond Max had recently made famous. Yesterday, he’d seen through her thin wig-and-shades disguise and requested a selfie. Someone like him would be fun. Not someone for whom she’d once had feelings and who was engaged—even married, as far as she knew.
Even though he checked in alone?
Yes, even though.
No Ace. Keep it moving. Got it.
She crossed the lobby to the ladies’ room. The marble-and-brass appointments made even a simple trip to the loo a luxury. London entered one of six stalls and handled her business. She was just about to exit when she heard more women enter, whispering and giggling. London didn’t want to take a chance on being recognized, and at a towering six feet plus in her ever-present five-inch heels, she was hard to miss. That and the fact that over the past five years her oval face, big brown eyes and naturally plump lips had graced the cover of every major magazine in the world. Throughout the Papa Dee celebrations, most had respected her privacy and the situation and left her alone. Not sure that would happen now. She didn’t feel like socializing with strangers but didn’t want to be rude. So she muted her phone and silently scrolled through a social media site, waiting for them to be gone.
“Oh, my gosh! He’s even better looking in person!”
London’s ears perked up. Her head raised, too.
“I know, right? I got a selfie!”
A rustling sound followed as London assumed the speaker was digging through her bag.
“Mr. Hotness in the hot flesh.”
She must have found it.
“Darn it! I’m jealous! You should have asked for one in his undies.”
“I know, right!”
A high five sounded. London scowled.
“Ooh, I’d do anything to be Ellen right now. Fine man like that on vacation all alone.”
“Alone? I thought I read that he was married.”
“Engaged, but they broke up.”
London’s brow raised. Oh, really now. Bathroom breaking news had just gotten more interesting.
“He scheduled a massage?”
“Yes. She gets to massage that fine mass of muscle for a whole hour!”
“Shut up! Why was she the lucky choice?”
“She’s one of the best in the business. It probably doesn’t hurt that she’s married, a grandmother and twice his age. The hotel wouldn’t want any scandal.”
London heard a sigh.
“Guess I’ll have to content myself with changing his sheets and inhaling the cologne lingering on them.”
“Is he in the Champagne bungalow?”
“No, the Pinot Noir. His massage is at noon. I’d love to be a fly on the wall.”
All that talk about Ace’s sexiness made London replace thoughts about boundaries with memories of Ace’s hard body. In that moment she determined that tomorrow at noon, she was going to be that fly.
Chapter 2 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
They’d all been right. Especially Tyler, one of two business partners with whom Ace had opened Out of the Box, a fashion design company. They’d debuted with a menswear line known to the world as OTB Him. The launch had been as exhausting as it was successful. Ace had worked too hard for too long. He needed a break.
“You know it’s bad when you stop getting on my nerves and start getting on your own,” Tyler Dent had quipped last Tuesday after Ace fired a talented designer and scrapped a clothing direction months in the making. “You’re frickin’ overstressed, man. Either take a vacation or find another partner.”
Ace had responded with a few choice words, an upward flip of a certain finger and a door slam to punctuate his exit. He’d apologized later that evening and Dent, as Ace called him, in characteristic fashion, shook it off, bought him a beer and reiterated his ultimatum. The next day Ace had tasked his assistant with finding him a quiet, private place to unwind, something outside Northern California but no farther than a two-hour drive or hour-long airplane ride away. Among the several links she sent was the place he was now, Drake Wines Resort and Spa. The award-winning hotel and winery had appealed to him for several reasons. The private, freestanding bungalows they featured was only one of them.
Back from an invigorating two-mile run, Ace entered the expansive two-bedroom abode and headed straight for the master suite. He’d been forbidden from calling the office, and to abide by these wishes had left his phone in the room. He grabbed it, tapped the icon for his company email and strolled into the kitchen while the newest messages synced in. After opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig, he sat at the table to read through the day’s mail.
The name he’d hoped to see popped out at him. He opened the message, read the quick note and tapped the clip to open attachments. After a couple flicks of his thumbs, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He hadn’t regretted firing the talented but temperamental designer this week. He had been doubtful about finding another one who could bring the new line Ace envisioned to life. But Lucien, the teenager who’d won a TV show design contest, was just that guy. His portfolio was everything Ace had hoped for and then some—as fresh, innovative and daring as the styles that had won him first prize. The new OTB fashion line, this one for women, would definitely turn heads. All they needed now was the right muse to wear it.
He replied to the email, forwarded the images to the partners and then, satisfied that his company actually could go twenty-four hours without his direct involvement, slipped out of his running shoes, shorts and tee and stepped into the shower. He leaned against the cool marble, a stark yet welcome contrast to the warm water streaming over his body. He stepped under the rain showerhead and let the water flow through his close-cropped curls, trickle over his brow, angular nose, full lips and dimpled chin, across his broad shoulders, down his rock-hard chest and back, pooling at his size fourteens before swirling into and down the drain. He increased the heat even more and turned on the multijet system. Soon, water shot to his body from eight different jets. A full-body massage was scheduled in just ten minutes, but this torrential pounding was going to be hard to beat.
Five minutes later he reluctantly stepped out of the shower, dried off six feet of chocolate perfection and donned a downy, soft cashmere robe with matching slippers. He was hungry and wished he scheduled enough time for a meal before his massage, but the ringing sound of a brass knocker proved the thought had come too late. He walked to the door and opened it.
A stout, pleasant-looking woman stood in the doorway. Ace was relieved. He was at the resort to relax, not fight off overzealous fans. From the looks of the woman who stood before him, he was safe.
“Mr. Montgomery?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Ellen, here for your massage appointment.”
“Please, come in.”
Ellen entered, pulling an oversize canvas bag on wheels. The strap of another bag made of the same material rested on her shoulder. She placed the larger bag on the floor and the smaller one on top of it.
“That’s the massage table?” Ellen nodded. “The whole table is in that small bag?”
This elicited a smile and another nod. “I assure you that it’s comfortable and durable, yet light and easily transportable. Top of the line.”
“If you say so. Would you like a drink, a glass of water, perhaps?”
“No, nothing. Thank you.”
“I hear you’re one of the best.”
“I try. You signed up for the Swedish/deep tissue combo. Is that still your choice?”
Ace nodded. “I think that’ll work.”
“Very well. I will get set up in the master suite.”
In short order the therapist returned and stated that she was ready to begin. “Please remove your robe, climb between the sheets and let me know when it’s fine for me to enter the room.”
“Will do.”
Ace found humor in Ellen’s serious nature and entered his suite with a smile. The shades had been pulled, he noted, with aromatic candles placed strategically around the room. An array of oils were positioned on a nearby table. New age music wafted from an iPod. Five minutes and Ellen had turned the master suite into a spa room.
He removed the robe, tossed it on the bed and climbed aboard a table, which, surprisingly, was as light, sturdy and comfortable as Ellen had claimed. As he settled himself between the sheets, a sound resembling a knock reached his ears. He paused and heard a muted conversation. Probably the housekeeper. Ace settled himself beneath the sheet, placed his head into the headrest and anticipated with pleasure a much-needed massage.
A moment later, there was a knock on his door. “Come in.”
“Ready?”
“Yes, Ellen. I’m ready. Come on in.”
“Just relax. Close your eyes.”
Ace’s brow furled. The voice sounded deeper, forced, her accent more pronounced. He dismissed the suspicion as quickly as it came. In his twenty-nine years he’d learned to question everything. But he was on vacation at a reputable, first-class resort and spa in a town he’d not heard of until clicking the link. If there was any place he could relax and feel safe it was here, in Temecula, California, in a bungalow named after a wine.
Two seconds after Ellen moved toward him, the frown returned. There was a smell—citrusy, spicy—that had not been there moments before. While most men wouldn’t have noticed, Ace had always been a lover of fragrance, especially when inhaled from the skin of a fine woman. Had Ellen whipped out the perfume before reentering his boudoir? Was there a little freak behind the formal facade? He almost laughed out loud. Still, his senses, especially those of smell and sound, were heightened in the darkened room. The music shifted from a haunting, piano-driven melody to a sensuous-sounding serenade led by a sultry sax. He heard hands being rubbed briskly together to warm up the oil. Felt the slightest of hesitations before two soft palms pressed against his upper back. Small hands. Smaller than he’d imagined Ellen’s would be. Softer, too. The oil was warm and soothing. Expert fingers began to knead the healing oil into his skin, across his back and shoulders. He closed his eyes, told himself he’d earned the right to relax.
Her fingers were slender but surprisingly strong. She massaged and nudged and kneaded his tight muscles into submission and glided her palms softly, slowly, almost lovingly, across his body. A swirl of air kissed his skin as the sheet was pulled lower, exposing the dimples just above his hard butt. Palms came together briskly. Ace could feel the heat of them hovering just above his buns.
Come on, Ellen. Don’t get shy now!
She didn’t. Not at all. Instead she pulled the sheet down farther, exposed his cheeks and slapped his bare ass.
“What the—” A shocked Ace turned and sat up in a single motion. “London?”
London was smiling, but his expression made her laugh out loud.
“Where’s Ellen? How...” The sheet slid to the floor. Ace cupped his hands over, well, as much of himself as he could.
London tried to stop laughing. “Don’t worry about that, big boy. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, there’s no modesty in modeling. You know that.”
He rolled off the table, reached for the sheet and hurriedly wrapped it around him, totally flustered. “What are you doing here?”
“Until a second or two ago, I thought I was giving you a darn good massage.”
“This isn’t funny, London. How’d you get in my room?”
London was as calm as Ace was rattled. She sat on the four-poster king-size bed and leaned back on her elbows. “You’re not happy to see me?”
Though she appeared to him as a vision of pure loveliness, he looked at her like she’d grown a horn in the middle of her forehead. “It’s not about being happy or not. My being here is supposed to be confidential. How’d you know I was here?”
“I have my ways. It’s not like I’m a stranger, Ace. I’m a friend, who you’re treating quite rudely at the moment.”
“Forgive my lack of manners, London, but I thought a hotel employee just smacked my ass and then found out, no, the therapist has been knocked off by a friend of mine who broke into my room!”
“Well, it wasn’t a hotel employee. It was me. So calm down. Where’s the guy I met seven years ago who talked like a dork and then showed me his penis?”
“He grew up.”
“Good for you.” She could walk out the door right now, but that would feel too much like running away. So she shifted the energy and her expression with a smile. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She glanced suggestively at the bed. “Don’t I get a hug?”
Ace looked at the bed and back at London, who wore a formfitting maxi. He took a step, tripped on the sheet and almost bared his goods again. “In there,” he said, pointing toward the living room.
The lack of cordiality put London back in a huff. “Never mind. It’s clear I’m not welcome, so I’ll leave you alone.” She strode out of the room.
Ace was right behind her. “London, wait.”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
“You shocked the heck out of me, okay? Give me a minute to put some clothes on.”
A slow, deliberate turn and then dark, daring eyes stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” Ace sighed. “Forget it. Jeez, I was just kidding. You act as though you’re not happy to see me.”
“I’m very glad to see you, London. I just need to put on some clothes.”
He gave her a hug and a kiss to her forehead, then he pulled away before a certain part of his anatomy betrayed him and revealed just how much.
Chapter 3 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
London strolled over to the large picture window that let in a picturesque view of the Temescal Mountains. The commanding peaks reminded her of Switzerland and a cottage near her boarding school she and her friends would sneak out to when they wanted to meet up with boys. Her senior year, just after turning seventeen, she went on a trip to Paris and got discovered by Incomparable, one of the top modeling agencies in the world. A year later she met Ace and had her world rocked off its axis.
Her phone vibrated in the bag that rested against her thigh. It was a text from Diamond.
It’s brunch. You’re late.
London glanced toward the bedroom and typed a quick reply.
Busy. Can’t come. Talk later. BTW... I’m always late.
Her thumb hadn’t left the send button before she heard the padding of bare feet across the dark hardwood floor. Slipping the phone into her bag, she turned around and was met by the confident, carefree Ace that she remembered. But if he hoped to make himself less desirable by covering up with a pair of low-riding jeans and a black OTB tee, he failed. Miserably. The way London looked him up and down expressed that louder than words ever could.
“Come here, you.” He opened his arms.
London crossed the room in a walk worthy of the runway and stepped into his embrace. “I’m glad you left the jerk in the bedroom and brought out the Ace that I know.”
Her teasing smile rendered the barb harmless.
His hug was heartfelt and even though she’d spent several pleasurable minutes rubbing oil over his body, she relished the chance to touch him again. “It’s good to see you,” she said, dropping her hands to squeeze his butt, one of her favorite parts of his anatomy.
He caught her wrists and pulled her hands away. “Still the troublemaker, I see.”
“I try.”
“What are you doing here?” they asked each other.
“Oh, no. That’s my question.” Ace reached for her hand and led them to the couch. He sat and pulled her down with him. “Now out with it. The truth. What’s this about?”
London leaned against the comfy couch, enjoying Ace’s suspicious discomfort a bit more than she should. When his eyes turned stormy, she knew she’d toyed with him long enough.
“It’s pure coincidence,” she said with a shrug. “I came here for a funeral.”
“A funeral. At a luxury hotel.”
“I guess without explanation that does sound pretty weird. It was for my great-grandfather. He owned this land, planted the first vineyards and nurtured the idea of the full-scale winery that you see today.”
“This resort belongs to your family?”
London nodded. “My first cousins.”
Ace’s head fell against the cushions. “This is crazy! I pick this place expecting to see no one I know, and it’s owned by a friend. What are the chances?”
“I was shocked to see you, too.”
Ace raised his head. “When’d you see me?”
London told him about last night’s events. “I started to call but wasn’t sure of the reception I’d get. But I really wanted to see you. Alone. So when I heard about the massage appointment, there it was, my way in.”
“Ellen never should have agreed to let you in my room. You could be a serial killer! I’m going to report her.”
“Please don’t. I offered her a believable story and a ridiculous amount of money to take her place. When it comes to something I want, I can be pretty persuasive. So, please, can we keep this between us? I’d hate for her to lose her job, and knowing my cousins, that’s exactly what would happen.”
“How much was this visit worth to you?”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
“That’s between me and Ellen. Telling you would go straight to your head.”
“That much, huh?”
“My lips are sealed.”
Ace turned toward London, crossed his arms and nestled into the couch’s corner.
“So even though years ago you told me you had none, your last name is Drake.”
“You obviously didn’t do your research. One click on an internet search engine could have told you that.”
“Like it could have told me whether or not your real name is London? Not that I’m into the whole search engine stalking thing.”
The teasing returned. “Absolutely, and I wouldn’t mind a stalker as fine as you. I’m willing to tell you, but only if there’s something for me in return.”
Ace’s eyes turned dark, this time with desire instead of ire. “I’m sure I can think of something.”
Was it London’s imagination, or did the room’s temperature just rise?
“My full name is Clarisse Alana Drake. I legally added London when I turned eighteen.”
Ace’s gaze remained intense as he gazed at her. “Clarisse.”
The name floated off his tongue like a song, caressed her ears like raw silk.
“That’s a beautiful name. Why’d you change it?”
London shrugged. “Boredom. Errant impulse. Teenage rebellion. Take your pick.”
“Clarisse is a beautiful name, though I can understand why you’d use another.”
London’s brow creased. “Why?”
“It doesn’t fit you. That name is for a woman who is demure, sweet, refined, quiet.”
London crossed her arms.
“And that’s not me?” Asked demurely, of course.
“No, it’s not. You’re a hellion who bribed a hotel employee to take advantage of a naked man. A woman named Clarisse would never do that.”
“But a woman named London would?”
“A woman named London would, and did.”
“I guess I did, huh? But I haven’t gotten the chance to take advantage of your nakedness...yet.”
Ace shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“So it’s my turn for answers. What are you doing here? Last I heard you were running a design house in San Francisco. And engaged.”
“You heard correctly. A couple partners and I opened OTB three years ago. The engagement didn’t work out.”
“I can relate.”
“Yeah, I saw somewhere that you and the director called it quits.”
“I thought you weren’t the search engine stalker type?”
“I didn’t search out the information. If I remember correctly it was a major network’s breaking news.”
London nodded. No denying the truth. “I get that OTB stands for outside the box, and your looks certainly are that. But why didn’t you name it Ace something or other?”
“There are already several Ace lines. Plus, this is a collaborative effort. It’s not all about me.”
“Is that why you left modeling, and Europe, so suddenly?”
“I didn’t leave suddenly, even though it seemed that way. I’d planned my exit, had charted the next course of my life.” His gaze slid to her then away. “It obviously didn’t matter to you, anyway.”
London sat up in genuine surprise. “Why would you say that?”
“Don’t put on that act like you would have cared. You used me up in a one-night stand and walked away without a backward glance.”
“Um, I seem to remember the situation quite differently, and it wasn’t a one-night stand...it was two.”
“How do you remember it?”
“You said you’d call me. You never did.”
Ace rubbed a hand across the shadow of his unshaven jaw. “I don’t remember that. It was a long time ago, though, so you might be right. But so what. You could have called me.”
“Negative, darling. That’s the desperate move of a thirsty girl.”
“Not necessarily. It could be the move of a strong, independent woman who knows what she wants. Like the one who bogarted her way into my bedroom.”
London gave a noncommittal brow raise, nothing more.
“Besides, that wasn’t the last time you saw me. If you had feelings about the weekend we shared, why didn’t you say something?”
“Why didn’t you?”
Ace sighed. “Young. Foolish. I was really digging you, London. But life moved fast back then—a little too fast. By the time I met you, I’d already been on that whirlwind grind for six years. The underwear campaign had blown up into something none of us expected. What was supposed to be a six-month magazine and billboard ad turned into commercials, public appearances, people grabbing at me from every direction.”
“Well...if you were digging me so much, you should have let me know. That’s what a strong man does...goes after what he wants.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Another look at her, his gaze intense. “Is that what the director did?”
“Max and I met at a party. I’ve been working on making the transition from modeling to acting for a while. Asked him for pointers. He suggested I star in his next movie.” She shrugged. “Things went from there.”
“So what happened that made y’all break up? You couldn’t act or what?”
“Whatever, fool!” London reached for a decorative pillow and swung. He grabbed it, laughing.
“Max has a Jekyll and Hyde quality. He can be as charming and debonair as he can be manipulative and controlling. It was an exciting lifestyle but not one I could see myself in for the rest of my life. So I ended the relationship.”
“Got marriage on the mind, huh? That surprises me.”
“I’m full of surprises.” She wriggled her brows, then got serious. “But being ready to get married isn’t one of them.”
Now that the shock of seeing her had worn off, the conversation between them flowed as easily as London remembered from past encounters. She relaxed against the opposite couch arm and idly twirled a curl.
“Yeah, everybody wanted Ace Montgomery. I remember that. How old were you back then, at the height of the underwear frenzy?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Really? I thought you were older.”
“How old are you?”
“Now? Twenty-five, with a birthday coming up.”
“When?”
“August.”
Ace nodded. “Planning on being on time for this celebration? You were known for being a tardy model back in the day.”
“How’d you know that?”
“The industry talks.”
“Have you ever booked fifteen shows during fashion week? Been pulled in every direction at the same time?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Besides, I work hard to be the best walker on the runway. I’m worth the wait.”
“Had I been the designer and you weren’t on time, there would have been consequences.”
“Sounds like something I might have enjoyed.” Ace fixed her with a scowl. She laughed while making the mental observation that a screwed-up face shouldn’t look so sexy.
“So, you’re what...twenty-nine, thirty?”
“Twenty-nine.”
A loud, unmistakable sound filled the silence.
“Dang, is that your stomach?”
Ace’s sheepish look made London laugh. “Sorry about that. I’m starving. Went for a run and didn’t schedule enough time between appointments to eat.”
“I haven’t eaten, either. Let’s go get something.”
“Naw, I don’t feel like getting out. The food here is amazing. The chef is a foodie genius from the Caribbean. I think I’ll place an order for them to bring here.”
“In that case,” London said as she slithered over to his side of the couch, “why don’t we start with dessert first?”
She was halfway on him, leaning in for a kiss when strong hands gripping her shoulders stopped her progress. “Stop acting like London. I want to get to know Clarisse.”
London sat back in a huff, attitude evident.
Ace was unmoved. His posture remained casual and relaxed, but his next words were firm. “That strong man you mentioned earlier? You’re looking at one. And we not only go after what we want, we plan when the party will happen. And then we lead the dance.”
Chapter 4 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
There are circumstances in life that sometimes derail even a strong man’s plans. That happened when London was summoned first by her cousin and then by her mother to return to the Drake mansion and bid some of the relatives who were leaving goodbye. Their impromptu lunch date was changed to a late dinner date instead and Ace was able to keep the original appointment on his itinerary—the one that he’d been ready to cancel in a heartbeat for a certain spoiled, entitled, irresistible woman named London—no, Clarisse.
His celebrity hidden behind a Raiders baseball cap and shades, Ace climbed into a golf cart for a tour of the winery. It would be conducted by the company’s vintner, Dexter Drake. This was a rare occurrence. Normally the wine shop manager performed this task. But as life would have it, Dexter was a fan of the OTB line, with several of their designer duds lining his closet. So when he heard Ace was taking the tour, he offered to conduct it.
“It’s really great to meet you, man,” Dexter said once they took off. “Your designs are amazing. They fit my personality and style to a T.”
“Thank you, Dexter. I appreciate that.”
“Are you the designer?”
“I’m the visionary behind what people are wearing, but can’t claim total ownership of the final pieces. I sketch out what’s in my head and hand it over to a team of amazing designers who then add their own spin that often takes the look to a whole other level. In the end it’s a collaborative effort.”
“Whatever you’re doing is working. I never thought I’d go for the double-breasted look again, but the new spin with the super narrow lapel, short coat and high-waisted slacks... Genius.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Dexter’s phone rang. “Excuse me a moment.”
For Ace the call was a welcome interruption. Dexter seemed like a nice guy and all, but Ace’s mind was consumed with London. She’d acted miffed that he hadn’t called her. Had she actually been hurt, or was that just an act? The way he remembered it, she couldn’t have cared less. He recalled how he’d felt the first time he saw her—stunned by her beauty, aroused by her fire, frightened by the intense feelings her presence evoked. She’d walked in the room as if she owned it and brightened the whole place. She was carefree, obnoxious, bubbly and bold. Quiet by nature, suspicious by life, he’d immediately wanted to know her. But her largesse had reduced him to the gangly, acne-prone preteen he was before a six-inch growth spurt and a face-cleansing regimen had begun his transformation. He wanted to approach her, but to say he’d been intimidated would not have been a stretch. They’d flirted from opposite sides of the room. She’d seemed interested. He still didn’t approach. One of the setbacks to being a teenage heartthrob—no time to perfect the rap game. All the women he’d been involved with had come to him.
So their chance meeting in the hallway had been perfect. Even though he’d begun the conversation with a lame comment about her name. Thankfully, she hadn’t cared. Much. Later, when her publicist brought them together, he’d been more relaxed. They’d clicked. Most of the night he’d asked the questions. Then...she’d asked one. It led to their finding an empty room in the huge castle her agency had rented out and exploring every inch of each other’s bodies for forty-eight hours, interrupted only once to eat and recharge their batteries. But then he’d gone back to the United States on tour and she’d become the toast of Incomparable, and they’d lost touch. A few more casual meetings had followed, but never a chance to reconnect more intimately.
Then he’d met his ex-fiancée, the one who’d stolen his heart and tried to steal his money. That betrayal sent him home to Oakland, California, to lick his wounds. There, a conversation with his stepfather led to Ace giving his career path and his life serious thought. He’d renegotiated his modeling contracts, gone back to school and met Tyler. He gave Tyler a portfolio of designs, Tyler found Mira, Mira found money. The three created Out of the Box, trademarked the terms Himwear and Herwear, and introduced the first line of OTB Him three years ago. At next month’s fashion week in New York City they’d unveil a new line—OTB Her. So here he chilled in a town called Temecula, pondering the perfect woman who could give life to this daring new line. And supermodel London walked into his bedroom. For Ace this was more than a coincidence. This was a sign. A dangerous, tempting, high-maintenance sign. A signal sure to rock the steady, predictable world he’d created since calling off the wedding with his ex and regaining control of his finances. Was he ready to bring such an unpredictable element into his life? Ace didn’t know, but he was damned sure going to find out.
* * *
London stepped into Katrina’s outstretched arms. “It was a pleasure reconnecting with you, too!” They rocked back and forth in a giant bear hug. She stepped back but kept her arms around her new favorite cousin. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”
“Oh, trust and believe I’m going to do that. You’ve got connections to some fine-ass men and one of them needs to be my husband!”
“Ha! I don’t know about all that, but if you come up north, I promise to show you a good time.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.”
The women hugged again. London smiled and waved as Katrina, her brother, sister-in-law, niece, nephew and parents got into the limo that would take them to San Diego and one of two airports closest to the resort. Over the next hour, she shared farewells with other family members also leaving, some to San Diego and others to Ontario, the other major airport nearby. There were lots of hugs, a few tears and plenty of vows to stay in touch. In death, much as he had in life, Papa Dee had placed emphasis on the value of family and strengthened the tribal bond.
Shortly after the last limo pulled away, London jumped into one of several golf carts parked in the lot and headed over to Diamond’s house. Built on the land by her construction company owner husband, Jackson Wright, it was a commanding design that seamlessly blended contemporary modern with Spanish and Mediterranean influences, filled with designer, exotic and top-of-the-line pieces. Along the way she passed several guesthouses, where some of the extended family had stayed, the home of Diamond’s older brother Donovan and his wife, Marissa, and the small yet stately home that had belonged to Papa Dee.
She parked the golf cart next to another that sat in the driveway along with a Boss Construction company truck and an SUV. Knowing Jackson was out and Diamond was resting, she opened the unlocked door and walked inside.
“Diamond?”
“In here!”
London followed her cousin’s voice down a long hall to a room with windows for walls. From here one could see almost the entire vineyard, from the rolling hills of grapevines to the stable of horses, the sparkling pond for fishing and both the Temescal and Santa Ana mountain ranges. You couldn’t see the hotel, wine store or executive offices, as per Diamond’s specific instructions. She’d told Jackson she did not want to bring work into her house.
Diamond lay sprawled on a chaise in a canary yellow baby doll mini, looking big-belly beautiful with cantaloupes for breasts. “About time you got here. With Faye ordering me to come lie down, you’re today’s entertainment. I don’t much appreciate you making me wait.”
“Stop being divalicious. Your sister-in-law played the doctor card, as she well should, and Aunt Genevieve eyed my every move. Your decorum-conscious mama wasn’t going to let me leave early, especially since I’d arrived so—”
“Yes, whatever. Enough about that. Let’s get to the reason you were tardy. Ace Montgomery and your bribing Ellen—my employee, by the way—to give his massage.”
London waved away Diamond’s stern segue. “Don’t worry about that.”
“Don’t brush me off.”
“Calm down, girl, before you bring on contractions.”
“I’m serious, London. You bribed an employee into breaking a company rule. We could have been sued! Any other instance and she would have been fired. But Ellen is a hard worker with a stellar record whose family has experienced a year of financial setbacks. Five thousand dollars cash was understandably hard to pass up. Plus, I know how tenacious you can be.”
“I’m sorry, Diamond. I guess I didn’t look at it from a corporate angle.”
“Obviously.”
“Please tell me she’s not fired.”
“No, but she was written up and put on a ninety-day probation. If there are no more incidents, after a year we’ll remove it from her file.”
“I really am sorry, cousin. Forgive me?”
“I’ll think about it.” The frown lines disappeared as Diamond relaxed. “So tell me the who, what, when, where and why of it all. I want to hear everything.”
London obliged, relating everything from overhearing the girls in the bathroom to Ace’s take-charge ways. “I let him get away with it this time. I bribed my way into his room and all. But next time he tries to boss me around, no matter the situation, I’m going to put him in check.”
“Careful with that. I’m married to an alpha male. Trying to put them in check is a pretty tall order that usually ends with them on top. In fact, I think it was just such a conversation that led to my stomach now looking like this.”
“Well, I’m not going to let a man boss me around.” London looked at her watch and abruptly stood. “Time is flying! I’ve got to run. Ace and I are having dinner at eight. He said if I were late there’d be consequences.” She rushed over to Diamond for a quick hug and kiss and hurried out the room. “Bye!”
As London reached the end of the hall and headed toward the door, she heard Diamond burst out laughing.
Chapter 5 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
“You’re late.”
London took a step back from the bungalow’s front door. “That is not a proper greeting.”
Six feet of I-don’t-give-a-damn filled the large frame and looked amazing in the process.
Had she read minds, Ace thought, she would have known his brusque behavior covered up how much her beauty threw him off guard. “I apologize. Good evening, London. You’re late.”
London rewarded him with a smile. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning in to give him a feathery kiss on the cheek. Her eyes were wide and pleading. “Forgive me?” She nibbled her lip, awaiting his response.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, slid it to the nape of her neck and placed soft, plump lips on her forehead. “I forgive you.”
He stepped back so she could enter. “I just won’t be able to give you the gift I purchased earlier today.”
A lover of presents no matter the reason, London unleashed her inner child. She whirled around, eyes shining. “What’d you get me?”
“Nothing now. We talked about your tardiness already. You obviously didn’t feel my time was important.” He reached into an inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small gift-wrapped box. “Please, have a seat and excuse me for a sec while I put this away.”
“Ace!” London, fast on his heels, tried to reach around him and grab the box.
He turned and blocked her. “What are you doing?” His eyes shined with humor.
“Trying to get what belongs to me!”
London was five foot eight so it wasn’t easy, but Ace being four inches taller helped him keep the box out of her reach.
“When one doesn’t follow the rules, there are consequences. I told you that.” He took his eyes on a slow journey down her body. “But you’re irresistible. So here.”
London beamed. “Thank you, Ace! What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
She dropped her purse on the coffee table and sat on the couch where they’d conversed earlier. After another sexy look at him, she lifted the lid on the bow-wrapped gift and opened the leather box inside.
“Wow, this is beautiful!” London lifted from the case a platinum wine stopper topped with Swarovski crystals in the shape of a large grape. “You got this in the gift shop?”
“It’s not available there. This is something that was created for the Drake companies’ largest buyers and A-list clients, a very limited-edition piece.”
“Wait! They’re my family. How’d you get on the inside for a limited edition?”
“I have skills.”
London’s eyes glided from the wine stopper to Ace’s face. “That you do.”
Three words, but they cut through the easy banter and casual chitchat to what was on both of their minds. That weekend in London. Literally and figuratively.
“I have something else for you.”
London eyed him up and down. “I’m ready.”
Ace chuckled, flattered and flummoxed at the same time. “Dinner will be here in ten minutes. Would you like an aperitif?”
“Sure.”
Ace walked through the dining room into the kitchen. London followed him, taking in the sophisticated charm of the two-bedroom bungalow with its formal dining room and a stunning galley kitchen that featured brick backsplashes, copper counters and black stainless steel appliances.
“I still can’t believe you’re here, at my cousin’s resort.”
“And I can’t believe you’re here, in my bungalow. I chose this place specifically because of the privacy it afforded.”
“Guess our meeting was meant to be.”
She watched as Ace pulled a beautiful bottle from a shiny square box. The frosted glass sparkled in the dim lighting, and while it wasn’t as beautiful as the wine stopper Ace had given her, the top on the bottle was a luxurious design.
“What’s that?”
“Another limited edition. This is Drake Wines’s newest creation. It hasn’t even been released.”
“Okay, which of my cousins do you know? It has to be family giving you this type of access.”
“Dexter. When you got called back to your family, I went on a tour of the winery. He was my guide. I told him we were meeting for dinner. He thought we’d enjoy his latest creation.”
“Dexter is good people. I can see you two getting along.”
“Absolutely. He likes my clothes.”
“I can see that.” Ace reached for two goblets from a glass-front cabinet. “This is wild, man. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Ditto. It’s been, what, three or four years since we’ve seen each other?”
“More like five. That’s how long I’ve been away from modeling full-time.”
“What happened? One minute you were on top of the modeling world and the next minute you’d quit and gone to college? And what made you decide to become a designer? Had that always been your plan? How’d you even know what to do? I have so many questions.”
The brass door knocker sounded. “That’s our dinner.” He moved to walk by her. “I have questions, too. Before the night is over, we both might get answers to them all.”
Normally the waitstaff stayed and served the meals brought to the bungalows. But Ace and London wanted privacy. After the young man had set the table, placed the entrées in a warming oven and served the appetizer, Ace tipped the grateful waiter and sent him on his way. The lights had been dimmed. Tapered candles in glass bowls at the table’s center sent shadows dancing against the silk walls. The flowers in tall corner vases were gorgeous and real. The aroma from the warming food wafted into the room. Ace reentered, too. He stopped in the doorway, watching London study the painting that had caught his attention earlier.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yes. I think I’ve met this painter. Funny that his work would be on display here.”
He picked up their goblets and handed one to her when he reached her side. “I say we toast to coincidence.”
London laughed as they clinked glasses. “Cheers.”
“Let me get your chair.”
“Thank you.”
They sat, Ace at the head, London beside him. “You look beautiful tonight. Did I tell you that?”
“No. You were too busy berating me for being late.”
“Ha! I was messing with you mostly—got to keep a woman like you on your toes. I like your perfume, too. It’s actually the first thing I recognized when you came over this afternoon. I knew Ellen hadn’t been wearing that scent but explained it away in my head. I still can’t believe you did that when a phone call would have sufficed.”
“As I said earlier, I didn’t want to give you the chance to turn me down. The thought came into my head when I overheard the workers, and I just went with it.” London bit into the toasted focaccia bread placed atop a spicy tomato bisque. “I think surprising you in person was more exciting than a phone call, don’t you?”
Ace dug in to the appetizer, as well. “Exciting wouldn’t be my first word choice.”
“What would?”
“Shocking. Scary.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. That was pretty bold, what you did today. And a little rude.”
This comment surprised her. “Rude? How?”
“Do I really have to explain how that was an invasion of privacy?”
“I assumed you’d want your privacy invaded,” she mumbled. “Diamond was mad at me, too.” She sat back, dejected. “It’s stuff like this that got me sent away in the first place.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“I can leave if you want.”
“If I’d wanted that, I wouldn’t have invited you to dinner.” He studied London’s troubled expression. The pain he saw there troubled him, too.
“Where were you sent away from?”
He watched as she shook off the melancholy and donned a nonchalant air. “Let’s just say going to school in Europe wasn’t my idea.” She looked at him then offered a sincere smile. “It’s a long story. Maybe some other time.”
“Is that your subtle way of trying to ensure another date?”
“I’m the bold, rude ingrate who crashed your massage, remember? There are many words that could be used to describe me. Subtle isn’t one of them.”
The honest answer touched Ace’s heart and awakened an unexplainable desire to protect her. He quickly squashed the notion. A woman like her didn’t need a man like him. Her company was refreshing, though. He soon realized what made being with her different. He was enjoying himself, feeling relaxed and complete, and he tried to remember the last time he’d felt this way. It had been a while.
“There isn’t a woman here. Surprising for the Ace I remember. What’s up with that?”
While he’d come here to get away from work, Ace welcomed the change of subject. “Right now my woman is a new line being unveiled at fashion week.”
“Next month? In New York?” Ace nodded. “What’s the line?”
“It’s a secret.” London fixed her mouth in a pout. Sexy, luscious, but Ace didn’t budge. “You know how the industry works. It’s all about the big reveal.” He paused for a drink of water, gazed at her over the rim as he drank. “I really want to tell you, though. Maybe I will soon.”
“If not, I’ll just make sure to attend your show.”
“How many shows are you doing?”
“I don’t know yet. I hadn’t planned to do any, but...those plans have changed.”
“Because of your breakup with Max?”
“Partly. We were supposed to be filming his movie right now. But it’s also to take a break. I’ve lived overseas for years and promised my parents I’d spend time with them.”
“Coming on to me the way you have makes it seem you’ve gotten over him. But that could be an act, like your being hurt when I didn’t call you back. Are you okay?”
“Max didn’t want to let go, but I’m okay.” London finished her soup and reached for the chilled Chardonnay the waiter had poured them. She took a thoughtful sip. “And just for the record, I was hurt that you didn’t call me back. A little bit.”
“You had plenty of guys lined up behind me. Wasn’t there even a stalker for a while?”
Now it was London’s turn to be surprised. “How’d you know about that?”
“Insider information. You know we run in the same circles, or used to.”
“My people signed confidentiality agreements regarding this. We didn’t want it leaked to the public and give some other troubled soul ideas. So who told you?”
“It was Trent Corrigan. He told me in confidence and I haven’t shared it further.”
“Quinn’s best friend. She’s one of my sisters-in-law.”
“So it was true.”
“Unfortunately, yes. A guy I’d met casually while living in Paris. He interviewed me for his website. That’s how he got my number. After a series of interviews, he asked me out. When I declined he got crazy. I got a restraining order. He violated it several times before they finally put him in jail.”
“That had to be scary.”
“At first it was just annoying. But when he followed me back here to the States...”
“He came over here?”
“Right up to my hotel room door in New York City.”
“That’s insane. It’s a wonder you don’t walk around with bodyguards.”
“For a while I did. Guards named Terrell, Niko, Warren and Ike, otherwise known as my older brothers.”
Ace laughed. “How’d that go?”
“It didn’t last long. They wanted me to hide out in Paradise Cove, my hometown, but I refused to live in fear. With him in jail, I went back to Paris, where I lived at the time. Thankfully they have lives, wives and careers, and couldn’t follow me. Until then, I was shielded by a wall of Drakes.
“Has that ever happened to you? The whole stalker thing?”
“Yes, but not to the same extent as it did to you. My stalkers got the message before law enforcement had to be involved.”
“Stalkers plural, huh? I’m not surprised.”
Ace was. Not at her comments, but at the feelings bubbling in his heart for the woman he now drank in with his eyes.
“Why do you keep staring at me?”
“You should be used to people staring at you. Ready for the entrée?”
“I’m starving for it.” Though the pecan-crusted lemon swordfish smelled heavenly, the look she gave suggested her comment was not about that at all. Ace understood. He felt the same way. But he couldn’t give in to the desire for physical pleasure. Not now that he’d decided she was the one, the perfect model to anchor the OTB Her line. He’d conduct himself professionally. This was about business. Or so he told himself. Time would tell.
Chapter 6 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
He wasn’t expected back until Tuesday, but Ace strolled into his office on Monday morning at eight o’clock sharp, motivated, excited and ready to work. Seeing London had brought all his thoughts about the runway show together around a cohesive concept and had inspired an idea for a showstopping final piece. He now knew exactly the type of woman the new line represented. He’d spent the day with her. London was his muse.
After a trip to the break room to fortify himself with a cup of java, Ace returned to the office, rolled up his designer shirtsleeves and pulled out a sketch pad. The pencil fairly flew across the paper as lines, swirls and varied strokes brought Ace’s vision to life. The sketch was detailed and specific. Lucien, the TV design show winner who’d sent in his portfolio just last week, would have no problem bringing his vision to life. Ace was sure of it.
“What the heck are you doing here?”
Immersed in sketching the intricate design he envisioned on the stand-up collar of the London-Clarisse trench coat–inspired finale design, Ace hadn’t heard Tyler come down the hall or enter his office.
“Dent! My man!” Ace rubbed his palms together like an excited young boy. “Have a seat.”
Tyler eyed Ace with skepticism as he sat down. The toned, tan blond with mystical gray eyes and a dimpled smile was the company’s CFO and Ace’s good friend for the past five years.
“You aren’t due back until tomorrow.”
“I know, but I couldn’t wait. I found the star model for our runway shows. Or rather, she found me. And you’re not going to believe who it is.”
“The way your eyes are shining I’d say either Mariah, Rihanna or Michelle Obama.”
“Close. London.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Frida said you were at a vineyard near San Diego.”
Frida was Ace’s executive assistant, named after the talented, outspoken Mexican artist, and she was equally unreserved.
“I was.”
“But working, obviously, instead of taking our advice to do anything but that. Thanks for the email on Lucien, though. He’s definitely our guy.”
“You’re welcome. But I actually met her while doing exactly what you guys suggested.”
“London was at the vineyard?”
“Her family owns it.”
“Get the hell out of here. Are we talking about the same London, the gorgeous international supermodel and the darling of Europe?” Ace nodded. “Her family lives in... What’s the name of the town?”
“Temecula.”
“Her family lives there?”
“Her first cousins do.”
“And London just happened to be there visiting them. Why don’t I believe this?”
“If the tables were turned, I wouldn’t, either. But she was there. Our meeting was coincidental.”
Ace told Tyler about London’s relative Papa Dee and why the family had been there last weekend. “The moment I saw her,” he finished, “I knew she was the one to bring this line to life, to make it the hit we want it to be and so much more. Get her on our runway and we’ll be all everyone is talking about from New York to Paris and from London to Milan.”
“What did she say about booking her?”
“I didn’t ask.”
This elicited the famous Dent scowl Tyler’s family was known for. “Have you forgotten that fashion week is a month away? She’s probably already booked up. Breaking up with Max Tata has made her even more popular than when she was dating him. We’ll be lucky if we can get her.”
“We’ll do everything it takes to make that happen. I want to pull out all the stops.”
“Why didn’t you just ask her yourself?”
“I did, indirectly. Not about working our runway but about whether or not she was totally booked. She isn’t. But there were other reasons. I didn’t want to make a decision based off a gut—or loin—reaction to seeing her so unexpectedly. London is one of the most beautiful women on the planet. Period. But everyone in the industry knows she can be temperamental and scandalous. Plus, she commands a hefty fee. We need to weigh the pros against the cons.”
“When it comes to cons, I don’t see any. The world loves controversy. If London makes headlines, let’s just hope she does so while wearing OTB.”
“I hate to agree with that callous observation.”
“But you know it’s true.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Ace had unwittingly caused a scandal or two himself. Like dating a thirty-three-year-old top model when he was just nineteen. Or getting trapped inside an Atlanta hotel room after someone leaked his room number and dozens of women showed up outside his door—some in their underwear. Hotel security had been overwhelmed. Police had to be called. One woman was arrested for indecent exposure. The media had eaten it up.
“Booking London is a no-brainer. What were your other reasons?”
Ace hesitated. He’d told no one about the weekend he’d spent with London years ago. No one but the two of them knew they’d shared those lascivious forty-eight hours. Only Ace knew that the torch he’d once carried for her had burned very brightly. He planned to keep it that way. And he intended to keep his distance from her. His heart was still raw from betrayal. He was older now. Established and thinking of settling down. If that fire got stoked again, making her his exclusively was just about the only way he could see putting it out. This past weekend she’d made it clear that marriage was not on her mind.
“Booking her is a matter for Mira to handle, not me. I want London’s agent contacted the moment Mira arrives.”
Mira Jacobs was the company’s tough-as-nails attorney who handled OTB’s legal matters and also oversaw the company’s brand.
Tyler pulled out his phone. “I’ll text her now, find out when she’s planning to come in.”
While Tyler texted Mira, Ace took a photo of what he’d sketched and sent it to Lucien along with the message, Let’s talk.
Tyler placed his phone on the desk. “Now let’s discuss what’s really important.”
“I can’t think of anything more important right now than fashion week, but...go ahead?”
“Did you hit it?”
Ace’s look? Deadpan.
“Don’t give me that look as if I asked something crazy. She’s a beautiful woman. There’s no way I’d have passed up the chance for some of that!” A beat and then Tyler finished, “If I weren’t as gay as the earth is round.”
“Can’t say I didn’t think about it. What red-blooded man wouldn’t? But right through here I’m all about business. Getting this line ready should be the only thing on our minds.”
The day passed quickly. Shortly after Tyler left Ace’s office, Lucien arrived, excited about and impressed with the design Ace had texted him. Ace spoke with Mira about London and then called a meeting with the designers to implement his latest ideas. More changes were made to the fall menswear line that they would be showing this spring, and the direction of the OTB Her line was clarified and expanded. After a phone powwow with finance, the PR and marketing budgets were increased. The partners decided not to reveal the news about London until it was a done deal, but in regard to the design team, he’d let it be known that a famous face would be among the models wearing the clothing.
Speculation ran rampant. Ace didn’t mind. Nothing like a bit of healthy competition among the models to bring out everyone’s A game. Throughout the day, his cell phone was nearby. Now that everyone was on board with London as the fashion show’s star model, he wanted to get the contract signed and make it official. Five o’clock came and went, and then six. He contacted Mira. There was still no word. He turned off his office lights and left the building just before seven without an answer. As he entered his driveway around seven thirty, his phone rang. The number showed up unknown, a common occurrence on his company phone. He pressed the answer button on the steering wheel, and heard a familiar voice.
“So... Ace Montgomery... I hear you want my body after all.”
Chapter 7 (#u79f99835-3ae5-5598-9681-5bc85ee46059)
London looked at the phone, cold and silent in her hand. He hung up on me? The thought barely finished before her ringtone sounded. The words of her favorite song—Jan Baker’s “Who I Am”—blasted from the speaker, the words OTB Fashion showed on her screen.
“For someone wanting my services, that was not a good move.”
Ace chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made London’s kitty purr.
“I apologize. I’d just gotten home, and when I turned off the car my phone didn’t switch over. It normally does.”
“I guess I’ll forgive you...this time.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Is it true? You want my body?”
“Yes.”
A pause, pregnant with possibilities and promises, followed his response.
“Then why were you acting all reserved in Temecula? I could have easily been your dessert last night.”
“I was speaking professionally. Our new line was designed with women like you in mind. My partners and I would very much like to make you the star model in the OTB Her fashion show.”
“So that’s the big secret you couldn’t share the other day. OTB is introducing a women’s line.”
“Not just a women’s line, but the embodiment of a woman’s attitude. It’s been in development for a while, a couple years, really, since its conception. But in being around you, I saw all the pieces come together. You embody the woman these clothes are designed for. When I suggested to my partners that you might not be booked up for fashion week, they couldn’t get to your agent fast enough.”
“Now I understand the gift of the flower.”
“What flower?”
“That stunning single Kinabalu orchid, and in a Baccarat vase, no less. Classy move, Mr. Montgomery. It doesn’t happen easily, but I’m impressed.”
“Wow. I’m tempted to keep my mouth shut and take the credit. But when the real person came forward I’d look like a dishonest fool.”
“You didn’t send the flower?” Discomfort replaced intrigue.
“No, London, I didn’t. Where was it delivered?”
“The hotel’s front desk. I called the bungalow, but you’d checked out already.”
“You must have made quite an impression on another hotel guest.”
“No. I stayed in one of my family’s private guesthouses. Was only in the hotel a couple times and tried to stay incognito. One guy recognized me, though. We took a selfie. Oh, well. I’ll call the hotel later and see what information I can get from them. Right now—” the flirty tone returned “—I’m trying to see what I can get from you.”
“You are a very tempting morsel, London. Even all these years later, I remember those nights we shared. But I’m no longer that promiscuous, impulsive man you met in London, the one for whom having sex was as common as eating lunch, and indulged in almost as often. These days, for me, it’s not so much about having sex as it is about making love.”
“So who is she?”
“Who?”
“The lucky woman who’s getting that love. And don’t tell me you’re celibate, because there is no way I’d believe you.”
“No, I’m not celibate. But I’m also no longer into casual sex. I don’t judge those who are—each to his own. But as I told you yesterday, my love affair has been with the secret you now know about... OTB Her. In one way or another, that’s how I’ve been spending my nights and weekends. My partners ordered me to Temecula for vacation. They were right. I was stressed the hell out. But now I know the real reason I ended up there. It was so I could run into you.”
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