A Los Angeles Rendezvous Read online

  “I better get going. I have to pick up Taylor by six o’clock, or my ex will kill me.”

  “Wow, two weekends in a row with your beautiful daughter. That’s awesome!” she exclaimed.

  “Taylor’s grandmother, Shay’s mom, had surgery, and she’ll need a lot of help once she’s discharged, so I offered to take Taylor for the weekend.” He shrugged a shoulder. “It was the right thing to do.”

  “You’re a great dad, Max.”

  “Tell that to Taylor. She hates me!”

  Jada scoffed. “No, she doesn’t. Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the craziest thing. I can manage the careers of dozens of clients, but I can’t manage a successful relationship with my ten-year-old daughter. If we’re butting heads now, what’s life going to be like when she’s sixteen?” Max shivered. “It’s a chilling thought.”

  “Taylor’s going through a phase. Don’t sweat it. It’s perfectly normal, Max.”

  “I hope so, but I still wish she was my sweet little girl who used to think the world of me.” Releasing a deep sigh, he retrieved his iPhone from his jacket pocket and swiped a finger across the screen. “Have a good weekend, Jada. See you on Monday.”

  Max put on his sunglasses and marched through the front door, whistling a tune.

  Slumping against the desk, Jada fanned her face. Her attraction to Max was so powerful and intense she needed a moment to catch her breath. Her mouth was wet and her pulse pounded in her ears, making it impossible for her to think straight. She had memos to write and emails to answer, but Jada couldn’t stop fantasizing about Max and all the delicious things she’d like to do to him—on his expensive executive desk.

  Chapter 2

  Max strode into the lavish great room of his childhood home in Malibu, took one look at his ailing father sitting on the couch and willed the tears in his eyes not to fall. Reginald used to be a tall, imposing figure with a toothy grin and dynamic personality, but now he was a shadow of his former self. His reputation destroyed after the scandal in San Diego and his longtime friends casting him aside, he found little these days to be cheerful about, and Max missed his father’s hearty laughter. Reginald’s membership in Prescott George—one of his greatest pleasures in his life—was revoked because an internal investigation had uncovered solid evidence against him in the sabotage case. Less than a week later, he’d received devastating news. He was diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer and his doctors didn’t think he’d live past the New Year. No one did, but Max was holding out hope for a Christmas miracle and believed with all his heart that Reginald would beat the odds. If anyone could, it was his gutsy fifty-nine-year-old dad.

  Life is so unfair. Why me? Why my family? Max thought, taking off his sunglasses and dropping them on the coffee table covered in business magazines. First my mom gets cancer, and now my dad. Haven’t I suffered enough? Burying his pain, he marched confidently through the living room toward his dad, sporting a smile.

  Bathed in natural light, the mansion had a chef’s kitchen, an in-home movie theater, an art studio and three master bedrooms. The glass walls provided picturesque views of the lush green landscape, but the tranquil scenery did nothing to soothe Max’s troubled mind.

  The mansion held great memories for Max, and seeing his mother’s oil paintings displayed on the fireplace mantel made sadness prick his heart. Constance Moore hadn’t been just his mom; she’d been his best friend. She’d quit her high-powered managerial job at the Getty Center to raise him and his older stepsister, Bianca, and when his mom wasn’t volunteering at their private school or baking cookies for his soccer team, she was chauffeuring him around to his extracurricular activities. Growing up, his friends had loved coming to his house, and Constance was the reason why. She had a warm, caring nature and made everyone who visited their home feel welcome. Not a day went by that Max didn’t think about his mom, and his only regret in life was that he hadn’t been at her bedside when she took her last breath.

  “What’s up, fam?” Max greeted his half brothers with a fist bump. Lean, with close-cropped hair, intense eyes and stylish designer eyeglasses, Trey looked more like an actor than a Hollywood screenwriter at the top of his game. He’d fallen hard for Kiara Woods, the owner of the preschool for the children of Hollywood’s elite, and stunned everyone who knew him when he’d proposed. She’d said yes, and the couple was busy planning their spring wedding.

  “I thought you’d never get here. What took you so long?” Derek asked, glancing at his gold wristwatch. Tall, toned and athletic, Derek was a successful real-estate mogul who collected properties the way rap stars collected luxury cars. Last month, he’d reconnected with his first love, model Alexis Armstrong, and after a passionate night together they’d discovered they were pregnant. He’d popped the question on Thanksgiving Day, and the parents-to-be were overjoyed about the impending birth of their child and their upcoming fairy-tale wedding.

  Max had never been close to his brothers, but they’d been working together for weeks to clear Reginald’s name, and now he respected and admired them. “It’s good to see you, Dad. How are things?”

  “Can’t complain. Had a massage this afternoon, and Tanesha sang my favorite Christmas song. It was amazing. Hours later, I can still hear her angelic voice in my ears.” Closing his eyes, he snapped his fingers and hummed a tune. “You should sign her to your agency, son. She’s talented, and cute as a button.”

  Max nodded as his dad spoke, even though he had no intention of meeting the singing masseuse from Brentwood.

  Observing his dad, Max found it hard to believe Reginald used to be two hundred pounds of steel-hard muscle. He was thin and frail now, the disease having ravaged his body. It took everything in Max not to cry as he stared at his dad. He couldn’t imagine his life without him and struggled to control his emotions. Without Reginald, his life would be empty, and it pained him that Taylor wouldn’t have any more Sunday afternoon “dates” with her grandfather. He’d never take her for ice cream again, or teach her how to play spades, or how to drive a stick shift.

  “Son, if you sign her to your talent agency, do I get a finder’s fee?” Reginald joked, arching an eyebrow. “I think fifty percent is fair. After all, I discovered her.”

  Max wore a wry smile, chuckling when his dad called him a cheapskate. In spite of everything Reginald had been through—his wife’s sudden death, losing his membership to Prescott George, the groundless accusations against him and his heartbreaking diagnosis—he’d never lost his smile, and it gave Max hope, the strength to get out of bed and face the world every day even though he was broken inside.

  “I hate to interrupt this touching Hallmark moment, but we need to discuss Demetrius.”

  There was a note of bitterness in Derek’s tone, but Max didn’t say anything. Wisely held his tongue. He didn’t want to argue with his brother in front of Reginald. That was the last thing their father needed, and Max didn’t want to say or do anything to stress him out. “What about him? Did you uncover more information linking Demetrius to the sabotage case? Are we any closer to clearing Dad’s name?”

  “No, not yet, but I’m working hard on it.”

  “Then what’s on your mind, D? Why do you look so stressed?”

  “Because nothing makes sense,” he complained. “Why would Demetrius want to frame you? You’ve been his oldest and dearest friend for decades.”

  Reginald dropped his gaze to his lap. “I, ah, have no idea.”

  “Of course you do,” Trey snapped, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not fooling anyone, Dad. It’s obvious you’re lying, and it’s time to come clean.”

  His brothers grilled Reginald until sweat dripped from his brow.

  “Why are you blaming me? What makes you think I did something wrong?”

  “Because before you got kicked out of Prescott George, you were a jerk,” Derek said. “You didn’t think of
anyone but yourself, and it was infuriating.”

  “It’s true, I was, but I’ve changed for the better.”

  Derek and Trey shared a “Yeah, right” look, and Max knew they didn’t believe their father. Was this why his brothers had called an emergency family meeting? Because they wanted him to grill Reginald? Well, it wasn’t going to happen. His brothers always made him feel guilty for having a close relationship with their father, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let them bash Reginald. Not now. Their dad was sick, physically and emotionally spent, and Max didn’t want his brothers ganging up on him. No one truly understood what Reginald was going through, and he wanted him to feel supported, not insulted. “Guys, ease up. Dad’s had a rough few weeks, so quit badgering him about Demetrius. He’ll confide in us when he’s ready.”

  “How long are we supposed to wait? Time is of the essence,” Trey pointed out. “Dad, if you want us to help you, you have to be honest with us about everything.”

  “We’ll never get to the bottom of things if you keep coddling him,” Derek said, addressing Max, his gaze dark and narrowed. “Reginald needs to be straight up with us, so we can clear his name and put this mess behind us.”

  Reginald coughed into his fist. “I... I—I can’t. I don’t want you boys to think less of me.”

  Derek scoffed. “Too late for that. We know who you are and what you’re capable of, and to be honest, there’s nothing you can say or do to surprise me...”

  Derek trailed off when Max silenced him with a look. Reginald wasn’t perfect; he’d screwed up and made mistakes—mistakes Trey and Derek liked throwing in his face over and over again. His brothers hadn’t grown up with Reginald, but Max had a very different relationship with his father and saw him as a loving, loyal family man. When Reginald was married to Trey’s mother, he’d cheated on her with Derek’s mother, refused to acknowledge Derek as his kid until a court-ordered DNA test proved it, then found his soul mate in Max’s mother. Reginald was so in love with Constance that he’d never had another adulterous affair and had remained faithful until her death. It saddened him that his brothers had such a negative opinion of Reginald. He’d been a father to Max in every sense of the word, and he had enough memories of his dad to fill a hundred scrapbooks. Reginald had taught him to ride a bike, taken him to his first NBA game, and attended his school events, even if it meant leaving work early. “‘He who’s without sin cast the first stone,’” Max said, quoting the well-known Bible verse. “Dad isn’t perfect, and neither are you. Hell, no one is, so cut him some slack, would ya?”

  Derek took his car keys out of his pocket. “This is a waste of time. I’m out of here.”

  “Me, too.” Trey got up. “Dad, when you’re ready to have an honest conversation about your past and explain the real reason behind your beef with Demetrius, let me know.”

  Trey and Derek strode through the great room, speaking in hushed tones.

  “I slept with Ellen,” Reginald blurted out.

  Trey and Derek stopped and turned. All three men faced their dad, eyes wide, jaws slack. They’d asked him outright a couple weeks ago if he’d had an affair with Demetrius’s wife, and Reginald had denied it.

  “You did what?” Derek shouted.

  Max cursed. He couldn’t wrap his head around his father’s confession. All this time, he’d thought that his dad was grieving the loss of his mom, so he was shocked to hear about his father’s tryst with Demetrius Davis’s former trophy wife, Ellen Davis. “Dad, how could you? Demetrius is your best friend, and he’s always been like a second father to us.”

  Trey closed his gaping mouth. “Are you insane? What were you thinking?”

  “I-i-it was an accident,” Reginald stammered, in a shaky voice.

  Throwing his hands in the air, Derek rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “An accident? How do you accidentally sleep with your best friend’s wife? Explain that to me. I’m dying to know.”

  “I was lonely, and she was upset about Demetrius neglecting her and came on to me one afternoon when I stopped by the house. It only happened once. I swear on my life.”

  Only once? Yeah, right, Dad, and I’m a born-again virgin! Max knew Reginald was lying, but didn’t expose him. It would only make things worse, and he didn’t want his brothers to go off on their dad. He remembered seeing Reginald and Ellen at an expensive French restaurant last summer, but Max had been at a business meeting and never had an opportunity to speak to them. And old friends of Reginald and Demetrius had also mentioned seeing the pair together a few times. Wow, they’d had an affair? Demetrius must have found out about it and thought he could kill two birds with one stone: hurt the San Diego chapter’s chances of winning Chapter of the Year and frame his “best friend” as payback.

  Max didn’t want to believe it, felt guilty for even thinking such a horrible thing about the successful businessman, but the truth was staring him in the face.

  “No wonder Demetrius hates you,” Trey said, shaking his head. “You’re lucky he didn’t strangle you for messing with his wife. I would.”

  “I don’t understand how he found out. No one knew about our affair. Unless...” Reginald straightened in his seat. “It had to be Ellen. She promised to take our secret to the grave, but threw me under the bus. I can’t believe this shit.”

  Max shrugged. “Never trust a big butt and a smile.”

  Reginald chuckled so hard his shoulders shook. Max felt a rush of pride. It had been weeks since he’d heard his father’s hearty laugh, and the sound was music to his ears. As he thought about Reginald’s shocking confession, Max weighed his options. He didn’t want to make waves in Prescott George, but he had to act. Had to prove to everyone in the organization that his dad wasn’t the cunning, conniving snake Demetrius said he was.

  Guilt tormented his conscience. It killed Max that Demetrius had framed his dad. But everything pointed to it. Which made Max feel even worse: his father had been telling the truth all along, but he’d doubted him. The evidence had been indisputable—until it wasn’t. But no one had believed Reginald. Because his father hadn’t lived an upstanding life, Prescott George members had rushed to judgment. Deep down, Max had had a hard time believing Reginald had done the things he’d been accused of, but he’d sided with the organization instead of standing by his father, and his earlier position filled him with remorse.

  Max rested his hands on his dad’s shoulders, wanted him to feel loved and supported. Now that he knew why Demetrius hated Reginald, he could finally clear his dad’s name. And he would. By any means necessary. Even if it meant raising hell. No one messed with his family and got away with it—not even a man he used to admire. Demetrius was going down, and when Trey and Derek nodded their heads, Max knew they shared the same thought.

  Chapter 3

  Max parked his orange Ferrari 458 on the driveway of his ex-wife’s Tudor-style home, jumped out of the car and activated the alarm. Still reeling from what Reginald had said at the family meeting, Max struggled to put one foot in front of the other. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sabotage case, or the heartless things Demetrius had done to his father.

  Glancing down at his cell phone, he wondered if it was too late to call Jada at the office. He wanted to vent about his frustrations and knew she’d understand what he was going through. She always did. The truth was, Jada knew him better than anyone—even his siblings—and he trusted her explicitly. Petite, with a soft voice and shy demeanor, she was so darn likable everyone in the office adored her. At times, Jada got flustered when one of his male clients flirted with her, but she had a dazzling smile and the cutest laugh he’d ever heard. She was wise beyond her years, and Max valued her opinion. Most important, Jada wasn’t afraid to disagree with him, or tell it like it was, especially when it came to his daughter, and he loved her for it.

  To clear his mind, Max took a deep breath. He had to get a hold of himself, had to stop fre
tting about his problems. He was spending the weekend with Taylor, and he didn’t want her to know he was upset. His daughter was ten years old, but these days it seemed as if she was speaking a different language. Even though Max saw his daughter for dinner three times a week, they barely communicated. Lately, everything he said and did was wrong. They used to be close, used to laugh and joke around, but ever since Taylor turned ten it had been hard to connect with her.

  Before Max could ring the buzzer the front door opened, and Shay appeared with a scowl on her face and a hand on her hip. Even though she was glaring at him, she looked youthful and pretty in a striped off-the-shoulder sweater, skinny jeans and suede boots.

  “Hey, Shay. How are things?”

  “Max, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to pick up Taylor tomorrow.”

  “No,” he corrected her, shaking his head to underscore his point. “On Monday we agreed that I’d come get her today after work, so here I am.”

  “Oh, really? It must have slipped my empty little mind.” Leaning against the door frame, Shay folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes skyward. “Or you changed the plans at the last minute, which you have a habit of doing whenever it suits you.”

  Max said nothing, knew if he did they’d end up arguing, and he didn’t want to butt heads with his ex-wife. They’d been divorced for years, but nothing had changed: Shay still looked at him with disgust, as if she couldn’t stand to be in his presence, and it annoyed the hell out of him. He’d never been “Husband of the Year,” but he’d been a great provider, and because of his tenacity, hard work and ambition—and his generous alimony payments—she could afford to live in the most desirable neighborhood in Santa Monica.

  How had things gone so bad so quick? Max wondered for the umpteenth time. He’d met Shay Wilcox his freshman year of high school and fallen hard for the voluptuous student-body president. To his shock and amazement, they’d gotten pregnant on prom night despite using a condom. Max, who’d been raised in a happy home with two parents who were madly in love, proposed, figuring they’d repeat his parents’ success, even though they were teenagers. But by the time Taylor was born they were bickering nonstop. Max thought providing a great life for his family was everything. Being a workaholic had caused a rift between him and Shay; he was so busy going to university, trying to be a good father to their daughter and interning at a hot new talent agency that he was neglecting his wife without even realizing it. Shay had wanted a more hands-on partner instead of a husband who was always on the phone—making deals, soothing upset clients, and reading contracts and movie scripts at the dinner table. Being young parents took its toll on their relationship and it didn’t survive, despite them both trying hard to make things work. After seven years of marriage, Shay had filed for divorce, and now Max’s focus was on keeping the peace in his family and improving his relationship with Taylor.