Celine had finally accepted her father’s apology and he would be walking her down the aisle tomorrow. Zion also knew Levy had made several statements in the press about how proud he was of his daughter and her role at Second Chances. According to Celine, he’d even made a huge donation to the foundation. That was certainly a start.

  Celine’s birthday had been a huge success. She had loved the birthday gift her father had given her, the necklace and earrings by Zion. She said she loved both pieces even more because he’d created them for her. It made Zion feel proud each and every time she wore the jewelry. He thought both looked perfect with her engagement ring.

  The six men—all godbrothers—came to a stop in front of a roaring firepit. “Okay, guys, you know what we need to do,” Uriel Lassiter said, snagging Zion’s attention.

  Yes, they knew. The six of them had formed the Bachelors in Demand Guarded Hearts Club and now it was time to end it. Five of them were happily married and Zion would take the plunge tomorrow. Although their friends Mercury and Gannon Steele, as well as a few other single acquaintances, had expressed an interest in joining the club, no one had submitted a membership application.

  “The club did serve its purpose for a while,” Virgil Bougard said.

  “But then we met the loves of our lives and the rest is history,” Xavier Kane added.

  Zion nodded. Virgil and Xavier were right. The rest was history. Zion had been left as the lone member after the others had defected, and he’d pledged to keep the club going. But that had been before meeting Celine. Tomorrow, he would be saying vows that would bind her to him forever and he couldn’t wait.

  She had spent the holidays with him and had gotten to meet Zion’s father, the godfathers, godbrothers and all the wives. Everyone loved Celine and thought the woman who’d captured Zion’s heart was worthy of his love.

  The two of them had decided to make their primary home in Atlanta, to be close to Langren. They would keep both Zion’s places in Rome and Celine’s in LA. Being in Atlanta provided them with direct flights to California when she needed to check on her father and Second Chances.

  “You guys ready?” Winston Coltrane asked, interrupting Zion’s thoughts. Winston and his wife, Ainsley, had welcomed their firstborn, a son they’d named Warrick. Zion would be the first to admit the kid looked just like Winston. And York and Darcy had a beautiful little girl they’d named Keir. She had both York’s and Darcy’s features. More of Darcy’s, thank God.

  “Ready,” the others said simultaneously. They began feeding pages of the club’s charter into the fire to burn them to ashes, never to rise again. When the last page had burned, the godbrothers glanced around at each other, smiled and nodded. The Guarded Hearts Club was no more. They were no longer Bachelors in Demand. By this time tomorrow, all six would be happily married men.

  They began walking back toward the hotel, declaring a glass of scotch was in order when they got there.

  The wedding day

  “Zion and Celine, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Zion, you may kiss your bride,” the minister said.

  Celine turned to Zion after Desha pushed back her veil. She couldn’t help but smile up at the man who’d broken all his rules for her. The man who had offered her his protection and then his love. The man who was happily sharing his godfathers and godmothers with her. Now she’d inherited five godbrothers and their wives. She, Ellie Lassiter, Darcy Ellis, Farrah Kane, Kara Bougard and Ainsley Coltrane had quickly become the best of friends.

  “Pucker up, Mrs. Blackstone. Mr. Blackstone is about to brand you his forever,” Zion whispered against her lips.

  And then he kissed her, and boy, did he kiss her. She could hear all the cheering, catcalls and applause, but Zion kept right on kissing her. And she kept right on kissing him back, while settling deeper into his possessive embrace.

  She couldn’t think of any other way for them to start the rest of their lives together.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Los Angeles Rendezvous by Pamela Yaye.

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  A Los Angeles Rendezvous

  by Pamela Yaye

  Chapter 1

  “Good afternoon, Millennium Talent Agency,” Jada Allen chirped, pressing the headset closer to her ear so she could hear the caller over the noise in the reception area. She’d worked at the agency for two years, as an administrative assistant to Maximillian “Max” Moore—one of the most successful Hollywood talent agents in the business—and the only thing the twenty-seven-year-old Inglewood native loved more than her job was cheesecake. “How may I help you?”

  “Is Max in? I’ve been texting him all day, but he hasn’t responded, and I’m worried...”

  Jada recognized the high-pitched voice with the Spanish accent. She couldn’t believe the actress was calling again—the third time in thirty minutes. Max didn’t want a serious relationship with the Mexican beauty, and had broken things off with the TV sitcom star days earlier. Jada should know. She’d sent the “breakup” flowers to the actress’s Beverly Hills condo, with a Hallmark card, but every time the brunette called the office she sounded more upset, almost hysterical. Jada adored Max and was proud to be his assistant, but his favorite hobby seemed to be breaking hearts, and she worried one day he’d mess with the wrong woman and pay the price.

  A chilling thought came to mind. What if the Mexican beauty came after Max? Sought revenge? What if he got hurt? Max was all about the chase, but once he slept with the object of his affection he lost interest, every single time. Jada only hoped his womanizing ways wouldn’t get him in trouble.

  “I need to talk to him... It’s important...”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Moore isn’t available right now. He stepped out,” Jada lied. The truth was, Max was in his office, alone, but Jada didn’t want the actress to show up at the agency unannounced and cause a scene.

  “Tell him Josefina Acosta called. I need to speak to him ASAP. It’s an emergency...”

  It always is, Jada thought, adjusting her oval-shaped eyeglasses. Hanging up, she turned back to her computer screen. Logging on to the internet, she checked the Outlook calendar for Monday’s meeting, appointments and conference calls. Jada made a mental note to confirm Max’s travel plans for his business trip to New York before she left for the day.

  The desk phone rang. A female was on the line, demanding to speak to Max, but Jada took a message and hung up. All day, she’d been fielding phone calls from women who were eager to speak to Max, but it didn’t surprise her. It was Friday, and his “girlfriends” were busy making plans for the weekend. They wanted to spend their free time with him, and it was evident by the desperation in their voices that they were willing to do anything to make it happen.

  Of course they were desperate for him. Everyone was—including Jada. It was hard to find something about him she didn’t like. Max was the kind of man people gravitated toward and instantly hit it off with. Charismatic and drop-dead handsome, he had dozens of A-list clients, knew everyone who mattered in LA and was invited to the hottest parties in town. He was a well-known, highly respected agent, who negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts for his clients. And not only did Max have a remarkable eye for talent, he had a knack for pitching ideas to television and movie executives. Was so good at it he had a production deal with an LA studio. Max pushed himself to be the best, and everyone who mattered thought he was.

  For the second time in minutes, Jada admired the framed photographs hanging on the vibrant blue walls in the reception area. In every picture, the twenty-eight-year-old talent agent looked confident, and was grinning from ear to ear. Max lived for his work. He schmoozed. He networked. He wheeled and dealed. He charmed and seduced. He was known for being a ruthless negotiator, and his keen deal-making skills had helped make him—and his clients—filthy rich. Millennium Talent Agency was a prestigious boutique agency, and the business awards prominently displayed on the glass shelf proved how hard Max worked.

  Jada picked up her mug and tasted her peppermint tea. It was her favorite time of year, and everything about the holiday season made her smile. Christmas was several weeks away, and Jada was looking forward to the holiday festivities in LA. There was the Christmas Ball at the Sheraton Hotel, Cocktails under the Mistletoe at a popular jazz lounge in Santa Monica and several exclusive Prescott George events, as well. Prescott George was a national organization for African-American millionaires, founded in the 1940s, and Max was a proud, card-carrying member. The club was as discreet as it was powerful; members couldn’t buy their way in—they had to be invited. The Moguls were more than just wealthy businessmen with yachts, mansions and private planes: they did good work. For decades, they’d provided college scholarships to needy students, funding to inner-city organizations and million-dollar donations to local charities. Every year, Max invited his staff to the Prescott George charity bash on Christmas Eve, and Jada wouldn’t miss the celebrity-filled party for anything in the world.

  Jada’s ears perked up. Leaning forward in her chair, she listened to the college interns as they strode through the lobby, praising the chic holiday decor throughout the main floor. Beaming, she watched the trio snap selfies in front of the ten-foot evergreen tree positioned in the corner of the room. To make the reception area look festive, she’d hung up velvet stockings and mistletoe around the room, sprinkled garland on the leafy potted plants and taped oversize red ribbons to the windows. All week, several female staff had tried to get Max under the mistletoe, but he was always on the move and would rather hang out in his office, making calls and reading scripts, than in the reception area.

  “I asked you to make me look good, and you delivered...”

  Peppermint tea sloshed over the side of Jada’s mug and splashed onto her gray pencil skirt, creating a damp spot. At the sound of Max’s voice, lust filled her body. His silky-smooth baritone was the sexiest thing her ears had ever heard, and when Jada glanced away from her computer screen and spotted Max standing in the doorway of his office, her mouth watered. Her boss was one of the most eligible and desirable bachelors in LA, and for good reason. Six feet tall, with buttery brown skin, soulful eyes and a body that was pure perfection, he was every woman’s dream. If Hollywood had a Sexiest Man award, Max Moore would win it every year. Jada had been working for the UCLA graduate for years, but every time he looked at her she felt light-headed, out of it, as if she suddenly had no control over her body.

  It was a miracle he even hired me, she thought, cringing at the memory that flashed in her mind. She’d been so nervous during their thirty-minute interview that she’d stuttered and stumbled over her words. If not for her stellar résumé and references, Max probably would have shown her the door, and she would have missed out on working at the popular talent agency. Located only a few blocks from the iconic Kodak Theater on a busy, tree-lined street, Millennium Talent Agency was filled with plush furniture, exotic plants, contemporary artwork and a marble wet bar. Sophisticated and überposh, the office had a tranquil ambience, and Jada made sure everyone who walked through the front doors—whether it was an aspiring actress, a D-list actor or an up-and-coming boy band—received VIP service.

  “Good job sending those personalized gift baskets to Brielle and Felicity,” Max praised, his voice filled with awe. “Both ladies called me this afternoon, gushing about how sweet and thoughtful I am, and it’s all thanks to you.”

  “It’s no biggie, Max. I was just doing my job.”

  “No, as usual, you went above and beyond the call of duty, and it’s greatly appreciated. You’re a godsend, Jada. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Jada returned his smile. She took a moment to admire his chiseled facial features and his stylish gray suit. A self-proclaimed ladies’ man with a penchant for European models, Max was working his way through the Victoria’s Secret catalog, and often joked about eloping with a centerfold. Every time he did, Jada felt a profound sense of sadness. Max was the kind of guy her father had warned her to stay away from, but Jada couldn’t stop crushing on her dreamy boss. She was attracted to scholarly types, men who loved to discuss literature and world history, but everything about Max appealed to her—his lopsided grin, his devil-may-care attitude, the thousand-dollar Cuban cigars he smoked in his office at the end of the workday—and over the years her feelings for him had grown.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked, noticing the brown leather satchel he was holding in his right hand. “Another hot date with Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Model of the Year?”

  “I wish. Nothing beats spending the night with a beautiful, curvaceous woman.”

  He flashed a wicked grin, and desire rippled across Jada’s flesh. Dimples pinched his cheeks, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he smelled of expensive cologne, a scent that was so strong and masculine it was wreaking havoc on her body. Then Max licked his lips and a tingle shot down her spine. The moment she’d laid eyes on him it had been lust at first sight, and over the years nothing had changed. It was hard to find something about Max she didn’t like, and despite his womanizing ways, Jada still wanted him. She couldn’t imagine a better Christmas gift than making love to the eligible bachelor from Santa Monica with the killer physique.

  “I’m going to visit my dad at his estate,” he explained. “My brothers called an emergency family meeting tonight, so I canceled my business dinner with Big Ticket Movies executives and rescheduled it for first thing Monday morning.”

  Jada wore a sympathetic expression on her face. “How is Reginald doing?”

  “As well as can be expected. Despite his prognosis, he’s in good spirits.”

  “That’s great, Max. I’m glad to hear that. Is he doing chemotherapy?”

  “No, he can’t...” His voice broke, and seconds passed before he could finish his sentence. “It’s too late. His doctors said it won’t help, and suggested he get his will in order.”

  The phone buzzed in her headset, cuing Jada she had an incoming call, but she ignored it. Wanted Max to know she cared about him, and his family. Standing, Jada took off her headset, dropped it on the desk and approached him.

  “Dr. Petrov said there isn’t anything more they can do for him, but I’m not giving up hope. Hope is all I have left.”

  Jada smiled sadly. Five years ago, his mother had died from cancer, and now his father was battling the debilitating disease. Despite everything happening in his personal life, Max hadn’t lost his sense of humor and was always joking around with his staff in the break room. But yesterday, when Jada walked into his office with the day’s mail, she’d found him sitting behind his executive desk with tears streaming down his cheeks. He’d laughed it off, saying he had something in his eyes, but Jada didn’t believe him. Knew he was lying. She’d seen the anguished expression on his face, sensed his pain and couldn’t resist giving him a hug. Holding Max in her arms had been amazing, and now Jada felt closer to him than ever before. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Max, but I’m here for you. Anything you need. Just ask, and it’s done.”

  “Thanks, Jada. It’s great knowing I can always count on you.”

  I wish I could do more. Like kiss you—

  “Hey, did you check out that vlog I sent you?”

  Jada cleared her mind. “Yeah, but I didn’t think Kid Quentin was funny. Sorry.”

  “Are you kidding me? His celebrity impersonations are spot-on, his comedic timing is remarkable, and I almost died laughing when he flipped his skateboard in front of Times Square and chipped his front tooth.” His face lit up as he chuckled, and his mood seemed to brighten. “Mark my words—the kid’s going to be a famous child star!”

  “I believe you,” Jada said, fervently nodding her head. “You’re the one with the eye for talent, Max, not me. I’m just your lowly assistant.”

  Max spoke in a stern tone of voice. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not a lowly assistant. You’re my right-hand girl...”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in Jada’s life she was speechless. Every morning, when she arrived at the office at seven o’clock, Max was already hard at work in his office, answering emails, reading contracts and scheduling meetings, so his words surprised her. Made her head spin and her skin warm. Max thinks I’m special? I’m important to him? I’m the best administrative assistant he’s ever had?