All Signs Point to Malibu

Chapter Seven

SEVEN

HAILEY’S DAILY RULE FOR SUCCESS:

Do your research so no one can fault your execution.

With its Mediterranean flair, the Banks Resort Hotel in Santa Monica is one of the most impressive family resorts along the coast. Whitewashed buildings with terracotta tiles and vibrant color accents, lush greenery, six outdoor pools, a swim-up bar, an upscale restaurant serving Mediterranean cuisine, and luxury all-service spa. The kind of place my mom and I would walk through, hoping no one would kick us out. She’d say, “Someday, Hails, you and I will go on vacation and stay in a resort just like this one. We’ll swim in the pool and drink pretty colored drinks with umbrellas and we’ll order room service and eat in bed while watching Sleepless in Seattle .” It was her favorite movie. Without cable, we must have watched it four hundred times on an old DVD player previous tenants had left behind.

Wearing oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, I approach the front entrance. No fear of being kicked out now. And yet, the same feeling of not belonging shadows over my confidence as I near the rotating doors.

A doorman greets me with a warm, courteous nod and holds the door open as I step into the lobby. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Old black-and-white photos of celebrities are featured on the walls. A faint smell of flowers and decades-old cigar smoke has embedded itself in the material history of the place. Elevator music plays and I recognize the tune as a death metal song slowed down and played softly on a piano. It gives the hotel an even cooler vibe.

Banks Resorts are known for their luxury, but they’re also on the cutting edge of new hospitality trends. One of the first hotel chains to switch to digital key entry sent directly to the guest’s smartphone for access to rooms and suites. Self-check-in stations are in the lobby, but they haven’t lost the personal touch as an attendant lingers nearby carrying a tray of champagne and assisting guests with the process.

I walk through the lobby toward the restaurant. The Koi Reserve has three Michelin stars. Rumor has it that the chef turned down an offer to work in Paris after the Bankses promised him a baby Bengal tiger. Photos of Pascal LeCroix and the amazing beast hang in the entryway of the restaurant, where a hostess greets me. I carefully check around me before removing the hat and sunglasses. While I have a legit reason to be here, I don’t want to run into Liam or Sonia just yet.

“Reservation for Harris,” I say.

The young woman with a nametag that reads Emily—with flags from eight different countries, indicating how many languages she’s fluent in—checks the reservation system and nods. “Welcome Ms. Harris. Table for two near the koi pond. Your guest has already arrived.”

“Wonderful.”

She leads the way through the restaurant’s interior, past dark mahogany furniture, plush velvet booths, and bar-height tables. A grand piano is in the corner and the bar features a champagne waterfall and only top-shelf liquor bottles. The smell of their award-winning (and astronomically priced) seafood dishes wafts from the kitchen.

Growing up, I never liked fish, but my mother insisted I learn to eat it.

Rich people eat fish. Classy people eat fish.

I never knew where she got that from other than the fact that we could never really afford the nice fish at the seafood counter and always bought cheaper breaded filets or imitation crab meat. While I can afford to buy any variety I want now, I still don’t like it.

Outside, near a koi pond I spot Alisha sitting at a table for two. A water jug with lemons and limes sits on the table in front of her. She’s been here a while as it’s half empty and condensation covers the exterior of the jug and the wineglass in front of her.

Being late is on purpose this time.

Once a person reaches a certain level of success, being early or even on time is often viewed as a weakness. Not my rules—I didn’t make this up. People view lateness in the highly successful as a power move. I’d personally rather respect my clients’ time, but I can’t give any hint that I’m not part of that elite class who think they’re superior.

“Right over there,” the hostess says.

“Thank you.”

I make my way toward the table and Alisha looks up and smiles nervously in greeting. “Hi...”

I smile, bend to kiss her cheek, then sit across from her. No apologies for keeping her waiting. “Great to see you. How fantastic is this hotel?”

“I wasn’t sure they’d let me in,” she says and my adoration of her increases.

“Me neither,” I say a hundred percent honestly with a wink.

She laughs as though anyone would ever turn me away, then looks completely overwhelmed as she scans the restaurant. “You really know how to treat your clients,” she says.

“About that,” I say, reaching into my bag to pull out my official life coaching contract. I’d been so preoccupied after the VIP party, I’d forgotten to formally seal the deal. This recon mission is serving a dual purpose.

I slide it across the table and Alisha looks slightly nervous as she scans the first few pages. “Should I have a lawyer look this over?”

“You can,” I say, “but you will notice the terms are six months only—much shorter commitment than most.” My gift allows me to jump ahead a few steps. “And clause eight guarantees my services. If things don’t work out the way I promise, you get a full refund.” It’s a fairly safe bet on my part. I’ve only had to return money once and it was by choice, because the man died and his family needed the funds for his funeral expenses. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been attending our weekly meetings or perhaps I’d have seen the skydiving incident.

Alisha flips through the pages and reads. “I guess that’s really all one can ask.” She picks up the pen and signs the contract. With an eager smile, she slides it back. “So, what do we do first?” she asks.

From the corner of my eye, I see Sonia and her father, William Banks, enter the patio area. I recognize him from the online photos, but he’s even taller and has a more commanding presence in real life. A silver fox who obviously takes care of his health, he’s a great-looking man, dressed in expensive, but business casual attire. Next to him, Sonia wears tailored slacks and a crop top, strappy sandals, and gold bangles around her wrist. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and her makeup-free face is perfection. Side by side, they are easily identifiable as father and daughter with the same bone structure and complexion.

My heart flutters slightly as I pick up the menu and cover my face from their view as they are shown to a table just feet away from us. “We should order first, then talk business,” I say quietly to Alisha.

“Okay,” Alisha says, picking up her menu.

I peek around mine to see that luckily, Sonia has been seated with her back to me. This might be easier than I expected. I’d been prepared to snoop around the hotel, talk to the staff and eavesdrop on boardroom meetings, using my lunch meeting with Alisha as cover, but maybe the intel has just come to me.

I’m desperate to learn more about the Bankses and their plans. The family has been in the public eye for years, but the coverage has always been favorable, and I struggle to believe anyone this wealthy with such a successful, profitable company doesn’t have a few skeletons in the closet.

Better for me to discover them than Liam.

William reaches into a briefcase and places documents on the table between them.

A business luncheon? Odd that Liam wasn’t invited.

“What do you recommend?” Alisha asks from across the table.

I blink. “Huh?”

“From the menu. You’ve eaten here before?”

“First time actually,” I say. “I’m sure everything is delicious.”

“These are Liam’s latest drafts,” William says to Sonia. “I want your thoughts.” He presents several architectural designs.

Strange that Sonia wouldn’t have already seen these. Wouldn’t Liam show her what he has planned for her family’s resort?

I strain to hear the conversation.

“They look fantastic. I see he’s incorporated the extra three floors for executive level guests,” Sonia says.

“I’m thinking it’s not enough. Five would be better,” William says.

“Salmon or chicken—both sound tempting,” Alisha says across from me and I miss Sonia’s reply. “What are you having?” she asks.

I really should decide. I scan quickly, then set the menu aside. “Shrimp cocktail.”

“Ooooh, that sounds delicious,” Alisha says. “But I’m actually starving...”

Her voice competes with the conversation at the Bankses’ table and I miss part of it.

“Order whatever you like.” And please stop talking.

“Liam said the regulations for height in that area of the coast forbid us going any higher,” Sonia is telling her father.

William waves a dismissive hand. “A technicality. He’ll figure it out.”

“Dad, it’s not something he can just decide on his own.”

William shrugs as though he’s appeasing her. “Look, he wanted more say in the process and I’m allowing him to have that.”

So they can pin this unsanctioned design on Liam if the resort doesn’t meet height regulations?

“Daddy, you can’t insist Liam adjust the designs, knowing this will be problematic.”

William leans in and his expression is so serious that even I feel like a child being disciplined. He opens his mouth and I still, waiting to hear what he’s about to say...

But the waterfall next to us turns on. Crashing water cascades over the rocks into the koi pond below, drowning out the conversation.

Shit. I need to know if William is actually going to insist Liam redesign the building so I can somehow warn him about the height restrictions. Or is Sonia going to step up and fight against her father’s wishes?

“Excuse me for a sec,” I tell Alisha. “Ladies’ room.”

She sets her menu aside. “I’ve had so much water, I’ll come with.”

“No!”

She looks taken aback.

I force a strained laugh. “Sorry, I just mean, maybe you should stay in case the waitress comes to take our order. If we miss her, we’ll probably be waiting forever for her to come back.”

Alisha nods. “Good thinking.”

I stand and put on my hat and sunglasses.

“You’re taking your things to the bathroom?”

“It’s the sunlight. I’m supersensitive.”

She gives me an odd look.

Great, I’m acting like a weirdo in front of my new client.

“I’ll be right back. Shrimp cocktail for me if she asks,” I say and hurry away from the table and the noisy waterfall. I reach into my pocket for my lipstick and my wide-brimmed hat hits a diner in the head. They turn to glare at me.

“Excuse me. Apologies,” I whisper and keep going.

I move closer to the Bankses’ table and pretend to drop the lipstick. Luckily, the large brim on the hat covers my face as I bend to retrieve it, linger and listen.

“Three resorts in a year seems ambitious even for you, Dad,” Sonia says.

Three? Liam only mentioned one.

“Competition is rising,” his deep voice responds. “We want to be first to market on some of the newer, innovative concepts. Do you think Liam’s up for the challenge?”

I move closer, listening intently. Will she have Liam’s back?

“Of course... Though we may need to move up the wedding date,” she says.

My heart pounds. What the hell? Three months was already too fast. Pushing back the wedding date would make more sense.

“Whatever you have to do sweetheart,” William says. “Business first, remember?”

“Business first,” Sonia agrees.

I knew there was something I didn’t trust about the Bankses. Now if only there was some way to warn Liam...

“Whoa!”

I hear the voice behind me but it’s too late.

In my crouched position, a waiter carrying a tray of food doesn’t see me. He stumbles over me and the tray launches out of his hands and across the restaurant. It crashes to the floor a few feet in front of me and the clanging of metal and breaking of glass catch the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

I cringe as I slowly glance up at him.

Unimpressed, he glares down at me.

I slowly get to my feet with an apologetic look. “Dropped my lipstick,” I say lamely, holding it up.

“Hailey?!”

Great.

I turn toward Sonia and her father at their table, plastering a look that suggests this is the biggest coincidence of all time. “Sonia! Great to see you.”

She smiles, but there’s a hint of unease in her expression as she scans the restaurant. “You’re dining here?”

“Yes! A client lunch meeting. You’ve spoken so highly about the resort, I thought I’d come check it out.”

William is eyeing me, annoyed by the interruption, and I turn toward him with my most charming smile. “You must be Mr. Banks,” I say politely, extending a hand. “Hailey Harris.”

Sonia nods quickly as though she’s forgotten her manners in her surprise at seeing me. “Sorry, yes, Daddy, this is Hailey—she’s a good friend of Liam’s.”

“I know who you are,” he says to me.

He what now? My smile shifts slightly as it’s hard to detect the emotion behind the comment or the steely locked-on gaze.

“I Googled you when Sonia mentioned going to your party,” he says to Sonia. To me, “It’s a parental thing. Can’t have my daughter attending parties hosted by strangers,” he says with a chuckle, but it’s mirthless as the waiter cleaning up the mess wipes a blob of tahini from William’s shoe.

“Sorry about that,” I say sheepishly, casting another apologetic look at the poor guy cleaning up the mess. I’ll be sure to leave a big tip. “Lipstick,” I say, holding it up again. My hand shakes slightly and I quickly drop the lipstick back into my pocket.

“Hailey is planning the engagement party, so it’s great that you two are getting an opportunity to meet,” Sonia says to her father. “How’s that going, by the way?”

Not at all.

I force a wide smile. “Totally under control.”

“Thank you again for everything,” she says, and I know she’s referring to our secret working arrangement.

I wink at her. “My pleasure. Anyway, I’ll let you two enjoy your lunch.”

As I walk away, I slowly release a breath.

That was close.

“Hailey.” The sound of William’s voice behind me has a shiver dancing down my spine. I resist the ridiculous, overwhelming urge to flee and turn back toward him.

He holds out a business card. “Send any engagement party receipts to my assistant.”

Absolutely not, but I can’t find my voice to argue as I nod and accept the card. I just want to be away from him.

My interaction with William Banks has me severely on edge. He looked at me with a hint of distrust, as though he knew my every last secret...which is impossible, but still unnerving.

I wave bye and pick up my pace as I walk away, aware of his gaze lingering.

As I continue toward the restroom, I pull out my cell phone and scroll to Warren’s number. Until I can find a way to stop this wedding, we’re going to have to actually start planning an engagement party.

I climb out of the Jeep and head toward a row of trendy businesses in the arts district. Hailey stands on the sidewalk outside Frost God Bakery, preoccupied with her cell phone. She’s dressed in casual jeans, ripped at the knees, and a crop top under a loose white button-down. I can’t remember when I’ve seen her dress so casually, but she looks...cute. Until she glances up, sees me, then taps her watch as though I’m an hour late.

Different wardrobe. Same annoying Hailey.

It’s actually only ten minutes and I would have been on time if there’d been any available parking in this area of town midday. Of course, I’m not going to tell her that. I have a reputation as a sloth to uphold.

“Okay, Hailstorm, let’s get this over with,” I say, stopping in front of her.

“Pretty sure I’ve asked you to stop calling me that.”

“Pretty sure I don’t give a shit.” It’s our natural, familiar banter and her over-the-top dramatic eye roll shows me she loves it as much as I do.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” she says tightly. “I was thinking we’d start with the easiest and most important thing on the list for the engagement party—food.”

I nod. “I’m thinking hot dogs, hamburgers...you have a grill, right?”

Hailey looks at me like I’ve suggested we eat the family pet. “Yes, I have a grill, but this isn’t a sorority mixer. It’s an engagement party for a wealthy hotelier’s daughter.”

“I suppose you want a fully catered meal?” We’ve yet to work out who’s paying for this party. I was all in to cover the costs of a low-key barbeque in my yard. But if this is turning into a coronation, she’s going to have to pony up her half. It was her idea that we do this together after all.

“Actually, I was thinking desserts. Hence meeting at the bakery.” She nods toward the building as she checks her watch again. “We have a tasting appointment in five minutes.”

“You told me to be here at one.”

“Because I knew you’d be late. Which you were.”

I hate that I’ve given her a reason to be smug. “A tasting appointment?” That’s a thing? “Really thought you’d get your way on desserts, huh?” I ask, reaching for the door. I open it and the amazing scent of baked goods makes my stomach rumble.

Hailey strides in ahead of me and glances over her shoulder. “If we’re going to work together, you should know—I always get my way,” she says as I follow her inside.

Something tells me she’s right about that.

Inside the busy bakery, over-the-top desserts and cakes are on display. A couple sit at the counter and flip through a binder of wedding cake designs. The groom-to-be looks slightly pale and overwhelmed—no doubt by the price tag on the five-tier cake his fiancée seems to have her heart set on.

Wedding cakes always seemed pointless to me. No one ever eats it. The cake is just a photography prop for that pathetic smearing frosting on one another pic. Why not just hand the bride and groom cans of whipped cream and let them go at it?

Problem solved.

“This place seems a little expensive,” I say, noticing the prices on the elegantly decorated cupcakes in the display case. What the hell is gold leaf? And does it really taste good enough to warrant the twenty-six-dollar cost?

Hailey shoots me a look. “You’d prefer supermarket day-olds for your best friend’s engagement party?”

“Overpriced cake tastes better?” It’s sugar. Hard to mess up.

“Well-made desserts with quality ingredients made by a trained pastry chef and not a teen with a summer job do—yes.”

“If you say so.” I shrug. She’s covering this bill.

Hailey sighs as though I have zero class and maybe, when it comes to desserts, I do. As a professional athlete, refined sugar wasn’t on my diet. Of course over the last few years, I haven’t been as restrictive, but I still don’t think something you eat when you’re already full should cost as much as an entire meal.

But damn, if I’m not suddenly wondering what gold leaf tastes like.

We approach the counter and the owner, Yates Carmicheal—an energetic pastry chef I recognize as a judge from several baking reality TV shows—approaches with a wide smile. He wears an apron that says “Lick My Frosting.”

Respect.

“Hailey! Nice to see you! I’ll be with you both in a moment,” he says.

“Take your time,” she says.

“Client of yours, I assume?” I ask as she zeroes in on the display case.

“Yates came to me four years ago with the idea of opening a—” she lowers her voice slightly “—erotic dessert bakery.”

Explains the apron.

“And while I personally found the idea of vagina pops fascinating, I didn’t see the market embracing the concept enough to be lucrative, so I encouraged him to keep the X-rated offerings as a side hustle and open a high-end patisserie instead.” Hailey peruses the display case. “And he’s a former client.”

I snap my fingers. “That’s right. You have a timeline to your helpfulness.”

She turns toward me. “I get clients started on the right path and then it’s up to them,” she says with a hint of exasperation, and I can tell I’ve hit a sore spot.

Still, I can’t help myself from poking the bear further. I seriously get off on irritating her. “Translation, you abandon them for the next dollar sign.”

She looks murderous as she opens her mouth, but Yates approaches, interrupting what was sure to be a well-articulated telling off.

One I would have liked to hear.

Her business model has always intrigued me. Not that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it—or her—but after the airport disaster, I did go down a dark hole of cyber stalking...more to see who else had their life derailed by Hailey. Turned out, all I found were success stories.

Every. Single. Client.

People had only great things to say about her services. Didn’t matter the industry, her advice was somehow spot on. It was baffling. And her six-month terms are even more so. Wouldn’t it be easier to continue milking one happy client for years instead of always having to drum up new business?

Unfortunately, asking those questions will only give her the impression that I give a shit, and I absolutely do not.

“Your tasting sampler,” Yates says as he slides a tray toward us with six delicious-looking bite-sized samples of cake, each labeled. Lemon surprise, cocoa bliss, espresso love...

Gotta admit, they look great and this definitely beats selecting something from the supermarket bakery counter. “You don’t mess around,” I say to Hailey.

“What’s the point of choosing desserts if we can’t reap the benefits of tasting them first?” she says and for the first time ever, I can’t fault her logic.

She beams at Yates. “Once again, you’ve outdone yourself. How’s business?”

“Good. Great, actually,” the man says with sincere gratitude. “I still don’t know how you knew this location would be so perfect back when there wasn’t much around, but with that dog park opening up across the street last year and the co-working artist space a block away, I can barely keep up with the business.”

Hailey looks slightly embarrassed by the praise, which is unexpected.

Humble? Hailey?

She’s actually cute when her cheeks go bright red like that. I have to stop finding things about her cute if I’m going to continue our feud.

“I know a lot of people in this city,” she explains with a shrug. “And it’s more than the location. People would drive to the middle of nowhere to get your desserts.”

Giving credit where it’s due. Is it possible I’ve misjudged her slightly?

Across the counter, the couple glance our way and flag Yates. Obviously, the bride-to-be has won the argument over the cake design. The groom looks physically ill.

“I’ll let you two taste and let me know when you’re ready to place your order,” Yates says to us. He taps the counter, then moves back to the couple.

I chuckle as I see the poor dude pull out his credit card.

“What’s funny?” Hailey asks.

“The debt people are willing to go into for some elaborate party.”

“Be sure to add that to your best man speech,” she says.

I grin despite myself.

“Shall we?”

Don’t have to tell me twice. I scan the options then pick up a piece of carrot cake and take a bite.

Hailey reaches for a piece of chocolate cake and pops the whole thing into her mouth.

I nearly choke on mine as I laugh.

Okay then.

I pop the rest of mine into my mouth and have to admit—she’s right. This thing has to be the best carrot cake I’ve ever had. Moist, decadent, with hints of pineapple that I would normally consider gross. Flavors blend on my tongue and I don’t even want to swallow.

“So...you’re really okay with this?” I ask Hailey when I finally do allow the cake to go down my throat.

“Okay with what? Oh my God, this one is so good.” The words come out almost like a groan as she closes her eyes and savors the chocolate.

I’m momentarily distracted by her near orgasmic reaction. My eyes land on her lips, where there’s chocolate frosting, and the temptation to lick Yates’s frosting alright comes out of nowhere. Okay, maybe not nowhere. I’ve admired her lips before, but I’ve never wanted to taste them. I still don’t. I just want the chocolate.

Keep telling yourself that, man.

“What were you asking?” she asks in my trance.

I snap out of it and look away from her mouth. “Liam marrying someone else. You’re cool with that?”

Hailey scoffs as though it should be obvious. “Liam and I broke up years ago. I’m totally over him.” She pops a piece of the carrot cake into her mouth. “This one’s delicious too.”

“Except you’re not,” I say, not done with my questioning.

“If I was still in love with him, why would I have offered to throw the engagement party?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Hailey reaches for the other piece of chocolate cake and extends it toward my mouth. “Try this one.”

I open my mouth and she pops it inside. Instinctively, I close my lips around her finger and lick the frosting free. Our gazes lock and we simultaneously realize she just fed me. And that my mouth is still holding her finger captive.

Awkward tension simmers between us. She doesn’t immediately retract the finger and I don’t immediately release it. Instead, my tongue actually circles it and Hailey’s expression looks like she’s not exactly hating the unexpected gesture.

“Decided?”

Jesus. Where did he come from?

At the sound of Yates’s voice, I open my lips and Hailey steals her finger back. She looks slightly embarrassed as she turns her attention to the Frost God. “I think so...the carrot cake, the chocolate and maybe the lemon for variety?” She turns to me and I nod, no longer giving a shit about the dessert choices. Hailey Harris’s finger was just in my mouth and all I can think about is tasting other parts of her.

Which blows my mind for so many reasons.

She places the order and although I insist otherwise, pays for it.

Moments later, we say goodbye to Yates and head toward the door, a lingering awkwardness still simmering between us. I need to say something. The last thing between us can’t be a sexually charged finger licking.

Keep it caszh.

I clear my throat as I open the door for her. “Did we just agree on something?”

Hailey glances up at me with a look of relief that I’ve broken the weird vibe. “To deciding on desserts without bloodshed,” she says, extending a fist.

I bump it and we exit.

Outside, I check my watch. “Well, I have to get to practice.”

Hailey nods, then hesitates before asking, “Hey, there’s a kid on your team—I think his name is Kent? That was the name on his jersey.”

“Marcus, yeah, what about him?” I haven’t forgotten the way Hailey looked at him that day when he saved her from the flying ball, then crushed her with the body check.

“Is he...um...good?”

I nod. “Fantastic player. Great potential, but he’s going through some stuff at home.” He’s missed two practices because of his new job, but he’s trying to juggle everything—all the responsibilities on his plate—the best he can, so I’m cutting him some slack. At least working keeps him off the street and away from the negative influences of the crew he desperately wants to fit in with. “Why?”

Hailey shrugs casually. “Just saved me from a wild football, so figured he must be good, that’s all.”

That’s definitely not all, I can tell, but I need to get to practice, so I have to let it go for now. “I’ll meet you at your place later tonight to go over the rest of the planning?” I ask as I walk backward down the street to the Jeep.

Hailey looks surprised. “Tonight?”

“Or I can just handle the rest of the party planning on my own.” Probably safer... Dessert choosing already took a weird turn. I’m afraid what other antics could go sideways. And spending time with Hailey is having an unsettling effect on me. Seeing different sides of her is making it harder to remember I despise this woman. I don’t want Hailey Harris to be three-dimensional. I prefer her to be as one-dimensional as her photo on that billboard I continue to drive past, despite the crater being fixed on the alternate (faster) route.

“Not a chance,” she says, and I hate that it’s relief or potentially excitement I feel. “See you tonight.” Hailey puts on her sunglasses as she heads toward her car.

I head in the opposite direction, but several feet away, I glance over my shoulder at her.

Of course, she doesn’t look back. Why the hell would she?

Get a grip, Mitchell. It’s Hailey Harris. You can trust that woman about as far as you can throw her.

And now all I can think about is scooping her sexy little body up into my arms.

What the hell just happened?

I felt the earth shift more inside the bakery moments ago than during the tremor last week. My finger in Warren Mitchell’s mouth—gross!

Only not exactly gross.

Physical attraction to Warren was never a problem. In fact, in high school, before Liam and I started dating, I’d had the tiniest crush on Warren. I’d been hoping he would ask me to winter formal the year my gift made me popular, but Liam asked first and he was my science partner and friend...and I have no regrets. Liam and I were absolutely the better fit. And I never thought of Warren that way again.

Until five minutes ago.

My phone chimes with a text and, taking it out of my pocket, I see a message from Sonia that reads:

Crisis. Need your help asap!

Trouble in paradise? My fingers fly over the keys.

Meet me at my place in fifteen.

Thirty-seven minutes and a speeding ticket I couldn’t sweet talk my way out of later, I sit across from a frazzled-looking Sonia. “I’m rethinking all of this,” she says, definitely flustered, blowing her nose into a tissue. This is the first time I’ve seen her look unpolished and slightly unhinged. Her voice sounds scratchy. There are definite mascara tracks on her cheeks and the skin around her eyes looks puffy. She’s been crying and I feel bad, but also a little hopeful. I mean, sure, I just spent five hundred dollars on desserts for an engagement party, but I could find another use for them.

I’m going to hell. There will be no resetting my karma after this.

“The wedding?” I say gently, knowingly, as though she’s finally come to her senses.

She looks up above the snotty tissue. “No,” she says as though that was never a consideration. “The acting thing.”

Oh, right...

My own hopes dashed, I take a breath and reset. “Why? What happened?” Did she tell her father about it and he threatened to disown her, cut her from the will? He seems more than capable of that kind of overreaction and based on my brief interaction with him, he’s certainly still controlling aspects of Sonia’s life.

One kink in the Banks family armor.

“I reached out to that contact list you gave me and I didn’t know there were so many different versions of ‘fuck off,’” Sonia says instead.

Oh hell, if she’s going to let a few “no’s” stop her from achieving her goals, she’s in for a rude awakening.

Though, I could have predicted this outcome. Under normal circumstances, I would have given my previous clients on that list a heads-up, paved the way for Sonia reaching out, but I’ve been single-minded in my focus on Operation Breakup. Not exactly doing my best to help with her career.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” she says. “My skin’s not thick enough for rejections.”

Probably because she’s never had to deal with one in her entire life.

“Just relax,” I tell her as I reach for my cell phone and dial a number.

The call connects after the first ring and I put it on speaker.

“Go for Jay.” Jay Ashley’s thick Southern accent competes with the sounds of wind and traffic.

He must be in his convertible—the dream car he’d had on his vision board for six years before he reached out to me for coaching. He could finally afford to buy it after our six-month partnership. I was the first one he took for a spin the day he bought it.

“Jay, it’s Hailey Harris. I have someone you should meet—an aspiring actress who is the next Cameron Diaz.”

Across from me, Sonia shoots me a look.

“What’s she done?” Jay asks.

“Nothing yet, but there’s interest.”

Another look from Sonia. If she’s going to be successful, she needs to understand that the lightning speed way to achieve her goals is to pretend she already has.

“Like to help, Double H, but my roster’s kinda full right now,” Jay says dismissively.

Oh, how quickly people forget what it’s like to be new to town, with limited experience and contacts, and be shut out of every opportunity. When Jay first came to me, his non-Californian upbringing was hindering his ability to secure meetings with potential clients. The big agencies wouldn’t touch him despite a mediocre client list in the Atlanta film industry because he wasn’t part of the Hollywood boys’ club.

Appealing to his good nature won’t work and I’d never make my clients feel as though they owe me one, so...

“Okay, no problem. She’s meeting with Executive Talent but I thought I’d do you the solid of seeing her first,” I say.

Sonia’s eyes widen at the white lie, but I gesture for her to just wait.

After a brief pause on the line, “When can she come by?”

Sonia’s jaw drops to the floor.

I grin. “Let me check with her.” I put the call on mute and turn to Sonia. “Now we let him wait.”

Her eyes bug out of her head. “Wait? What? No! Tell him I’m free anytime! I’ll go right now!”

I eye her disheveled state and send her a pointed look. “Just take a breather.”

She takes half a breath, then asks, “What if he hangs up?”

“He won’t.” I gesture for her to drag her chair around the desk. “Come check this out.”

She reluctantly does and I click on my favorite online makeup tutorial. “Have you seen this vlogger? She’s fantastic.”

Sonia’s knees bounce as she glances at the time ticking away on the call, but as AirbrushQueen45 demonstrates the latest contour and highlight tricks to elongate and accentuate the neckline, Sonia relaxes, engaged in the tutorial. “That’s incredible.” She pulls out her phone and immediately subscribes to the page.

I check the time on the call. It’s been four minutes. He’s waited long enough. I motion for her to stay quiet as I resume the call. “Jay? She can do tomorrow morning.”

“Ten? My office?” he says.

Sonia nods eagerly.

“Nine forty-five. Her name is Sonia Banks.” I disconnect the call with a smile at a mesmerized Sonia.

“You. Are. Amazing,” she says.

I’d love to accept the praise, but I can’t in good conscience.

“Jay’s great,” I say. “He’s experienced enough to get you some great auditions while new enough to still be hungry.” He really is a fantastic agent and I think the best fit for Sonia. He’ll boost her confidence if she can act, but give it to her straight if she can’t.

“Thank you,” she says gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” I say and I find I truly mean it. What’s the worst that could happen by actually helping her with her acting career? It’s the least I could do given the circumstances.

Sonia checks her watch. “Shoot. I have to run. I’m meeting my father at the resort.”

And...there’s the perfect segue into the conversation I need to have.

“How’s the new resort design?” I ask casually.

She looks slightly frazzled. “Designs. Plural,” she confides.

I lean closer. “More than one resort?”

She nods. “Personally, I think we’ve bitten off a bit more than we can chew, but my father is adamant.”

“And Liam’s cool with it?”

Her face clouds slightly, but she nods. “No one’s very effective at saying no to my father.” She stands to leave and reaches into her purse. “Oh, almost forgot. Here’s the invite list for the engagement party.” She extends it toward me.

I take it and scan the names on the two-page printout.

Single-spaced. Double-sided.

“Long list.” May need to triple the baked goods order. I frown when I notice... “Liam’s parents aren’t on here.”

Sonia sighs and looks truly devastated. “They aren’t exactly on board with all of this. Liam says it’s ironic that it’s the only thing those two have agreed on in twenty years. The engagement took them by surprise.”

Naturally, since Liam had been vocally anti-marriage up until six months ago.

“He’s hoping they’ll come around before the wedding,” Sonia continues.

So, I’m not the only one who thinks this is rushed and perhaps not the best idea.

“Between you and me, I’m kinda okay with them not being involved. From what Liam says they can’t stand to be around one another and I don’t want those negative vibes on my wedding day, you know?”

Actually, I don’t. Unless WrestleMania 1000 was about to break out, I could never imagine not wanting the love of my life’s parents involved in my special day. Without parents of my own, the thought that Liam could possibly have this big life event without the support of his family breaks my heart.

But I force a smile. “I’m sure your day will be perfect,” I say. But hopefully there won’t be a day for the Jensens to miss.

I see her out and, in a much better state of mind, Sonia exits with a wave. I stand in the doorway, processing this new information. If Liam’s parents think this union is a bad idea, then I’m totally justified in feeling the same way. They know their son better than anyone.

But if Liam won’t take his parents’ feelings on the matter into consideration, what are the chances he’ll take my concerns seriously? He’ll likely only dig in even more out of stubbornness and an unwillingness to listen to advice with all of us seemingly teaming up against him.

The only way Liam is going to realize he’s making a big mistake is if he arrives at that conclusion on his own.

I just need to help him get there.

After ringing the buzzer on the front gate, I pull my Jeep into the circular driveway of the Mediterranean-style mansion and park near Hailey’s front door. This house is big enough for two families and Hailey lives here alone. I don’t judge her for her extravagant lifestyle. If this house gives her the safety and security she never had growing up, that’s her business.

I’m not sure why I’ve suddenly softened in my opinion of her, but I need to keep it in check.

I climb out with a bag of take-out food, go to the door and ring the bell. A melodic tinkling sounds within. A few seconds later, Hailey answers, dressed in yoga clothes—a bra top and shorts. I’m annoyed that I like what I see. I didn’t know she worked out, but those abs don’t create themselves.

Hailey eyes the take-out bag. “I already ate.”

“Good, ’cause I didn’t bring any for you.”

Hailey sighs and stands back to let me in.

I step inside and take in the elegant house. A spiraling staircase leads to the upper two floors. A big chandelier hangs in the foyer. Expensive artwork adorns the walls. Beautiful home. Again, not exactly what I’d been expecting. Guess I thought Hailey would have self-portraits of herself everywhere—a Romanesque statue in her likeness or something—but the house is tasteful and classy, lacking the usual pretense a home like this usually holds.

Next to me, Hailey sniffs and covers her nose. “Why do you smell?”

“Just came from a late football practice,” I say sniffing my shirt, then immediately wish I hadn’t.

“You don’t shower afterward?”

“I do when I’m going somewhere important,” I say, but I actually wish I had showered. The smell of the take-out and salty ocean air as I’d driven along the coast with the hardtop down had masked the scent of sweat in the Jeep, but inside her house, it’s a little much. I hadn’t planned on practice this evening, but Marcus couldn’t make the regular time slot, so we worked one-on-one. Not great, but at least it was something. The kid’s trying.

And he’d kicked my ass all over the field—which admittedly wasn’t saying much these days.

“Well, let’s get this over with so I can breathe again,” Hailey says, her voice nasally as she’s pinching the bridge of her nose.

I eye her lack of clothing. “You wanna get dressed first?” Not sure I’ll be able to focus with her in that. Unlike me, if she’s just finished a work-out, she doesn’t look or smell like it. In fact, she smells like coconut rum and pineapple—an intoxicating Caribbean cocktail. And she looks good enough to have the same bad decision-making effects.

“Not really,” she says, gesturing the way to her office off the front of the house.

Great, so I’ll be staring at her tiny waist and sexy curves while I try to eat. Disgusting.

I follow her into her office. It’s painted a shade of dark denim blue and the light pinewood furniture stands out against the coloring. Two large bookshelves host her own awards and achievements, but also those of her clients’.

Okay, so kinda cool. Maybe dropping them after six months is a business tactic and not because she’s cruel and heartless the way I always wanted to believe.

Framed magazine covers are leaning up against one wall, the glass broken. But there’s the definite fading of paint on the wall where they used to hang. I motion toward them. “The tremor?”

She nods. “Haven’t had time to rehang them yet.”

Do not offer to—

“If you have tools, I can do it for you.”

She looks just as surprised as I am by the offer that escaped my lips without my conscious blessing. Then her expression changes to slightly unreadable as she stares at them. “Actually, I haven’t decided if I will just yet.”

Odd, but none of my business, so I shrug.

She reaches for a sweatshirt from the back of an ergonomic desk chair, pulls it on over her head—thank God—then sits at her desk.

I sit across from her and empty the take-out bag.

Hailey eyes the French fries with longing. “How do you eat this junk and still stay in shape?” she asks.

“You checking me out?”

Hailey rolls her eyes and ignores the question, instead getting straight to work. “I have the engagement party guest list.” She slides it across the desk toward me as I take a bite of my double-decker sandwich. I lick mayonnaise from my lip and scan it. Two pages? Single spaced? I quickly tally. “Eighty-six people?”

“Yep.”

She stares at me expectantly.

I blink as I chew. “What?”

She huffs in exasperation. “See anything odd about the list?”

I look closer, flip the pages over. I recognize none of the names. “Where’s Liam’s family?”

“Not coming. Apparently, they don’t support this,” Hailey says, leaning forward with a self-satisfied look.

Great, she thinks she’s right about this wedding being a mistake. I’m sure there’s more to it. “Sure, they do.”

“Nope,” she says, as though she’s got hot gossip. “Not according to Sonia.”

Now she’s caught my attention, but not in the way she was hoping. “You’ve been spending time with her?” Hailey and Sonia hanging together makes me uneasy and it should really make Liam uneasy. Dude is too trusting of his ex, which I know in my gut is going to come back to bite him in the ass. Thank God, I’m not about to let my guard down anytime soon—body like a temptress or not.

Hailey looks away. “Had to get the guest list,” she says, but she’s definitely hiding something. “Anyway, his parents must not be happy that he’s given up his own dreams of skyscrapers in New York to build hotels here on the coast.”

“That’s quite an assumption...” I stop. “Wait. Hotels? Thought it was one resort?”

“Nope. Three.”

That’s quite the ambitions plan. The night we had drinks together, Liam made it seem as though he was doing this as a one-off favor to Sonia but had no plans to design resorts the rest of his life. He’d alluded to going back to New York and continuing to work with bigger developers on the cityscapes he was passionate about.

Maybe those plans had changed? Maybe he decided the Bankses’ family business was a better fit? Either way, I refuse to speculate about something I know nothing about. “Don’t look so smug,” I say over another bite of my sandwich. “Liam wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t want to.”

“I’m just stating for the record that I’m not the only one with concerns,” she holds her hands up innocently, but she does not pull off the look. She looks quite naughty indeed and she’s definitely scheming. I can see the wheels turning in that pretty little head.

“Well, keep them to yourself,” I say, popping a handful of fries into my mouth. “Let’s get to it. Do you have the invites?” I glance around.

Hailey sighs and opens her laptop. “It’s too late to send out invites by mail. We’ll have to email the guest list.”

“Email invites? Seems off-brand for the great Hailey Harris.”

Hailey shoots me a look as she sets up her tripod and selfie light. “We’re not sending a regular email. We’re going to record a fun video.”

I shrug. Have at ’er.

She reaches up and pulls her hair free of the messy ponytail. A few swishes and pats and it looks camera ready. She definitely did not work out before I arrived.

I sit back and continue to eat as Hailey gets ready to record, but then she gestures for me to join her on the other side of the desk.

I shake my head. “No way. This is your thing.”

“If you insist on being on the planning committee, this is part of the job.”

Hailey leans around the desk, reaches for my chair and with a surprising show of strength pulls it closer into the camera’s view.

This is not my scene. After-game interviews used to freak me out. My nickname from the team was “Flash Fumble Mitchell” for how I used to freeze once the cameras were pointed at me and there were mics shoved in my face. This is different, arguably less pressure, but I’m still sweating at the idea of going on camera with her. Definitely should have showered.

Hailey glances at me. “Just follow my lead...and maybe wipe your face.”

I do quickly with the arm of my shirt as Hailey starts the recording.

Bright white-toothed smile on her face, she starts, “Hi, Banks family and friends! This is Hailey Harris and...”

She turns to me, but I’m just staring at her.

“Your cue,” she whispers.

“What’s that voice?”

Hailey sighs as she stops the recording. “What voice?”

“The one you were just using.”

“Mine.”

“Nope. It was more like this...” I take a breath then mimic the higher-pitched, perky voice she just used. “Hey, Hustlers, it’s three twenty-six a.m., time to hit the gym before spending twenty hours at the office.”

Hailey’s eyes narrow. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You do.”

She huffs. “Okay, well should I sound more like this... Hey, bros, it’s after noon, time to hit the iron before hitting the club to troll for bitches,” she says in a deep frat-boy voice.

I grin and shake my head. “That sounded just like me. Nailed it.”

Hailey’s face cracks into a smile and for a moment, we share a rare beat of connection almost like friendship.

Guards down. Rivalry forgotten.

She reaches for a French fry and pops it into her mouth and I watch it disappear with irrational jealousy.

“Can we just record this? We need to get it out tonight,” she says.

Obviously, I’m not getting out of this video without backing out of the whole engagement party planning thing and I refuse to let her out of my sight. We may have had a brief moment of knives down, but I still don’t trust her motives.

“Okay. Fine.” I can do this. It’s just a party invite.

Painfully...somehow...we record the video. Hailey miraculously refrains from using “the voice” and I only turn a light shade of crimson as I say my name and my one line—“Bring your dancing shoes.”

She stops the recording and turns to me. “All done. See? Wasn’t that hard.”

“Maybe not for you. You do this every day.”

She eyes me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Since when do you hold back at taking a shot?”

“No shot,” she says then pauses. “I guess I didn’t realize someone like you would be nervous or insecure about anything.”

“Anything is a really big range,” I say. If only she knew the things I’m insecure about. Commitments. Real relationships. Being vulnerable. Being enough for my narcissistic father. Never measuring up to expectations. All things I’m not willing to share with her and yet, the urge to be honest throws me off guard.

I clear my throat and look away from her penetrating gaze. “Cameras freak me out, that’s all. Just seems intrusive and nine times out of ten I’m going to say the wrong thing.” There. That’s all she’s getting.

She seems surprised I shared that much. “Well...we’re done.”

Uh-uh. Nice try, lady. I nod toward the recording. “You haven’t sent it yet.”

She scoffs. “What? You think I’m going to go through the trouble to plan a party, then not invite anyone?”

“That’s exactly what I think you’d do.”

“Why? What would be the purpose?”

“Have Liam and Sonia think no one supports their union.”

“That would be petty.”

I shoot her a look.

“Fine.” She opens an email, types in a contact list she’s already created, attaches the video and hits Send. “There. Done. Happy?”

“Immensely. So, what’s left?” I ask.

“Booking a DJ, but I have a guy. I’ll swing by the bar tomorrow and secure that.”

“I’ll come with.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“In it together, remember?”

She sighs. “Fine. Suit yourself. We also have to decorate...but I can hire someone for that too,” she says, consulting a to-do list on her desk.

For someone not fully in support of this whole thing, she’s impressively organized, and I’d die before admitting it, but I’m glad she stepped up to help plan this. I’d never think of DJs or decorations. But the cost is definitely starting to climb. “Nah, we can handle the decorating.” And I’m not sure when the idea of spending that much time with her didn’t instantly make me break out into a rash, but here we are.

She raises an eyebrow.

I shrug. “How hard is it to blow up some balloons and hang some streamers?”

Hailey stares at me like I have two heads. “First of all, this isn’t a three-year-old’s birthday party and second, I can handle hiring people by myself.”

I lean closer. “Look, say what you want but I know you’re up to something, so I insist on being part of all the planning. Until Liam and Sonia have said their ‘I Do’s,’ expect me to be around. A lot. Close.” With each word, I’ve moved closer until our knees are touching. I stare her down and she glares at me.

Knives back up. Among other things.

I shift in the chair hoping she doesn’t notice the semi I’m sporting as our gazes meet and hold.

She backs down first. “Okay, suit yourself,” she says as she stands.

I’m not sure it’s safe for me to.

Think about baseball or grandma’s underwear...

I reluctantly get to my feet, happy my shorts hide the evidence of the impact she suddenly has on me.

And it’s not disappointment I’m feeling now that the night is over...it can’t be. Just in case, I head toward the office door before I can suggest something seriously dangerous like a nightcap. “You can have the rest of the fries,” I say over my shoulder as I exit her office.

“I wasn’t planning on letting you take them,” she says in that smartass tone of hers, and the semi’s back.

Outside her house not a second too soon, I climb into the Jeep and start it. I can see Hailey through her office window. I watch for a second.

Maybe we should talk decoration colors...

What the fuck’s wrong with me?

I shake my head and tear out of the drive, unable to comprehend how, suddenly, I want to spend time with Hailey Harris.

What the sweet hell is happening to me?