Page 19 of Sex, Lust & Lingerie

CHAPTER 13

Gloria

“Do you want to hold my hand?” crooned Jaime as the plane began its final descent into Los Angeles. I detected mockery in his voice. It irritated me how fast he could go back to being so cocky and annoying.

“No,” I snapped back at him though it was comforting to be seated next to him on the couch in the main cabin. My seatbelt was fastened securely around me.

I gazed out one of the aircraft’s windows. Below, the familiar trafficked intertwining freeways, the cars resembling crawling bugs, and rows of red-roofed Spanish cottages came into view. I flashed back to the first time I had flown to Los Angeles with Kevin. We had arrived at LAX in the early evening. Dusk. I was still so weak from the bullet hole Boris Borofsky had bore into my chest and suffering from airsickness. But when all the twinkly lights came into view, my spirits lifted. The City of Angels. The City of Dreams. Clutching Kevin as we waited for a cab outside the terminal, I gazed in awe at the pink-streaked sky, tall palms, and multi-color flowers. I was shocked it was so warm when it was mid-December. The cold, gray winter of Brighton Beach was now miles away. And so was the pink-eyed monster. The horror of that one regrettable night was behind us. There was a chance for a new beginning in this fairy-tale city where dreams could come true.

While I was remarkably fearless as Jaime’s plane streamlined to the ground, a mental sigh of relief sang inside me as it touched down at Van Nuys Airport. Once it came to a complete halt, the flight attendants ushered us off. The two attractive brunettes flirtatiously bid Jaime good-bye but still regarded me with unfriendly, suspicious eyes.

Van Nuys Airport was a small airport located in what was known in LA as “The Valley.” It was a hub for corporate jets and private planes, allowing wealthy business commuters and celebrities the opportunity to avoid the hassle of getting in and out of busy LAX, Los Angeles’s main airport.

I checked my iPhone. It was a little past noon PST, and the weather was SoCal perfect—sunny, mid seventies, not a cloud in the sky. My west coast driver, Tyrone Turrell—Ty, for short—greeted me on the tarmac with my corporate car which happened to be a black Range Rover just like the one Jaime used to get chauffeured around in New York. Ty was a twenty-one-year-old handsome black man with a brick shithouse build whom I’d rescued from South Central’s drug-and-crime-ridden streets. After being released from prison for a gang-related crime, he was recruited at the age of eighteen to serve in a remedial apprenticeship program for troubled street kids. It had turned him around and made him one of the finest young men I knew. With my own challenging childhood, I was a big believer in giving back and helping disadvantaged youth. In fact, later in the week I was being honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award for the work I’d done for Girls Like Us, the charitable organization I founded and supported ardently.

“Welcome back, Ms. Long,” Ty said with a big smile and a tip of his driver’s hat. “Sorry to hear you had engine trouble.” He eyed Jaime, who was standing beside me. “Who may be your gentleman friend?”

Jaime introduced himself before I could utter a word and then shook Ty’s massive hand. “I’ll be working with Ms. Long on the new Gloria’s Secret ad campaign.”

Ty gave Jaime his seal of approval, forming an “O” with his thumb and forefinger. “Ms. Long’s got mighty fine taste.”

My face flushed with embarrassment.

Jaime glanced my way, amused by my heated expression. “I’d have to agree with that.” I swear he was mentally undressing me. My stomach fluttered as unwanted tingles arrowed below my waist.

“Um, uh, where are you staying?” I asked Mr. Distracting.

“I always stay at Shutters.”

Shutters On the Beach in Santa Monica was one of my favorite hotels. With its gray-shingled design, it reminded me of a charming New England hotel. The oceanfront location with its view of the pier was spectacular, and the service was impeccable. I often had out-of-town vendors and store managers stay there, meeting them sometimes for breakfast or drinks. I was surprised I’d never encountered Jaime there. Timing, I’d learned as a businesswoman, was everything. If you waited too long or acted too soon, everything could change…for better or for worse.

“Do you have a means of transportation?” I asked my companion.

“Actually, I was hoping you could give me a ride. I’ll pick up a car at the hotel.”

I hesitated then agreed. I just wasn’t sure how much more time I could spend with him in a confined means of transportation. I’m sure he wouldn’t try anything with Ty in the car. But then again…

Ty loaded our luggage onto a cart. Jaime had one piece—a small rollaway bag—and I had, well…many.

Jaime rolled his eyes at my mountain of luggage. “Sheesh, angel. You pack like there’s no tomorrow.”

My breath hitched. Not because of his snarky comment but because he’d called me “angel” in front of Ty. The wide-eyed expression on my driver’s face told me the reference was not lost on him. Clearing my throat, I said, “It’s not just my wardrobe. Mostly, the suitcases are filled with Gloria’s Secret samples that I had to transport to New York for the fashion show.”

“I look forward to seeing them again,” Jaime said with a wink. “Perhaps you’ll model them for me.”

My eyes shot him daggers. I pressed my lips tight as I followed Ty, with Jaime beside me, to the car. While the hot shower had helped soothe my bruised body, my stride was still stiff.

Ty cranked his head to check on me. “You’re walking a little funny, Ms. Long. Are you okay?”

Jaime jumped in. “She had a hard workout. She’s just not used to it.”

Cringing, I fired him a I’m-going-to-kill-you look. The sparks were flying.

I heard Ty murmur, “Oh my.”

Jaime was back to whistling “Crazy.” Let me at him!

“Stop whistling!” I barked at him.

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