Chapter Ten
Landon
I paced the length of my hotel suite and back to the window again, holding my phone to my ear. "Why are you so worried about this trip, Lyla? Just yesterday you were telling me this was going to be your only free weekend until October. Go enjoy it, and let me handle things for once."
"And you call flying down to L. A. and buying a new car to drive back up Highway 1 ‘handling things?’" she asked.
I held the phone back. Her voice was high and screeching, the way it sounded when things were slipping out of her control. "I'm here on time. In fact, you caught me changing before I head to campus."
"You should be there early. The university chancellor is probably waiting to greet you right now."
I refrained from chucking my phone hard against the hotel room wall. "I'm sure he'll appreciate me being right on time. I said I would be there at 10 a.m., and I will be."
"And what's this I hear about you trying to change hotel reservations?" she asked.
I sighed. "You know I like that little motel right on the water."
"No one stays there except surfers and burnouts," she said. "You're a Michel. You're expected to stay in a suite at the best hotel."
"I'm here, aren't I?" I asked. The little motel was full anyway, as the waves were perfect. I had to get off the phone with her —I’d had enough. "We’ll talk soon. Enjoy your weekend!"
I hung up and tossed the phone on the king-sized bed. Lyla was always wound tight, but she had been even more on edge lately. At her request, I had started to handle select meetings, events, and business trips on my own. The only problem was it drove her insane when I deviated even one inch from her carefully structured plans. So far I hadn’t missed a single appointment, but every time I did things my way, she raged at me.
"You wore the striped tie? Michel men only wear solid colors," I imitated her strident voice while I tied my tie. "You drove yourself to the event? Are you trying to ruin the image your family built?"
I grabbed up my wallet and car keys. The only thing left on the hotel bureau was a small, sterling silver moon. Riley Cullen. Every time I thought of her, I had to fight the urge to hire a private investigator. I just wanted to make sure she was all right, but after the constant texts her ex had been sending her that weekend, I didn’t want to come off as yet another creep.
I picked up the moon charm. We had danced to ”Blue Moon” and the words haunted me. I sang it as I headed to my car.
The lyrics about standing alone without a dream reminded me of when I’d met Riley. She had just settled her grandfather's estate and wasn't sure what was next.
Shaking off the memory, I made it to campus without any problems. Right on time. The chancellor shook my hand and went on stage to introduce me. I dropped the moon charm into my pocket and walked out to the podium.
"My parents would have loved to have been here today," I told the crowd of students, alumni, donors, and faculty. "The energy, the electricity of dedicated students chasing their dreams, building their happiness, and expanding their learning is what my parents wanted to see thrive. I believe by donating this new science building to the University of California, Santa Cruz, I am making my family's wish come true. May this new facility sustain your energy, inspire your dreams, and make all of us that much happier."
The university chancellor handed me a pair of oversized scissors and stood back to applaud with everyone else. If only they knew how ridiculous I felt holding the cartoonish scissors. I paused for the photographers, just as Lyla had coached me. She would be mad that I hadn't practiced just the right smile beforehand.
As I hacked open the ribbon with the dull prop scissors, I felt a stab of jealousy. All those students in front of me with the freedom to pursue their education. My schools had been carefully selected, my courses of study chosen by my father in order to condition me into a proper Michel. I could only imagine how exhilarating it must be to study something of actual interest. Astronomy. English literature. Biology.
"Mr. Michel, your business manager mentioned you might have time to speak with our student journalists?" the chancellor asked.
"Fire away," I said. The crowd was still clapping and I waved as I followed the president down the side steps to a small, waiting throng of students.
"Mr. Michel, would you call the new science building an investment or a donation?" one eager-eyed young man asked.
"An investment, both for my family and for the university. But the important part to remember is that if students also invest in this building, with their time and attention, it will benefit us all," I said.
"Mr. Michel, would you call your lifestyle extravagant?" a tall young woman asked.
"Sadly, my work is slowly overtaking my extravagance," I told her.
"But you were just on the cover of two magazines that idolized your jet-setting lifestyle," she retorted.
"Images can be deceiving, but since you’re a journalism student, I’m sure you can confirm the facts. My appearance schedule is on my website, and I think you'll find there is very little time in between for extravagant trips."
I had answered the same questions hundreds of times before, but the trick was to make it seem like I had to search for the answers. Reporters ranged in opinion from believing me a hero to despising me for my privileges. To them I was not a real human; I was a symbol of something they wanted to either look up to or destroy.
I scanned the gathering crowd and felt like I could see everyone's assumptions in their expressions. Until I saw her.
Riley Cullen was being dragged forward by a petite blonde with sharp elbows. The blonde shoved Riley in front of me and said, "Mr. Michel, I believe you've met my friend, Riley Cullen?"
Riley's chocolate brown eyes avoided mine until I took her hand. "Yes, nice to see you again, Ms. Cullen.” I glanced around at the group of student reporters. “Sorry, no more questions." I pulled Riley into the wings behind the stage and kept her hand in mine. "How are you?"
"I'm fine. I go to school here now. Grad school." Riley stopped herself and bit her lip.
My laugh came out in rough bursts. "What a surprise to see you here. Grad school? That's amazing. You're finding your way just fine."
She nodded. "Congratulations on the new building."
"Thanks. It means I'm in town tonight. I haven't made any plans yet. Are you busy?"
Riley inched back out to the crowd. "I really should study, and I don't want to bother you. I heard you say how busy you are."
Her friend popped around the corner. "He just said he didn't have plans. She can study before dinner. Here's our address. She'll be ready at eight o'clock."
I took the scrap of paper with the scribbled address on it and laughed. "I seem to remember handing you a napkin like this at The Sand Dollar. Who says the written word is dead, huh?"
Riley laughed but shook her head. "I don't have a fancy gown, so unless you can dress down, this isn't happening."
"Evening casual, eight o'clock." I nodded and slipped the piece of paper into my breast pocket.
The chancellor peeked around the corner. "Mr. Michel, our board of directors would love to take you to lunch now."
I reached for Riley's hand one last time. I needed to feel that she was real. Her deep brown eyes brushed over my face but wouldn't meet my gaze. Though, before I was pulled away, she squeezed my hand. I felt her light touch like lightning all through my body.
* * * * *
I was so distracted on the way back to my hotel that I pulled into the front valet drive. James normally dropped me off at the private entrance around back by the loading docks so I could avoid the crowds. Beyond the knot of bouncing fans that waved my magazine covers, there was a small line of protestors, a half dozen people wanting money for their own worthy causes, and a small army of paparazzi.
I left the keys in the ignition of my new car and fought my way through the crowd to the front desk.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Michel. We didn’t expect you back so soon. Additional security is on the way." The hotel manager ran to get the elevator for me.
"It's all right. There was a slight change of plans," I said. I didn't smile until the elevator doors slid shut.
Riley Cullen. Her honey-brown hair had been loose. Loose and lovely. The last time I saw Riley, her hair had been swept up into a bun. She had looked spectacular in that golden dress, but the image my mind conjured again and again was the soft wisps of hair that had escaped her bun to brush against her neck.
Tonight I would take her to a little steakhouse just outside of Santa Cruz. We'd sit on the patio in jeans and sweaters as the Pacific air chilled the night. We'd sip red wine and listen to the waves.
My head swimming with possibilities, I stretched out on the bed only to sit straight up when my hotel door opened. A woman in a black satin raincoat slipped inside and gave me a red-lipped smile.
"Mr. Michel, I'm so glad to find you in bed," she purred.
What the hell? I jumped up and put the bed between us, but she was already on it, her jacket falling open. Red lace, just small scraps to cover her. My mouth went dry. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave."
"Just a little, harmless fun." The woman crawled across the king-sized bed to me.
"Sorry, Mr. Michel, she slipped past when we were changing shifts. I'm so sorry, sir, it will never happen again." A security guard charged through the open hotel door and then froze. His eyes locked on to the half-naked woman and his mouth dropped open. "Apologies, sir. I'll just let myself out."
"Take her with you, please,” I said in the frostiest voice I could manage. “I'm not to be disturbed until my driver comes to pick me up. Understand?"
The security guard shook his head without taking his eyes off the voluptuous woman. "Take her out of your suite, sir?"
"Yes," I snapped and held the door open for them. I didn’t know what either of them thought I should be like, but this wasn't it. God, I missed Michel's Beach where the locals just went about their business, so used to me that they were unimpressed.
I fumed until James knocked on the door.
"We're picking up Riley?" he asked without preamble.
"How do you know that?" I asked, joining him in the hallway.
"You gave me the address, so I did a background check. I am a professional, you know."
"A professional pain in the ass," I muttered, but he only chuckled. His laugh irritated me so I walked ahead and blocked the hotel hallway. "I know you drove her to The Sand Dollar after the gala, but I still don't believe she left because she was sick."
"Seems like you’ll have a chance to ask her about it yourself," James said.
I refused to speak to him until we pulled up at Riley's apartment building. "All right, Mr. Professional, give me your take on that guy. Why's he staring at Riley's apartment?"
James frowned. "He was here when I drove by before. Name's Owen Moore."
"Her ex-boyfriend?" I asked.
"You remember that?"
"Hey, ex-police detectives aren’t the only ones with memories," I said. "Speaking of the skills my father hired you for, how about we get rid of him?"
"Looks like Ms. Cullen can take care of herself," James answered blandly.
I yanked open my door but James was right. Riley marched up to Owen, told him something in concise, cutting tones, and he stepped aside.
I opened my mouth to ask Riley about him, but James cleared his throat, so I said, "I hope khakis are casual enough. It seems all my jeans are back on the estate."
She glanced down at her flowing black skirt. "At least I put on a jean jacket?"
"You look beautiful," I said.
Riley shook her head in disbelief. "Evening, James. Nice to see you again. Did he manage to pick a casual place for dinner or should I just turn around right now?"
James grinned and held the door open for her. "Good evening, Ms. Cullen. I think you'll approve."
When we were settled at a corner table on the beachfront patio of the steakhouse, I was relieved to see Riley's shoulders relax. I didn't realize how nervous I had been about making her comfortable and the irony made me laugh.
"What's so funny?" she asked, her brown eyes meeting mine across the table.
"Trying to be normal is making me nervous," I confessed.
Riley laughed. "Me too. Especially when everyone is watching us. What's with that?"
"You haven't seen my magazine covers, have you?" I didn't know whether I should be overjoyed or insulted.
"Covers?" Riley asked. "As in more than one?" She reached for her phone, and I thought she was looking up the images until her nose crinkled in distaste.
"A text from your ex-boyfriend?" I asked. "The last time I saw that expression, he was texting you at The Sand Dollar."
Riley eyed my buzzing phone. "And your cousin was calling you."
We both picked up our phones and turned them off at the same time. I ordered wine, but it was hard to unwind with all the whispered commentary surrounding us. Even the roar of the ocean waves couldn't drown out the curious onlookers' speculations.
When the waiter brought the wine bottle, I asked for his wine-opener. "My driver's settling the tab," I said. Then I stood up and reached for Riley's hand. "Grab the glasses. Let's get out of here."
Her thick eyelashes fluttered, and I savored the mix of surprise and curiosity on her face. She picked up the wine glasses and followed me through a gap in the patio landscaping. We escaped onto the beach and over the sand dunes before anyone could follow. All along the shore were hidden coves in the rocks, and we found one with a flat stone ledge where we could sit.
"Need a hand up?" I asked her.
"No, but how about you? Those fancy shoes look slippery," she teased. Riley then hitched up her long, black skirt to reveal leather boots. She scaled the rock ledge easily and held out her hand.
I handed her the wine and scrambled up next to her. "So tell me what you're studying."
"Wine." Riley laughed at my skeptical expression. "Really. There's a vintners program and I'm studying grape horticulture. I love my botany class right now."
"Well, I'll toast to that," I said, handing her a full glass. "You sound really excited. I'm jealous. I wish I was that excited about anything."
"Your speech was wonderful at the dedication," she said.
I looked at her out of the corner of my eyes. "I always sound so stiff, so practiced. Like it's a robot version of me. Still, I'm glad I took on all the ribbon-cuttings and opening ceremonies."
"Better than business meetings?"
"Brought me here, and here you are."
Riley scrunched up her eyes and shook her head. "You sound really busy. Taking over the family business finally?"
I nodded. "More of it, anyway. Which makes me wonder what I'm paying Lyla for."
Riley's expression darkened at the mention of my cousin.
I hesitated but had to ask. "Did she say something to you that night? You left so quickly, I thought I'd said something to insult you, but I replayed everything a hundred times in my head."
"James didn't tell you?"
I snorted. "Nothing about Lyla. He said you were sick."
She didn't answer my question and scooted farther from me. "Is that the only reason you asked me out tonight? You wanted to clear your conscience?"
"No. I mean, yes, I wanted to apologize if I said anything to offend you, but, no. I asked you out tonight because I wanted to see you again."
"Which one of you?" Riley asked. "The Landon I met at The Sand Dollar or the Landon Michel I saw at the gala?"
I winced. "I lied to you when we first met. Not an outright lie about who I am, but I omitted information I should have told you. I'm sorry, Riley. It was nice to meet you without everything else hanging over my head, and I should have been more honest."
She sipped her wine. "How about we start over? My name is Riley Cullen."
"Landon. Landon Michel. Nice to meet you," I reached for her hand and she squeezed my fingers again.
"Not that this is the start to anything," Riley said.
I didn't let go of her hand but pulled her closer. "No, that's not the start of something…but this might be."
I slipped my hand into her tousled hair and tugged her closer. Her lips parted in protest, but I caught them softly against mine. She struggled for a fraction of a second, and I pulled away. “This okay?” I asked, needing to be certain.
After a long moment, she nodded.
I pulled her close again and brushed my lips across hers, letting my tongue taste her.
The heat was there despite the awkwardness, the chilly wind from the ocean, and her restraint. Riley leaned back to take a deep breath, her brown eyes swimming like rich, dark coffee grounds. Then she leaned forward and poured herself into our kiss.
It felt as if the tide had come crashing in over me. Riley tasted of salty sea air, the bright cherry notes of the wine, and a spice that fired my hunger. The kiss consumed us until the cool spray of a wave settled over us.
"You should walk me home," Riley said, then she frowned. "Not in that way. My apartment building is just along the beach there."
I blinked away the brief, tantalizing vision of going home with Riley in time to see a photographer approaching. Damn paparazzi. I held out my hand and helped her jump down from the rock ledge. We sipped our wine as we walked along the edge of the wet sand.
"I'm sorry our normal, casual date didn't work out," I said.
Our shoulders brushed as she walked close to me. "I suppose it was normal for you. All those people spotting you and whispering about you. Does that happen wherever you go?"
I took a large swig of wine and stopped to pour us more. "Apparently my cousin has built up our brand enough that I’m recognized worldwide. Too bad the combination of fame and philanthropy is killing my love life."
"Maybe it's just you."
I looked up and caught the tease glowing in her dark eyes. "How about you, then? Having fun crushing the fantasies of undergraduates?"
Riley's laugh had a grim edge. "I haven't had that many successful dates."
"So you might say yes if I ask you out again?"
She swirled the wine in her glass and led the way farther down the beach toward her apartment building. "What about your busy schedule? Aren't you flying out of Santa Cruz for the next big thing?"
"Nothing I can't reschedule." I hoped she didn't hear the doubt in my own voice. Lyla would slash me to ribbons when she found out I planned to chuck her itinerary.
"That's me, on the second floor," Riley said. She nodded up to the apartment, then her eyes made a nervous sweep of the beach.
"No lights on. Isn't your roommate home?" I asked.
"Anna's working at the research lab until her internship starts. She's monitoring some experiment overnight," Riley said. She wrapped one arm around her waist and sipped at her wine. "I didn't know you could see in the windows so easily from the beach."
"Why would that bother you? There's no one out here." But even as I said it, I felt like someone was watching us. Damn paparazzi. "How about you let me walk you to the door?"
Riley nodded and picked her way over the sand dune to the sidewalk next to her building. I looked for the beat-up car I had seen earlier, but it was gone and Owen was nowhere in sight. Riley hadn't said anything about her ex-boyfriend despite me witnessing their short confrontation when I picked her up.
Her lips were pursed as she glanced all around the parking lot. She wasn't about to admit her ex bothered her.
I cleared my throat and checked out my scuffed shoes. "Riley? Can I ask you for a favor?"
Her lips, darkened by the kiss and the wine, curved into a skeptical smile. "What favor could I possibly do for you? Don't you have people on staff for whatever you need?"
I groaned. "Forget it. You'll think I'm a creep, anyway."
She eyed me curiously. "What favor?"
"I don't want to stay at my hotel. The suite is gorgeous and everything's perfect, but I hate it there. Hotel rooms are so sterile, so sad. Would it be okay if I crashed on your couch?"
Riley laughed. "You can't be serious! Our saggy, secondhand couch? No way. Landon Michel doesn't crash on couches."
"How about the Landon you met at The Sand Dollar?"
She considered that, her expression getting softer as if she finally recognized me. "I'm not the kind of girl that invites dates back to 'crash' on the couch."
A man appeared around the corner from the beach wearing jogging gear and singing along to his music. Riley jumped, then recovered from the jolt and looked around the parking lot again.
“Is something bothering you?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “It’s a safe place. It’s just weird being able to see into my apartment from down here. I had no idea. It’s creepy.”
"Let me stay, then. I'll be good. I just want to stay somewhere normal tonight. I'll even pay hotel rates. The same rate you left for Andrew?"
"All right. Just one night.” She smiled.
“But I bet you change your mind when you see our couch."