“It’s a match made in heaven,” he muttered to himself. “Stop worrying and focus on getting Max back so you can get back to your life.”
He pulled up to the swank, modern two-story bungalow nestled in the hills of Mulholland Drive. This part of the road was littered with windy, twisty alleyways and make-your-knees-hurt hills. But the properties were gorgeous and Max's place was no different. He had to smirk at the bungalow’s defiant nod to the sixties as the properties surrounding it had been modernized to reflect sleek modern architecture.
Glancing up at the house, he searched the windows, but couldn’t see anything. “What the hell did you expect, moron? Max in the front window holding out a drink for you?” He shook his head. His brother may make bad decisions, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t stupid. The only reason Alec even knew about the property was because of Max’s obsession with Patsy Klein. She’d supposedly lived in this house when it was first built. Max had paid cash for it years ago under a corporation name.
Leaving the car unlocked, he strode toward the front door, opting for the brash route. It’s not like Max didn’t know why he was there. And it’s not like his brother didn’t have some pride. He wouldn’t run. He’d refuse to come home, but he wouldn’t run.
A clang came from the back door area and he wondered if his little brother had guests. Jogging around the back, Alec used the code to open the back fence. This may be one of the coolest places in the Hollywood hills, but their father had been a stickler for security and instilled that one hard rule: Protect yourself. There was no point in leaving yourself open to disaster. Too bad Max used the same password for everything.
Swinging in the gate, Alec found his brother lying out on a lounge chair with a whole lot of “what the fuck” plastered on his face. Sloshing his drink, he jerked upright. “Alec, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Chasing your ass all over God's green. What do you think I’m doing here? Adele couldn't find you. You haven’t been picking up your phone. And every time she sends someone after you, all your properties are buttoned up like Victorian hookers.”
Max stood, open shirt sleeves flapping in the breeze. He darted a furtive glance around. “How did you find me? Did you come alone? Is Mom out front?”
Alec had to shake his head. They might be as far apart as the mountains of the Grand Canyon in temperament, but they were near carbon copies of each other when it came to their looks. Their jaws, their eyes, the Roman noses. No one wouldn’t mistake them for brothers. Except Alec's dark hair favored his mother and Max's blond looks were all Westhorpe.
“Come on, man. Patsy Klein. You’ve only been obsessed with her for forever. Lucky for you, I don’t think Adele knows about this place. Otherwise she might have sent her security. She’s pissed.”
Max grabbed at the hair on his head with his left hand. “Of course you would know where to come find me. You didn’t tell her where I was, did you?”
“No. I’ll let you keep your sanctuary, but you’ve got to come home, bro. This mess you’re in, it won’t clean itself up. And—” he sucked a breath in past the emotion, “—Adele is torn up.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you worry about, mom. I’m sure she’s just as tough as she ever was.” He sagged a little, letting the bitter edge to his tone seep out. “Look. I know I’m in a world of trouble. I just needed a couple of days to sort myself out. I’m going to go back.”
Alec shoved his hands in his pockets, needing to channel the urge to hit his brother into somewhere less destructive. “What the hell were you thinking? Adele wanted me to look into why the Westhorpes with clubs are losing cash. I’ve had a quick look at the accounts. I assume it’s gambling? The Sandovals are the only ones you can get into that much debt with around San Diego. Have you lost your fucking mind? Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
“And say what? ‘Dude, I fucked up bad.’ You would have told me to handle my shit.”
That did sound like him. “You know better than that. If I’d known it was this bad, I would have helped you. “
Max rolled his eyes and some of the amber liquid in his glass sloshed. “That’s right. St. Alec, to the rescue. I can’t go back.”
The hairs on Alec’s neck stood up. “You don’t really have a choice. This is some serious shit. Imagine what this is doing to Sue.”
Disbelief contorted Max’s face. “Don’t you talk about Sue. You don’t know anything about her.”
“You’re right. I don’t. Other than the fact that she’s pregnant. I know nothing about your life or hers. But I do know the real reason you booked like Michael Johnson in oh-eight. You’re a selfish asshole. Dude, you left your pregnant fiancée behind after you drained your trust fund. Who does that?”
Max’s jaw tightened. “Adele sent you to keep things quiet. She doesn’t want anyone at Westhorpe knowing what a screw-up her son is.”
“Thing is, little brother, you only owed three hundred. I had Caleb check. Why did you drain your trust fund? What kind of trouble are you really in? Even you aren’t callous enough to leave Sue behind without any money.”
“Look. I know what you think, but it’s bigger than just the money I took. I’m going to come back. Just not now. I need more time to figure it out.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You can be a selfish little prick, but you’re not a complete bastard.”
Max’s grin went from surly to evil. “Nope, that’s your job title, right? Westhorpe Bastard. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it.”
Alec tried to reason with his mind and emotions, telling himself that they were just words. That Max didn’t really believe what he was saying. That he wasn’t just an errand boy, that he really couldn’t hurt his brother. But his fists didn’t feel like listening as they clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Enough screwing around, Max. Get your scrawny ass in the car. I’m taking you back.”
“Or what, you’ll drag me kicking and screaming?”
Alec leveled a glare at his brother. He was spoiling for a fight. “If it comes to that.”
Then Max did the unexpected—the one thing Alec was completely unprepared for. He ran.
Chapter Ten
Alec was late. But then, Jaya expected nothing less. Prompt time wouldn’t be on Mr. Fast and Loose’s radar. It would be the proper end to the day she’d had. She checked the time again on her phone. Thirty minutes late. Maybe Alec had abandoned her in Los Angles. She should have just driven herself. Or better yet, not come at all.
She felt like she could be in a MasterCard commercial. Drive to Los Angeles, two hours. Waiting room time, ten minutes. Time spent humiliating oneself by splitting pants in front of Adele Westhorpe, then subsequent hour trying to find needle and thread, priceless.
It’s wasn’t even like her pitch to Adele had been successful. She’d pretty much blown it with her big mouth. She usually aimed for capable and organized, but this time she’d come across as a pain in the ass with too much to say. When Alec said make an impression, pretty sure being a klutz wasn’t the impression she was been going for.
Letting her obsessive personality come out to play, Jaya checked her phone again. Three more minutes. How much longer could she wait there without acting? If she wanted to get back to San Diego tonight, she’d need a cab to the train station. “Okay, ten more minutes, Jai. Then I’m outta here. No sitting around waiting for a man to rescue you,” she mumbled to no one in particular. The hotel bar was blissfully empty. No one questioned her when she’d spilled a couple of tears after the interview with Dragon Lady.
Scooting up to the bar, she pulled out her laptop again. If she had to wait, she might as well prep a proper pitch. Not like she expected Adele to offer her a gig, but as exercises went, it would keep her mind off the jobless situation. It was what she loved, thrived on. She was meant to do a job like this.
She had to thank Alec for at least giving her the chance. He didn’t know her, but he already felt like a knight in shining armor. If she belie
ved in such things. Rolling her shoulders, she told herself to relax. He would come. She would have something to eat, try to enjoy her meal, and forget about the interview. And maybe even try to not obsess that not one single person had called her back about a job yet.
She might have screwed up in front of Adele, but as far as the rest of the city was concerned, she was a darned good event planner and—
The smell of sandalwood and something else woodsy enveloped her.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Something came up.” Directly behind her, Alec’s smooth baritone cradled her like a blanket and she almost forgot how her morning went.
She swiveled on the bar stool to face him and choked out a strangled cry. “Oh my God, what happened to you?” As she stood to inspect one of his bruises, she upended her purse. “Damn it.” He helped her as she frantically tried to grab the pieces of her life from skittering away. Jaya breathed a sigh of relief as her fingers fell on her Thirty list. Not exactly the kind of thing she wanted floating around. The list may not have her name on it, but the thought of anyone ever reading it made her nauseated. She was so relieved she got a hold of it before Alec could see it. Mortified wouldn’t even begin to cover it if he saw what was on there.
He frowned as he glanced down his ragged shirt and dirt-streaked jeans. “I suppose I look a little worse for wear.”
She grimaced. “Worse for wear? You look like you’ve been in an alley fight. And did you know you have a leaf stuck in your hair?”
He grasped for it. “What? Still? I thought I got the last one in the car. Guess not.”
All she could do was blink at him for several moments. Then laugh at the absurdity. “What did you do to yourself?”
Sounding like he was trying to hold back a strangled laugh, he said, “You mean besides traipsing through the jungles of LA? Not too much. How did it go with Adele?”
“Erm, great,” she lied. No point in hashing out the tortured details right away. He’d find out soon enough. No need for him to know she blew it. “You know—I did a pitch, she heard me out. I guess we’ll see.” She shrugged, each word leaving a bitter tasting paste in her mouth.
He studied her, the smudge of dirt on his nose the only thing she could see. “Don’t take it too hard. Adele’s—tough. I’m sure you did all right.”
Yeah. Right. If all right meant she’d be eating Top Ramen for the rest of her life just to pay her mortgage. Or worse, have to move back home. She shook her head to clear it. “I’m not going to think about it now. I’ve got some other things in the hopper, so we’ll see.”
He nodded, a dark curl flopping on his brow. “Well, a deal’s a deal. You came up here, you made the pitch. So I’m your man for this wedding shindig. What do I need to know? I met the evil sister. You know you two could be twins, which, by the way, is very hot.” He flashed a grin. “Anyone else? When do I meet the evil ex-fiancé-slash-sister’s-new-fiancé?”
She stared at him, not sure what was funnier, that he’d used the word shindig or that he was covered in dirt and debris yet acting as if everything was completely normal. She let out a strangled giggle. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t just come in here like nothing’s off. You’re covered in dirt and look like you did the Bachata with a dumpster. Luckily, you don’t smell like it.” No, he smelled like sandalwood and heaven and she had to fight not to think about the previous night. No hanky-panky. That was her rule not his. Why did I make the stupid rule again?
“Bachata huh? You ever been to the birthplace of Bachata?” He smiled, and the corners of his eyes creased. “Man, they do know how to party in the Dominican.”
She shook her head. “No. Closest I’ve been is Haiti, to help with the relief efforts. It’s where my family originated from generations ago. Most of them eventually ended up in New Orleans.”
He swiped at the sweat on his nose then frowned as the dirt came on his finger. “Damn. I’m a mess. I promise I don’t take women out looking like this. If Adele saw me, she’d freak.” He stood and held out a hand. “Come on. Let me show you around.”
She darted a glance around. “Aren’t you going to get cleaned up?”
The rakish grin was back complete with dazzling teeth. “That’s where we’re going.” Before she could remind him of their arrangement, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Relax, Jai, I remember the deal. No funny business.” He made a cross over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Boy Scout?”
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
She placed her palm in his, noticing the knuckles were raw and pink. Tugging on his hand, she looked up at him. “Please tell me what happened today. Adele Westhorpe doesn’t have you doing anything dangerous, does she? Like with teamsters or anything?” She’d seen that in a movie once.
He blinked at her, once, twice, then again. The bellowing laughter that spilled out from him filled her with a rush of instant warmth.
“Adele. Teamsters.” Laying a hand on his flat stomach, he guffawed again. “That’s awesome. I really must tell her one day.”
Jaya frowned. “Maybe not before she has a chance to decide about the job, okay?”
Still chuckling, he shook his head. “No. No teamsters. But the guy I was supposed to bring back to the office had other plans and ran down an alley. I went after him to try and, um, talk to him, but he threw a fist or two, then tossed a dumpster in my path.” Wiggling the fingers on his left hand, he gave her a wry smile. “Hence the pink knuckles. I’m fine, really. When are you going to tell me about your wedding?”
“You really did do the Bachata with a dumpster.”
He leaned in so close she could smell the mint on his breath. “If you like, I can show you how it’s done sometime.”
The hint of teasing and familiarity sent a sizzle to her core. She cleared her throat. “Maybe it’s something I’ll add to my Thirty list.”
He pulled her through the lobby toward the elevator. As they went, several hotel guest and staff stared, but no one questioned or made attempts to stop them. “What the heck is a Thirty list?”
She followed him into the elevator, a hot flush spread over her skin and she prayed he didn’t notice. “Just a list of all the things I want to do before I hit thirty.”
He grinned. “Like a Bucket List. I’m glad to hear I made it.”
She rolled her eyes. He was just so cocky. “Not you. Sad to say, ‘make love to hot stranger in a random hotel’ did not make my list. But learning Bachata will. As will dancing on top of the Eiffel Tower in an evening gown.”
“You think I’m hot?”
She smacked him on the arm as the elevator dinged on the pool level. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Nope.” His grin clearly stated his unabashed delight in himself. “So, can I see it?”
“Oh, hell no.” No one saw her list. Not even Micha and Ricca. They were her private goals. She was the only one who saw it and when she crossed things off.
“Wait, you’ll tell me what’s on it, but you won’t let me see it?”
“I only told you two things. It’s private. Like, really private. I don’t show it to anyone.” Lest they judge her by her failures. Like the time she’d tried to ride the New York City subway all night, just to get a vibe of the city. Big mistake. She’d been mugged. He didn’t need to know that. Her whole life, she had two mottos. Never let them see you sweat, and never let them see you fail.
“Let me guess. It’s one of your rules.”
She crossed her arms. “I like my rules.” But her conviction didn’t sound as solid as it would have two days ago. After all, sleeping with a stranger was a no-no in her book. Was Micha right? Was she too uptight with too many restrictions? The tiny voice in her head argued. But if you didn’t have your rules, how would you live? Everything would be in chaos. And she hated disorder. No, you don't. It’s your father who hates chaos. You want to be free. She shook her head and ignored the voice. She needed her list of dos and don’ts.
But as she watched Alec out of the corner of her eye, she wondered if she could relax some of her rules.
The muscles in his forearms quivered as he pushed up his sleeves. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No.” She flushed and looked down at her hands. “I've been meaning to say, thank you. This job, if it pans out, is something I needed. I'm not sure what I did right. But thank you.”
He remained silent. She brought her eyes up to meet his. And he smiled. “You don't have to thank me. Believe me you're doing me a favor.”
“And the wedding? Is that doing you a favor too?”
“Oh yes.” He winked.
“How exactly?” “
“I get to spend the next two weeks with a beautiful, sexy woman.”
She flushed. “You shouldn’t flirt with me like that.”
“What if I like flirting with you? What if I like making you flush pink under that pretty brown skin?”
She didn't exactly know what to say to that. So she played with the hem of her shirt and changed the subject to something safer. “I sent out a ton of query letters to event planning companies around town, looking for a bite or referral. They all know my work. They were competitors and pseudo friends. All of a sudden, my email is either being ignored or they're not getting back to me. One actually replied that he knew my father well and if I'd left, it must be for a reason.” She sniffed in an effort to keep the waterworks at bay.
A frown line marred his otherwise smooth forehead. “Word got around quick, huh?”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “Well, seeing how it's a Saturday and I left on Tuesday, the only way for word to have gotten out is if someone spread it. Which is possible. Or it's something else.”
“Something else like…?”
“Like Dad is deliberately blocking my chances to get another job.”
“But why would he do that? What's your story with him anyway? Why would he stand in your way?”
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