Drop Dead Gorgeous

DROP DEAD GORGEOUS

By Suki McMinn

Copyright © Suki McMinn 2013 The moral right of Suki McMinn to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to my fanfiction family on whose support I depended to write this book, especially Thyra Dane, my dear friend and fellow writer. I’d also like to thank Jodi Danis for her invaluable advice, and my friend and neighbor, Margaret Curtis, who let me peek into the life of a painter.

And
thank you to everyone at Temptress Press for taking a chance on a newbie—to my editor, Laura Denham, and to Kirsty Lee Kerr for the beautiful cover. In an unexpected twist of fate, Temptress Press closed their doors shortly after the first edition of this book was published. This is the second edition, but with Laura and Kirsty’s hard work still evident and greatly appreciated.

CHAPTER ONE

Clara lay across the bed on her back and stared at the ceiling, fighting the tears. How had she gotten to this point? She was alone, unemployed, quickly running out of money, and had no idea what to do next. Part of her problem was she had no motivation to do anything. She recognized the symptoms of depression, but also knew that few people wouldn’t be depressed in her circumstances.

It had only been a month since the man she truly loved had been declared dead. Their romance had been incredibly brief—a mere five days, to be exact. She knew it was crazy, but she’d fallen for him hard and fast. He’d fit into her life like a long lost piece of a puzzle.

For two months after they’d met, he was missing, and she held out hope he’d be found – that it had been a horrible mistake. They’d be able to pick up where they’d left off and get on with their happiness. In her heart, she’d known it was unreasonable, but then, nothing about their relationship had been reasonable, so why not?

Those two months of worry seemed like a blur now, but of course, she remembered that right in the middle of it all, Jeffrey had fired her – Jeffrey, her boss and ex-boyfriend.  One day she’d been the top runway booker in the modeling business in Los Angeles, and the next, she’d become a nobody. In spite of the fact she was in anguish over her missing lover, Jeffrey had hit on her. When she told him no, he’d fired her.

Clara sat up in the bed and looked around the room. All the furniture had been Jeffrey’s, even the bed. She didn’t even like the room – her own bedroom. It had never felt like her own. When Jeffrey bought his condo, she’d stayed behind in their apartment alone. That had been the beginning of the end for them

She took a deep breath. The room smelled like Jeffrey. Nearly a year later, it still smelled like him, and she didn’t like that smell anymore. 

After pulling herself off the bed, she went through the dining area into the kitchen and filled her tea kettle. While she waited for the water to boil, she went back and sat at the table.

The glass top table was covered with books, papers, unopened mail, and her laptop. She wondered if there were any bills in the mess and started to sort through the papers. 

Her heart stopped when she moved some mail, uncovering the newspaper she hadn’t been able to throw away. The handsome headshot of Derek Randall smiled at her just above the article that announced his death.  She leaned forward and studied the features: dark brown hair, flawless skin – in this photo he was clean-shaven, and wide-set, clear blue eyes. He was beautiful. No one would argue that. What the photo didn’t capture was the sweetness in his eyes or the way he’d good-naturedly tease people around him, making them all feel a part of his inner circle. He’d been friendlier than any supermodel should have been and completely down to earth. She felt lucky to have known him. Even luckier to have loved him. The tip of her finger traced his perfect features. Just before she succumbed to the tears, the tea kettle interrupted her thoughts.

She poured herself a cup and blew her nose into a paper towel. She was tired of crying. Sitting back down at the table, she re-read the article that had finally shattered her aching heart.

Derek had gone hiking alone in Topanga Canyon one sunny spring morning and had never returned. Rescue teams had called off the search after twelve days. Derek’s remains had been found by hikers over a month later. Clara tried not to imagine what had been discovered, but she failed every time.

She shook the image from her mind and instead pictured Derek the first time she’d seen him as he walked down a runway, strutting confidently, ignoring the beat of the music, smirking at the audience. He was unique and adorable, and everyone loved him.
She pictured him laughing on the beach in Santa Barbara the day he’d changed her life. She smiled and realized how odd that felt. It had been so long since she’d had anything to smile about.

Her cell phone rang and she reached across the table to fish it from her purse.  Monica’s name filled the screen.

“Hey.” She forced her voice to sound friendly.

“What are you wearing?” Monica asked.

“Why, do you want to have phone sex?”

“Hey, very good. That was an actual joke.”

“I’m working on it. But you’re not laughing,” Clara said.

“Well, it wasn’t a good joke, but I appreciate the effort. Seriously, are you dressed?”

“Kind of.” Clara glanced down at her sweatpants.

“We’re going to a party. A fancy, dress-up, grown-up party.”

“Oh, I don’t know—”

Monica cut her off. “I do. I know. That’s what we’re doing. Get fancy. I’m picking you up at eight. It’s at LACMA.”

Clara took a deep breath, knowing Monica had the best intentions and was also right about getting out of the house. Plus Clara had always loved visiting the L.A. County Museum. “Okay, I’ll see you at eight.” Monica was a good friend and had been there for Clara when she’d needed her. She’d been fired by Jeffrey as well, but had landed another booking job almost right away at another agency – a better agency, actually. Clara hadn’t been that lucky. 

At ten ‘til eight, Clara stood in front of the hall mirror and took stock of her appearance. Her dark thick hair draped over her shoulders in soft waves. It was the same shade of brown as her dress and she pondered for a minute whether she should put it up. Monica had said fancy. She decided to leave her hair down, but went back to the bathroom to add some lipstick – just a shade pinker than her naturally plump lips. She dabbed a touch of blush to her prominent cheekbones. Monica had once told her if they were any higher, they’d be horns. A coat of mascara on her lashes made her soft brown eyes just a touch darker. 

The doorbell rang, and she stepped into her shoes on the way to open the door.

“Excellent interpretation of fancy,” Monica said as she entered the living room.

“Wow, you too.”

Clara admired Monica’s crisp black suit jacket and white ruffled cuffs peeking out. Monica did a little twirl in her straight black pants and heels. She was a stunning blue-eyed blonde, tall and slim with delicate features.

“Let me just grab my purse,” Clara said as she walked back to the bedroom and picked up her beaded bag. She draped an olive green silk wrap across her shoulders and declared herself ready to go out into the world. 

Monica was a member of the L.A. County Museum of Art and was often invited to special parties like this one. Clara had always been happy to go with her – at least back when she’d felt like a normal person. She loved museums and had a secret desire to try her hand at painting, but had never found the time. Now that she had the time, she was too depressed to try anything new.

The two women approached the table in the courtyard where their names were checked off the list of invited guests. Once inside, they strolled among the giant stone heads of ancient Mexicans and marble statues of beautifully naked, but poorly-endowed men.

“Why are they always so small?” Monica asked discreetly.

“I think they were thought grotesque if they were bigger. I don’t know. You’re the art expert.”

Several photographers asked them to pose for a photo. Clara knew the photographers had no idea who they were, but the party had a sprinkling of celebrities, and Clara and Monica were certainly attractive enough to be thought famous. Those around them probably wondered who they were as they smiled and posed arm in arm.

They found the giant tent of food with the bar and sat at a table, sipping their wine and eating plates of salad and shrimp from the buffet.

“So, how are you doing?” Monica finally asked in a serious tone.

Clara sighed. “Okay, I guess. I’m still getting unemployment.”

“I haven’t heard of any openings anywhere. Jeffrey is such an idiot to let you go.”

Clara had heard he was already dating her replacement.

“Have you thought about managing models? We’re in desperate need of men. Maybe you could scout around, discover our next super dude.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start. I’m a booker, not a manager.”

“I know. It was just a thought. Derek Randall left quite a hole in our men’s roster. He was our biggest print model, you know. He even out-produced our women.”

Clara didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

“It’s okay. I hardly knew the guy, really.”

Monica cocked her head and wore the saddest expression. “Sweetie….”

“Okay, okay, I knew him.”

Monica nodded.

“I knew him well.”

Monica waited.

“I loved him,” Clara whispered and bit her trembling bottom lip.

Monica raised her wine glass and said, “To the most beautiful man on earth.”

“To Derek,” Clara added and forced a smile as she clinked her glass to Monica’s, blinking back her tears.

Later that night, before Clara fell asleep, she wondered if she should have told Monica she thought she’d seen Derek several times since his death. The first time had been in the supermarket. She’d left her groceries in the cart in the produce section and followed the dark head out the front door, but lost him in the parking lot. Too flustered to go back for her groceries, she’d just gotten into her car and wondered if she was losing her mind.

Since then, she’d spotted him as she left the gym, and thought she’d seen him again on the sidewalk as she pulled into her underground parking one night. She knew it was nuts, but then she also knew it was nuts that her bedroom sometimes smelled like him – like it had tonight when she’d come home. No more Jeffrey smell. Just Derek. Imagining how the conversation with Monica might go, she decided to keep it to herself.  She also decided there was absolutely no harm in enjoying the lingering scent of her lover in the room, even if it was all in her mind. That was her last thought as she fell asleep. That, and the image of his sweet face.

CHAPTER TWO

The phone woke Clara from a deep sleep. She rolled over and fumbled around her nightstand. She checked the clock as she answered. Who would be calling her at nine in the morning?

“Ms. Devereux?”

“Yes, this is she,” she answered.

The man on the phone gave his name and identified himself as an attorney. He began explaining the call. Clara sat up and rubbed her face to wake herself up. She interrupted the caller.

“I’m sorry, what is this regarding?”

“Derek Randall.”

Her heart stopped.

“I just need to confirm your mailing address. You’ll be getting some documents to sign that need to be returned to me as soon as possible. Unless you’d like to come into the office.”

“What for? I mean, I don’t understand. I’m sorry. I was half asleep when I answered.”

“You’ve inherited Mr. Randall’s home in Santa Barbara.”

“There must be some mistake.” He couldn’t have possibly written her into his will in the five days he’d known her before he went missing. It made no sense.

“Yes, well, it’s not a mistake. A new will was discovered. It was dated the day before his accident – his disappearance, I should say. Are you familiar with the property in Santa Barbara?”

“Yes.” An image of Derek in the kitchen flashed through her mind. He grinned and handed her a glass of juice. They kissed. Her stomach did its usual little flip when she pictured him – like she was falling.

“Would you prefer to come by the office? We can take care of everything here. You can pick up the keys. The furnishings are also yours.”

“Yes, that sounds fine.”

Clara found a pen and paper in the nightstand drawer and took down the address before hanging up. She sat on the edge of the bed in a daze.

Why would Derek have changed his will? They had just met, and while it had certainly been a very meaningful meeting to her, it would never have occurred to her to change her will. How bizarre. She didn’t even have a will. She didn’t own any property.
Well, I guess I do now
.

Once she’d signed the documents and picked up the house keys, she got on the 101 and started driving up to Santa Barbara.
So much for trying to get over Derek. Now I’ll have his house to remind me of him all the time.

She knew it would hurt to be reminded of their brief time together, but she also decided it would honor him to remember. Not that she needed to be reminded of Derek – she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

She’d loved the house in Santa Barbara. That was where they’d spent their one and only weekend together – her very favorite weekend.

The moment the ocean came into view, it took her breath away and she felt her eyes sting with tears. The last time she’d driven this road, she’d been in a bad mood, and she remembered this sight comforting her. It was hard to feel anything but good with a view like this.

She generally found the freeway tedious as it led her away from L.A., but once she could see the ocean, she was mesmerized by its beauty. The second hour of her two-hour trip was definitely the better one.

When she got to Santa Barbara, she exited the freeway and found her way to the beach, just like she’d done on her last trip just over three months ago. She parked the car and walked out onto the pier.

The sun was high in the sky, the weather typically glorious, and the beach was full of families enjoying the early summer weather. Clara stopped and watched a couple lying on a blanket in the sand below the pier. The girl was reading and the young man was just watching the girl, lying on his side.

I was almost there. I had someone
–
someone special, even though it was brief.
It had been the first and only time in her life she’d felt a real connection to someone. It had been so powerful and she’d known it was different – he was different. She didn’t use the word love at the time, but now it was clear that’s what it was.

She remembered the day she’d been alone on the beach – the day he’d entered her life.

She’d left the office in a hurry, angry at Jeffrey over some insignificant office squabble.
She hadn’t thought to bring a blanket or a towel, so just lay on the sand in her jeans and sweater, not caring that the sand stuck to her clothes. It was too cool for a bathing suit anyway, even if she’d thought to bring one. She hadn’t planned a beach day or even the drive to Santa Barbara. She’d just started driving and wound up here in the sand with the calming sound of the waves and seagulls lulling her to sleep.

She was on her back, drifting in and out of a peaceful sleep when she realized the sun was gone. She opened her eyes and Derek Randall was standing over her, blocking the sun and smiling down at her.

“Clara Devereux,” he said.

She sat up a little. “Yes.”

“I’m Derek Randall.”

“I know. I mean, it’s nice to meet you. I mean, what are you doing here?” She wondered for an instant if she was dreaming. His face had probably appeared in the dreams of many women.

“May I sit down?”

“Please.” She scooted over and then realized how silly that was. It was a beach, not a park bench.

“Thanks for making room,” he teased.

He had a stunning smile.

“I live here,” he began. “Why are you here?”

“I’m not sure. I wanted to take a drive, and ended up here. It’s just so beautiful. You live here?”

“Well, I have a house here. I keep a place in L.A. and New York for work, but I bought a house here.”

“Oh. Nice.”

“You’re Monica’s friend. You work at Beacon, booking shows. You’re…twenty-six?”

She nodded.

He continued, “You date the owner of Beacon.”

She was surprised he knew so much about her. “Dated.”

“Excuse me?”

“I dated the owner of Beacon Models, Jeffrey Rizo. We broke up a while ago.”

Derek’s smile widened. “What a shame.”

His teasing made her smile as well. Was he flirting with her?

“Yeah. Pity. That’s why I’m here. Well, not exactly. I’m here because we had a fight at work. Not a fight really. He just made me mad and I left. Just started driving.”

“Right to me.”

She didn’t know what to say and so they just sat and smiled at each other for a moment.

They made small talk and both lay back in the sand, but Derek turned on his side so he was facing her. She should have felt self-conscious that he was watching her, but for some reason, she didn’t. Maybe it was the heat of the sun. Maybe it was just his easy manner, but she felt relaxed and happy, lying on a beach with the biggest supermodel in California.

Only he didn’t seem like a supermodel. Clara had known a lot of models in the five years she’d been a booker, but none were as successful as Derek. Beacon was fairly small and had no huge money-makers. It had eaten Jeffrey up when Monica left Beacon and went to L.A. Faces to book the big models like Derek Randall. Clara was secretly happy it made Jeffrey mad and was proud of Monica for getting away and moving up in the world.

Clara had known who Derek was, of course, and she’d seen him in a fashion show, but had never met him. Monica liked him and spoke highly of him – how genuine he was and how professional. He took his job seriously, but had a way of making everyone around him feel relaxed – like he was no big deal. But he was a big deal, commanding between ten and thirty thousand dollars a day for print work. He also had a commercial contract for a disposable razor manufacturer that she thought probably earned him more for a day’s work than her annual salary.

The hours passed as they talked. She was drawn to him physically, of course – every woman was. And probably lots of men as well. But it was his sweetness that also held her interest. He made her feel like she’d always known him. She didn’t want to leave, but her stomach growled loudly, interrupting them.

“I’m sorry. I guess I need to eat.” She sat up. “I should probably get going -- get back to L.A.”

“Okay. I don’t want to keep you.”

She turned to him and he was on his back, but had raised up a little on his elbows and looked so perfect. She had a sudden thought.

“Can I take your picture?”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry. You get paid for that. What was I thinking?”

“No, Clara. Take my picture. Then, I’ll take yours. The light’s perfect now. You’re gorgeous.”

She blushed and pulled her phone from her purse to take a shot. Then he took the phone from her hand to shoot one of her.

“Now, we’ve captured the day. Something to remember,” she said.

“I won’t forget,” he said, looking into her eyes.

She felt flustered as she returned her phone to her purse and stood to leave. Derek stood and they both brushed the sand from their backsides.

“It was really nice to meet you, Clara.”

“You too.”

“I’ve wanted to meet you for a while.”

She must have looked a little surprised.

“I mean, I’ve seen you around, and hoped we’d meet. I should have done something about it. Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She extended her hand and he took hers in what was a little too long and warm to be a business handshake.

“Well, drive safely,” he added.

They said their goodbyes and Clara turned and walked towards her car. Her mood had dramatically changed since arriving and spending the day with Derek, and suddenly she wished she weren’t leaving.

“Clara!”

She turned around and saw Derek running towards her. Had she forgotten something?

He stopped in front her of, a little out of breath, and smiling that heart-melting smile. “Do you have to get back right away? I know you’re hungry. So am I.”

“Oh. Not really. I was just going to stop and get something before getting on the road.”

“Why don’t you let me make you something instead? My house is really close. I’m a good cook.”

She didn’t answer right away, not because she didn’t want to go to his house but because she hadn’t expected him to offer her dinner.

“Unless you’d rather eat out. There are lots of great restaurants.” He gestured towards the quaint collection of Spanish buildings and palm trees just across the street from the beach, pristine and picturesque as all of Santa Barbara was.

“No. I’d love to see your place. Thanks.”

They stood for an awkward moment until she asked, “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, I walked.”

“Well, then, hop in and you can tell me where to go.”

Clara walked back along the pier and got into her car, tracing her route to his house. She pulled into the driveway, parked and got out, taking a moment to look at the front of the idyllic house – white stucco with a red tile roof, teal arched windows, and a front patio full of lush plants.
This is mine now
.

When she stepped inside, the scent of him hit her. She closed the door, sat on the sofa and started to cry. It might legally be her house, but it would always be the place where she’d fallen in love with Derek, and nothing would ever change that.