The After Dark Collection: Books 1-3 in The Gift Series Page 22

  “Please let this be my chance.”

  I opened it.

  22

  Brandon

  For the record, I was not a cheap bastard. I’d looked far and wide for hotel rooms.

  I’d happily pay a couple hundred a night for one on the Strip. No. Make it an even five.

  But I couldn’t find one for less than two grand.

  When certain conventions sent more than one hundred thousand people at any given time to Sin City, one did not simply find a hotel room that didn’t cost a kidney the night before he flew to town.

  Still, that was what friends were for, and I was damn glad I had Adam and his offer to turn to when I got off this plane.

  But first, champagne.

  The blonde flight attendant handed me a glass. “It’s calling your name, Mr. Winters.”

  “But it’s so early,” I said playfully, shaking my head as if truly debating the consumption of this beverage. “How can I live with myself for drinking so early?”

  “It’s not early in France,” she said with a wink in a faint French accent. “Pretend you are at your favorite brasserie, having a glass, watching the men and women walk by on cobblestoned streets.”

  Ah, sounded exactly like my life for the last few years.

  I raised the glass, grateful the airline had upgraded me, thanks to my frequent flyer miles. “When you put it like that, how can I live with myself for not drinking this champagne at three in the afternoon in Paris?”

  She patted my shoulder, smiling softly. “Exactly.”

  It was a passing touch. It ended a second later as she moved to the row behind me, treating another first-class passenger to a breakfast drink.

  But it was enough to remind me of how long it had been.

  Three years of only passing touches.

  Three years of missing.

  Three years of watching the world go by.

  I lifted the glass and downed half the drink, letting the bubbles tickle my nose and go to my head.

  I wasn’t going to get drunk on half a glass of champagne. Please. But as the plane zoomed closer to Vegas, the city where I’d met, romanced, and fallen madly in love with Jenna, I’d need a drink or two to get off this plane.

  Hell, I’d required shots, lots of shots, last time I came here.

  I downed the rest of the glass for good measure.

  When the attendant turned around, passing me again, she didn’t ask if I wanted another. Instead, she stopped, giving me a soft grin. “What brings you to Vegas?”

  “Friends. Work. The usual.”

  She arched a curious brow. “And is that good?”

  “Good enough,” I said, my standard reply.

  “Sometimes ‘good enough’ is all we can hope for, isn’t it?” Her brown eyes were rimmed with sadness. She didn’t even try to hide it. It was there to see so easily, to read so completely.

  But then, that was what I did. I read people. “Yes. Sometimes it is all there is.”

  She sighed, a little melancholy sound, but then she smiled, and just as quickly, her sadness disappeared. It was gone in the snap of the finger. “But we go on, and we find the joy in other things, don’t we? That’s what I’ve done.”

  I was too startled by the slice of honesty she’d served up to say anything at first. It was rare to connect with a stranger so easily, one I knew I’d never see again.

  But maybe that was what strangers were for sometimes. For those unexpected encounters that cut you right to the heart.

  “Yes, I think that’s true,” I said. “At least, I hope it’s true.”

  “It is,” she said reassuringly. “I’m finding mine again. I’m trying again. You’ll get there. I can see in your eyes that you’re thinking about it. I know you’ll get there, and you’ll be glad when you tried.”

  She set her hand on my shoulder once more, took my empty glass, and walked to the galley.

  It wasn’t romantic, her touch. I didn’t follow her to the galley and beg for her number. That wasn’t what that moment was about.

  It was about something more.

  About letting go.

  This stranger, who could read loss in my eyes just as easily as I’d seen it in hers, was an unexpected comrade in arms, giving me permission to let go.

  And as the plane began its descent, diving toward the city that once belonged to my heart, maybe that was exactly what I needed.

  It was only a weekend.

  But maybe it was time to let go.

  * * *

  When I reached Adam’s condo, he yanked open the door and clapped me on the back in a quick hug.

  “Good to see you,” I said, filling with a new sort of happiness—the kind that came from seeing old friends. It was a centered, balanced kind of joy.

  His brow creased. “You look different.”

  “It’s Botox. Shh. Don’t tell anyone,” I said as I moved past the doorway.

  “Ah, that’s it. Did you have those collagen injections too?”

  I set down my bag and laughed from deep within.

  Adam tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, you don’t usually laugh like that. What’s up? Because it isn’t Botox.”

  I took a beat, my laughter fading. “I didn’t expect this to happen. I wasn’t looking for it. But I had this strange sort of moment.”

  “What happened?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, curiosity in his eyes.

  I told him about the flight attendant and he nodded, listening thoughtfully. “And that’s what you needed, that sort of permission almost? To move on? Like a final step?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said, wrapping my head around this morning, understanding it fully now. I tapped my sternum. “I mean, who knows what tomorrow will bring, but I feel this lightness in my chest I haven’t felt in ages.”

  “Maybe sometimes all we need are those chance encounters that help us see what we’ve been missing,” he mused.

  “Maybe so,” I said, and this was why Adam and I had stayed friends over the years. We could shoot the breeze, talk about business, and dive deep when we needed to. “But enough about me. How can I thank you for letting me crash here?”

  A slow grin took over his face, and he ran a hand over his jaw. “Well, there is this one thing.”

  23

  Nina

  The shoot lasted all day, thanks to Vegas traffic.

  There were no two ways about it. On convention days, you needed to charter a hot-air balloon to make it anywhere on the Strip in under an hour.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have those kinds of funds.

  But I did have fabulous clients, and Chantal—for all her idiosyncrasies and her bed of coins—was one of them.

  Because she knew what she wanted. A true lady boss, the olive-skinned beauty laid down the law.

  “First, I want a shot of me in the elevator, lost in thought, wearing my little red dress.”

  Done.

  “Then, I want you to capture me walking down the hallway to the hotel room.”

  Check.

  “And then, you go into the room and take pictures of me entering the suite, like I’m getting ready for him.”

  Finished.

  “And finally, I want all the seductive shots of me on the bed.”

  And that was where I was now, taking her picture as she posed in a sea of coins, like she owned this moment.

  “I’d love it if you could run a hand through your hair with your head falling back,” I told her from behind the lens.

  “Like this?”

  “Nailed it,” I said, then took those shots.

  When I showed her the preview on the back of my camera, she hummed over each and every image. “These are divine. My husband will love them.”

  “No doubt he’ll be enthralled.”

  “I hope he gets the meaning too,” she said, a little quirk in her lips. “But I know he will.”

  “I would love to know the story behind these photos. Will you tell me?”

 
“We met in Vegas years ago. Here in this hotel. A one-night stand that turned into forever. I want him to see these and know I still want him as much as I did that night when he won one thousand dollars at the slots and took me back to his suite.”

  “You’re the true riches,” I said, understanding fully. I learned so much from my clients. Every one, it seemed, had something to impart about femininity, sexuality, or confidence. I had the best job in the world. “And I love that you’re showing him through photos. That you’re communicating your passion through images.”

  And she gave me an idea.

  * * *

  At Lily’s home, I pawed through her closet, hunting for a simple dress. She lived closer to the Strip than I did, and I didn’t want to rush back home to change and shower before we met the guys at The Luxe.

  “Ooh! Go for the purple one. You always look good in purple,” Kate said from her spot on the bed, nursing a glass of red wine.

  “I do love purple, though this one looks a bit skintight,” I said with a wink. “Do you only own dresses that require shoehorns to fit into?”

  “Hey! I have some that aren’t.”

  Kate snorted. “Maybe one.”

  Lily simply shrugged and raised her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip. “I enjoy those dresses.”

  “And Finn does too,” Kate chimed in as I sorted through more clothes, stopping at a fuchsia dress with a neckline that dipped to the belly button, leaving little to the imagination.

  I held it up. “Trivia question. This little number was on Lily for how much time before Finn ripped it off?”

  Kate thrust her hand in the air. “Five minutes!”

  Lily mimed hitting a buzzer. “Oh, so sorry. We’re going to need you to phrase that in the form of a question.”

  “What is five minutes, Alex?” she asked, as if Lily were the Jeopardy! host.

  In a pitch-perfect imitation of the man, Lily replied, “No. The correct answer is What is five seconds?”

  I bowed before her. “Impressive. But it does raise the question—why do you ever wear clothes with him?”

  “Yes. I’d like to know that too,” Kate put in, kicking her leg back and forth.

  “I often ask myself that as well,” Lily said, then her eyes snapped to her closet. “How about the green one? All the way in the back. I actually haven’t worn it yet.”

  I raised a brow. “A virgin dress.”

  Kate cleared her throat. “And I believe that raises another question . . .”

  “Is the virgin dress for a virgin?” Lily asked.

  I reached for the emerald number, slid it off the hanger, then turned around. “No, it’s not for a virgin. It’s for me.”

  The squeals could split eardrums.

  “You’ve been holding that in for the entire time you’ve been here,” Lily said, then smacked my shoulder. “Shame on you.”

  “Tell us everything,” Kate said, patting the bed and taking another drink.

  I sat, but I didn’t tell them everything. I told them hardly anything. I was still a private woman with private fantasies. I would keep most of them to myself, and my partner.

  And I hoped that partner would always be Adam.

  “And it was incredible,” I said, finishing the SparkNotes version. “So incredible that you were right, Lily. When you told me to be careful.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm.

  “I’m fine. I’m great actually. But I wasn’t careful with my heart, though I think that might be for the best. I have a plan. I was listening to another episode of the podcast this morning—”

  Kate sat up straighter, her eyes gleaming. “I started listening to that too. Serena is great. That’s her real name. She has a fascinating background and personal story. She brings so much of herself to the show,” she said, enthused as she shared more details on the hostess who’d been my guide through intimacy. “But enough about her. What has she inspired you to do tonight in that emerald dress?”

  Something even more daring than the other items on my list.

  Something that would require both my body and my heart.

  And a whole dose of crazy confidence.

  24

  Adam

  The music pulsed low at Edge, our crew’s favorite club in the heart of The Luxe Hotel.

  Brandon and I were the first to arrive, and we snagged a spot on a velvet couch that the ladies loved. With scotches in hand, we talked about his favorite neighborhoods in Paris, then the best new restaurants in Vegas, before we segued to interesting stories in the news and the world. Books, politics, work, life—we touched on all of it, and more when Jake and Finn joined us.

  Jake covered drinks as he’d promised to do, and we toasted when the waiter brought a fresh round.

  “To new business,” Jake said, then tipped his forehead to me. “And to doing business with friends. May it always go so well.”

  I clinked my glass to his. “And even though you always give me shit, there’s no one I’d rather have inking my deals.”

  Finn cleared his throat, chiming in, “So proud of my protégé. I taught Jake well.”

  Jake laughed, shooting Finn a look. “Yeah, I’m your business partner, asshole. Not your protégé.”

  “Details. Details,” Finn joked, then dropped the teasing. “Best damn business partner ever. And friend.”

  Brandon raised his glass. “And let’s drink to old friends.”

  “Hear, hear,” I said.

  We all toasted to that once more. Finn and Jake had been good friends for years, like Brandon and me. And good friends were the guys you could ask to do anything, as I’d done with Brandon earlier.

  A few minutes later, the ladies arrived. Lily strode in first, and Finn stared hungrily at his wife.

  Kate followed Lily, and Jake gazed at the tall, willowy brunette like he wanted to tear off her clothes. Nina appeared next, and when my eyes landed on her, my heart hammered against my chest.

  This woman had turned my mind upside down in forty-eight hours. The night I’d found her list, I’d still been stalled in my Rose-induced time-out. I was Mr. Thanks But No Thanks when it came to trust. I didn’t want to take a chance with anyone who could stab me in the back.

  But then Nina showed me what trust truly was. By opening her innermost thoughts and deepest fantasies to me, and only me. By letting me be her guide through her wild, dirty dreams.

  I’d thought I was the teacher, showing her how to have all her filthy fantasies.

  Turned out, she’d been teaching me all along.

  How to trust again.

  How to fall again.

  How to open my heart to the woman who was meant to be mine.

  Vulnerability.

  Intimacy.

  Love.

  I’d never seen that trio coming, but as Nina walked toward me, exquisitely sensual in an emerald dress that hugged her curves, I saw all that and more.

  I saw everything in her.

  Before she could reach us, I rose, walking past the other patrons, my eyes only on her. When she was inches from me, I held her face. “You,” I whispered, then I kissed her lips, tasting forever on them.

  I’d intended to ask her for number eleven.

  I had it all mapped out. How I’d tell her, how I’d let her know she’d stolen my heart.

  But when you’re kissing the woman you’ve fallen madly in love with, you don’t always want to wait for the perfect time to tell her.

  Not when she’d roped her arms around my neck as she gave her mouth to me, asking with her body to be kissed fiercely, passionately.

  And with ownership.

  That was what my Nina had wanted from a man.

  That was what she wanted from this man.

  To be taken.

  And hell, was I ever taken with her. So damn taken that when I broke the kiss, I couldn’t wait. “I’d like to think that kiss made it clear, but I’ve learned from you that words matter. That spelling out w
ishes and wants is so damn important.” I took a beat and gazed into her deep brown eyes as I clasped my gorgeous woman’s face. “So let me say this—I broke the rules of engagement.”

  A grin played across her pink lips, and she whispered, “Me too.”

  That emboldened me, but then, I was already feeling bold tonight. “I broke the most important one of all.”

  “You did?” Her voice was a little flirty, but full of so much hope—a hope I felt deep in my soul.

  “I broke it, and I don’t want to fix it because I don’t want to go back to friendship with you.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “I want to have everything with you. I want to be your man, your lover, your person, and your friend at the end of the day.”

  She trembled, her voice hitching. “I want all of that too.”

  I ran my thumb across her cheek. “And in case it wasn’t clear, I am wildly, madly, deeply in love with you.”

  “Oh, Adam, I’m so in love with you.” One lone tear slid down her face, but before I could kiss it away, she brushed her lips with mine in a soft, tender kiss.

  A kiss only she could give me.

  And in it, I felt her ownership.

  Of my heart and my soul and my whole damn mind.

  It was everything I couldn’t live without.

  When she broke the kiss, my head was hazy, and my mind was racing to where I wanted to go, to what I wanted to say.

  But she beat me to it, surprising the hell out of me when she said, “But there’s one more thing on my list. I want number eleven.”

  I’d never left a place so fast in my life.

  25

  Nina

  This wasn’t how I’d planned it.

  My goal was to show him how I felt.

  But he’d beat me to it.

  And I was good with that, so good. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to keep the words inside me anyway. They’d been bubbling up in me all day long, then tangoing on my tongue the second I’d walked into the club.