Provocation (Explicitly Yours 3)

She returned and handed him a paper cup. “I hope you like it black. We’re out of creamer.”

“It’s perfect—” He stooped to read the nameplate on her desk and chuckled. “Heather. Is that your real name?”

“What kind of a question is that?” she shot back.

“Never mind. Have you worked here long?”

“Yes.” She scratched her neck, leaving a bright red mark on her skin. Just like Lola, her throat was long, slender and pale.

“You must really love your work,” Beau said. “You’ve barely taken a second to breathe.”

“I do.”

When she didn’t continue, Beau asked, “Why? What do you love about it?”

She blinked a few times at the screen and stopped typing. “Well, Mayor Churchill’s so—I really like working for him.”

“How come?” He craned his neck to the side to catch her eye. “A lot of people actually hate working for politicians.”

“That’s just it,” she said quickly, turning to him finally, her expression brightening. “He’s not your typical politician. The mayor’s very dedicated to this city. It’s an honor to be on his team. When I was young, I wanted to be an elementary school teacher, but then I took this poly-sci class in school, and it’s so weird, because…”

Beau was sure it was weird, but he didn’t care. He stopped listening. It turned out that almost-black hair, blue eyes and a white throat didn’t mean anything. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

He smiled at her, nodded.

Heather was still talking when he looked up to find Churchill standing in the doorway of his office, watching them. He straightened up. “Good morning, Mayor.”

“Glenn is fine.” He stepped aside. “Come on in, Olivier. About time we did this.”

“I agree.” Beau crossed through reception and shook his hand.

“Thank you, Heather,” the mayor said, inviting Beau into his office with an open arm. He shut the door behind them and rounded his desk to sit behind it.

“Mayor—Glenn, thanks again for clearing time in your schedule to see me,” Beau started. “This meeting isn’t about you or me. It’s about Los Angeles. Together, we can—”

Churchill held up a hand. “Slow down, Olivier. It’s not even eight in the morning yet.” He picked up a mug with a large, black mustache printed on the side. Before taking a drink, he held it out and nodded. “Isn’t that something? Got it for Christmas last year from my nieces. Makes me look like I’ve got facial hair when I drink out of it. Watch.”

Beau shifted in his

chair as Churchill took a sip, the mustache lining up right under his nose.

Churchill swallowed, raised the mug and laughed as he reclined back against his seat. “Isn’t that something,” he repeated. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

“No, sir. Just work.”

“Work? You’re not serious.”

“The way I see it, Saturday’s just another day to get things done,” Beau said. “Every day might as well be Monday to me.”

“Huh.” Churchill nodded slowly, studying his coffee a moment. He raised his eyebrows at Beau. “That’s a shame. Saturday mornings, Lois and I like to take a walk through the neighborhood, get some fresh air while it’s quiet out. Then we meet friends at a Santa Monica-based coffee shop and roaster. If we aren’t careful, we’ll sit there all day talking about absolutely nothing.”

Beau smiled. It was a nice picture, but it wasn’t him. And it had nothing to do with why he was there. “I’m glad to hear you support small businesses in the area. I try to do the same. Just like the talent coming out of our universities that I’d like to keep here in Los Angeles.” He sipped his coffee.

“How’s Lola?”

Beau coughed, nearly spitting out his drink. Lola? Gone, that’s what she was. Out of his life for good. And she needed to stay gone. Beau’d watched Churchill fall in love with Lola the night of the gala—her spunk, her fire had worked on him. He didn’t blame the poor man. If she could sucker Beau into falling for her, then Churchill had no chance.

Beau opened his mouth to answer and quickly decided to use this to his benefit. He cleared his throat. “She’s doing well. Keeping busy.”

“I imagine she’d have to if you’re working weekends.”

Beau pursed his lips at the thought of having an entire weekend with Lola. Even though he’d spent nearly every morning the last few years working, it wasn’t that difficult to picture it—driving to Venice Beach with the top down, enjoying the sun and breeze, eating ice cream cones on the boardwalk. Things he hadn’t done in years and years. He ran his hand along the arm of his chair. “I make time for her too.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Churchill said. “There’s just something about her that’s stuck with me. Think it’s that she reminds me a little of my wife when we were younger. I asked Lois out probably ten times before she finally gave in just to shut me up.”

“I’m sure she’s thankful you were so persistent.”

“My wife is the most amazing woman I know,” he continued. “You probably think I’m an old fool to say this, but I believe it—the caliber of woman a man chooses to have by his side says a great deal about how he does business.”

Beau looked down into his coffee. That was one of the many differences between Lola and the Heathers of the world. Lola wasn’t insecure, but she was even more than what she gave herself credit for. Beau’d seen that even from across the room when he’d entered that strip club. No matter how much he tried to forget her or how angry he was, he couldn’t take that from her. She would always be that caliber of woman.

Beau shook his head a little. “I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s rarely a man who chooses a woman. It’s the other way around.”

The mayor laughed. “How right you are. Especially a woman like that. I said it once, but I’ll say it again—don’t let go of that one.”

A memory hit him hard, flooding into the tiny cracks in his resolve. Lola in his arms as they’d stood on his hotel room balcony the night before. He’d held her tightly, afraid he wouldn’t be ready to let her go when the sun rose. He shut the thought down, refocusing on Churchill. “You’re a busy man, Mayor. I am too. Should we get started?”

“I’ve been paying attention to you since our dinner,” Glenn said. “You have an impressive track record, Olivier. When you choose a company, it almost always succeeds. What’s your secret?”

Finally, a topic Beau was happy to distract himself with. “It’s the other way around, actually. I choose them because they’re poised for success. It’s all about meticulous research. At the firm, I make sure we cover all our bases. We pore over numbers, we do case studies, we submerge ourselves in the markets.”