A Malibu Kind Of Romance. Synithia Williams

the chair. “I don’t know why you dislike him so much. Raymond has been a great friend. He helped me out when I was turning into a poor, sad basket case. He taught me how to—”

      “Guard your heart,” Evette finished with a hand wave. “I know. You and those crazy dating rules.”

      “They aren’t crazy. I got caught up in that relationship with Antwan and thought there was more to us than there was. You remember how pathetic I was. If it weren’t for Raymond schooling me on the way men think, I would’ve fallen for more pitiful lines and believed I was in a relationship with a guy when I was actually a booty call.”

      “Raymond’s so-called education—” Evette made air quotes with her fingers “—has given you a convenient excuse to keep men at arm’s length.”

      “I date.” Julie shrugged. “Guys love me. Unfortunately, they love me for all the wrong reasons.”

      The few celebrity men she met were just as conceited and into playing games as Antwan. She preferred dating men outside the entertainment industry. Sadly, the few she had dated either played the same games or thought she was a good route to meeting famous people.

      “Guys love trying to break through the wall you’ve surrounded yourself with. You’re a challenge.”

      “Which is ten times better than being an easy conquest.”

      “I still think Raymond’s education is just a way for him to keep you single.”

      This time Julie waved away Evette’s words. “We’re just friends, Evette. For the hundredth time, Raymond only gives advice on men when I ask for it, and he’s spot-on every time. He’s not keeping me single—the lack of available men is keeping me single.”

      Evette grunted. “I can’t argue with that. Anyway, back to my original point. If Raymond wants you to oversee opening his nightclub—regardless of how busy we are here—I think you should go. At least see what his plans are and make sure it’s worth our time.”

      “There’s one more little thing.”

      “What’s that?”

      Julie studied her perfectly polished nails. “He’s opening the place with Dante Wilson.” Her voice was blasé when she knew this news would shatter any sense of calm Evette had.

      Evette slapped her desk with both hands, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Dante Wilson?” Julie nodded. “The Dante Wilson? Mr. I Can Sing, Dance and Play a Dozen Instruments Dante Wilson? Dante Wilson of W. M. Records, whose parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were music legends?”

      Julie chuckled. “The one and same.”

      Evette pointed at Julie. “You’re getting on that plane, today, and you’re checking out this lead. Why didn’t you say that first?”

      “Because I didn’t want it to sway your decision. This is huge, but if you had any hesitation about handling the two new accounts, hiring new staff and our current projects while I was on the West Coast, I would have said no.”

      Evette took another deep breath. “Julie, I appreciate you thinking of me, seriously, but if you are not in Malibu by the end of the week, I swear I’m going to strangle you.” Her calm tone gave way to excitement by the end of the sentence.

      Julie grinned and stood. “No need for violence. I’ll go back to my office and finally click Submit.”

      “On what?”

      “The purchase of the plane ticket I started buying before coming in here.”

       Chapter 3

      Julie sat in the backseat of the car Raymond had waiting for her at the airport and reviewed the list of reputable contractors in and around Malibu, California. Paying attention to the details instead of taking in the beautiful sights along the Pacific Coast Highway was proving difficult for her. Between the awe-inspiring mountains and sparkling sea, she really wished she was there for pleasure instead of business. But business was the reason she’d left Evette in Atlanta, so she tore her eyes away from the views and scanned contractor websites.

      Picking contractors before actually being vetted as Raymond and Dante’s final partner was presumptuous. Raymond basically wanted her to come and talk about possibly working with them. She’d mainly gotten her jobs by acting as if she already had them. The tactic hadn’t failed her yet.

      Later, when the car pulled down one of the gated entrances that she assumed blocked the way to the homes of Hollywood’s rich and famous, her stomach churned like the waves against the bluffs she’d admired on the drive up. She was actually about to meet Dante Wilson. Thanks to her friendship with Raymond and her work opening popular nightclubs, she wasn’t easily starstruck. However, she’d listened to and loved Dante’s music for most of her life. From her preteens through her bad breakup with Antwan, the guy always had a song on the radio rotation that seemed to fit the mood of her life.

      She’d dressed nicely for her flight. Albeit her black trousers, white cowl-neck blouse and tailored red blazer were travel worn, she still looked casual but professional. While the driver announced their arrival at the gate, Julie pulled out her compact to double-check her makeup and smooth her hand down the back of her stylish pixie cut.

      The gates opened, and the driver maneuvered the car down the long drive and parked in front of a huge stone villa. She would have been impressed by the house and its magnificent views if not for the obvious signs of a party going on. She frowned in confusion when the driver opened the door, where she was greeted by music coming from the back, along with laughter and voices. Three women in skimpy bikinis and two men in board shorts stood out front. Another car pulled up, and the group got in.

      She glanced at the driver. “Are we at the right place?”

      “Yes, ma’am. This is Dante Wilson’s residence.”

      Julie nodded, then turned back to the sounds of revelry coming from the villa. She crossed the stone-tiled entrance to the front door. Julie rang the doorbell, unsure if the chime would even be heard over the sounds of the party. Hell, did she even need to ring the bell?

      A guy wearing blue-and-red swim trunks opened the door. “Hey, come on in,” he said, waving her inside.

      Julie thanked him, entered the home and immediately felt overdressed. Men in swim trunks and women in bathing suits filled the house. The main area, with tan stone walls, dark walnut floors, modern furnishings and expensive decorations, was completely open to the outside, where a crystal-blue infinity pool overlooked the ocean. Even more people in bathing suits milled around the expansive outdoor living space.

      “Are you here for the party?” the guy asked.

      “Umm, I’m meeting with Raymond,” she said.

      “Oh, come on—he’s out by the pool.”

      Julie followed him through the crowd out to the pool. “He’s there.” He pointed.

      Raymond was in the middle of the pool, playing water polo with several bikini-clad women. Of course he would be. Julie rolled her eyes, but she smiled despite her disappointment that he wasn’t prepared for a real meeting. Raymond would never change. They’d met freshmen year in college at a party. Though she’d flirted with him, she’d turned down his attempts to get her in bed. She’d never felt that way about Raymond. Eventually, their flirty relationship had become a close friendship by the time they graduated and Raymond’s music career kicked off. She knew if there was a party to attend or a good-looking woman to get with, Raymond was there.

      Still, as she stood by the pool, sweltering in a blazer while everyone else was clad in swimwear, a strong pull of annoyance that Raymond hadn’t mentioned she would be walking into a pool party and not a business meeting swept through her. She really hoped he wasn’t wasting her time. She loved Raymond like a brother, but she wouldn’t hesitate to wring his neck if