Love California Box Set: Books 1-3 (Love California Series Collection)

by Jan Moran

  Scarlett stepped into the cabin of a newly outfitted Boeing jet, which had replaced the Gulfstream 550 Lucan had deemed too small. The crew closed the door behind her, ready for wheels up.

  She cocooned herself in a large white leather recliner, surrounded by creamy white and beige leather, polished burl wood trim, and every amenity one could want at fifty thousand feet. With a touch to a digital screen, she lowered the shade and adjusted her light. Her sparkling water and crudité vegetable plate had already been set out for her.

  She might be cruising in luxury, but Scarlett had plenty of work to do on the twelve-hour flight. She’d learned to tune out whatever went on in the bar, or the stateroom behind her. She placed her laptop on the workspace in front of her and opened her briefcase, ignoring the blaring television, Fleur’s incessant chatter, and Lucan’s barking guffaws.

  “Working the entire flight?” David asked. He’d already stretched out his large frame in the reclining chair. His hands were cupped behind his head.

  “Some of it. We need to get this deal done. Just received the red-lined agreement back.”

  “Don’t those High Gloss corporate attorneys have anything better to do? You’d think they were billing by the hour.”

  She felt the rumble of the jet engines as they prepared for take-off.

  She shrugged. “Keeps us in business.”

  Lucan walked by on his way to the galley. “David, don’t let us keep you up. Late night of partying with our English clients?”

  “Sure, you know me, sir.” David winked and Lucan playfully punched him on the shoulder.

  “That’s my boy,” Lucan said.

  Scarlett grinned. She happened to know David had worked much of the night, too. He’d called her to discuss points several times.

  Lucan skirted the curved divans that followed the lines of the plane. No telling how many models had lined those seats, Scarlett thought. She was the only female in the firm who’d ever flown on this corporate jet, which was reserved for partners and their handpicked team, but there were plenty of women’s things in the stateroom. Scarlett didn’t want to know any more than she did. She kept her head down and kept working. “You’ve sure got him fooled.”

  “Lucan just wants to relive his misspent youth,” David said with a chuckle. “Hey, thanks for your help last night. Couldn’t have done it without you. Now, I’ve got to get some shut-eye,” He snapped open a prescription bottle and poured out a couple of tablets. “Need an Ambien to sleep?”

  Scarlett shook her head. “Not for me.” A lot of consultants, attorneys, corporate finance pros, models, and entertainers who crisscrossed the globe on a weekly basis wolfed down Ambiens like they were Altoids. Shifting time zones could cause people to do that, Scarlett knew. In the old days it was alcohol, and she knew all about that from her father. She squeezed lime in her bubbly mineral water and took a drink.

  “G’night, Scarlett.” David pulled a sleep mask over his eyes.

  “Night, David. I’ll wake you when we arrive.” Scarlett flicked a few keys on her keyboard and hooked up to the wireless service onboard. One advantage to flying private was that there were no annoying announcements asking flyers to turn off their electronic equipment on departure and take-off. Coupled with long security lines and layovers, private jets were massive time-savers that allowed the firm to squeeze maximum time from valuable employees to serve high-paying clients. The deals they worked on were often staggering in value, especially in the Mergers and Acquisitions practice. The airplane began taxiing, gaining speed as it hurtled down the runway.

  A minute later the wheels lifted from the ground and Scarlett felt the pressure of her body heavy in the seat as the plane climbed through clouds to blue skies above.

  Once airborne, Scarlett gazed out the window and watched London recede from sight. When she was young she had dreamed of traveling like this, but it wasn’t as glamorous as she’d imagined. As a first year attorney, she’d taken red-eye flights, arriving at client’s offices after spending the night on an airplane. Or the corporate limousine would shuttle her home at five in the morning, just long enough to shower and return for another demanding day, while she napped in the back seat in route.

  But she’d committed her life willingly. Scarlett loved the law and had a strong sense of justice. Even as a little girl, she’d wanted to protect the good kids and stick it to the bullies. The intellectual stimulation never bored her, and she met fascinating, creative people in her beauty trademark work. She smiled. Instead of trademarks, her friend Johnny often teased her, shortening it to beauty marks.

  She stifled a yawn, and made a mental note to call her mother when she landed. She’d missed her mother’s birthday in London, but she promised to make it up to her.

  Her family had moved to Los Angeles from Spain when she was a young girl. A few years later, after her father died of liver failure, and her brother Franco died in an ambush in the war in Afghanistan, Scarlett became her mother’s sole support. She worked throughout school, received scholarships, took student loans, and lived frugally.

  Scarlett’s eyes welled as she thought of Franco. She and her brother had been so close. She missed his quick smile and sharp wit. Everyone loved him, and hardly a day went by that she didn’t think of him. He was the bravest soul she’d ever known, and the best tribute she could give him was to emulate him and his approach to life.

  As soon as Scarlett graduated from law school, she’d moved her mother from the barrio to the west side of Los Angeles, where she lived in a lovely little condominium and spent her time making baby clothes for children Scarlett might never have time to have.

  Still, Isabel Sandoval didn’t give up easily. Every time Scarlett visited her, she seemed to have another nice young man to introduce her to.

  Somehow time had slipped away from Scarlett. It seemed that one minute she was twenty-four and graduating from law school, and the next minute she was thirty-two with a ticking clock. She’d been a bridesmaid so many times she’d lost count. Even if she met someone today, she’d probably be thirty-five before she had children. She’d always thought she’d have a family by now. And so did her old-school mother. She adored her mother, but the world was different today.

  One of the problems was that she wanted to get to know a man well before she married. As an attorney, she’d heard far too many horror stories to jump into a relationship. Maybe that’s what held her back, she thought, suppressing another yawn.

  Scarlett put on headphones to focus on the detailed task at hand. Dinner came and Scarlett ate while she worked, anxious to finish the agreement during the flight. They crossed the Atlantic and the eastern seaboard. Judging from the time they’d been in the air, they were somewhere over the midwest United States, Scarlett figured. Finally, she hit save, closed her laptop, and got up to stretch.

  She took off her jacket, and then wandered to the flight deck to say hello to the pilot and crew. “Hi, Jeffrey.”

  “Hi, Scarlett,” the pilot replied with a grin, touching a finger to his forehead. The aircraft was on autopilot.

  She chatted with Jeffrey and the crew about upcoming flight plans, which included the next European rugby match, snow skiing in the southern hemisphere, a fly fishing junket in Scotland, and Formula One and Grand Prix races. Lucan spent a fortune on entertaining clients, but it certainly paid off.

  Scarlett was booked for Fashion Week in Paris, and the Cannes Film Festival, where she often negotiated licensing deals for many of her clients. She went to all the glamorous parties, but she was not there to play. Marsh & Gold partners expected her to bring in new business, and she did.

  In truth, her manic work pace and extensive travel didn’t allow for much of a personal life. She envied her friends who managed to balance their lives.

  As she walked to the galley for tea, she thought of her good friend and client, Verena Valent, who, after having lost her family’s legendary skincare salon to an unscrupulous investor, created another skincare line. Verena man
aged to blend work, the care of her twin sisters and her grandmother, and a new relationship. How did she do it?

  But Scarlett knew the answer. It was the flexibility Verena had as an entrepreneur. She was always busy, but on a time schedule of her own making. It was the same with their other friends, such as Dahlia, whose family ran a perfume business, and Fianna, who was a fashion designer and owned a boutique.

  For eight years Scarlett had been focused on working her plan, investing her life into her career, and making partner. After graduation, she had sat for two of the toughest bar exams in the country—California and New York—and passed them both on the first try.

  She’d had several competing offers, but she’d accepted a generous one from Marsh & Gold. Now, she was next in line on the partner track. The decision would be made next week. A satisfied smile curved her lips. Soon it would be worth the years of struggle.

  Scarlett picked up the green tea she’d brewed and sat down on the divan. She kicked off her shoes, took a few sips, and leaned her head back. She closed her eyes. It felt so good to relax. They still had a couple of hours before landing at the Van Nuys airport in Los Angeles, where the corporate plane was kept. She felt herself drift off.

  Her dreams were quite realistic sometimes. “Mmm,” she murmured, as someone stroked her shoulders and arms, which felt so good. She couldn’t remember who he was, this man in her dreams, she couldn’t see his face. If she opened her eyes… but her eyelids were heavy.

  “Just relax,” he whispered. He ran a firm hand down her throat and chest, pausing on her breast.

  She smiled in her sleep. Who was this virile dream man who seemed so real? One of her old boyfriends, or someone she was yet to meet? She had to know. Straining against her slumber, she fluttered her eyes, trying to capture him.

  As she did, she gasped, and shot bolt upright on the divan. “What are you doing?”

  “Relax,” Lucan repeated. He hovered over her, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned. “You work so hard, Scarlett. A beautiful woman like you needs a break.”

  “Lucan, stop it.” Scarlett glared at him. “We’re not doing this. Get away from me.”

  “Come on, Scarlett.” He twirled a lock of her coppery blond hair around his finger. “Who’s to know? David’s zoned out on Ambien. Fleur passed out in the stateroom from too much vodka.” A smile curved his perfectly tanned face. “And the crew won’t talk. So let’s have fun.”

  “Absolutely not.” Scarlett stood up, weaving a little on her feet from a mixture of exhaustion and air turbulence.

  “Scarlett, Scarlett. So naïve in so many ways.” Lucan patted the spot next to him. “Sit down. I’ll have a couple of nightcaps made for us.” He pressed a button and spoke to the crew. “I won’t bite.”

  She touched the cabin wall for support and glanced around. Where could she go? The stateroom door was closed. David was snoring in the front of the cabin. But a crew member would be here any minute. She perched on the bench, leaving space between them.

  “So, is there someone else in your life?” His voice was warm and amicable. “You can tell me. After all, you’re going to be a partner soon.”

  “Lucan, I don’t want to talk about my personal life.” Of which I have none, she thought. And then, partner? Did he really say that? She scooted to the edge of the seat. “And I’m awfully tired.”

  He stared at her, his brilliant blue eyes crinkling with laughter at the corners. He was a virile, handsome man, and he knew it. His irresistible charm had made a fortune for the firm. “I have a little pick-me-up if you need it.” He brought out a tiny vial filled with white powder. “Come on, loosen up, Scarlett.”

  “Look, I’m not into that. Please leave me alone so I can take a nap before landing.”

  “Let me help you relax,” Lucan said.

  She started to rise, but he pounced, knocking her against the back of the sofa. In a flash, he was all over her. Scarlett flailed, but he was a muscular man, and he pinned her down. She glanced over his shoulder and saw a female crew member delivering the two snifters of cognac Lucan asked for.

  “Help me,” Scarlett cried.

  The petite dark-haired woman looked shocked, then angry. Scarlett reached out to her, pleading with her as she struggled under Lucan’s weight. Suddenly, the crew member dropped the drink tray on purpose, and the glasses shattered on the table. “Sir, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “Watch out for the glass.”

  Startled, Lucan rolled off her and jumped to his feet. “You idiot! What’s wrong with you? Clean this up and get out.” Lucan buttoned his shirt and fussed with his hair.

  Scarlett sprang up and threw a grateful look to the woman, who scurried away to get cleaning supplies.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” Scarlett snapped.

  “What? You’re overreacting.” Lucan spread his hands out in an innocent gesture. “Your honor, I’m innocent.”

  The crew member rushed back, but she took her time cleaning. “Need to clean this mess up,” she said calmly, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder. Her name tag read Lavender. She flicked on a small vacuum cleaner.

  Scarlett turned on her heel and marched to the flight deck. She was so livid she couldn’t stay in the same cabin with him.

  “David, we’re almost home.” Scarlett spoke loudly to wake her colleague.

  “Huh? Oh, Scarlett, what’d I miss?” David lifted his eye mask and rubbed his eyes.

  “Not a thing.” She shot a look at Lucan, and he suppressed a grin. “It was the best kind of flight. Unremarkable.” She wished she could slap that grin off Lucan’s face. What on earth was he thinking? She was still fuming.

  Fleur came stumbling from the stateroom, her purple hair and makeup in disarray, her gold-plated phone already pressed to her ear.

  “Have a good sleep?” Lucan asked when she hung up.

  Fleur yawned. “Yeah.”

  Lucan’s eyes roamed over her. “I assume you want to swing by the hotel and freshen up before we go out.”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  Scarlett bit back a reply. The man was indefatigable. Then she remembered she’d gone straight from a meeting in Studio City to catch the outbound flight for London. Her car was still at the office in Century City, near her townhouse in Beverly Hills.

  “I’ve got a car waiting for us here,” Lucan said, as if reading her mind.

  “Thanks, but I’m meeting a friend,” she said cordially. Why had he ruined their professional relationship? What a jerk.

  When they scudded down the runway in Van Nuys, Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be home. As they taxied, he gazed out the window at palm trees swaying against a mountain backdrop.

  Lucan and Fleur got off the plane first. Scarlett gathered her laptop and exited the plane with David.

  “Wait right here,” Lucan said to Fleur. “I forgot something.”

  Lucan pushed his way past Scarlett, and she nearly dropped her laptop. She clucked her tongue. The man was an oaf.

  Once inside the airport, Scarlett ducked into the women’s bathroom to avoid Lucan pressuring her into joining them in the car. She was washing her hands when the petite, dark-haired crew member who’d come to her aid opened the door. Scarlett raised her eyes and met her gaze in the mirror.

  “Hi.” The woman drew her brows together. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess so.” Scarlett lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “That was fast thinking. I really appreciate what you did.” She smiled. “My name is Scarlett.”

  “And I’m Lavender. Hey, we’re a colorful pair,” the young woman said with a grin. “My mother was a hippie.”

  “I have no excuse. My real name is Escarlata.”

  Lavender laughed. “Look,” she said, turning serious, “I’ve been in situations like that myself, but you’re a big attorney, right?”

  “Not immune to idiots, though.” She turned off the faucet and dried her hands.

  “And he’s your boss?” Lavender looked sorry for
her.

  Scarlett nodded.

  “I left my last job because of sexual harassment.” Lavender shuddered. “I don’t need that in my life.”

  “No woman does.” Scarlett was still furious. She was smart, but she was street smart, too. She was angry with herself for missing the signs. But Lucan was the one to blame.

  They spoke a little more before Scarlett left to retrieve her luggage.

  As Scarlett walked out, she saw Lucan ahead of her, so she hung back to avoid him. He glanced around and then tossed a package into the trash. She stopped, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

  Lavender caught up with her. “It’s okay, I’ve got your back,” she said. “He’s gone.”

  Scarlett grinned at her new friend. “Thanks.” As she was wheeling her luggage toward the taxi line, her phone rang.

  “Hi chica, are you back from London?” It was Johnny Silva, her childhood friend from the barrio, who’d been best friends with her brother Franco. He was the maître d’ at the Polo Lounge now.

  “Just landed, and waiting for a taxi.” She was glad to hear from him.

  “You, in a taxi line? It’s almost eleven at night. Thought Marsh & Gold always called a limo for you. Are they having budget cuts?”

  “No, it just worked out that way.” Scarlett didn’t want to tell Johnny about Lucan. Ever since they’d been children, he’d always sprang to her defense. She’d never hear the end of it.

  “I’m nearby. I’ll come get you. Wait there.”

  When Johnny wheeled into the airport fifteen minutes later, Scarlett greeted him with a hug. “So glad to see you, Johnny. Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anything for my chica. Things were awfully quiet without you.” Johnny lifted her luggage into the trunk of his vintage red Mustang convertible. He’d bought it years ago, and had restored it one piece at a time.