San Francisco Read online

  ALSO BY AUDREY CARLAN

  International Guy Series

  Paris: International Guy Book 1

  New York: International Guy Book 2

  Copenhagen: International Guy Book 3

  Milan: International Guy Book 4

  Calendar Girl Series

  January

  February

  March

  April

  May

  June

  July

  August

  September

  October

  November

  December

  Trinity Series

  Body

  Mind

  Soul

  Life

  Fate

  Falling Series

  Angel Falling

  London Falling

  Justice Falling

  Lotus House Series

  Resisting Roots

  Sacred Serenity

  Divine Desire

  Limitless Love

  Silent Sins

  Intimate Intuition

  Enlightened End

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Audrey Carlan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN-13: 9781503957718

  Cover design by Letitia Hasser

  Cover photography by Wander Aguiar Photography

  To my bossy beta, Tracey Wilson Vuolo.

  San Francisco is for you.

  I feel it’s the place where soul sisters were made . . .

  brought together from different coasts . . .

  united through the love of books.

  I’m honored to have borne witness to it.

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  SKYLER

  If you want...

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1

  “Whiskey neat. Two fingers.” Royce’s voice sounds like rolling thunder off in the distance as I push my way through the other first-class patrons to the empty seat next to my partner. “Look who finally made his appearance.” He cocks a questioning eyebrow.

  I smile at the flight attendant who took his drink order. “Beer. Sierra Nevada if you have it.”

  “We do. I’ll be back shortly.” The thin, pretty woman smiles before heading to the galley.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know I cut it close, but I’m here.” I shove my briefcase into the overhead bin, remove my sport coat, and set it on the hanger in front of my seat.

  Royce lays his hands over his stomach, fingers interlaced. “Was worried you might pull a skip, seeing as you were supposed to be back two days ago.” His lips have a slight curl to them, proving he’s not angry but giving me shit on purpose.

  I turn a bit in my seat. “Couldn’t be helped. Once Sky and I did the lunch interview on set a few days ago, the crowds went crazy. Tracey suggested we go out around town, give them something more to capture, which, as you know, took the heat off the IG offices.”

  Royce nods. “True. Gotta be rough, dating an A-list celebrity. Imagine everyone wants a piece of your girl and you . . . by default.”

  By default.

  His words zip through me like an approaching storm, rumbling and growling with the promise of a full downpour. Being with someone like Skyler is unimaginable for a regular guy like me. It’s the shit they make movies about. Hell, a movie she’d play a starring role in. Then where would I be? The hero who won the girl, or the one that got passed over for someone better suited to her lifestyle?

  I push those irritating thoughts aside and focus on the here and now. “Yeah well, all the pieces are mine. At least the pieces that count.” I smirk, and he shakes his head. “Besides, I’m here, and we’re heading to Cali right on time. Now, bring me up to date on our client. You said her name is Rochelle?”

  When I pose the question, Royce smiles, and his face takes on a dreamy, serene quality. Shit. As I suspected from our chat last week, he’s already gonzo for the woman.

  This is not good. Especially since we’ve been hired to find her a man.

  “Top-notch businesswoman, beautiful, intelligent. The shit she pulls with numbers, the logical analytic approach she takes is second to none, man. And I know numbers. They never lie. This woman has an uncanny ability to anticipate market fluctuations and profit and losses, making her one of the all-time best financiers in the business.”

  “Sounds like you’d trust her to manage your money.” I toss out the carrot to see if he bites.

  Royce sits up and fluffs his suit coat. “I have mad respect for her skills. It’s an art form the way she works.”

  “Really? An art form?” I grin and lean back into the comfortable seat.

  “Yeah. Not a lot of people can do what she can do, especially at her age.”

  “Oh yeah? How old is Ms. Renner?”

  He doesn’t even have to look at her file before answering.

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “And you happened to memorize her age.”

  Royce frowns. “I did my homework, which is much more than I can say about you, I might add.”

  “You could say that, but I did read through her file on the plane from New York. I wouldn’t necessarily have remembered her exact age. When does she turn twenty-nine?”

  “December 1 . . . ,” he says automatically, then realizes his error and firms his lips into a flat line before glancing out the window as if the airport tarmac is the most interesting thing he’s seen all day.

  “Brother . . .”

  Royce lifts a hand. “I have a good memory. Don’t read anything into it.”

  I shake my head and am about to dig into how much he knows about Ms. Renner when the flight attendant approaches with our drinks.

  “Here you go,” she says to Royce and me. “Please buckle up, the captain is going to prepare for takeoff now.”

  “Thank you.” I smile at the efficient woman. She’s nice looking, tall, a little on the thin side. Not much for curves. I’d put her at about a six to a seven on my sexy scale, which means she could score herself a man who’s around a five in the looks department and he’d worship the ground she walks on.

  I sip on my beer and let the cool taste of the hops settle in my gut as I mull over how to best approach what I think is going on in Royce’s head.

  “Look, Roy . . .”

  “Park, respect, brother, but you have no business telling me anything when you’re currently bedded down with a client, and not for the first time. Frankly, I don’t want to hear it.” He puts his drink to his lips, his shoulders shifting toward the window.

  I know better than to push Roy when he feels he’s being backed into a corner. The bruiser inside will come out fighting if provoked. Still, I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t put out there what my intuition is telling me.

  I try a different approach. “It’s cool, man. Happy to be here with you. Mind showing me what the two of you have discussed with her profile?”

  Royce nods succinctly, sets his drink on the armrest between us, and leans over to retrieve his briefcase. He pulls out a blue file and op
ens it on his lap.

  “Here, we’ve filled in the particulars about her. Educated, wealthy, city girl. Doesn’t have much in the way of family. Work is her life. Looking to have a child, lay down a legacy to leave her business to one day.”

  “I know a guy like that.” I chuckle, and Roy’s gaze lifts to mine, the happy sparkle I’m used to seeing in his eyes now present . . . thank fuck. I’d much rather be on his good side. No one wants to be on his bad side.

  Roy continues with a smirk. “Lives alone, penthouse in the heart of the city.”

  Opposite of Royce. He has a three-bedroom, two-bath home, complete with front and back yards he mows every weekend without fail. Says he wants to keep the neighbors off his back, but I think he likes things looking pristine. He’s proud of what he has achieved against all the odds.

  “Penthouse . . . wow. Far cry from the family life you’ve always mentioned wanting,” I state, needing to see if Royce’s attraction is truly an attraction and nothing more.

  “What are you gettin’ at, Park?” His face becomes a blank mask.

  I clench my teeth and hold my breath, wondering if I’ve tweaked his temper. “Not much, just pointing out an observation.”

  He grabs his drink and takes a healthy sip, pointing a finger at me around his glass. “And your girl, where does she live again?” His voice is deeper, a touch of indignation fluttering along the edges.

  Dammit! I was trying so hard not to back Roy in a corner, I did it to myself.

  “Not only a plane ride away, but in a swank penthouse, if I remember correctly,” he adds accurately, making one helluva point.

  I lift my hands in surrender. “I get it. You win. You’re right. Skyler and I do currently have a long-distance relationship, but it’s not across three thousand miles.”

  Royce moves to interject, but I cut him off.

  “And . . . she loves Boston. With her job, she can live anywhere in the world. I won’t leave my family or business behind. Would you?”

  For some reason, his nonanswer feels weighted, like a heavy burden placed around my shoulders. Here we are, two men looking at our futures, women who—on the surface—seem absolutely perfect, and yet we both have some major hurdles to jump. I couldn’t be happier in my relationship with Skyler. As much as our seeing one another is limited, those times are filled with connection, laughter, incredible sex, and talk of the future. She’s a woman I can share my day with, my hopes and dreams, as well as bring home to my mother and my team. Skyler fits into my world in a way I never thought possible.

  What happened in my past destroyed my idea of having a loving relationship built on trust and mutual care for one another. Skyler single-handedly rebuilt that desire.

  One kiss at a time.

  One hug.

  One whispered promise.

  She has filled my heart with unending possibilities, ones I can’t wait to explore further. I want that for Royce. He deserves to have the world, and as his brother, I feel as though it’s my role to help keep an eye out. Make sure he’s not making a shit decision based on mere lust, but on genuine connection and compatibility. Since my time with Skyler, I know what that looks like now, how to spot it more clearly than ever before.

  Royce leans farther into his seat and glances out the window. Without looking at me he responds, “For the right woman, anything is possible.”

  Rochelle Renner’s outer office has clean lines and tasteful pops of color. The reception desk is white and chrome, rather sleek. Purple orchids in full bloom sit at the end of each corner as we approach.

  We’re greeted by a painfully thin, rather petite African American woman wearing a perfectly fitted navy pencil skirt and white silk blouse with a pair of nude pumps. Her black hair is pulled back into a low ponytail.

  “Hello, little lady,” Royce purrs, putting on his charm.

  “You are?” she asks with banality.

  I flick my gaze to Royce’s and hold out my hand. “Mr. Ellis and my partner, Mr. Sterling, with International Guy. We’re here to see Rochelle.”

  “She’s on the phone right now . . .” She starts to answer with a bored tone, and then her eyes suddenly light up like candles on a birthday cake. “You’re the team that’s going to find her a man! Praise Jesus. Hallelujah!” Her excitement is palpable and instantaneous as she comes around the desk and shakes our hands. “Oh, I didn’t think she was going to go through with it, but she is. How long are you planning to be here? I’m heading out on vacation tomorrow, because if I don’t use my vacation, I’ll lose it, according to her highness.”

  Royce whispers under his breath, “Ouch.”

  Her babble is constant and unusually candid for a personal assistant. If Wendy blabbed about one of us, she’d see the back of the door.

  “This is perfect. Just perfect. Now there will be nothing in my way.” The woman beams.

  Royce frowns and takes a seat in the small waiting area. “May I ask who you are?”

  She waves a hand. “I’m nobody, but once Rochelle is off the market, I’m bound to be a somebody. An available somebody who will definitely get his attention.” The woman practically gushes, her face alight with joy.

  Instead of sitting I walk over to where she’s now straightening papers on her desk and lean against the side. “You’re her receptionist, I take it?”

  “Yes, sir. Helen Humphrey.”

  “And how long have you worked for Ms. Renner?” I offer her an easy smile, but I’m getting a strange feeling from the slight woman. Her body language is wired, her word choices and inflections erratic.

  “Ages.” Her eyes widen as if she realizes she’s forgotten something she left burning on a stove and is in desperate need to leave and tend to it. “Can I get you some coffee? I’m sure you have a lot to discuss about setting Ms. Renner up with a man,” she says while wagging her finger. “Even when the perfect man is right in front of her face. Not that she’d notice. Work, work, work, work, work.” She tsks and shakes her head.

  “You think your boss works too much, Ms. Humphrey?”

  “Mm-hmm. Taskmaster too.” She dips her chin definitively. “This will be great. Having some days off, fun in the sun . . .” Her voice lowers as she moves around the space, stopping in front of a corner bar where a gleaming silver coffeepot and espresso machine sit. She puts coffee grounds in and pours water from a freestanding pitcher into the machine. As she does so, I can hear her mumbling, “And then I’ll come back to find the dragon lady is out of the picture. Poof!” She spins around on her spiked heels.

  Dragon lady? Wow. This woman does not care for her boss.

  “If you need anything, and I mean anything, you just come on out and call on me. You hear? I’ll take care of you. VIP all the way.” Helen smiles wide and practically dances her way back to her desk. “She’s off the phone. Come on.”

  She leads us down a hall past numerous offices with people milling about in sharp suits and professional attire. Once we reach a large white door with windows on each side, she knocks sharply and opens the door without waiting for permission to enter.

  She introduces us while holding the door open for us to enter. “Ms. Renner, your eleven o’clock. Mr. Sterling and Mr. Ellis from International Guy Inc.”

  I enter first as the face of the company, but before I can reach our client, Royce comes up from my side, hand extended to Ms. Renner. I watch the interaction take place, knowing exactly what this is.

  The woman is gorgeous. Tall, at least five feet ten, maybe closer to six feet in her stiletto boots that come to just under her knees. Her black leather skirt is skintight with royal-blue stitching, which runs down the side of each hip to the hem. She’s wearing a royal-blue sleeveless blouse, the collar tied into a flirty bow. It accentuates her figure but leaves enough to the imagination to instill intrigue and mystery at what is hiding underneath.

  “Ms. Renner, so good to finally make your acquaintance in person.” Royce pours on the charm, smiling wide to show off his even white teeth. I
’m told his smile makes the ladies gaga with one glance.

  Ms. Renner offers him one of her own pearly-white grins, her eyes never leaving his face. “And you, Mr. Sterling. I recognize the deep timbre from our phone conversations.” A blush dots her cheeks.

  Oh boy.

  I wonder if this is how Bo felt when I first had eyes for Sophie? Maybe we need a new rule. No hanky-panky with clients. A prickle of irritation at myself needles me at the temples. Hypocrisy is running rampant through my mind, and I’m at a loss for how to stop this train from leaving the station when I’ve already taken two trains myself. One that led me to the woman of my dreams. Who am I to tell Roy to back off?

  Royce continues to shake her hand, showing no intention of letting her go anytime soon, which leaves me to introduce myself.

  “And I’m Parker Ellis. We’re happy to be here and help you with your . . . situation.” I roll the word around my tongue, but it still doesn’t sound right.

  Finally she pulls her hand away, takes mine for a brief shake, and sits back in her chair, gesturing for us to sit in the two chairs opposite her. She steeples her fingers, elbows on her glass desk, and rests her chin on the tips.

  “I guess calling it a situation fits.” She grins and becomes even more lovely. “Let’s just put it this way, Mr. Ellis: mostly I’m tired of being alone. Tired of dating losers who, on the surface, seem perfect but always have something wrong with them. And without sounding like a whimpering woman in a cheesy romance novel, my biological clock is ticking. Like a bass drum. Maybe some bongos.”

  Royce chuckles and covers his mouth. “I heard that.”

  Her gaze flicks over to his, and a sultry smile crosses her lips. “Basically, I don’t have the time or desire to keep hunting in a sea of goldfish. It’s why I’ve hired your team. To find me a great white.”

  “Since I’m being brought up to speed, I’d like to hear your thoughts on the last three men you dated and why they were wrong for you.”

  She tilts her head, and her eyes dart to Royce. I can see her tracing his body from the tips of his Hermés shoes up his pitch-black Tom Ford–clothed form to his bald head and goateed jaw. I’m sure she clocked his fancy watch, trimmed nails, and large hands. A woman like her doesn’t get into her position by not being able to read people. And if nothing else, Royce dresses to impress. Watching her take him in, I get the feeling she is as taken with him as he is with her. The fact that they have barely looked away from one another since we entered her office says it all.