in Delilah to let something go.
Weaving through the crowd then out the front door, he hopped into his bright red Porsche Boxster S. He loved his car. It was his baby girl—his heart. Every time he slid behind the leather seat, it was like sliding in behind a good woman. It coasted and cornered like a dream. And when he got her on an open stretch of road, the power under the hood gave him a natural high that was second only to sex.
No surprise, he made it to the ten-million-dollar Malibu beach house with twelve minutes to spare. The music was already bumping and the house looked like it was nearing capacity. Malibu parties were always the best because there were always neighbors who crashed along with just about anyone who happened to be hanging out at the time—usually women in teeny-weeny bikinis.
Jeremy checked himself in the rearview mirror, and then smiled at his flawless reflection. “I got a feeling that this is going to be a good night.” He winked and then hopped out of the car. As he strolled toward the modern glass-front beach house, he mentally raced through his nightly checklist.
Condoms? He touched his back pocket. Check.
Breath? He cupped his mouth, puffed out a pocket of air and sniffed. Check.
Swagger? Definitely check.
By the time he breezed into the house, Jeremy was seriously ready to get his party on. In his initial survey of the room, he saw that the women outnumbered the men by a ratio of three-to-one. Perfect. Most ménages à trois happened at bachelor parties—usually involving the groom. But you needed to have the right ratio for that fantasy to be fulfilled.
“Heeey, Jeremy,” his first fan of the evening cooed, sashaying her way up to him and looping her arm around his neck. “Long time no see,” she said, poking out her bottom lip, and walking her fingers up the center of his chest.
“Hey, Keya.” He lowered his gaze and caressed her petite figure. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Yeah, right.” She playfully rolled her eyes at the lie, but continued to smile at him. “Tell you what, since we’re both here, you can save yourself the hassle of trying to find my number and we can just hook up tonight.”
“Tonight?” Jeremy glanced around, uncomfortable making plans before he had the chance to check out all the goodies this party had to offer. “Well, you know I’m working tonight.”
“After work,” she insisted, pressing her body against his.
He smiled. “After work, I may be tired.”
“In that case,” Keya said as she reached down and grabbed his crotch, “I have just the remedy to help you get your second wind.”
Jeremy’s white smile stretched around his face. “In that case, I’ll keep an eye out for you at the end of the night.” He tossed her a wink, carefully extracted his balls from her firm grip and then strolled into the party.
“There’s my boy,” Dylan Freedman shouted, strolling over to Jeremy with his hand held up for a high-five.
“Aw. The man of the hour,” Jeremy proclaimed before slapping palms and engaging in a one-arm shoulder-hug.
“Can you believe this—me tying the knot?”
“Hell nah,” Jeremy answered honestly. “But a lot of brothers are dropping like flies into that matrimony trap. I’m starting to think that it’s something in the water.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your brother Eamon just walked the plank, didn’t he?”
“That he did,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the hell came over him. But it is what it is, I guess.”
Dylan bobbed his head. “Yeah, yeah. I think I read about it in the paper. He locked down some billionaire heiress or something. She’s quite the dime-piece, too, if I recall.” He laughed. “Talk about a brother upgrading.”
“C’mon, you know Eamon. Money is the last thing that turns his head.”
“True that. True that. Still, your brother won the wife sweepstakes, especially if she’s a dime and got a mint in the bank. A man can’t lock that down every day.”
“Says the man who’s about to marry the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Hollywood,” Jeremy responded. “Something tells me you finally got the financing for your next picture.”
Dylan tapped the side of his temple while his slick grin looked like it was about ready to slide right off his face. “Turns out I got lady luck on my side, too.”
Jeremy frowned. “So are you doing it for love or power?”
Dylan’s shoulders bobbed up and down. “I’m going to plead the fifth on that in case your ass is wearing a wire.”
“Oh, it’s like that.”
His shoulders bounced again.
“A’ight then, bro. You do you,” Jeremy said while his gut twisted in disgust. It wasn’t his place to lecture his friend and—more importantly—his client about how to enter into the sanctity of marriage. If it was one thing he knew, it was how to fall back and play his position, and that position in this drama was on the sidelines.
“Ooooh, Big Daaaaddy.” Twins, Brandi and Candi, flanked his sides and hit him with identical smiles.
“Laaadies,” he drawled, as a memory instantly rewound in his head. He certainly would be up for some two-on-one action tonight. “I didn’t know that you two knew my man Dylan.”
“Who?” They blinked.
Jeremy laughed. “The groom to-be—Dylan Freedman. This is his bachelor party.”
The girls giggled.
“Actually, we didn’t know whose party this was,” Brandi said. Her beauty mole was on the right, Jeremy remembered. “We were just hanging out on the beach when someone shouted that there was a party going on.”
Candi cut in. “You know us. We love crashing a good party.”
“Actually, I did know that.” He tossed them a playful wink before his gaze dived to check out the girls’ heavy silicone investments. As far as he was concerned, they were living up to be damn good investments.
“So what do you say about hooking up later?” Brandi inquired.
Jeremy hesitated. The girls were fun, but the sibling rivalry tended to get a little out of control. “I’m open. We can all hang loose and whatever happens, happens.”
He got two winks as they slapped him on the ass.
“We’ll be looking for you at the end of the night,” Brandi promised before taking her sister by the hand and leading her away.
Jeremy watched their booties jiggle away in matching sky-blue bikinis. Good thing I’m up on my B vitamins.
“I don’t know how you do it, man,” Dylan said. “Please tell me that when you die your family is donating your body to science. Your stamina should be bottled and sold on the stock market.”
“Get on with that, man.” Jeremy laughed, even though his ego inflated a few more inches.
The friends moved farther into the expansive house where the entire glass wall at the back of the house showcased an incredible view of the sun setting over the ocean. With summer’s longer days, dusk usually hit late in the evening.
Jeremy stopped for a second to take it all in. “I love this house.”
“You want to buy it?”
“You’re selling it?” he asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Turns out that wives don’t like their husbands keeping bachelor pads.” Dylan shook his head. “Who knew?”
“You don’t say?” Jeremy chuckled, but he was seriously considering