Lavish Loving

by A. C. Arthur

  “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 re
membered 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

  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 majo
r 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.”