Lavish Loving. Zuri Day
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as you claimed. Now try and deny it.”
“Dang, was I that transparent?”
“No, I’m that good at reading people. Especially those on the prowl in hotels.”
“I am hardly on the prowl.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. I don’t look for men. They look for me.”
“Then you wouldn’t be interested in any information I’d have about him. His room number, for instance? Or that he checked in alone?”
They reached the hotel entrance and stepped outside.
“Okay, what is it?”
“No, you’re probably right. No need to share information you won’t even use.”
“I might use it. Make a phone call. Have a chat.”
“Just a phone call, huh? You can do that through the front desk. Just dial zero and ask for him.”
“I don’t want the hotel staff in my business.”
Diamond raised a brow. “Or your relatives?”
“What’s the room number?” London huffed.
“Oh, darn. Look at our observant and efficient valet staff. Already here with my car.” Diamond spoke to the young man who held the car door open and got inside.
“Diamond!”
Diamond laughed, blew a kiss. “Sweet dreams, London. See you tomorrow at brunch!”
London hid her exasperation behind a smile and waved goodbye. Her frustration was gone before Diamond’s car left the hotel driveway. It had been a few months since she’d broken things off with Maxwell and London was more than ready for some horizontal aerobics. Nothing serious, though. A friend with several inches’ worth of benefits. Or someone like the hotel guest who reminded her of the bad-boy blond Max had recently made famous. Yesterday, he’d seen through her thin wig-and-shades disguise and requested a selfie. Someone like him would be fun. Not someone for whom she’d once had feelings and who was engaged—even married, as far as she knew.
Even though he checked in alone?
Yes, even though.
No Ace. Keep it moving. Got it.
She crossed the lobby to the ladies’ room. The marble-and-brass appointments made even a simple trip to the loo a luxury. London entered one of six stalls and handled her business. She was just about to exit when she heard more women enter, whispering and giggling. London didn’t want to take a chance on being recognized, and at a towering six feet plus in her ever-present five-inch heels, she was hard to miss. That and the fact that over the past five years her oval face, big brown eyes and naturally plump lips had graced the cover of every major magazine in the world. Throughout the Papa Dee celebrations, most had respected her privacy and the situation and left her alone. Not sure that would happen now. She didn’t feel like socializing with strangers but didn’t want to be rude. So she muted her phone and silently scrolled through a social media site, waiting for them to be gone.
“Oh, my gosh! He’s even better looking in person!”
London’s ears perked up. Her head raised, too.
“I know, right? I got a selfie!”
A rustling sound followed as London assumed the speaker was digging through her bag.
“Mr. Hotness in the hot flesh.”
She must have found it.
“Darn it! I’m jealous! You should have asked for one in his undies.”
“I know, right!”
A high five sounded. London scowled.
“Ooh, I’d do anything to be Ellen right now. Fine man like that on vacation all alone.”
“Alone? I thought I read that he was married.”
“Engaged, but they broke up.”
London’s brow raised. Oh, really now. Bathroom breaking news had just gotten more interesting.
“He scheduled a massage?”
“Yes. She gets to massage that fine mass of muscle for a whole hour!”
“Shut up! Why was she the lucky choice?”
“She’s one of the best in the business. It probably doesn’t hurt that she’s married, a grandmother and twice his age. The hotel wouldn’t want any scandal.”
London heard a sigh.
“Guess I’ll have to content myself with changing his sheets and inhaling the cologne lingering on them.”
“Is he in the Champagne bungalow?”
“No, the Pinot Noir. His massage is at noon. I’d love to be a fly on the wall.”
All that talk about Ace’s sexiness made London replace thoughts about boundaries with memories of Ace’s hard body. In that moment she determined that tomorrow at noon, she was going to be that fly.
They’d all been right. Especially Tyler, one of two business partners with whom Ace had opened Out of the Box, a fashion design company. They’d debuted with a menswear line known to the world as OTB Him. The launch had been as exhausting as it was successful. Ace had worked too hard for too long. He needed a break.
“You know it’s bad when you stop getting on my nerves and start getting on your own,” Tyler Dent had quipped last Tuesday after Ace fired a talented designer and scrapped a clothing direction months in the making. “You’re frickin’ overstressed, man. Either take a vacation or find another partner.”
Ace had responded with a few choice words, an upward flip of a certain finger and a door slam to punctuate his exit. He’d apologized later that evening and Dent, as Ace called him, in characteristic fashion, shook it off, bought him a beer and reiterated his ultimatum. The next day Ace had tasked his assistant with finding him a quiet, private place to unwind, something outside Northern California but no farther than a two-hour drive or hour-long airplane ride away. Among the several links she sent was the place he was now, Drake Wines Resort and Spa. The award-winning hotel and winery had appealed to him for several reasons. The private, freestanding bungalows they featured was only one of them.
Back from an invigorating two-mile run, Ace entered the expansive two-bedroom abode and headed straight for the master suite. He’d been forbidden from calling the office, and to abide by these wishes had left his phone in the room. He grabbed it, tapped the icon for his company email and strolled into the kitchen while the newest messages synced in. After opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig, he sat at the table to read through the day’s mail.
The name he’d hoped to see popped out at him. He opened the message, read the quick note and tapped the clip to open attachments. After a couple flicks of his thumbs, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He hadn’t regretted firing the talented but temperamental designer this week. He had been doubtful about finding another one who could bring the new line Ace envisioned to life. But Lucien, the teenager who’d won a TV show design contest, was just that guy. His portfolio was everything Ace had hoped for and then some—as fresh, innovative and daring as the styles that had won him first prize. The new OTB fashion line, this one for women, would definitely turn heads. All they needed now was the right muse to wear it.
He replied to the email, forwarded the images to the partners and then, satisfied that his company actually could go twenty-four hours without his direct involvement, slipped out of his running shoes, shorts and tee and stepped into the shower. He leaned against the cool marble, a stark yet welcome contrast to the warm water streaming over his body. He stepped under the rain showerhead and