Love, Lies & The D.A.

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Love, Lies & The D.A. Page 3

by Rohman, Rebecca


  Jonathan gasps. “You drive an Aston Martin DB9?”

  “What difference does it make?” I hiss, looking up at him. He towers at least a foot above me despite the fact I am sporting some killer heels.

  The boys’ father looks at me, him, then me again. “Look you two. I don’t know what’s going on between you all, but I’m responsible for the damage. Kole, I’m sorry about this. You remember how you were at that age?”

  “Exactly how was he?” I ask, glaring at him, my arms folded.

  The elder man laughs then responds, “Let’s not go there.” Pulling a card case from his pocket, he hands me a business card and his insurance card. “Let me know what the damages are.”

  “Thank you,” I reply. After handing him my card and insurance info, I save his number in my phone.

  He glances at my card then smiles. “I love your hotels. You should have some on the East Coast.”

  “Funny you should say that. I was thinking that yesterday.”

  Soon after, the police and paramedics arrive. Once the scene disperses, I get into my car, roll down the windows, and, carefully, I back out of the spot.

  “Ms. McLean, thanks so much for being so cool about this,” Brad says.

  “Don’t let it happen again,” I say. “The next person might not be so nice about it.”

  “You’re right,” Brent replies, still somewhat flushed.

  “Mr. Carlton. I’ll be in touch.” I smile at him. “Jonathan.” I wiggle my fingers and off I go. As I look in the rear view mirror, I can see him watching the car drive away.

  Good riddance, asshole!

  * * *

  That was the second time in the same day that woman made me feel like a complete ass. I don’t know what to make of her, or her attitude, but something about it completely turns me on. I wonder if she is as feisty in bed. I could think of a lot I’d like to do with those hot, trimmed legs.

  Jonathan. Get your mind out of the gutter.

  I’m almost certain she can’t stand me. Then again, right now she probably can’t stand anything that walks on two legs with a dick in between.

  That prick probably fucked with her mind so badly that the rest of us will never stand a chance. Maybe that attitude is a way to protect herself, to ward off men who she automatically sees as assholes. Men exactly like me. Either way, at least I know her name—Jada McLean. And who could forget that face. For now, that is enough for me to work with…

  * * *

  That was enough drama for one day. I head home, eager to put the incident behind me.

  As I enter the house, my phone vibrates. I’ve been ignoring it for days, but I glance at the screen. It’s my older brother.

  “Bobby. Hey.”

  “Hi, Sis. I got the email from your secretary. Mom told me what happened.”

  “C’est la vie.”

  “I’m really sorry. You want me to come over there and beat him up?”

  “No,” I chuckle. “I’m trying really hard not to spend one more moment of my time thinking about either of them.”

  “Are you sure Koto did this? It doesn’t seem like her.”

  “I caught them red-handed, Bobby. He was fucking her on my desk. She was wearing red platform heels and lingerie to match.”

  “Sounds hot.”

  “Not funny, Bobby. You have no idea how hard it’s been to get that image out of my head.”

  “I’m sorry. Mom didn’t tell me you walked in on them.”

  “No worries. Let’s talk about something else. Still being a man-whore in Miami?”

  “Well, I was going to surprise you this weekend, but since the wedding is off, I guess I should tell you…”

  “What? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “I think my man-whore days are over. I’ve been seeing this gorgeous woman I’m absolutely crazy about.”

  “Details…”

  “Her name’s Valencia Suarez.”

  “Wow, sounds hot!”

  “Like a chili pepper.”

  “You in love?” I feel him blushing at the end of the line. “Oh my God! My brother’s in love,” I scream.

  “That I am, Sis… I was really looking forward to introducing you two. I think you’d like her.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a pediatrician.”

  “Wow. Hot and smart.”

  “I hit a home run with her. I can’t believe the way I feel about her. Now I understand what you—”

  He cuts himself short, realizing he was about to say something about Richard.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m really happy for you, Bobby. You deserve this.”

  “So do you. Don’t let what that jerk did change you. You’ve always loved so deeply.”

  “Maybe too deeply… maybe that’s why I didn’t see any of this coming.”

  “Don’t talk that way. Look at it this way, better to find out now rather than ten years from now.”

  “You’re right about that. Thank you for calling me. I’ve genuinely smiled for the first time in a long time since you called.”

  “Great. Thank you for answering my call… after the fifth try.”

  “I’m sorry. I needed some time alone.”

  “No worries. I love you. Call me if you change your mind about beating him up.”

  “I will. I love you back.”

  I’m so happy for him. I am about to put my phone down when it vibrates again. I look at the screen. It’s David Carlton.

  I wonder what he forgot.

  “Mr. Carlton.”

  “Ms. McLean.”

  “Please call me Jada. What can I do for you?”

  “And you call me David. After my wife found out what happened, she scolded me for not inviting you over for dinner.”

  “That’s really not necessary. Tell her she can save herself the trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. We had a small dinner party planned for tonight anyway. We have some friends from Peru visiting. It would be our pleasure to have you as our guest.”

  I suppose taking him up on his invitation is better than moping around alone and thinking about my woes.

  “Okay, since you put it that way, I’ll be happy to.”

  I search for a pen in my purse, pull out my notepad, jot down his address, end the call, and head right back out the house.

  I should bring a bottle of wine or flowers or something. I return an hour later with all of the above. My mother always taught me it was good manners to bring something when invited to a dinner party. Better too much than not enough.

  I step into the shower. I have no clue what I will wear. I did not pay too much attention when I packed. Truthfully, I did not ever think I would be going to a dinner party while in Lake Tahoe. David Carlton seems to know who I am. I suppose that means he knows about the whole wedding debacle. I have avoided the news like a plague. The last thing I need is to listen to all the gossip.

  Ten minutes later, I search for something to wear.

  Herve Leger – too sexy.

  Roberto Cavalli – too colorful.

  Gucci – too short.

  Finally, I settle on a little Vicky Secret number. A coral short blouson dress—elegant but sexy. Perfect. My Giuseppe Zanotti suede ankle cutout boots will go perfect with it. I put my hair into a sleek ponytail to the back of my head. Then a touch of makeup and I am ready to go.

  I input the address into the GPS, and I realize the house is down the street. A few doors down. Perhaps I should take a cool walk instead. I take a quick two-minute walk down the road. What my GPS neglected to tell me, however, is that there is a very long driveway to the house. Anyway, my shoes are comfortable, and it’s a full moon tonight, so I appreciate the view and head in.

  Finally, I arrive. It’s a beautiful log house, as most are in the area. However, something about the gables and the architecture makes this one special. Before I even have a chance to knock, Brad opens the door.

  “Hello, Ms. McLean. I was heading up the stairs
and saw your reflection through the door.”

  “Please call me Jada. How’s that cut on your head?”

  “It’s fine. I needed five stitches, though.”

  “Well, take that scar as a learning lesson.”

  He laughs, turning a little red. “Let me walk you in.”

  I follow him into an enormous great room with tall, vaulted, pine wood ceilings. The views out the glass windows are very similar to mine.

  “Jada,” David says with excitement. “Thank you so much for coming. Meet my wife, Katharine.”

  “Everyone calls me Kat,” she replies politely, shaking my hand then kissing me on my cheek.

  “I brought some wine, and this is also for you,” I say, handing her the orchid plant.

  “You didn’t have to do that. You did enough for my boys today. That said, the orchid is stunning.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Now, I’d like you to meet our friends, Rodolfo and Maria. They’re visiting from Peru,” David says.

  “Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” I shake their hands.

  Kat says, “I think it’s a lovely night to eat out on the terrace by the fire.”

  “It is. I enjoyed the walk here.”

  “You walked?” David asks. “You didn’t discover other damages on your car, did you?”

  “Oh no. When I entered the address into the GPS, I realized I was just a few houses away. So I thought I would walk.”

  “The GPS didn’t tell you about the long driveway, did it?” David laughs.

  “No, it did not.”

  “Where exactly are you?” Kat asks.

  “After crossing the bridge, it’s the third house on the left up the hill.”

  “Oh, I know that house—”

  The doorbell interrupts David. After excusing himself, he heads over to the door. I chat with Maria and Rodolfo about my past trips to Peru. Kat escorts us out to the terrace while we chat. Brent, the other twin, finally makes an appearance.

  “Jonathan, you remember Jada,” David says behind me.

  I turn and stare at him—I’m sure I feel the hairs on my neck stand on end.

  What’s this, an omen? Three times in one day.

  “Yes. Hi. How could I forget?” he says then greets everyone else. He’s very familiar with them, especially the adults. The twins, not so much.

  I wonder where his fiancé is. Shouldn’t they be together on their engagement night?

  Kat instructs him and me to sit next to each other as we gather round the elegantly set rustic wood slab table. The candles sparkle against the fine white dinnerware.

  While the chatter continues among the others, Jonathan mutters, “If I’d known you’d be here, I would have declined the invitation.”

  “Ditto. You seem in a bad mood, Ken. What’s wrong? Malibu Barbie declined your proposal?”

  “As a matter of fact—yes, she did,” he snaps.

  “Well, perhaps she’s smarter than she looks,” I whisper, smiling.

  His temple’s twitching again.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I touch a soft spot?” I ask, my words loaded with sarcasm.

  “I don’t have a soft spot.”

  “Big surprise. Tell me something I didn’t already know.”

  “Are you always this outspoken?”

  “With rude and obnoxious people such as you—yes.”

  “And this judgmental?”

  “God. I hope not,” I reply dramatically, touching my chest.

  He seems so puzzled by my behavior. I realize it’s been that way from the moment we met.

  Everyone gets comfortable at the table, and soon we are all passing the dishes around and relishing our meal.

  “So, David, I get the feeling that you and Jonathan didn’t meet for the first time today?”

  “Oh no,” he laughs. “I’ve known Johnny from the day he was born. His parents and I have been friends for years. I’m sure you know his dad, Charles Kole?”

  “The attorney from San Francisco?”

  “Yes.”

  Ahhh, the hotshot high-profile attorney. No wonder Mr. Asshole feels so entitled.

  “Charles and I, among other things, are business partners as well,” David continues.

  That explains a lot.

  “Jonathan, are you in the family business?” I ask curiously.

  “No. I started a new job about a year ago.”

  As what? Asshole extraordinaire?

  “Oh, stop being so coy,” Kat says. “Jonathan worked at his dad’s law firm for years. He wanted to serve, so he crossed over to the other side. He’s the new District Attorney in San Francisco.”

  That’s why his name was so familiar.

  “Oh yeah… You replaced Zack Bernard?”

  “Yes I did. How would you know?” he replies curtly.

  More and more, I’m starting to understand the ‘don’t-you-know-who-I-am,’ thing. Either way, I don’t care. I can’t stand it when people pull rank.

  “I live there.” I glare at him.

  His eyes widen in surprise at my response.

  “What about you, Jada?” Kat asks. “What do you do?”

  “I own my own business.”

  “Now you’re being coy,” David says. “She owns the Bleu Resorts hotel chain.”

  “That’s amazing. You’re either older than you actually look or you’re very smart.”

  “Or both,” I reply with a wry smile.

  Okay, let’s change this topic… I don’t need them asking questions about my personal life.

  “So what about you boys? Off to college soon?” I ask.

  “Ten months to be exact,” Brent replies, all smiles.

  “Staying in Cali?”

  “Nope. We’re heading to Europe. France first,” Brad continues.

  “Parfait. Vous voyagez dans un pays étranger est toujours un excellent moyen d’apprendre une nouvelle langue.”

  “What’s that?” Brent asks.

  Marie laughs then replies, “Perfect. Travelling to a foreign country is always a great way to learn a new language.”

  We enjoy pleasant conversation throughout the rest of the evening. Jonathan and I manage not to cross each other’s paths.

  It’s almost nine-thirty when we help Kat with the dishes. Then I’m ready to head home.

  “Thank you so much for inviting me into your home. I had a great night.” I kiss Kat on both her cheeks.

  “You’re not walking back to that house by yourself,” she replies. “Jonathan can drive you.”

  “That really is not necessary,” I say, hoping she’ll back off.

  “Jada, do you have any idea how cold it is outside?” David asks. “I’m sure you don’t mind, do you?” he continues, looking at Jonathan.

  “Of course not,” he responds.

  We say our goodbyes and soon we get into his car. I am thankful for the ride. The temperature has dropped drastically. We sit in silence as he maneuvers the car to head out the long driveway.

  “Where am I taking you?” he asks politely.

  “Turn left up the hill. My house is the third on the left after the bridge. Thank you.”

  He follows the directions, and moments later, we’re on my doorstep.

  I feel bad about my Malibu Barbie being smarter then she looks comment. I wonder if I should say anything, apologize, or let it be. He interrupts my thoughts.

  “Nice house.”

  “Thanks. It’s mine as long as I continue to pay the rent.” I smile.

  “What? A rich broad like you can’t afford to buy it?”

  “You just can’t stop yourself from being an asshole, can you? No wonder she said no,” I snap.

  “Look… there’s no need for you to make this personal,” he says coolly.

  “And insinuating I’m a bitch isn’t?”

  “Don’t take your frustrations out on me because you drove your boyfriend into your best friend’s arms.”

  I’m at a loss for words. I’m n
ot sure why I should care, but his words hurt me. My eyes sting.

  “You know what? You’re a thoroughbred asshole. Thanks for the ride. Perhaps you should turn your chariot around and drive straight to hell.” I get out of the car, closing the door behind me.

  “Jada, I’m sorry.”

  I hear him shout behind me, but I know I can’t afford to look. I continue through the freezing air and I open the door. Never do I turn to see if he’s watching me. By the time I lock the door from the inside, I can see the taillights disappearing out the driveway, and a single tear trickles down my face.

  Why does he have to be such a jerk? Anyway, good riddance. I hope that I’ll never have to see that asshole again. I swiftly wipe away the tear and try to put him out of my mind for the rest of the evening. However, when I go to bed that night, images of him haunt me in my dreams.

  * * *

  What the fuck was I thinking? After I find out so much about her, at the end of the night, I insult her and take low blows at her. I’ve blown any chance I had of getting to know her.

  I feel like shit. I know my words hurt her. The fact that she wouldn’t even turn to look at me after my apology tells me that. Sometimes, I need to learn to just shut the fuck up and not always be so determined to have the last word…

  Furthermore, I can’t believe she lives in San Francisco. What a coincidence; we vacation and live in the same place.

  She must be incredibly smart to own a hotel chain at her age. I was hoping she’d answer when Kat sort of asked her age, but she didn’t. She must be at least thirty-three or thirty- four. Anyway, I have other ways of finding that out…

  What I really want to know is how she’s accomplished what she has. I don’t get the sense that she’s any sort of heiress… Everything about her says self-made. She’s intelligent, beautiful… incredibly beautiful… bilingual; my God, I could listen to that woman speak French all night long.

  She does know how to push my buttons, though. I swear, if she were a guy, I would have punched her right across the face for insulting Megan. I suppose, in a way, she did make up for that, of course at my expense.

  Anyway, all that said, I’m not sure why I’m thinking about her like this. After that last conversation, I’m certain I’ve burned all my bridges. Talk about a major screw-up…

 

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