The tension between us could be cut with a knife. He said nothing for most of the ride, and then I suddenly felt him staring at my profile. “What?” I asked, refusing to look his way.
In my peripheral vision, I saw his long finger point to the screen that displayed the song title and artist. “You know them well.” It wasn’t a question, more a confirmation.
“You looked me up,” I retorted with my own confirmation, zipping along the I-10 toward LA with my grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“I did, and I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“Figure me out how?”
My eyes cut to him, and I was dying to know what he’d say next. “Well, for starters, Trey Taylor is very different in appearance than Mr. Country Club back there,” he said with a jerk of his thumb. “So then I guess your type is wealth?”
I refocused on the road, seeing red. “Excuse me?” Hearing Trey’s name caused a surge of resentment. He may as well have slapped me with those words. “You don’t know me. You have no idea what my story is.” Risking a glance, I became even more annoyed that he had the gall to be scowling. “What… you read some shit online, and now you think you have me all figured out?” Unfazed by the venom dripping over every word out of my mouth, he kept his gaze drilling into my head.
“No, I don’t have you figured out at all. It’s just a hunch.”
The exit within sight was the only reason I didn’t yank the car toward the shoulder to tear him open a new asshole. I said nothing, keeping my anger in until I was able to stop the car to properly let him have it. Mind you, the six or so minutes that passed until then each felt like an hour.
Once I pulled up in front of his building, I twisted my entire upper body to face him. It took a second or two before he turned toward me. His eyes shifted down to where the seat belt cut me between my breasts, lingered, and then slid back up to meet my blazing glare.
“If we are going to be working together, let’s get one thing straight… I don’t play games. I tell it like it is, and I expect others to act the same way. So if you have any questions, then you ask me. Got it?”
“Yeah. Got it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Bourbon and me don’t mix,” he said as an excuse. I remained silent, having no idea what to say to him even though I had a ton of questions. He unsnapped his seat belt and mimicked my position. “By the way, I don’t drink. Well, I do, but not to serve a purpose. My unexpected purpose today seemed to be how much I hated everything about that party. The money, the pretension, it all made me want to throw up.”
I wondered if there were reasons from his past, a difficult upbringing that caused his disgust. Maybe one day he would open up and tell me. Until then, this relationship needed to remain as uncomplicated as possible.
“Including that douchebag Oliver,” he continued.
“You spoke to him for all of four minutes.”
“It was long enough to know he’s a condescending prick.” He glanced out his window and spoke into the glass. “But you’re right. I don’t know him, or you. You can associate with whoever you like.”
I don’t need your permission sat on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. The entire conversation was strange. Like he wanted to pick a fight with me, one I wouldn’t encourage. Regardless, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you care anyway, Cannon?”
While staring at the back of his head, I was met with silence. When he flicked the latch to open his door, I assumed I wouldn’t get an answer. But then he slowly turned his head until our eyes connected and held. “Beats the shit out of me.” He unfolded his body from the car before dipping his head back in. “I’ll text you when we can meet up.”
And with that, he slammed the door shut, forcing me to watch his perfect denim-clad ass walk away and disappear into his building.
Satisfied with my hair and makeup, one last glance at the clock on my nightstand said Oliver would be there any minute. The first time I met him had been just last week at a dinner party hosted by one of the executives at LRV. Jen had thought it would be a great place to meet some of the key players in the company.
Chance had me sitting beside Oliver, and I enjoyed conversing with him during the meal. He fascinated me with stories of Hollywood and the many films he had produced. It wasn’t bragging, more so venting when he admitted he had a love/hate relationship with the movie industry.
I thought the entire thing sounded very glamorous, while a bit unrealistic. There were plenty of celebrities and famous musicians I had met over the years, but from some of the things Oliver shared, most sounded like drama magnets.
Huh… who was I to talk?
Before the end of the dinner, Oliver had invited me to a “thing” he was having on his yacht the day after his son’s party. Sure, the man was attractive, although older men didn’t really do it for me. But the opportunity to be on a millionaire’s yacht was just too exciting to pass up.
I thought it strange he’d offered to pick me up, but again, I’d never been in a Lamborghini before.
The buzzer to my apartment sounded at one p.m. on the nose. Apparently, the man was as punctual as the custom Rolex on his wrist. Just thinking of Oliver’s wealth brought Cannon’s accusations back into my mind. I had brooded most of the night away, seething over his judgment, reliving the look on his face and the contempt in his voice.
I tried to rationalize whatever happened in his head yesterday had nothing to do with me. There was some deep-rooted resentment in that man, and I must have been the outlet he had chosen to release it on.
Forcing Cannon and his idiotic theories out of my mind, I snatched my bag and hurried out to meet Oliver.
Through the glass door of my condo building I saw him standing in front of his shiny silver sports car, dressed similarly to what he had worn to the party yesterday: designer shorts and a polo shirt. I had to admire what great shape he was in, muscular tanned arms and legs, a nice broad chest. Except for the salt-and-pepper hair, he looked much younger than his years.
“Wow,” he said when I came closer. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks,” I replied when he leaned in and kissed my cheek. His compliment seemed a bit much as I glanced down at the tan capris, lightweight sweater, and casual loafers I had chosen to wear.
He opened the door. While he moved around the car to his side, I gawked at the high-tech dashboard, which looked like it could navigate a jetliner.
“Thank you again for picking me up. I could have driven to the marina myself.”
Oliver snapped his seat belt on and grinned. “No thanks needed. I wanted to spend some time together before having to share you. I really liked getting to know you last week.”
“Yes, it was a nice evening.” The ride wasn’t too long to the coast, but my nerves spiked a bit after his admission. I really didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
The chiming of bells sounded from the inside of my bag, amplified in the quiet of the car. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot to mute it,” I said, digging it out to see who had texted me.
It’s Cannon. I’ll meet you at Baked Goods around the corner from my apartment on Friday, eleven a.m.
Something made me believe it wasn’t coincidence, and he knew exactly where I would be just after one p.m. on Sunday. It wasn’t like Oliver had whispered it in my ear at the party yesterday. Guessing he’d decided he was no longer in the mood to have dinner, I set the reminder for that morning in my phone, even knowing I wouldn’t forget.
“Everything okay?” Oliver asked, glancing my way as he shifted into second gear.
“Yep, all good.” I tucked my phone back into my bag. Cannon Davis could wait for my response. “So how many people are you hosting today?”
“About a dozen. A few good friends… Jen will be there. Of course, Blake and his wife Sandy… and you know Claudia Treller?”
“The Claudia Treller… ‘just won an Oscar’ Claudia Treller?” He smiled when my mouth dropped open and closed a few times.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. She’s my goddaughter.” My stunned silence had him chuckling. “You’re so adorable, Lori.” A twinge of discomfort fluttered in the pit of my stomach as my cheeks flushed subconsciously. “Does that bother you?” he asked, his tone becoming more serious. “Because when I see something I like, I don’t beat around the bush.”
“Oliver, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. You seem like a very nice man, but I only arrived in LA a few weeks ago. Right now, I really just want to concentrate on my job and my new client.”
I studied his profile, waiting for him to reply as he cut his gaze toward me and then back to the road. “I also have a ton of patience. I’m in no rush.” The warm smile he gifted me was sweet.
He took my silence as an opportunity to raise the volume on the jazz station that played, while I sat anxiously waiting to get there already, find Jen to latch on to, and try to have a good time despite feeling uneasy over Oliver’s tenacity.
Chapter 6
Lori
With his guests not scheduled to arrive until two, Oliver took the opportunity to give me a tour. I tried to ignore the curious glances I received from his staff as he led me from room to room.
The boat was spectacular, bigger than most apartments I’d seen. Even my rock star best friend Leila’s penthouse in Manhattan seemed small in comparison.
It was hard not to admire the tasteful decor. The kitchen gleamed from enough stainless steel to replace the top of the Chrysler Building. Room after room screamed success, opulence. He had spared no expense and created a luxurious home on water that could entertain at least fifty guests, not to mention sleep a dozen.
“This is truly beautiful, Oliver.”
“Thank you,” he said, stopping to smile at me. “My ex-wife wanted this baby badly, but revising the prenup to give up my Malibu place instead was a no-brainer.”
All I could do was smile. This was so out of my league that even pretending I could relate would be impossible.
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Which time?” Oh boy. He chuckled at his own joke. “Ten years from Blake’s mother, and the ink isn’t dry yet on divorce number two.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. I’ll always love my first wife, Loretta, in some way. We’d been together a long time before I found my success. But Hannah? I don’t know what I was thinking marrying her.” He paused at a highly polished oak door facing us. When he skimmed his hand along the shiny wood, his expression altered to something more intimate. “Here’s my favorite room.”
Since we were now at the stern—and having already seen six full-sized bedrooms that took up more than half of the boat—I assumed this was his master bedroom. Oliver opened the door to a huge suite with three of its walls floor-to-ceiling glass that gave you an unfettered view.
The room was big enough to hold a California king bed, more furniture than was needed, and a sitting area facing four large-screen televisions mounted in a grid pattern. The door leading to a bathroom gave a peek at a sunken jet tub for two.
“It’s amazing.” I hovered where we entered while my eyes took it all in and avoided his.
“I spend a lot of time here… my home away from home. In fact, after Hannah and I separated, I did live here while she took her time moving out of my penthouse.”
“I can see why.” Voices above practically forced a sigh of relief. “Seems like your guests are arriving,” I said, glancing toward the ceiling.
“Should’ve picked you up earlier so we could’ve enjoyed a cocktail alone on deck. Let’s go have some fun. We’ll chat more later. After you,” he said with a wave of his hand.
I wasn’t sure what it was about Oliver that made me uncomfortable. I did find him very attractive, and I wasn’t immune to alpha males. History proved I was more than capable of handling myself, especially with a pushy man. It was probably the combination of power, wealth, age, experience, and tenacity that made me nervous. I could be wrong, but he seemed like the type of person who rarely took no for an answer.
Then again, maybe being with a man like Oliver Steiner was just what I needed. Maybe… having a relationship that was friendship based, and not lust based, would be the right move for me. Absent would be the angst, the drama that came with developing feelings. Look what had already begun happening between Cannon and me, and we were just slightly better acquainted than strangers.
Oliver followed close behind as I made my way down the long corridor toward the illuminated stairwell. Once back on the main deck, he excused himself and headed over to a small group that had just arrived, while I beelined for where Jen stood chatting with Blake.
“Hey,” she said when she saw me approaching. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Yeah, Oliver was giving me a tour.”
Blake motioned toward a server and plucked a flute of champagne off the tray. “Here you go,” he said with a smile. “No doubt you’re bored to death. My dad forgets most people couldn’t give a shit that we could all eat off the engine room’s floor.”
“Oh stop; he’s just proud. It’s endearing,” Jen responded. I smiled tightly before taking a sip, wondering if Jen was interested in Oliver.
“He’s a dork when it comes to his toys.” Blake’s attention focused on something behind us. “Excuse me, ladies. I’m being paged,” he said before strolling over to the group his father had joined.
“You okay?” Jen asked, studying my face with a narrowed gaze.
“Yes. Just overwhelmed by all of this.” I swept my attention across the deck. “This is quite something.”
Jen followed my line of sight. “You should see his place in Beverly Hills.”
“How close is he to Louis?” I asked.
“Very. They’ve vacationed together. Not with his second wife, Louis can’t stand her. The Vasslers and Steiners go back about twenty years. When I started with LRV, he was still married to Loretta. Louis introduced us, wanting me to have someone I could depend on here in California. He’s big on that, having people who have your back if you need it. In retrospect, I think Louis was hoping Blake and I would hit it off, but he’s not my type.” She glanced over to where father and son laughed with guests, and that uneasy feeling took hold of my gut again. “Funny how now he’s with Sandy, and Oliver is single.”
I wasn’t sure what to admit, especially if she liked Oliver. Jen was seeing someone, but that meant nothing. Once Jen had divorced her husband, Malcolm, she’d become arm candy for a few wealthy businessmen in LA over the last few years.
“He wants to take you out,” she guessed when I still hadn’t responded. My raised brows confirmed her suspicions just as Jen’s ruby-tinted lips spread into a Cheshire cat’s smile. “I figured he would. He asked me all about you last week after you left the dinner party.”
“What did you say?” I wasn’t exactly thrilled that Oliver could know how or why I had gotten to Los Angeles.
“Not much. Just that you grew up in Jersey, wanted a fresh start, and Louis made that happen for you.”
Instant relief revealed itself in my sigh. “Thank you.”
Jen stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Oliver is harmless. Blake told me that after he and Hannah split, his father swore off long-term relationships. He happens to enjoy a woman’s company, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Jen, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Lori, after what you’ve been through, being wined and dined by a man like Oliver wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” Jen really only knew of my situation with my ex-fiancé, Matt. To this day, I had no idea if she knew I had had an affair with Trey Taylor, the bass player of her prized Devil’s Lair. “The man also has a body most twenty-year-olds would die for. I may or may not have seen him naked.”
“So you’ve dated him?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. It wouldn’t surprise me. Jen Baxter was stunning, with a killer body, perfectly highlighted bl
ond hair, and ice-blue eyes. I’d seen men’s tongues loll out of their mouths when she walked into a room.
“Oh no. Although if he asked I would,” she admitted what I suspected. “There were leaked pictures of him online while he vacationed in Bora Bora. Very revealing shots. Huge lawsuit happening with the tabloid that ran them. Rumor has it his ex-wife had something to do with it.” She laughed at my incredulous expression. “Welcome to Hollywood. Look, I’m not saying you need to marry him. He’s sweet and kind… and mature. It may help you experience how a man should really treat a woman.”
Jen was never a fan of Matt Rizzo’s; that I knew for a fact. Even though she let me manage my fiancé’s band without influence, if something came to her attention, she was sure to give me her opinion on how I should handle it. For the most part, she was too busy being agent to her superstars.
We had a strange friendship. Despite the fact she and my best friend, Leila, never got along, I felt a connection to Jen. When Leila joined Devil’s Lair, I assumed my bestie posed a threat to their agent. Jen had been the queen responsible for getting Devil’s Lair the success they’d achieved, and they’d made her a very rich woman.
Suddenly, DL had a new queen, one who the lead singer, Jack Lair, fell head over heels in love with. Come to think of it, Jen didn’t get along with Jack either… or Trey. The woman could be difficult; that was for sure.
When the yacht slowly started pulling away, I moved toward the wood railing to enjoy the view. Jen leaned her back against it and said, “Lori, your life is about to get crazy with Cannon’s career on the brink of exploding. Enjoy the benefits that would come from dating a man like Oliver—mature, established.” I studied her expression, knowing this was another warning to stay away from the rock star.
Oliver’s deep laugh drew our attention to where he had made his way toward us, with Claudia Treller beside him. The man really was handsome, with his tanned, fit body and salt-and-pepper hair, and he could hold his own next to someone as stunning as she was. I watched as she placed a hand on his arm and laughed in such a phony manner that it made me cringe. Either Oliver couldn’t tell, or he didn’t care.
Liner Notes Page 4