Rebound (Boomerang #2)(2)

“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “They’re merely accessories to me.”

I slap at his hands. “I object to the use of mere in reference to my breasts.” Especially since it’s true. And especially since I’m going to face Ethan’s new girlfriend, Mia, who’s built like a curvier Scarlett Johansson.

He runs his fingers around the mask, tugging it down just a bit. His Issey Miyake cologne wafts over me, as familiar to me as the scent of the ocean or the stables where I keep my horses—all scents I love.

“You look amazing, Ali. I promise, I wouldn’t let you walk in there otherwise.”

“I know.” I lean down to give him a kiss on the cheek. With these stilettos I’m probably 6'2", which puts me a good six inches over Philippe. “You’re the best. And I’ll be fine.” Now that I’m here, a part of me looks forward to the night. Not to seeing Ethan but to getting a feel for the others and making my first report to my dad later. He always says I have infallible instincts where people are concerned, though I’m not sure I’ve proved that to myself yet.

“I have total faith,” Philippe says. “Now go have some fun.”

“This is work,” I remind him.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. But ‘go have work’ doesn’t have much of a ring to it. Besides, you’re also allowed to have fun.”

“I know, I know.” I face up the hill and square my shoulders. “Fun it is.”





Chapter 2



Adam


I take the hill up the Gallianos’ street with a little heat, hugging the turn into their steep driveway and skidding to a stop in front of their house. It’s eleven, and judging by the thumping music and the people milling outside who look over as my tires let out a squeal, the Halloween party has hit its stride.

A flustered parking valet jogs up to the Mini Cooper in front of me. I know that car. It belongs to my head of Human Resources, Rhett Orland. Shifting into neutral to let the engine cool, I smile as my employees pile out one by one.

Paolo emerges from the passenger side wearing a fitted tuxedo and shining wing tips. Stepping onto the driveway, he slips on a top hat and gives the cane in his hand a twirl. He makes a perfect Latino Fred Astaire.

Sadie slithers out of the backseat in a fire-red Lycra bodysuit and adjusts the gigantic blue wig on her head, the words Thing One in bubble letters across her chest. Pippa’s next and she’s Thing Two, naturally, since those two always do everything together. Standing side by side on the driveway, they make the absurd outfits look pretty good.

Finally, Rhett climbs from the driver’s seat. For a second, I think he’s naked until I see that he’s wearing a loincloth.

Tarzan. Of course. Rhett is shredded and the costume lets him share that with the world. All those CrossFit hours finally paid off for the guy.

Rhett hands the valet his keys and reaches into the car for a bushel of bananas. Nice touch, I’ll admit.

I lower my window as another valet jogs my way, bending his lanky body to my window.

“Is this really a Bugatti?” His eyes are wide as they sweep inside my car. “Holy shit. It is,” he says, answering his own question. “Sorry. I’ve just never seen one of these in real life.”

“Understandable. They’re pretty rare.”

“Look, sir,” he says, even though he looks my age, early twenties. “I’m going to come right out and say this. I don’t think I have the balls to parallel park this thing for you.”

“No problem.” I adjust my black mask and get out, leaving the keys in the ignition. “How about you keep it right here?” Slipping a hundred out of my wallet, I hand it to him.

I’m not worried about my car and, as much I’m always up for a night with friends and employees, being able to make a quick exit whenever I want is a good option to have.

“Sure, thanks!” The valet takes the bill. “Thank you!”

“Hey! Adam!” Sadie waves from the Gallianos’ entryway. Her huge wig looks neon blue under the porch light. They’re all there, waiting for me as I round my car and jog up the steps.

“How’d you know it was me?” I say, spreading my hands.

Pippa smiles and looks me over. “Dang, Zorro. Looking good. You should wear that to the office.”

If I wasn’t the president and CEO, I’d be tempted. Something about wearing the mask feels good.

“No,” Rhett says. He shifts the bananas to his other arm. “Please don’t wear that to work, Adam.”

As head of HR, he’s the company’s voice of reason.

“I’m with Pippa.” Paolo lifts the cane, pointing at me. “We should run ads with you this way, Adam. Girls would flock. Or flock more. Now, let’s party.” He taps the cane on Sadie’s ass. “Move your Who-ter, girl. Get it?”

“Actually, no. I don’t.”

“Never mind,” Paolo says as we step inside. “Neither do I.”

We head to the bar in the expansive living room and order drinks. I sip my Scotch and look for the hosts, my friends Joe and Pearl.

Their home is stylish, fittingly for a photographer’s home, modern and sleek and packed with priceless artwork, but it looks different tonight. Less like Pearl and Joe Galliano’s house, more like a Halloween rave.