Flawless (27 page)

“Well, cheer up,” he said, signaling to a passing waitress, who shot over to their table like a big-breasted meteor. “I’m taking you somewhere this afternoon that’s bound to put a smile on your face.”

“The airport?” said Scarlett wryly. “Do I have time to go home and pack?”

Jake grinned. “Now, now, less of the sarcasm. Not even you can be ready to throw in the towel after one morning.”

He ordered a smoked turkey salad for himself and a mixed sashimi plate for Scarlett (“Trust me, you’ll love it”) and spent the five minutes while they waited for it to arrive filling her in on the latest with Danny and Diana. He’d given her a heads-up about the affair over Christmas, but it was hardly necessary. By New Year’s Eve, the breakup of the O’Donnell marriage was
the
hot story among the diamond fraternity from London to Cape Town, with Danny alternately painted as a knight in shining armor, albeit with a kamikaze streak, or a malicious home-wrecker, depending on whom you talked to. Rather to Jake’s surprise, Scarlett hadn’t appeared to be nearly as concerned about developments as he’d expected. Whether she was underestimating Brogan’s talent for revenge or whether she felt that as she was already on his hit list, it didn’t much matter if Danny and Jake were too, he couldn’t tell. Either way, he was grateful that it hadn’t crossed her mind to pull out of their partnership. He needed her now more than ever.

“D and D are coming into town this afternoon, as it happens,” he said, pouring her an ice-cold glass of Pellegrino. “The
press are camped outside Danny’s apartment in New York day and night. He wanted a bit of a breather.”

“Won’t they just camp outside your house now?” asked Scarlett, tentatively trying a mouthful of sashimi. He was right; it was delicious.

“I’ve got the highest hedges in Hollywood,” said Jake proudly. “Had ’em grown specially to keep all the angry husbands out. Oh, lighten up,” he added, clocking her frown of disapproval. “I’m only kidding. If you don’t have plans tonight, you should join the three of us for dinner. We’ve got a table at Mastro’s. There’ll be more diamonds in that restaurant than in the whole of Rodeo Drive, trust me. You can hang out with your future customers.”

Scarlett’s only plan had been a hot bath and bed—Nancy had a date tonight and wouldn’t be back until late—but despite her exhaustion she was hugely curious to see Danny and Diana together in the flesh.

“All right,” she said, finally allowing herself to smile. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”

Her smile broadened when they left the restaurant in Jake’s Maserati and began flying through the alleys of downtown Beverly Hills like a blue-and-silver bullet.

“Where’d you learn to drive?” she asked, impressed. “Brands Hatch?”

“Nah. Running away from the cops,” said Jake. “That was a joke too, by the way.”

A few minutes later they pulled up outside a tall, slim store on Canon. Leaving the car right outside, Jake hopped onto the sidewalk, opening the passenger door for Scarlett.

“Here we are,” he said, smiling. “What do you think?”

Scarlett stepped inside. The space had most recently been used as a clothes store, a designer sample place if the few
plus-sized Armani pantsuits and odd pairs of last season’s Prada boots were anything to go by. It was narrow, not more than fifteen feet across at the front, but it stretched back for what looked like miles, opening out at the rear through French doors onto a charming paved patio, complete with a moss-covered stone fountain and tubs full of early-blooming spring flowers. Right now the walls were painted a drab gray, and the floor inside was covered with a hideous, sticky-brown linoleum. But with some pots of white paint and a little of Scarlett’s natural flair, it could be something really special. It was also on one of the prime retail streets in Beverly Hills, sandwiched between Louis Vuitton and a day spa that looked like the world’s most expensive spaceship.

“I think either you won the lottery or you’re pulling my leg,” she said. “We can’t possibly afford this. Can we?”

Jake shrugged. “It’ll be a stretch,” he said. “But I reckon they’ve seriously undervalued the rent. Take a look at this.”

Whipping his BlackBerry out of the pocket of his Bermuda shorts, he opened a spreadsheet attachment and took Scarlett through a simple set of figures. “I think we can do it, if neither of us eats anything but baked beans on toast for the rest of the year.”

“Why on earth is it so cheap?” asked Scarlett, trying to keep a lid on her excitement.

“Dunno,” said Jake. “Not much frontage? Plus the last two businesses here folded within a year.”

“They must have been pretty badly run then,” said Scarlett, looking around again, imagining the possibilities. “I never dreamed we could get anything so prime. Where did you find it?”

Jake tapped his nose knowingly. “Little bird. So what do you reckon? Should we make the guy an offer?”

“Are you crazy?” said Scarlett. “Of course we should. Get him on the phone right now!”

Jake laughed. He loved the way that Scarlett only seemed to have two gears—stop or full speed ahead.

“Half an hour ago you wanted to go back ’ome,” he said.

“Yes, well, that was half an hour ago,” she beamed. “I’m serious. Call him! Oh, and I hope you didn’t mean it about giving that horrendous woman Carla a commission. She was completely useless, and we can’t afford it.”

Jake gave her a look of renewed respect.

“You know, for a tree-hugging hippie, you’re not as naive as you look.”

“Thanks,” said Scarlett drily. “I’ll take that as a compliment, shall I?”

When she told Nancy about dinner with the twins and Diana, her friend’s anti-Jake radar shot up.

“He’s up to something. He has an agenda,” she announced cryptically, while rubbing scented body lotion into her inner thighs. “Tell him you changed your mind.”

“But I haven’t changed my mind,” said Scarlett, holding up two dresses against herself, one red and one white. She was determined, for once, not to look like something the cat puked up when Jake saw her, if only for the sake of her pride. “I’m really curious to see those two together. I’m hoping Diana might be able to shed some light on her evil ex-husband and what he did to Bijoux. After all, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.”

“In that case I might write and thank him,” said Nancy, unselfconsciously spritzing her newly trimmed bush with Penhaligon’s Victorian Posey. “Boxie, drop!” She pulled a pair of bright-red satin panties out of Boxford’s jaws and put them on, admiring the fit in the mirror. “God, I hope Jason has a big dick,” she muttered to herself. “He looks like he does, but so many of these ball players are a big disappointment when it comes to the shorts department.”

“Nancy!” Scarlett giggled. “You’re terrible. I thought this was a first date.”

“It is,” said Nancy, grinning wickedly before returning abruptly to their original conversation about Diana. “Remember, Brogan isn’t her ex-husband yet. She’s only been with Danny Meyer five minutes. She could still go back to him, so be careful what you say tonight. Loose lips and all that.”

“I don’t think she’s going back to him,” said Scarlett, opting for the red dress. The white one would have to wait until she got a tan. “According to Jake, he beat her up pretty badly when he found out about her and Danny. No woman would go back to that.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Nancy. “Wow,” she added, turning around and seeing Scarlett in the dress. A floor-length halter-neck, it fit her beautifully and showed off a good amount of creamy, white cleavage, as well as a tempting expanse of bare back. “Very sexy. That’ll get Meyer’s attention for sure.”

“I’m not trying to get his attention,” insisted Scarlett crossly. “For the last time, Nance, he’s my business partner, and that’s all he’ll ever be. I felt like making a tiny bit of an effort, that’s all. Is it too much?”

“Of course not,” said Nancy, stepping into her own dress for the evening, a crotch-skimming little black number that looked fit to split the moment she sat down. “You look lovely, as always. Just watch your back with that guy, OK? He’s bad news; you heard it here first.”

“Actually, I’ve heard it everywhere,” said Scarlett under her breath. But Jake had come out on top today—it looked like they were going to get that store space. And if she couldn’t enjoy a simple social dinner with the man, it didn’t say much for their future as business partners.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He absolutely, categorically won’t try anything. But if he does”—she did her best Charlie’s Angel
karate chop, complete with “hi-yah” noises—“I’ll be ready for him.”

It was a beautiful LA evening. The palm trees lining Rodeo and Canon Drives swayed gently in the breeze beneath a riotous sunset of pinks, oranges, purples, and blues that no jewel on earth could hope to imitate. All across town, automatic sprinklers began springing to life, watering the immaculately trimmed lawns and clipped box hedges that had spent the day bathed in sunshine, as pampered and spoiled as the people who owned them.

No wonder everything’s such a vivid emerald green
, thought Scarlett. This city must be plant heaven.

Unfortunately, it definitely wasn’t traffic heaven. Having wasted a good twenty minutes getting siphoned the wrong way around the Beverly Hills one-way system and having used some very unladylike language abusing the makers of her Thomas Guide City Map, Scarlett finally arrived at Mastro’s half an hour late.

“Sorry,” she said earnestly, weaving her way through the dimly lit tables and past the piano player toward Jake and Danny’s table. Jake had changed into a suit and tie, much to Scarlett’s relief, as Danny and Diana were both casually dressed in chinos and T-shirts, and only a handful of women in the restaurant appeared to have dressed up for the evening. “I got a bit lost.”

“Not to worry,” said Danny, smiling broadly and offering her his hand. “We only just got here ourselves. What can I get you?”

“A vodka and tonic please,” said Scarlett.

“Got any ID, miss?” the penguin-suited waiter gave her the once over.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you have any proof that you’re over twenty-one?”

Scarlett flushed with pleasure. “I’m afraid not. But how marvelous that you think I might not be.”

“I’m afraid we can’t serve you alcohol without a valid ID,” said the waiter pompously. Scarlett insisted she was fine with water, but Jake kicked up a stink, and eventually a vodka and tonic, long, cool, and chock-full of ice and lemon, was brought to the table.

“So, how are you liking La La so far?” asked Danny. Scarlett noticed the way his left hand lay possessively over Diana’s right on top of the table when he spoke. She’d only glimpsed him once before, in New York a year ago, also the only night that she’d seen Diana. Danny looked the same, a rougher-around-the-edges version of Jake, though somehow more approachable than his brother. But Diana was different. Scarlett remembered her from the Tiffany party as projecting an air of such sadness and vulnerability. Tonight, however, she looked positively radiant, glowing with love for Danny, whom she glanced at and touched constantly, her face beaming with happiness despite the still-healing bruises around her eye and the gash on her lower lip, which she hadn’t bothered to try and disguise with makeup. She wore the ring that Danny had given her the first night they met. Other than that she wore no jewelry, Scarlett noticed, although a white band of skin clearly marked the spot covered, until recently, by her wedding ring.