Santa Monica (High Bluffs Trilogy: Book Two) Read online

  “Excuse me. I have to get that.”

  “Of course.” He smiled congenially. He turned back to the painting.

  Maize babbled on the other end of the phone, calling to check if everything was okay and updating her about the New York artist. Jilly listened, well, half-listened, as she droned on. Mostly she studied John Stapleton.

  She’d estimate him to be about six feet tall. Longish hair hung to the nape of his neck. His face was classically handsome. He was almost boyish, which was an odd comparison to his somewhat weathered hands. Not an ounce of fat was visible on his muscular frame, housed in casual khakis and a pale-blue shirt, obviously expensive designer clothes. Everything about John Stapleton conveyed money and confidence. She’d never met him before today but somehow felt like their paths had crossed before. He walked slowly, still examining her mother’s paintings.

  I know why he seems familiar to me. He looks a lot like Rick in a way.

  “Jilly? Are you still there?” Maize was saying on the phone.

  “Huh? Oh, Maize, I have to go. I have a customer right now.” Jilly hung up and joined John Stapleton.

  * * * *

  Simon slammed the trunk of his car shut. He glanced back to The Art Nook, where Jilly still stood by the window, a smile adorning her pretty face. He smiled back and waved before getting into his car. As he sank into the soft leather seats, his mind raced. He watched her pause at the window, then turn and walk away out of his sight.

  His original plans would need to be adjusted. He hadn’t counted on Jilly being in the equation. In his mind, Jilly had still been a young girl, a child. Obviously, this wasn’t the truth. She was a woman now―an extremely attractive woman, the exact replica of her mother. She wasn’t Joanna, of course, but using her may work out better for him.

  I’ll have to take this slow. Methodical. No rushing like I did last time. This isn’t going to go exactly as I planned. But it’s going to be very pleasurable. And easy. Like taking candy from a baby. His lips twitched. Joanna’s baby.

  * * * *

  Jilly waved to John and turned away from the window. He was an interesting guy. But where is that artist who is supposed to be here? What was his name? She walked over to the reception desk and rifled through the stack of papers she’d flung when she had rushed to open the door. Edward. Where is Edward?

  The jingle of the front door interrupted her thoughts. A familiar figure entering the gallery.

  “Sean!”

  Sean’s tall, lanky frame was housed in his trademark faded jeans and comfortable T-shirt. The only time Jilly ever saw him dressed in anything different was at graduation.

  “I thought you’d need this, having to be here so early.” He held up two steaming paper cups. “And, yes, I remembered. Vanilla latte. Non-fat milk.”

  “Perfect!” Jilly smiled. She accepted the cup he held out to her, took a sip, and sighed.

  Ahh…caffeine, this is exactly what I needed this morning.

  “You’re such a good friend, Sean. Now I’m wondering why you’re up so early. You don’t usually get up until at least ten in the summer.”

  He flexed his slim arm. “Oh, I had to get up early to workout. That’s how I stay so buff.”

  Jilly laughed. “Yeah, right. The only thing you’re used to lifting is the TV remote.”

  A slow smile spread across his handsome face. He ran his hand through his tousled, sun-streaked hair. “Damn you, Jilly Dresden. You know me too well. Actually, I went to the beach this morning.”

  Jilly wrinkled her nose. “Went to the beach? Sean, you live at the beach.”

  Two houses away from her house to be exact. Sean had been her first friend when she’d moved here as a curious, but painfully shy, fifth grader. Their friendship endured and had grown stronger over the years. She considered him her best friend.

  “Well, I walked on the beach this morning. Got some great shots.” Sean took a long sip from his coffee cup. He placed it on the reception desk. “Wine, women, and sex have nothing on my caffeine addiction.”

  “And exactly how many coffees have you had this morning?” Jilly plopped into the bright-red upholstered chair behind the desk.

  “Not enough.” Sean shook his head. He leaned against the black marble desk. “So, how long do you have to stay here? Want to go out for lunch or something?”

  She glanced at the clock. Edward should have been there over an hour ago. Who knows if he’ll show up before lunchtime? “Probably. I’m waiting for this artist to show up. Hopefully he’ll be here soon since he’s the reason I had to get here so early.” Jilly looked at Sean. “Come back around noon and we’ll get Mexican.”

  “Olé, my lady.” Sean grabbed his coffee and meandered out the door. “I want to check out the camera shop anyway. Thinking I may need to update. Ta-ta!” With a jingle of the door, he was gone.

  What a goofball. Always had been from the moment she’d met him. She’d been walking along the beach on a warm summer afternoon, right before she’d started fifth grade at her new school. He’d been out there, too, holding a metal detector and finding lost change and hairpins. His longish, sun-streaked hair made him look like the typical surfer boy she’d imagined finding in California. He’d smiled, revealing his crooked front teeth that were fixed by braces two years later, and they’d been friends ever since.

  Sean loved taking pictures of anything, literally. He would take shots of the sidewalk, a picture of a half-eaten bagel, a photo of her sleeping on a chaise lounge by the pool. “Shots of life,” he’d call them. He talked about being a photojournalist and traveling all over the world, but they both knew that would never happen. He was registered as pre-med at school this fall, following in his father’s footsteps―Beverly Hills’s “premier” heart surgeon.

  Jilly glanced at the clock again. Edward better hurry up and get here. The rumbling in her stomach, no doubt a result of skipping breakfast, told her lunchtime couldn’t come fast enough.

  Chapter Four

  Simon propped the picture from the gallery against the freshly painted wall of his rented luxury home. A pang of homesickness shot through him as he studied the familiar landscape. Memories of so many special times spent in that inn on the cliff, Joanna’s inn, flooded his mind. Summer nights by the bonfire on the beach, snowy winter afternoons playing board games, and countless nights hiding outside among the pines or by the rocks to watch Joanna were part of his life, of their lives. He’d never been very far from her. He missed that closeness, both to her and the town. High Bluffs would always be home for him. He’d thought he’d never leave.

  He wouldn’t have left if things had gone according to plan. He’d had twelve long years in prison to think about the life he could have been living, the life he should have been living. He and Joanna would have married and would be living in their seaside inn, The Bluffs, blissfully happy to share their lives with one another. He’d still be the sheriff of High Bluffs. He missed that job.

  I ran that town. I was the one everyone came to if there was any trouble. The entire community looked up to me.

  All of those pie-in-the-sky dreams died years ago, and now he had a new dream. His lean, muscular body, hardened from years of exercise in the prison gym, dropped into the cream-colored chair opposite the wall. He leaned back, tilting his eyes to the ceiling.

  As much as he hated Joanna for what she’d done to him, a piece of him still desperately loved her. She’d rejected him so many times, but something inside him still burned for her. She was his first love, and everyone remembers their first love. He’d memorized the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin, and the way she moved her body. It was shocking to him how similar Jilly was to Joanna, not only in appearance but mannerisms as well.

  Jilly reminded him of the sweet Joanna he’d cherished before all the ugliness crept up between them. This was the woman he’d have gladly laid down his life for at any given moment, his soul mate. Jilly may be all of those things to him in time, and perhaps a woman who would finally return his love. He shook his head. She’s not Joanna.

  But she’d betrayed him and wanted him out of her life for good. All those years in prison he’d hoped, prayed for, a letter from her, thinking she must recall the good times they’d shared, the bond they’d once had.

  We were great friends at one time. I was the one she came to for advice or help. We talked about everything and shared so much together. How could she throw away all those memories?

  The letter never came. Night after night he’d shivered on the cold, hard prison mattress with his standard-issue gray blanket. Blasted scratchy thing. If he hadn’t been so damn cold, he’d have thrown it in the trash where it belonged. Inch by inch, his heart had died in that cement cell, metal bars locking him in away from her, and she didn’t care. She’d just allowed him to rot in that cell while she’d continued on her merry way.

  Funny how, inside that very cell, a new life, the very one he led today, had started to take shape.

  He’d met Tony a year into his prison term. At this point, he’d become used to the penitentiary’s schedule, but never the constant noise inside, or the nearly daily beatings. Being a former cop had just brought him trouble; almost every prisoner wanted a piece of him. Every day he’d hung by a thread, wondering if it would be his last.

  He’d recognized Tony DeSalva immediately when the slim, dark-haired man had sauntered into the cell. The East Coast’s most notorious mob boss had been on every law enforcement officer’s most wanted list. His mug shot was standard issue for any police station. For some strange reason, the two had become friends.

  The kitchen fire, two years later, had strengthened the bond between the two men. They’d been on cooking duty when the explosion had happened. A ceiling pipe knocked Tony out as it crashed down
to the floor, but Simon was free to run. He could still see Tony sprawled out on the black-tiled floor, crimson blood pooling around his head. He’d hesitated, seeing his way out of the growing inferno, but he'd grabbed Tony and taken him along.

  That decision changed my life.

  Simon surveyed his modern, spacious new home. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the great room gave him a clear view to the in-ground pool and manicured gardens just beyond the patio. A sprawling chef’s kitchen, a sea of granite, stainless steel, and ornate hand-carved moldings, awaited him in which to prepare his dinner.

  Yeah, this is a far cry from where I’d be living without Tony.

  A friend of Tony DeSalva was a friend for life, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for a friend. Nothing was impossible for him now.

  * * * *

  Jilly wiped her sweaty forehead. She forced her legs to move until her time was up. She glanced around at the other people in the semi-crowded gym, dutifully working out on their treadmills and elliptical machines, listening to their workout music.

  When did the treadmill become such a killer?

  She sighed and continued moving for another ten minutes. Usually, she didn’t have trouble with her forty-five-minute workout.

  I hope I’m not getting sick. I’m so tired today.

  She grabbed her striped cotton towel from the front of the machine and sopped up the excess moisture. Thoughts of a cold strawberry smoothie danced in her mind as she headed toward the juice bar.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, bumping into someone in her haste.

  “No problem,” a familiar voice said. “Where’s the fire?”

  Jilly looked up and smiled: John Stapleton.

  “At the juice bar. I’m having smoothie withdrawals,” she replied. “You a member here?”

  “As of thirty minutes ago.” He flashed his blue laminated membership card. “I’ll have to remember to stay out of your way when you’re on a smoothie run.”

  Jilly laughed. “Good idea. I can’t be held responsible for my actions. So, how did your painting work out?”

  “Perfect.” John smiled. “In fact, I’m going to need several more pieces for my newest house.

  “Wonderful.” Jilly nodded. “We’d love to see you at the gallery again.”

  John remained silent for a moment. While his voice was mute, his eyes studied her intently. A rush of heat flushed through Jilly. And it wasn’t from her active workout. Their gazes met.

  “Actually, I was hoping we could meet on a more personal basis,” John said in his soft, Southern drawl.

  Now Jilly was silent. Do I want to go on a date with him? She had to admit she was interested in this handsome stranger, but he was a lot older than her. He must be at least thirty. It’s just a date. Dinner. Maybe just coffee. She decided to play it cool. “Sure, join me for a smoothie. We can talk.”

  “Love to, Jilly, but I’m late already to meet with my personal trainer. How about going out to dinner with me tonight?”

  She hesitated. She wanted to say yes, but something held her back. She smiled at him. “Maybe another time.”

  * * * *

  Simon’s gaze followed Jilly as she traveled across the health club floor. Her body glided with smooth, graceful movements, like a dancer. Indecision kept filtering through his brain. He’d come here for Joanna, partly to somehow be with her, partly to exact revenge on her. The main objective of this elaborate plan was to be close to Joanna again. Once he managed that part, he was certain all the other pieces would fall into place.

  Then, sweet Jilly entered his vision. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was so young and vibrant and made him feel young again. He felt even younger than the changes he’d achieved through hours of plastic surgery, or the hours spent working out to maintain a hard, youthful body. Nobody would guess his age at forty-four. In fact, he’d confidently picked thirty-two for his new age on John Stapleton’s driver’s license.

  He knew she was attracted to him. He could feel it. Her eyes flirted with him, teased him in an innocent, sensual way like only a woman can do. She’s interested, but will she act on that interest? What would Joanna think about him doing her beautiful daughter? In fact, this may be the sweetest revenge he could get.

  He barely listened to his personal trainer ramble on about reps and crunches. He emphasized the gym’s motto, “Commitment equals success.” Those exact words were spelled out in bright-red letters across the back wall of the gym. The big-headed man with rippling muscles didn’t interest him. He got a personal trainer because that’s what rich people do, and he was rich now. Tony DeSalva had made sure of that. So when a spandex-clad middle-aged woman with a bouncing blonde ponytail interrupted the guy’s droning, he didn’t pay much attention, at least until she spoke.

  “Jay, this is the second time I’ve had to tell you to text me if I’m late,” the woman said indignantly. “I am a very busy woman, but I can’t miss my workouts, even if I am late. You need to tell me I’m late!”

  “I cannot be responsible for you,” Jay said, irritation coloring his voice. “This is at least the fourth or fifth time you’ve been late for a session. I’m not your babysitter.”

  The woman shot a venomous stare at him. “Excuse me, I am paying you to help me maintain this figure.” She brushed her hands down the well-toned curves of her body. “I am a well-known actress, as you know, and how I look is my top priority.”

  “Apparently not, or else you would not miss our sessions,” Jay replied. He turned toward Simon. “I’m busy now. We’ll talk later.”

  “I’m not sure I will need your services, Jay, if this is how you treat clients.” The woman looked at Simon. “Don’t waste your money.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Simon replied.

  The woman moved closer and extended her hand. “I haven’t seen you around here. First time?”

  “Yes, it is,” Simon said. “I’m John Stapleton.”

  “Sierra.” She licked her lips. “Sierra Slade. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

  More than you know.

  He knew the taste of her skin and the feel of her body wrapped around his own. She was his former lover of convenience when he used to be Simon Clay. Of course, she had been Sierra Mason back then, the bitch who’d sold him out to the Feds. He appraised her bleached-blonde hair and expertly made-up face. Tanned, well-toned arms extended from her body-hugging white spandex. Yes, she was still sexy in her usual, slutty way.

  He grasped her hand, his fingers gliding against her smooth skin. “Sierra Slade, nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I rarely have time to watch TV or movies. I’m not familiar with your work.”

  Her gaze traveled over him. A teasing smile appeared on her red lips. “Well, if you ever get the time, I’m on the TV drama, L.A. Nurses.”

  “So, you play a nurse.”

  “An orderly,” Sierra said. “I’m not on every episode, but I have frequent scenes.”

  “I’ll remember to check that out,” he said.

  Still a wannabe. That’s all she will ever be.

  Sierra nodded and turned her attention back to the trainer to continue her tantrum.

  “You know, Jay,” Simon said, “take Ms. Slade for her workout. It seems really important to her. I’ll catch up with you later.” He left before Jay could protest. It was a small concession for him to avoid Sierra’s nonstop drama.

  * * * *

  Jilly popped the straw inside the opening on the juice box and placed it on the small round table. A four-year-old boy, with a shock of red hair, kept his gaze steady on the crinkling straw wrapper lying to the side of the box. He took his finger and dragged it in a circular motion on the table. Around and around his gaze followed its movement.

  She pulled up a child-sized chair and sat next to him. “Joey,” she said. “Eyes on me.”

  He ignored her, continuing the circular motion of the wrapper.

  “Joey, eyes on me,” she said again.

  This time he looked at her briefly.