4
Beau strained his hands against the fabric of his trouser pockets as the elevator leveled with the hotel’s ground floor. He hadn’t slept a wink, but when the doors opened, he straightened his shoulders and strode out like he would any other day. Because it was any other day. There was nothing particularly special about this one, except for his early-morning meeting with Mayor Churchill—a meeting he’d been trying to get for some time, and one he wouldn’t have without Lola’s help. At least she’d been good for that.
“Good morning, Mr. Olivier.”
He smiled at the familiar face behind the front desk. “Morning, Heather.”
“New tie?”
Beau touched the knot at the base of his neck. “Thank you for noticing.”
“I always do. How’d you sleep?”
As he passed, Beau rapped his knuckles against the counter and winked. “Like a baby. Cab’s out front?”
“Yes, sir.”
Living in a hotel had its perks. Being greeted in the mornings by the Four Seasons’ model-actress concierge, Heather, should’ve been one of the best. But the quickest way to turn Beau off was to make it easy for him. Girls like Heather had become a dime a dozen the day he’d put on a bespoke Prada suit and stepped onto the sidewalk of Rodeo Drive.
The attention had been fun at first, but the appeal had worn off quickly. It’d been some time since Beau’d picked up a random girl for a night, but he figured after what he’d been through the last twenty-four hours, maybe it was just what he needed. A nap, a strong drink and a good, meaningless fuck. Not necessarily in that order.
Out front, Warner waited at the passenger’s side of his town car, his expression typically stoic. Beau’d worked with the man ten years, though, and he sensed something was off when Warner didn’t jump to get the car door for Beau.
“I already arranged a ride,” Beau said, checking his watch—6:56 A.M. Approximately thirty minutes since Lola had bolted from his room. “I thought you’d be longer.”
“I tried calling. Miss Winters refused a ride home.”
Beau slowed to a stop. “Did she?”
“Yes, sir.”
Beau blew out a heavy sigh. Of course she had. Lola could be stubborn and proud—a potentially self-destructive mix. “I take it you put her in a cab?”
“She walked.”
Beau’s body locked up. The hotel’s sidewalk curved along the driveway and disappeared behind a wall of greenery. When she’d left, the sky had still been dim. Beverly Hills or not, she shouldn’t have been walking alone at that hour. Especially not with all that cash. He didn’t like it.
“What the hell were you thinking letting her walk?” Beau asked.
“Sir, with all due respect, I’ve never given any of your dates a ride home. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Warner’s mouth twitched at the corner. “And she can be very convincing.”
Beau raised his chin. It was true. When Beau spent the night with a woman, he’d usually send her off with more than enough cash for a cab and didn’t think of it again. He flexed his fingers, which he didn’t remember curling into fists. “Of course. You’re right. She’ll be fine.”
Warner moved to get the car door for Beau. “We could probably still catch her.”
Beau unbuttoned his blazer. Lola was a smart girl. She wouldn’t put herself in danger. And if she did, that was Johnny’s problem, not Beau’s. He got into the backseat. “I can’t be late for this meeting. Miss Winters will have to handle herself from here on out.”
“Very well, sir.” Before Warner closed the door, he cleared his throat. “If you’d like, I can drop you off and go look myself. I didn’t mean to imply she’s just another—”
“I said no.” Beau sniffed. “Don’t bring it up again.”
Warner nodded and shut the door.
Beau’d had enough of thinking and talking about Lola. She’d made the choice to walk out when he’d asked her to stay and trust him. Maybe that was a lot to expect, but he’d deserved that little bit of faith after what they’d been through. Beau looked out the window and tried to focus on his upcoming meeting. He wanted to be done with Lola, wanted her out from under his skin. All the more reason to find himself a Heather for a night—and soon.
What Beau didn’t expect to find was someone better than the attention-hungry Heathers he normally met. Upon entering Mayor Churchill’s City Hall office, he was not greeted by a pretty, young brunette. She didn’t even look up from her computer when he approached her desk.
“Appointment?” she asked, clicking her mouse furiously.
“Yes, I have an appointment,” Beau said deliberately. “Beau Olivier.”
She glanced up for a brief moment and then away. “I’ll let the mayor know. You can take a seat.”
She had long, dark hair and fair skin. There was skepticism in her blue eyes—of him, of everything around her. She resembled Lola enough that he didn’t want to stop talking to her.
“Mind if I stand?” he asked. “I’m not very good at sitting still.”
“Makes no difference to me.”
“I could use a coffee,” Beau said. “Didn’t have time to stop.”
She sighed, finished whatever she was typing and left the room.
She was clearly annoyed with him, and Beau loved every moment. He glanced at her computer clock. He had four minutes before the meeting began. It could be done. He’d turned a girl from cold to hot in less time.