Flawless (A Love, California Series Novel, Book 1)

by Jan Moran

  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 managed 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. She gazed out the window at palm trees swaying against a mountain backdrop as they taxied.

  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 wa
s 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, but 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,” she said. 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.

  It was a warm evening, and he had the top down. As he opened the door for her, his glossy black hair shimmered in the evening lights. “Are you hungry?”

  “A little. Dinner was somewhere over the Atlantic.” Scarlett slid into the car.

  “Want to head over to the hotel? Lance is working on some new dishes tonight.”

  “I’d like that,” Scarlett said, finally relaxing after the long flight. She never had to be anyone other than who she was with Johnny. Why can’t romantic relationships be like this?

  As Johnny drove, they talked about their friends, Verena and Lance, who had been dating for a while. Lance was the executive chef at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the legendary pink palace on Sunset Boulevard in Beverly Hills, a favorite hotel of Hollywood stars throughout the decades. Johnny was the maître d’ at the Polo Lounge, where the beautiful people still gathered and felt at home.

  To the people who’d lived in Beverly Hills for many years, like some of Scarlett’s friends and their families, the five-square-mile community would always be a little village, where doctors still made house calls, shops had private house accounts, and restaurants and delicatessens let regular customers run a monthly tab.

  Today, Van Cleef & Arpels and Cartier glittered on Rodeo Drive, and tour buses lumbered along pristine residential streets, but the city still maintained its charm among residents, who could walk almost anywhere in the city—a rarity in the car-dependent culture of Los Angeles.

  Not that many of them did, of course.

  Johnny parked and they threaded their way through the back entrance of the luxury hotel. Outside, under pink archways, the open air terrace dining area was ablaze with red bougainvillea, green garden chairs, and white tablecloths.

  They reached the front of Polo Lounge, where Johnny showed Scarlett to a booth in the bar area. Dark green walls created a clubby ambiance, mirrors reflected the dazzling array of guests, and polo pictures and a green-and-white striped ceiling harkened to the hotel’s early days. Strains of jazz floated in the air.

  “Scarlett, welcome home,” said a slender blond woman who was already seated in the booth. She wore a creamy silk sheath dress and pearls.

  “Verena, it’s so good to see you.” Scarlett hugged her friend and scooted in beside her. “I feel like I’ve been gone forever.” She loosened the collar of her blouse and smoothed her hair back.

  “Seems like it. A month, wasn’t it?” Verena’s fair porcelain skin seemed to glow in the low lights. Whether it was from happiness or her new skincare line, Scarlett couldn’t tell, but she was glad Verena was doing better. After all she’d been through with her business and her family, she deserved it.

  “That’s right. Milan, Florence, Paris, London.” It sounded exciting, but she’d often worked sixteen hour days. Still, she had to admit she met amazing people and dined in all the best restaurants. Working at the firm was like having velvet shackles.

  “Has Johnny told you the news?” Verena could hardly contain herself.

  “No, what’s going on?”

  Verena looked like she was going to burst with happiness. “I’ll let him tell you.”

  Johnny winked at her. “I’ll get Lance.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Did Lance propose?” Scarlett touched Verena’s left hand, which was bare.

  “No, not that. Too soon for us.” Verena’s blue eyes were as brilliant as sapphires, and they glowed with excitement.

  “When you’re ready, we should talk about prenuptial agreements.”

  “I lost everything, remember?” Verena laughed. “But we’re happy.”

  “You’re creating new intellectual property now, trademarks, copyrights, service marks.” Scarlett started to launch into a legal discourse, and then she caught Verena’s amused expression. It was late, and she was being overzealous again. She couldn’t help it; it was in her blood.

  “Relax, Scarlett. Everything in time, Mia says.”

  At the mention of Verena’s grandmother, Scarlett pressed a hand to her heart. “How is she?”

  “Much better now. She’s been released from the hospital. She’s a real fighter. In fact, she and Camille went shopping today. You can’t keep a fashionista down when Neiman Marcus has its Last Call sale.”

  Scarlett smiled, imaging the two doyennes of beauty together. Camille was their friend Dahlia’s grandmother; Camille had founded a perfume empire decades ago. Originally from Switzerland, Mia had established a skincare salon in Beverly Hills in the 1940s. After Verena’s parents died in a tragic accident, Mia raised Verena and her two younger twin sisters.

  Johnny appeared at the table, and with him was Lance Martel, the executive chef. They all greeted one another and sat down.

  “I told Scarlett that you’ve been experimenting with some new dishes.”

  A half smile tugged at Lance’s mouth. “Salmon or pork?”

  “Salmon,” Scarlett said.

  “Good choice. I’ll whip one up for you. Did Johnny tell you?”

  Scarlett shook her head. “No, and I wish someone would. You’re all killing me. What’s going on?”

  Johnny and Lance traded a look. “We’re starting our own restaurant,” Johnny said. “We’ll finally be in a place of our own.”

  “Why, that’s wonderful.” Scarlett was truly happy for Johnny. Both men were talented, and had devoted followings. The restaurant business was tough, but if anyone could do it, these two could. “Congratulations. When, where, and what’s the name?”

  “Scarlett, slow down,” Johnny said. “We just decided. As usual, you’re several steps ahead of us.”

  Scarlett felt her cheeks grow warm and she laughed. “Occupational hazard.”

  Lance excused himself and went to prepare Scarlett’s meal while
the three friends caught up. When Lance returned with the salmon dish, it was one of the best preparations she thought she’d ever had. It was perfectly moist, and seasoned with fresh herbs. A citrus reduction was just the right accent, and a bed of spaghetti squash and spinach balanced the fish. Scarlett realized she was starving.

  After she’d finished eating, Verena and Lance left. Scarlett watched them go. She was elated for them, but she also wondered where the magic was that had brought the two of them together. Where was her magic?

  “Would you like to have hot chocolate by the pool before I take you home?” Johnny asked.

  Johnny knew her well. She’d almost forgotten how they used to drink hot chocolate together. “I’d like that.”

  They strolled through the hotel, past the old soda fountain shop and out to the pool. A server delivered the hot chocolate he’d asked for. They were seated at a table when Scarlett said, “You know what I’d like to do?”

  “No telling,” Johnny said, watching her with dancing eyes, dark as mahogany.

  Scarlett slipped her feet from her high heels and rolled up her trousers. Johnny laughed and followed suit. Soon the two of them were sitting at the pool, dangling their legs in the cool water, and cupping hot chocolate in their hands.

  Scarlett tilted her head back and gazed up at the full moon, which cast shimmering shadows on the rippling water.

  Johnny touched her chin. “Hold it right there. You have cat’s eyes in this light, a gorgeous golden green. Simply beautiful.”

  As was Johnny. Lots of women adored him. Scarlett noted a dimple in one of his cheeks when he grinned. “What a funny thing to say, Johnny.”

  He shrugged. “I’m noticing the little things more.” He waved a hand around. “Look at us. Good friends, a good place in our lives. We’ve come so far, chica. Let’s savor our success.”

  “Who has time?” The partner track had sapped her energy. The memory of Lucan assailed her thoughts.